A New Years Resolve

It’s almost here, 2015 is literally right around the corner. Meaning most of us (if we haven't already) are thinking about how to leave behind the mistakes of 2014 and grasp the possibilities of 2015. So, what is it about this particular day that makes many of us feel as though we should have high aspirations and lofty goals for the new year. Many people make new years resolutions year after year, such as: eat better, exercise more, budget smarter, drink less, be present. But, (according to Forbes Magazine) less than 40% of resolutions are actually carried out. With so many books, Apps, and electronic tools on the market to help us keep our resolutions, why aren't success rates higher? 

I believe this is due to the fact that most of us aren't ready or prepared to carry out our desired resolutions. We become so tied to a date (January 1) that too often we allow the cart to go before the horse. Furthermore, we may not have taken the time to truly examine ourselves, our needs, and our abilities to carry out our resolutions. And, too often we look to others and to society to tell us how we need to improve (often without even realizing it). We don’t look inward (or “upward”) to see where we are really being called to grow and change. 

I can remember many times where I have made resolutions that never made it past January 2. In fact, the only resolution I have ever actually succeeded to follow through on was one I made much after January 1. In the spring of 2011, feeling discontent and disconnected, I resolved to begin exercising. It began slowly, I would run a few times a week. Then I began practicing yoga. Each activity I added on slowly, until I was training for a 10k and working out with regular consistency. By the fall I was running, practicing yoga, lifting weights, and cycling. I can relate much of my success with this resolution to my own determination and desire, the support of my loving husband and family, and the gentle spirit I tried to maintain with myself as I continued on my journey towards feeling better and more whole.

Making resolutions is a good way to leave behind bad habits and look towards wholeness and true fulfillment in our lives. But, these resolutions must be for us, not for anyone else. And, they must be driven by the knowledge that we can make positive changes in our lives, that we are capable of reaching our goals. A positive attitude, clear plan, good support, and greater desire can lead us towards making changes that allow us to live into the full and whole beings God created us to be. God desires for us to be wholly fulfilled persons, who experience joy, peace, and love every day. As we look towards the new year let our desires and plans be led by the knowledge of God’s love and hope for us as we are created in the Imago Dei (Image of God). Let us resolve to keep the knowledge of God’s love for us close to our hearts, and have God’s desire for us to return to wholeness as our guide.

The Light is Coming...

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it."

-John 1: 1-5

There is no manger. No cattle. No star. No shepherds. There's not even Mary and Joseph. For the writer of the Gospel of John there is only the Word. For the good news of John's whole Gospel, and the good news of this Christmas Day is summed up in this passage we just heard:  The Word through which all things came into being loved us so much, that it became human, taking on our fragility, our sadness, our joys. In this Christmas story there is only the Word, Jesus.

This, I'm not ashamed to admit, is my favorite Christmas story.  Because while the manger and the cattle and Mary and Joseph add something special, something we all can relate to, this story is not concerned with anything except this: the Word of God became human. Nothing else matters. And with this action God has changed the course of history; humanity and God are reconciled. Our story has become God's story, and vice versa.

John's Christmas story echoes the creation story in Genesis.  Just as God breaks through the darkness of chaos and says, "Let there be light," here the Logos, the Word, is the Light, the Light of all people, the Light of life, and it shines in the darkness. Jesus shines in the darkness. That is the Christmas message: the light of the world has stepped out into the world.

It is a world that we know can be a very dark place.  Notice that John does not say that the light comes to destroy the darkness, to dispel it.  The light merely shines in the darkness. But the good news John gives us this Christmas story is that Jesus, the light, is right there in the middle of the darkness, shining, standing beside us, holding our hand through whatever life may throw at us. And the darkness, John says, does not and will not overtake the light. There will always be darkness in the world.  The darkness of Isis in Syria and Iraq.  The darkness of racial tension and violent acts against young black men in Missouri, Staten Island, and Cleveland.  The darkness of young gay and lesbian men and women who end their lives because they are bullied and tormented because of who they are.  The darkness of hatred and violence in our Lord’s homeland.  Yes, there will always be darkness.  But the good news in the Christmas story given to us by the Fourth Gospel is that the darkness cannot and will not ever win.  Not ever!  It may not feel that way most of the time, but no amount of darkness in this world can destroy the Light of God, the Light of Christ.  Because the Christ Light, the everlasting light, the light that burned during those first moments of Genesis, has come into the world, and through his life, his death, and his resurrection, the powers of hell have vanished, death has lost its sting, and all things, including the darkness, are reconciled to God.

Christ comes into our world so that that same light might shine in us, that we may share that light with friend and stronger alike. Can you imagine a world where each of us knew with certainty that the Christ light shines in us?  Can you imagine a world where we actually treated others as though the Christ light shines in them too, especially those who have never been told that such a light is in them? There's a story about an old monk whose monastery was run down.  The community was splintered, and he didn’t know what to do.  So he visited an old rabbi, said to be the wisest man in the village. The monk asked the rabbi for guidance, some kind of help to save the monastery.  The rabbi's response:  the Messiah is in your midst.  The old monk was shocked.  He took the news back to his brothers.  Not knowing which of them could be the Messiah, the brothers treated each other, and everyone that visited that old monastery, as though each was Christ himself.  And the community thrived.  I suspect that that is the Christmas hope, that the same light that broke through the darkness may be the light we let shine in our own lives, the light that we actively seek out in the face of the Other, whoever that may be.  And each year on this day that hope returns.  It is the hope that that light may be born anew in us, so that we may transform this darkened world.

Jesus Christ, the Word of God, the light of the world, has come to earth so that we may all know the love of God, so that we may share that love with the world.  Emmanuel. God with us. Still with us. So come, let us adore him. Let us adore the light of the world. Let us adore the light that shines in the darkness, the light that shines in you, me, and them. Come, let us adore him. Christ the Lord. 

Coming out of darkness

         Throughout my home is a sundry collection of items passed down to me by my Jewish family. My father's prayer shawl and yarmulke are stored for safe keeping. A Hebrew bible and a crystal dreidel (a top that spins) stand in a glass-fronted bookcase. There are also menorahs, candlelabras with places for nine candles. One place stands off to the side or higher than the other eight. The candle that burns in that particular place is called the Shamas, the leader. The menorah is used in the celebration of the joyous Jewish holiday of Chanukah.

          Last night was the first of the eight nights of Chanukah, the Festival of Lights. This eight-day holiday celebrates the re-dedication of the Second Temple in Jerusalem during the second century BCE. The history of Chanukah begins when Alexander the Great had conquered Syria, Egypt and Judea. Alexander allowed the conquered to continue to practice their faiths and so the Jews were content to practice their faith while they integrated into the Hellinistic culture of the ruling Greeks. However, more than a century later, Antiocus Epiphanes followed in the line of successors to Alexander the Great and rose to power. Antiocus had no patience for the Jews. He took over the Temple and desecrated it, demanding that pigs, considered by the Jews to be unclean animals, be slaughtered on the altar of the Temple. Eventually , groups of Jews banded together and led by Judas Macabee, formed an army that reclaimed the Temple. Now, above the Ark of the Covenant is a light called the Ner Tamid, the everlasting light. According to the Talmud, that light is to burn continuously. However, the Ner Tamid had burned out days after Antiocus took control of the Temple. The Jews, while cleaning the Temple in preparation for its rededication, found a small amount of oil to put in the Ner Tamid, though it was enough to burn only for a few days. A runner was sent to secure pure oil for the light. Miraculously, the small amount of oil in the lamp burned for eight days, the number of days it took the runner to go and return with the new oil. 

          On each night of Chanukah, the lead candle, the Shamas,  and one more candle are lit to commemorate  each night of the holiday. On the first night, the shamas and one other candle is lit. On the second night, the shamas and two candles are lit and so it goes for each of the eight nights.

          Chanukah reminds the Jews of a time when God prevailed over evil, when out of the darkness came light- a miracle from God. In the dirt and desecration of the Temple, enough oil was found to keep the everlasting light lit until new oil could be found. Chanukah reminds the Jew of God's perpetual watch-care over His children.

          As I sit here listening to the joyous strains of Messiah, I think about Advent and our time of preparation and expectation as we await the celebration of the miracle that happened that night- the birth of the infant Jesus, the time when out of the darkness came the one true light, Jesus. Just as God allowed the Jews to prevail over evil during the time of the Macabees, so God  allows us to prevail over the evil that besets us through the love of Christ Jesus , born that Christmas night when the light of God came into the world.

          As we enter into these last days of Advent,  may we use this season to prepare our hearts and our souls for the birth of the Son of God and may we rededicate ourselves to the honor and glory of his holy name. 
   
          

          

Thin Places

     Thomas Merton says that life is this simple – “we are living in a world that is absolutely transparent, and God is shining through it all the time.”   If we are open, we can see this frequently.  Marcus Borg describes these places where the two levels of reality meet as thin places.  It is also a place where our hearts are open.

     The season of Advent in which we anticipate and celebrate the incarnation is an opportunity to slow down and open our hearts to walk into these thin places where the veil separating the worlds is temporarily lifted.  These are stop in your tracks kind of moments.

     A few weeks ago I was given such an opportunity.  I traveled with a very small band of pilgrims to the Abby of Gethsemane.  I had been there before but never was allowed to go back into Merton’s hermitage.  A group went a number of years ago but I was not able to go.  You see only a small number are allowed at a time.

     Because of studying Merton for years and finding a true mentor, I have felt as though I have known him though I never knew him in the flesh.  I traveled the grassy hills of Kentucky that morning with expectation though I knew not what I was expecting.  On arriving we saw a film of Merton’s life and of the monastery.   After having lunch, Brother Paul led us on the walk back to the hermitage.

     As I crested the hill and caught a glimpse of this humble cinder block dwelling, I was stopped in my tracks. This was the place where a predecessor had come close to God and God had come close to him.   I literally did not want to make another step.  It was as if I could hear God’s voice saying, “take off your shoes, you are standing on holy ground.”  The emotion welled up within me and I longed to be alone with my tears.  The veil had temporarily been parted for me.

     The rest of our adventure was wonderful but that one moment was stopped in time for me.  I have thought a lot about that experience.  I imagine that those times are available daily, I just do not carry the same expectation and my heart is not always open.  I do believe that there are some physical places that may be thinner than others but I also believe that our ordinary places are on fire with the presence continuously.  We just may be too busy and distracted to see them. 

     That time taught me to walk expectantly every day with an open heart, in the humblest of tasks.  Let us do this together during Advent.   I believe we will all run into a thin place during this time of celebrating the incarnation – God with us.

P.S. I hope that there will be another opportunity for another group to venture to the hermitage.  I already know a few who would like to go!  

Haiku Meditation

Recently a group from Christ Church Cathedral went to the Abbey of Gethsemani, and I had the opportunity to tag along. It was a spectacular fall day. Dr. Glenn Hinson, who has a very close relationship with the monks of Gethsemani, and who was a personal friend of Thomas Merton, led the way. Glenn had arranged for a friend of his at the Abbey, Brother Paul Quenon, OCSO, to give us a tour of the Hermitage where Merton spent much time.

The Hermitage is a very, very humble abode. Like the Abbey, prayer hangs in the air of the Hermitage like incense rising from glowing charcoal. Brother Paul is man of good cheer who was happy to hike with us into the woods that cradle the Hermitage and to answer our many questions.

Brother Paul also told us of his spiritual practice of taking time to be intentionally fully present to God and to the moment, and of how he often writes haikus as part of this spiritual discipline. The form of haiku he writes is a line of 5 syllables, a line of 7 syllables, and then a line of 5 syllables. He shared several from his tattered notebook.

While I perused the amazing store at Gethsemani, I noticed a wonderful little book that Brother Paul authored with 2 others entitled, “The Art of Pausing.” It is a book of the 99 names of God, with one of Brother Paul’s haikus, a short meditation and sometimes a photograph to illuminate each name of God. I have enjoyed reading one of the names, haikus and meditations each day.

This afternoon I was given a gift in this hectic time of the year to simply be present in the moment. Our Deacon, The Reverend Paula Ott, helps to care for her granddaughter, Elizabeth (9 months old), while Elizabeth’s parents are at work. Due to a meeting at the Cathedral that Paula needed to attend, I offered to watch Elizabeth in my office. Little Elizabeth and I played with some of her toys, and then she was hungry for a bottle. After the formula was gone she promptly fell asleep on my lap. I knew that if I moved Elizabeth would wake up, so there we sat on the couch in my office, a gift of time to be fully present in that moment. And so to barrow a spiritual practice from Brother Paul, here is my first haiku to meditate on that moment with little Elizabeth.

Baby sleeps on lap

Lap owner snoozes on couch

Both are at peace now

Peace be with you.

The Reverend Brent Owens+

The Message of Advent

Veni, veni Emmanuel! Captivum solve Israel! 

Qui gemit in exilio, Privatus Dei Filio, 

Gaude, gaude, Emmanuel nascetur per te, Israel.

This coming Sunday begins a new Christian liturgical year. The year begins not with Christmas, but with the season of Advent – a time of waiting and anticipating the coming of the Messiah.

For a moment, imagine a world before Christ’s coming to earth. Step back in time to an age of awaiting the coming Messiah. What would it have been like to hear the prophets foretell of a Messiah, a Savior who would save captive and exiled Israel? It is hard to imagine because we know about Christ, His birth, His ministry, His death, His resurrection, and His ascension. But, back then, people didn’t know everything that was to come. They didn't know Christ. They were just waiting, patiently anticipating what God would do to rescue them.

My favorite Advent hymn is O Come, O Come Emmanuel. To me, not only does the Gregorian chant capture the message of Advent, but so does the text. Each verse gives a different name for Christ and speaks of how Christ will save Israel from captivity, tyranny, death, and lead them home. As Christians today, we are now Israel. As sinful human beings, held captive by our sins, we need a Savior to save us from our misery, our despair, our failures, and our weaknesses. I think it is neat that Advent and Christmas falls when the weather turns to winter. The coldness and darkness of winter can represent our souls before Christ comes into our hearts. His light shines into that darkness and frees us from it, giving us a chance to grow into a new creation (like spring). 

The link posted below is an arrangement of O Come, O Come Emmanuel that I feel embraces the meaning of Advent, the promise, the waiting, the anticipation of the birth of our Savior. During this season of Advent, take time to be still and anticipate Christ’s coming and the light and joy that it brings to the darkness of the world. With the rest of the world bustling around with Christmas already in their hearts, may we prepare our hearts for His coming and rejoice when the Incarnate God appears.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iO7ySn-Swwc

O Come, o come Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel, that mourns in lonely exile here, until the Son of God appear. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, Israel. 

O Come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free Thine own from Satan's tyranny; from depths of hell Thy people save, and give them victory o'er the grave. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, Israel. 

O Come, Thou Dayspring from on high, and cheer us by Thy drawing nigh; Disperse the gloomy clouds of night, and death's dark shadows put to flight. Rejoice! Rejoice! 

Emmanuel shall come to thee, Israel. 

O Come, Thou Key of David, come and open wide our heav'nly home; Make safe the way that leads on high, and close the path to misery. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, Israel. 

O come, Adonai, Lord of might, who to Thy tribes, on Sinai's height, in ancient times didst give the law in cloud and majesty and awe. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, Israel. 

O come, Thou Wisdom from on high, and order all things, far and nigh; to us the path of knowledge show, and cause us in her ways to go. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, Israel. 

O Come, Thou Desire of nations, bind all peoples in one heart and mind; 

bid envy, strife and quarrels cease; fill the whole world with heaven's peace. 

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, Israel. 

Elizabeth of Hungary, Fran McCoy, and the Goats

“What’s wrong with goats?!”

-5 year old Joe

Today we celebrated the Feast of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, the 13^th century princess and philanthropist who has been remembered for her care and nurture of the poor.  She sewed garments to clothe those in need and fished with the common folk in order that they might be fed.  She is a beautiful example of Christian charity and love to the “least of these.”

The Gospel reading for St. Elizabeth today was the story of the sheep and the goats from Matthew.  You know the story:  At the end of the age the Son of Man will separate the righteous from the evil just as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats.  It’s an image of the Final Judgment that many in Jesus’ time would have understood fully. 

Which brings me to 5 year old Joe.  In 1989 my little home parish of All Saints, Norton (VA) called its first female rector, The Rev. Fran McCoy.  Fran would be a fixture at that little parish for 19 years, the longest tenured rector in the history of All Saints.  She brought new perspectives, stretched the congregation when it needed stretching, and preached with abandon, while offering the most pastoral presence one can image from a priest.  She was our pastor in every sense of the word.

The first sermon Fran preached (or one of the first) revolved around this story, the sheep and the goats.  As we filed through the line at the narthex at the end of the service, 5 year old Joe came up to his new priest and ask straight up, “What’s wrong with goats?”  You see, 5 year old Joe remembered his mom driving home on the backroads and seeing goats on the hillsides and commenting how much she loved goats.  So, he wondered, what was so wrong with the goats?

Fran didn’t have an answer then.  But the years passed, and 5 year old Joe became 28 year old Joe, newly graduated from General Seminary and on the verge of being ordained a deacon at little All Saints.  Fran was there that day, and after the liturgy was over and the bishop blessed the food, Fran—who had retired and moved on from All Saints—spoke up.  “Joe,” she said in that commanding voice, “you once asked me after a sermon what was wrong with goats.”  Everyone laughed.  She continued.  “I can tell you now that your job is to go and take care of the goats.”

Such simple words, yet they were powerful in their simplicity.  The ministry of the deacon is a ministry of service—one that I have learned a great deal about from my two favorite deacons, Paula Ott and Preston Mitchell.  That same spirit of service I carry with me as a priest.  But the service is not just to the goats, not just to those who the world might label as unrighteous.  The service is to all God’s children, all the sheep, goats, and everyone in-between.  And Fran McCoy did that.

As a little kid I wasn’t sure what to make of God or this whole business of church.  I knew I loved going to church on Sundays, knew that I loved to serve at the altar and read the lessons and prayers.  Yet as a teenager I struggled with what I was really meant to do.  Was there a next step after being confirmed?  Should I “feel the Spirit” flowing through me like some of my charismatic Baptist friends talked about?  Was I missing something completely? 

And so I experimented.  I prayed in different ways, even taking the Muslim posture of sajdah when I served as an acolyte during the Eucharistic Prayer.  I would pray with my arms out, intently, almost as if I could force God to come down upon me.  It must have made folks in the pews nervous.  Yet all the while Fran let me do it.  She let me explore my faith, ask questions, and grow.  At 13 when I asked her what I was supposed to do next she suggested I preach a sermon (First Sunday of Christmas).  A few years later she encouraged me to become licensed to serve the chalice and lead Morning Prayer on Sundays when she wasn’t there.  And when I came home from college she often asked me to help her out by serving in any number of roles.  She tended to me.  She cared for me.  She saw something in me that I could not see.  Not yet.  And when the time came for me to ask what I needed to do to go to seminary she said simply, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that since you were 5!”

The call to serve, to tend and care for one another is not limited to those who wear the collar.  It is given to us all in our baptismal covenant—“seek and serve God in all persons…love your neighbor as yourself…respect the dignity of every human being.”  We are called, every one of us, to care for the sheep and the goats alike.  We are called to nurture them, to feed them, to tend to them, to empower them.  We are called to see in them that which they may not be able to see themselves.  We do so by the grace of God, knowing that God’s power working in us can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine. 

So thanks be to God for Elizabeth of Hungary, who cared for the least of these.  Thanks be to God for Fran McCoy, who nurtured a curious little boy and brought him to the full stature of the priesthood.  Thanks be to God for all of you who tend and care for both the sheep and the goats. 

P.S.  The answer to 5 year old Joe’s question:  the same thing that’s wrong with the sheep—absolutely nothing!!

A Time for Darkness

Daylight savings time has ended. We are now entering into the season of “darkness”, where the days grow shorter and the evenings longer. This became quite evident to Drew and I on Monday evening when we went for a run at the Arboretum in the early evening. That evening we began our run around 5 pm when dusk began to settle in, and by the time we had finished our run at 6 pm darkness was all around us. As we ran Drew and I both commented on how different it was to run in the dark, and how much we preferred the light. Our bodies nor our eyes were used to spending such a significant period of time (only about 40 minutes) without any form of light. And, although we could see, it was definitely strained.

So often, in our world today, we work hard to keep the lights on and the darkness out. Unless we are watching a movie or going to bed, when the sun goes down the artificial lights turn up. In fact, while we ran the path at the Arboretum I was quite surprised by the lack of artificial lighting. Except for the lamps over the streets or the stadium lighting at UK there were no artificial light sources to be found on the Arboretum's trails.

Barbara Brown Taylor recently wrote on this exact subject in her book, “Learning to Walk in the Dark.” As we ran the dark trails at UK I thought of Barbara Brown Taylor’s book and how we as a culture continual work to keep the lights on and the darkness out. It is the rare event when we seek out the pleasures of the darkness. Running the trails in dark allowed us to concentrate on ourselves, as we had nothing to distract our attention other than the beating of our shoes on the ground, the panting of our breath, the aching of our legs, and the release of the endorphins as we finished our final mile on the trail.

As a child I can remember being fascinated by the dark. I spent many a summer night playing hide and go seek with the neighborhood kids in the dark. I was excited for the seasons to change, and the night to take over the day. I desired to travel to other locations where cities lights didn’t ruin the beauty of the darkness, where the night sky was pure black and stars twinkled brightly. But today, I continually find myself loathing the end of Daylight Savings Time and impatiently counting down the days till springs return. I wake up early to enjoy the morning light and return home quickly to escape the evenings darkness.

As Drew and I went out to enjoy our evening run, we paused and debated turning back to enjoy the safety of the light at the YMCA and the comfort of retreating from the darkness. Spending intentional time in the darkness was a gift and reminder. We were not meant to spend all our time in the light, if we were God would never have created the day or the night. The ancient Celtic’s recognized this fact as they celebrated Samhain (October 31st - November 1st) the final harvest of the season and the beginning of the dark time. This celebration was a time to honor the final fruits of the last harvest, the spirits of the clan members who had passed on before them, and the darkness that was to come. Here darkness was not seen as thing to be feared, but as a part of the cycle of life. The Celt’s understood that without darkness there would not be light, nor an appreciation for that light.

And, so, although the temptation and “natural” inclination to avoid the dark (as Drew and I had on Monday evening) is high, we must begin to return and reclaim our time in the dark. For, the darkness allows us to know and appreciate the light. It brings rest and relaxation at the end of a long day. It allows us to reflect on ourselves, as it takes away the distractions found in the light of day. As we enter into another season of darkness, let us not fear the lack of light, but begin to reclaim our space in the dark as we seek the lessons and knowledge it holds to share.

Thanksgiving and Other Musings

          Recently, I joined Bishop Hahn and most of the other clergy of the Diocese for a Clergy Day at God's Pantry and Food Bank. As I sat there drinking my Starbucks coffee and enjoying a piece of freshly made cinnamon coffee cake, it struck me that I was enjoying both in a building, the sole purpose of which, is to provide food to the poor, to people who do not have enough money to feed themselves and their children the very basics of nutrition, much less a Starbucks coffee or a fresh pastry. I sensed such a disconnect between what I was eating and drinking and where I was sitting. After lunch, we had the opportunity to volunteer as a group in packing food that would later be distributed in the 50 Kentucky counties God's Pantry serves.

          For the past several months, I have had the opportunity to work with someone in my community as she has sought to find a job and a safe place to live. I once was someone who thought anyone could find a job if they really wanted one. I have come to learn that if one does not have a home address, that complicates finding a job. If one does not have the money to ride a bus or owna car, how can one even get to work unless it is just a short distance from one's residence? If one cannot afford a place to live, where does one keep the clothing he or she has? If one doesn't have a job, how can one even pay the rent for a place to live? Of course, most counties and cities have public housing where the cost of one's rent is determined by the amount of one's income. But the waiting lists for such housing are hundreds or, as in Lexington, thousands of people long. One afternoon, when I took this young woman to a job interview, we stopped for lunch at an inexpensive local restaurant. My young friend told me she had never eaten somewhere that she did not have to stand at the counter to order then wait there for her food to be handed to her. The experience left me feeling uncomfortable because something I had considered so mundane had been such a splurge to the young woman.

          Last evening as I drove home, I noticed a house down the road from ours was already  decorated in tiny white lights and wreaths with big red bows at each window. It occurred to me that as Thanksgiving quickly nears, with all the bountiful food and celebration with our families and friends, there will be many, as there are every year, for whom Thanksgiving will be just another day of trying to survive with no place to call home and/or little food to grace their Thanksgiving table.

          Lord, let me never forget to give you thanks for those who have supported me throughout my life: for my parents who carefully raised me and made sure I received a good education; for my family and friends who have unceasingly supported me and helped me become the individual I am; for my country that has kept me safe and given me so much freedom; and for you, God, for your unending love for me and watch care of my days. And Lord, let me never forget my brothers and sisters in my midst who have so little to meet their daily needs. Keep kindled in me the desire to serve and love them even as I serve my family and my friends. Amen.

The Saints in Light

Paul writes that we share in the inheritance of the saints in light through the resurrection of Jesus (Colossians 1:12-14). So, it seems right and fitting that as we approach All Saints Day (November 1) a parishioner who loves genealogy offered to do a search of my family history. This parishioner heard me mention that my wife Malinda, daughter Crystal, and I are going to decorate a gravesite at Christ Church Cathedral’s Old Episcopal Burying Ground for Dia de los Muertos or Day of the Dead (a Mexican version of All Saints Day). My family’s altar at the gravesite will be in honor of our respective grandmothers.

For the past several years, Christ Church Cathedral has partnered with the Living Arts and Science Center in the celebration Dia de los Muertos. It is on November 1 from 5-9 p.m. This event brings together a rich celebration of art, music, dance and food as we remember and honor those who have gone before us. We start at the Living Arts and Science Center, and then process the several blocks to our Old Episcopal Burying Ground where artists, families, and school classes “adopt” and decorate gravesites in remembrance of loved ones, including the Cathedral, which will decorate the gravesite of “Mary Jane,” and the altar inside the cottage.

So, I was particularly struck with what this parishioner found when she researched my family genealogy. One thing I learned perhaps explains why, after only 2 years, I feel so comfortable living Kentucky – I have deep Kentucky roots on both sides of my family. My great great grandfather, John Owens (1823-1895), was born in Bourbon County, Kentucky. A 5th great grandfather, Thomas Herndon, M.D. (1760-1820), a medical doctor and a veteran of the Revolutionary War, lived and died in Stamping Ground, Kentucky near Georgetown, only 20 miles from where I now live. I also learned that another 5th great grandfather, John Osborn (1757-1848), a farmer and saw mill owner, was a Revolutionary War veteran, and his brother was a minister. I guess ministry runs in the family.

When I looked at my family tree, I was also amazed by how many have gone before me. Here are the numbers through 5 great grandparents: 2 (parents), 4 (g’parents), 8 (great g’parents), 16 (great great g’parents), 32 (great great great g’parents), 64 (great great great great g’parents), and 128 (great great great great great g’parents). And the numbers in our direct lineage grow exponentially each generation back.

All Saints Day may be bitter sweet, but I also think it is a joyful celebration of life, the lives of the saints in light, who have gone before us. In our Baptismal Covenant we profess the ancient creed, “I believe…in the communion of saints,…the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.” (Book of Common Prayer, p. 304). All Saints Day is that time when we can tell and retell the stories of our loved ones who have gone before us as we celebrate their lives. 

King of Glory, King of Peace

If you were in church this past Sunday for the 11:00 service you saw something pretty rare.  You saw me cry in church.  And I’m not talking about getting a little misty.  Oh no!  I’m talking about full-on waterworks!  Why?  Because to my surprise—well, it wouldn't have been had I read the bulletin—the choir sang General Seminary as the hymn at Communion.  And if you know me, you know why this was a big deal and why I couldn't help but let my emotions overwhelm me in that moment.

I won’t rehash everything that has happened at The General Theological Seminary in the past 10 days or so here.  There are plenty of posts on Facebook and Episcopal Café that can get you up to speed.  But the very abridged version is this:  80% of the faculty, all but two of which were my professors, went on strike due to issues surrounding the seminary’s leadership, and three days later those faculty were let go.  

The saga at General is not uncommon.  It is a saga of dysfunction and the inability to name problems and move beyond them through the practice of holy listening and conversation.  Plenty of churches and academic institutions go through this—if you have a connection to Transylvania University, you know exactly what I’m talking about.  But what makes this saga so very painful?

It’s because seminaries, in their purest form, represent everything that our parishes can be.  Yes, there are a bunch of differences, not the least of which is the academic routine.  However, what seminary teaches those of us who are training for leadership in the Church—both lay and ordained—is how to live in community.  Folks at seminaries come from all over and have a variety of stories.  My class at General consisted of young, old, gay, straight, married, single, divorced, and every area in-between.  Yet we were there for a common purpose:  to grow in our knowledge and love of God.  And, most importantly, to do it together.  We may have arrived there individually, but we were never meant to undertake that journey alone.  It took me a long time to figure that out.  And when I did, as the community was going through a change in its physical landscape, and as I was going through changes in my own life, I discovered that this place, this community, was my home.  It didn't mean that we always got along or agreed on every theological matter.  But it meant we were there for each other.  We weren't alone. 

In the last several days members of my class have sent messages to one another via Facebook and other social media to simply say, “I’m here.”  Not offering solutions, simply offering an ear.  It’s the same thing that happened on Sunday.  As I sat in my chair by the altar, crying like a small child, a verger simply placed some Kleenex in my hand, and Deacon Paula put her arm around me.  No one said anything.  No one tried to make my pain go away.  They were just there.  And that was enough.

There are debates about whether the three-year residential model of seminary is feasible in our ever-changing world.  I’m not going to get into a debate about that here.  But I will say that those three years showed me what community really looks like.  And you here at Christ Church Cathedral have done the same thing.  You know that we’re not meant to go on this roller coaster ride of life completely on our own.  We need each other. 

That is the power of community.  It’s not about making everyone happy.  It’s not about fixing everyone’s problems.  It’s about being there for one another, offering a shoulder for crying or an ear for listening.  I see this everyday in the way that the staff on the third floor takes care of one another and listens to one another’s problems.  And I see it in this community that rallies together when a person’s loved one passes away.  I see it in the diligent prayers of the Daughters of the King, Prayer Shawl Knitters, and those who come to the Wednesday Healing Eucharist and pray, not for their own healing, but for the healing of others.  This place offers community.  It offers a place to call home.  It’s about relationships.  And for that I thank you!

Many have asked what’s next for General, and I honestly do not know.  All I do know is that the Resurrection is real!  It has to be!  And if the Resurrection is real, then new life will come from this period of death.  Light will follow this period of darkness, as it always does when any community experiences tremendous pain.  That is our hope in Christ Jesus, and it is my hope for a community I love so dear, even if my idea of Resurrection doesn't look anything like God's.  Thank you for your support, brothers and sisters.  And please continue to pray for General. Seven whole days, not one in seven.

Wrestling with the Bible

This week in Youth Group we reflected on what it means to be in relationship with Holy Scripture as Christians. We contemplated on Scriptures authority and meaning in our lives, even as it holds difficult, and sometimes undesirable, teachings and commandments. How are we to live into the lessons and regulations that come out of a text written thousands of years ago? It is difficult to know what kind of authority a text from such a foreign time, place, and culture holds in our lives today.

As Episcopalians we believe the Holy Scriptures to be the Word of God, “because God inspired their human authors and because God still speaks to us through the Bible.” Furthermore, “we understand the meaning of the Bible by the help of the Holy Spirit, who guides the Church in the true interpretation of the Scriptures” (BCP 853-4). So, while this ancient text was written by human beings we do still believe it to be divinely inspired for God. Thus, we give this text authority as it is our written connection to God’s Word, not only spoken and written thousands of years ago, but also today.

So, if we, as Christians, and Episcopalians, claim to believe and trust in the authority of the Bible, as God’s Word (both past, current, and future) how do we wrestle with the difficult topics, lessons, and commands it holds? Well, for me, this is the great blessing and gift of our faith, the ability to question, to struggle with, and to discover what it is I believe. For, faith is not blind or naive, it is not the ability to simply take in information and trust that it is true. Faith is a journey, it is a never  ending struggle that leaves us stronger in the end, more prepared for the next challenge. For, Jacob did not struggle with God to simply receive a bruised hip, but a blessing from God.

In my life, it has been the difficult questions, not only from the Bible, but also from my peers, that have allowed my faith to grow and strengthen. Too often I try to steer away from the difficult topics and questions of the Christian faith, for I do not want to question God, or God’s divine authority. But,  it is only when I delve into the hard undesirable  subjects that I come out with sense of renewed faith. When I take the time and effort to think and pray through what it is that Scripture is saying, and how it is that God relates to the world, I am often surprised with the answers and knowledge I receive. Wrestling with Scripture is a necessary task for developing faith, for it is only when we are more strongly rooted in the beliefs and teachings of our religion (and Holy Scripture) that we are more fully able to live into our faith and share it with others.

If I could talk to the Animals

          I have never purchased a dog. Rather, I believe God has put certain dogs on the path I have walked so that we would come across one another. I  met Bella on a cold winter's day. She was literally running down US 68 in front of a long string of cars. A tractor trailer, going in the opposite direction, spooked the dog sending her scrambling up a hill of rocks. I pulled over and tried to call her down from the top of the pile. When she would not come to me, I climbed the rocks to get to her. She was trembling so hard that she dug her nails into my collar bone as I wrapped my arms around her attempting to hold on to her. By the time we got to my driveway, the dog had fallen asleep in the front passenger seat of my car, her head in my lap. It was mutual love at first sight.

          I think Bella believes God gave her dominion over me rather than the other way around. She does not hesitate to tell me her opinion and if I do not appear to understand what she is saying, which is most of the time, Bella gets louder and more animated.  If only I had the talents of  Dr. Doolittle....

           I wonder, what is it that brings us into such close harmony with the creatures we welcome into our lives? I recently watched a video concerning a giant manta ray that was tangled up in a fishing net. The manta ray approached a couple of divers, swimming directly at them. Upon seeing the ray's situation, one of the  divers carefully removed the net that was beginning to cut into the ray's flesh. After it was freed, the manta ray immediately swam away, but then it turned around and swam back the diver who had freed it from the net. The ray came inches from the diver's face allowing the diver to stroke it, hovered there for several seconds and then swam away. In early summer, I read an article about an elephant that had been taken from its mother before it was weaned. The elephant had spent its life chained to a tree. Though many people had offered to buy the elephant, the person who owned it refused all offers. Several months ago, a group of people came in the night and cut the chains that were holding the elephant to the tree. People reported that when the elephant was freed and took its first steps void of the heavy chains that had held it for so many years, the elephant cried. Last night, I read an article and watched a corresponding video about a sea turtle that had become entangled in a fishing line. When a diver cut the line and unwrapped it from around the turtle's flippers, the turtle quickly swam away from the group of divers. But then, as with the manta ray, the turtle turned around and swam back to be face to face with the diver who had freed it from the line.

           Bella is one in a long line of dogs and other animals who have lived out their lives in my company. They have greeted me at the day as if I have I have been gone for months when perhaps it has been only a matter of minutes. They have listened patiently, sat up with me when I have been unable to sleep, kept watch when I have been ill and guarded  me when persons or animals unknown to them have crossed our path. . They have humbled me with the love and loyalty they shown me. I know I am not alone in the love I have for my pets.

          These past few weeks, as I have prepared for the Blessing of the Animals, I have observed, even more closely than usual, the relationships my pets have with me and with one another. Bella and company are blessings God has given me. I love them because I see in them a love they have for me. Each of the thirteen dogs that have lived their lives with me have been unique unto themselves. Though I have had dominance over each of them and am responsible for their care I have also shared an independence with them. They all have been and continue to be such blessings in my life. Thank you God for all the canine blessings you have showered upon me. Amen.

Finding Church Outside of Church

     Have you ever left a place and thought, “I think I was just in church even though I was not in my church?”  Walking to the Louisville Palace with Bernie this past Friday night to see Gladys Knight, or as she is sometimes referred to, the "Empress of Soul." was such a night. Upon walking down 4^th Street approaching the theater, we could clearly see that we were not a part of the majority population. Being way under dressed compared to most and of the minority race was obvious. As we moved closer the atmosphere was electrified with excitement and welcome.  The air breathed seemed to say, "we are all here for something memorable", and we were bonded instantly by this shared joy.

     It was a little while before the show began.  Gretchen, my immediate friend sitting beside me began to ask me about my life and commenced sharing some of hers...  After hearing that Bernie and I had both gone to the University of Louisville, realizing this common thread, she related that she had worked in housekeeping there for 26 years.  Before that she had been in New York, and related a few fun stories of her time there.

The lights went down and comedian Spike Davis entered the stage.  He asked that the lights be turned back on to reveal the audience.  Once revealed he said, "wow, isn't this great, so much diversity joined together for something special," followed by much applause.  Per his instructions, all who were Asian stood up, then whites, followed by Hispanics, blacks and Latinos. Spontaneous applause erupted after each group stood.  One woman, a Native American let him know that she had been left out.  She stood and all applauded.  When the comedy routine began there were quite a few mentions of his faith.  He said that Jesus was always with him - when he comes out on stage and then when he goes back out through the curtain.  He had come to know the gift of laughter at a young age and felt a call to bring that alive for people.

     Gladys then came on stage belting Gospels from her new album.  She said that she counts on being guided by the spirit on and off stage and her faith was the most important aspect of her life.  The reason for her being known as the Empress of Soul became apparent.  Between Spike, Gladys and Gretchen, I was experiencing more than a concert.  There was a soul touching between all.

     Throughout the show my new friend shared her binoculars and snack with me.  In this sharing we were somehow bonded.  We had truly communed through word, song, life and food.  I felt a twinge of sadness leaving her knowing that our paths may never cross again.  I however knew that I had been touched by something more and was left with a gift that I needed to live.

     Had I been to church?  I believe so.  I grew up learning that the church was not a building but the people.  Being in the minority, I never felt shunned, but was embraced in this communion of excitement, diversity, welcome, and joy.

     Is there a lesson in this experience for us?  There certainly was for me.  My prayer is that Christ Church Cathedral continue to live into being the church as I experienced the church at the concert.  May we see past clothing and anything else exterior and welcome all into communion with the body of Christ.

Change of Heart

I love fall; it’s by far my favorite season. I love the smell of the chilly, crisp air; the red, yellow and orange leaves; the start of a new football season; the start of a new school year; the hayrides and campfires; the carved pumpkins; pumpkin pie; caramel apples; apple cider; and sweaters, jackets, and boots. Fall brings many changes to your summer routine that you have gotten used to over the last few months. It starts a new chapter of the year.

Life is filled with chapters and changes. Summer to fall is just one of those many changes. In the last few weeks, I have been contemplating what it means to change and grow as a person, outwardly and inwardly. Specifically, what it means to have a change of heart. One of my favorite Bible verses is 2 Corinthians 3:18: “And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” We, as sinful human beings, are daily striving to become more like Christ. Each day, I believe Christ calls us to change and grow in Him. He does not want us to stay the same. He wants us to be “transformed into his likeness.”

As we spend time with Him and draw from His infinite wisdom, He lovingly and patiently asks us to let go of things that we might be holding onto. So, what does God want to change in your heart this fall? What has He been whispering to you? What does He want you to surrender and let go of? What in the past does He want you to forget? Does He want you to forgive? Does He want you to be more of a servant? Whatever He is asking for you to change this fall, don’t be afraid of it. Don’t be scared to let the Most High God into the deepest corners of your heart. He will take care of it, for He created you and loves you deeply.

“But now, this is what the Lord says – he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.”

~Isaiah 43:1