When I read my First Ramble for May (see previous post) to daughter Ashley, she asked what was bothering me, and when I told her, she said that I ought not to put the post in the church newsletter because it represented a scholarship that was outside the experience of most people. But I'm glad I got the Chesterton thing off my chest, because along with watching "Braveheart" and reading Churchill's "The Island Race", it made me feel a lot better about the current status of my beloved Anglican Communion, or at least about my place in it. And so now I offer someting that might be a bit more helpful to a few more people.
Rector’s Rambling- May 2010
At last it rained! I’ve been waiting all week. Watering new plants and seeded beds is incredibly time consuming, and yet is so necessary this time of year if the weather does not cooperate. For a number of years now I have found myself at odds with most of my neighbors and friends when spring and summer roll around. They tend to welcome daylight savings time because it leaves longer evenings and saves energy. I like standard time because it gives me an extra hour in the morning to take care of animals and the garden. They like sunny days and clear days because they allow time for their chosen pursuits. I generally prefer slightly cloudy skies and regular rain because such days make it easier to start plants in the greenhouse or in the garden. Small scale agriculture and agrarian living in general also puts me at odds with most of my neighbors and friends regarding what wild or domestic animals are desirable and which ones ought to be classed as vermin. As a weed is a plant, sometimes a very beautiful plant, in the wrong place. Vermin can be defined as a species of animal, sometimes quite beautiful animals, of which it can be said that three are picturesque on someone else’s property. Thus raccoons are vermin because they spread disease and chew leather. Deer are vermin because they eat corn and beans. Canada Geese are vermin because… well, you know the answer to that one. The list shifts by the season and goes on and on, but I think you get the idea. All of us have our own reasons for determining what is desirable and what is not desirable, and few of our lists agree all of the time.
Thinking about such things led me inevitably today to consider how our lists of behavioral expectations as Christians differ from the lists of society at large. Certainly they coincide at many places with the lists of our neighbors who are not Christian- all of us for example say that murder is a bad thing- but where do the differences lie? The historic position of our Holy Mother the Church is that holy matrimony is a relationship between a man an a woman, contracted for life in the presence of God and witnesses, which is designed to demonstrate to all the world the nature of the relationship between Jesus Christ and His Church; and which is designed to produce and rear children, to provide a buffer and an outlet against illicit carnal behavior, and to provide a man or a woman with “an helpmeet” to meet the ordeals of life. My guess is that a poll of the nation at large would reveal that most people do not define marriage in such a way. Or consider the question of authority in life. Our Anglican faith tells us that the Bible is the ultimate authority in our faith and practice, and that it contains everything we need to know in order to be saved and to lead a “godly, righteous, and sober life.” It also informs us that the Bible (which is the revealed truth of God in written form) when properly understood, will never contradict true science (which is God’s revelation in nature.) Our Anglican faith goes on to say that the Bible is properly understood when we inform our discussions about it with the teachings of the church through the ages (which we call “the holy tradition”) and when we understand it by using reason (which consists of all the ways we know God and his truth, and which is a part of the image of God in which we are created.) The outgrowth of this traditional set of beliefs about the Bible is of course that we ought to do what the Bible says clearly that we should do, and that we ought not to do what the Bible says clearly that we ought not to do. Anglicanism teaches us that when there are serious grey areas, we ought to agree to disagree in love, and that we ought not to try to force our opinions and expectations on others.) In my experience, most people, even most people in the church, do not believe those things about the Bible.
And so I come back to the point that we all have lists by which we live and by which we order our lives. The question is, “Do the lists by which I live identify me as a person of genuine Christian faith?” The question is simple, and I imagine that the answer is sometimes very uncomfortable, even for the best of us. In this month to come, I hope we will all take the time to examine our “faith lists” honestly, and that through such a prayerful examination, God will draw us ever closer to himself.
Sincerely,
Bill+
Friday, April 16, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Rector's Rambling, May 2010- Alfredus Magnus
Rector’s Rambling- May 2010
Those who know me best say that I am rather predictable. Some of them also know that when I truly believe that my world is passing, I reach for a well thumbed copy of G. K. Chesterton’s “Ballad of the White Horse.” The flurry of Easter activities precluded my reading of the news about our denomination, country, and world. But the passing of that great day led me back to the news servers, and I reached again for my well loved copy of the story of King Alfred and my other beloved friends. Mark, the dutiful Roman, has always called me to what I hope to be, but fear I am not. On the eve of the Battle of Ethandune “His speech was a single one,… Dig for me where I die, he said…Bear not my body home, For all the earth is Roman earth, And I shall die in Rome.” Eldred the Saxon has always been my favorite character. In the midst of battle he thought of beautiful things, and of home. “But while he moved like a massacre, He murmured as in sleep, And his words were all of low hedges, And little fields and sheep. Even as he strode like a pestilence, That strides from Rhine to Rome, He thought how tall his beans might be, If ever he went home.” And then there is “Alfred born in Wantage, who (sic) Rules England till the doom.” Of him our Lady had spoken, “But you and all the kind of Christ, Are ignorant and brave, And you have wars you hardly win, And souls you hardly save. I tell you naught for your comfort, Yea, naught for your desire, Save that the sky grows darker yet, And the sea rises higher.” And yet Alfred did prevail for a time, though his world was changed forever. In his brokenness and humility, he faithfully lifted high the Cross of Christ, knowing full well that every generation of Christians would be called to do the same.
And now is our time, for the vision of Alfred is fulfilled. “I have a vision, and I know, The heathen shall return. They shall not come with warships, They shall not waste with brands, But books be all the eating, And ink be on their hands. Not with the humor of hunters, Or savage skill in war, But ordering all things with dead words, Strings shall they make of beasts and birds, And wheels of wind and star. They shall come mild as monkish clerks, With many a scroll and pen; And backward shall ye turn and gaze, Desiring one of Alfred’s days, when pagans still were men…By this sign you shall know them, The breaking of the sword, And Man no more a free knight, That loves or hates his lord. Yea, this shall be the sign of them, The sign of dying fire; And man made like a half-wit, That knows not of his sire. What though they come with scroll and pen, And grave as a shaven clerk, By this sign you shall know them, That they ruin and make dark. By all men bound to Nothing, Being slaves without a lord, By one blind idiot world obeyed, Too blind to be abhorred; By terror and the cruel tales, Of curse in bone and kin, By weird and weakness winning, Accursed from the beginning, By detail of the sinning, And denial of the sin; By thought a crawling ruin, By life a leaping mire, By a broken heart in the breast of the world, And the end of the world’s desire; By God and man dishonoured, By death and life made vain, Know ye the old barbarian, The barbarian come again- When is great talk of trend and tide, And wisdom and destiny, Hail that undying heathen, That is sadder than the sea. In what wise man shall smite him, Or the Cross stand up again, Or charity or chivalry, My vision saith not; and I see No more; but now ride doubtfully To the battle of the plain.”
And so with Alfredus Magnus, Rex Brittorum, I am called to ride forth this day. How the battle will progress I cannot know, but I know the end. In faithfulness and patience we are called to serve our Lord, and that will be enough. As the good king sang before the Dane, “That though you hunt the Christian man, Like a hare on the hill-side, The hare has still more heart to run, Than you have heart to ride. That though all lances split on you, All swords be heaved in vain, We have more lust again to lose, Than you to win again.” Let us rise above our realities and serve faithfully that greater truth.
To Christ, the True King!
Bill+
Citations are from G.K. Chesterton, The Ballad of the White Horse, SanFrancisco, Ignatius Press, 2001 (A beautiful reprint of the 1928 edition illustrated by Robert Austin)
Those who know me best say that I am rather predictable. Some of them also know that when I truly believe that my world is passing, I reach for a well thumbed copy of G. K. Chesterton’s “Ballad of the White Horse.” The flurry of Easter activities precluded my reading of the news about our denomination, country, and world. But the passing of that great day led me back to the news servers, and I reached again for my well loved copy of the story of King Alfred and my other beloved friends. Mark, the dutiful Roman, has always called me to what I hope to be, but fear I am not. On the eve of the Battle of Ethandune “His speech was a single one,… Dig for me where I die, he said…Bear not my body home, For all the earth is Roman earth, And I shall die in Rome.” Eldred the Saxon has always been my favorite character. In the midst of battle he thought of beautiful things, and of home. “But while he moved like a massacre, He murmured as in sleep, And his words were all of low hedges, And little fields and sheep. Even as he strode like a pestilence, That strides from Rhine to Rome, He thought how tall his beans might be, If ever he went home.” And then there is “Alfred born in Wantage, who (sic) Rules England till the doom.” Of him our Lady had spoken, “But you and all the kind of Christ, Are ignorant and brave, And you have wars you hardly win, And souls you hardly save. I tell you naught for your comfort, Yea, naught for your desire, Save that the sky grows darker yet, And the sea rises higher.” And yet Alfred did prevail for a time, though his world was changed forever. In his brokenness and humility, he faithfully lifted high the Cross of Christ, knowing full well that every generation of Christians would be called to do the same.
And now is our time, for the vision of Alfred is fulfilled. “I have a vision, and I know, The heathen shall return. They shall not come with warships, They shall not waste with brands, But books be all the eating, And ink be on their hands. Not with the humor of hunters, Or savage skill in war, But ordering all things with dead words, Strings shall they make of beasts and birds, And wheels of wind and star. They shall come mild as monkish clerks, With many a scroll and pen; And backward shall ye turn and gaze, Desiring one of Alfred’s days, when pagans still were men…By this sign you shall know them, The breaking of the sword, And Man no more a free knight, That loves or hates his lord. Yea, this shall be the sign of them, The sign of dying fire; And man made like a half-wit, That knows not of his sire. What though they come with scroll and pen, And grave as a shaven clerk, By this sign you shall know them, That they ruin and make dark. By all men bound to Nothing, Being slaves without a lord, By one blind idiot world obeyed, Too blind to be abhorred; By terror and the cruel tales, Of curse in bone and kin, By weird and weakness winning, Accursed from the beginning, By detail of the sinning, And denial of the sin; By thought a crawling ruin, By life a leaping mire, By a broken heart in the breast of the world, And the end of the world’s desire; By God and man dishonoured, By death and life made vain, Know ye the old barbarian, The barbarian come again- When is great talk of trend and tide, And wisdom and destiny, Hail that undying heathen, That is sadder than the sea. In what wise man shall smite him, Or the Cross stand up again, Or charity or chivalry, My vision saith not; and I see No more; but now ride doubtfully To the battle of the plain.”
And so with Alfredus Magnus, Rex Brittorum, I am called to ride forth this day. How the battle will progress I cannot know, but I know the end. In faithfulness and patience we are called to serve our Lord, and that will be enough. As the good king sang before the Dane, “That though you hunt the Christian man, Like a hare on the hill-side, The hare has still more heart to run, Than you have heart to ride. That though all lances split on you, All swords be heaved in vain, We have more lust again to lose, Than you to win again.” Let us rise above our realities and serve faithfully that greater truth.
To Christ, the True King!
Bill+
Citations are from G.K. Chesterton, The Ballad of the White Horse, SanFrancisco, Ignatius Press, 2001 (A beautiful reprint of the 1928 edition illustrated by Robert Austin)
Monday, March 15, 2010
Reflections on the Holy Seplchure
Rector’s Rambling, April 2010
In place of the above, from Easter through the Day of Pentecost
Celebrant Alleluia. Christ is risen.
People The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.
Book of Common Prayer, p. 323
On Easter, the Feast of Resurrection, we gather to proclaim the good news that Jesus is alive again, and that for us he has overcome death and the grave. I began Lent this year in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. It is a cavernous place, first built by Roman engineers at the behest of St. Helena and at the command of her son, the Emperor Constantine, over 1600 years ago. At that time it was nearly twice the size it is now. After the destruction of time and war, it was rebuilt by the crusaders a thousand years ago, and it shelters the holiest sites of Christendom. Walking the narrow streets of Jerusalem down the Via Delorosa from the Old Roman fortress Antonia, I paused in each of the chapels and offered prayers. Here Jesus was condemned, there he fell. Simon was impressed by the soldiers at this place, and there is the spot where Jesus received the pitiful mercies of St. Veronica. As I entered the shrine through the great double doors, I turned immediately to the right and climbed the rough and irregular winding stone staircase which leads to the top of Golgotha. The beautiful chapels atop the mount (and inside the church) call to mind the suffering of our Lord, and the passion experienced by his mother and all those who loved him. As I knelt to touch the spot where the upright of the cross fitted into the rock, I felt a rush of my own unworthiness, and the reality faced me that this was all of my doing, of our doing. I lit a candle in thanksgiving for and in memory of those who had gone before me and followed the line of pilgrims down the narrow and steep stairs and around to the right into the Greek reliquary, where resides the largest remaining piece of the Holy Rood, the True Cross upon which our Lord suffered and died. As I knelt in that holy place, the rude impositions of flash bulbs and jangling tourists faded into nothingness and I sensed the love of God in a deep and abiding way. I knew that He had died for me, and I was overcome. After that moment, the Greek monks moved us out quickly to make room for more pilgrims, and we beheld the stone upon which the body of our Lord was prepared for burial. Incense wafted in the air and the chant of a lone monk rose above the excited chatter and general disrespect of tour groups. In my mind’s eye, I saw the women, and St. Joseph of Arimathea, who later brought the gospel to the Britons, gently carrying the limp body to this place of sorrow, and performing as quickly as possible the rites prescribed in Jewish law for the dead. Minutes passed with an agonizing sense of eternity, and I could not think of words to pray. I was dimly aware of people coming to pray or snap a photo, but time seemed to stand still at this holy place.
Then I walked with others past an Armenian shrine to our Lord, around the small and dark Coptic Chapel, and stood in the quietly meditative line of pilgrims waiting to enter the tomb of our Lord. The Greek guardians of this Holiest place glared with some intensity at a group of tourists who chatted gaily and snapped pictures without regard for the devotions of others. Finally the monk, with his flat black hat and threadbare cassock motioned me into the crypt, and I knelt before the stone upon which our Lord was laid by loving hands so very long ago. My mind was empty, and as I signed myself, I mumbled the Jesus Prayer and the Our Father.
The misbehavior of a group of my fellow countrymen, jockeying for position to get a picture of themselves before this holy place, disrupted my reverie, and the tomb’s guardian motioned for us to move on. I wandered on, through the numerous side chapels and crypts, considering what my Lord had done for me, and giving thanks for the love which caused him to take the punishment for my sins. As I emerged some hours later through the great doors which guard the sacred sites, the bright sunlight blinded me, and reminded me that Christ, the light of the world, is risen indeed, and that because of his resurrection, I too will live forever.
Never again will I approach Easter without remembering the Holy City of Zion, and never again will I proclaim the Easter salutation without reliving the joy that God gave me that day in Jerusalem.
I hope that you will join me in Church on this blessed Easter Day, and that together, our hearts might be warmed by the experience of the presence of God.
Bill+
In place of the above, from Easter through the Day of Pentecost
Celebrant Alleluia. Christ is risen.
People The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.
Book of Common Prayer, p. 323
On Easter, the Feast of Resurrection, we gather to proclaim the good news that Jesus is alive again, and that for us he has overcome death and the grave. I began Lent this year in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. It is a cavernous place, first built by Roman engineers at the behest of St. Helena and at the command of her son, the Emperor Constantine, over 1600 years ago. At that time it was nearly twice the size it is now. After the destruction of time and war, it was rebuilt by the crusaders a thousand years ago, and it shelters the holiest sites of Christendom. Walking the narrow streets of Jerusalem down the Via Delorosa from the Old Roman fortress Antonia, I paused in each of the chapels and offered prayers. Here Jesus was condemned, there he fell. Simon was impressed by the soldiers at this place, and there is the spot where Jesus received the pitiful mercies of St. Veronica. As I entered the shrine through the great double doors, I turned immediately to the right and climbed the rough and irregular winding stone staircase which leads to the top of Golgotha. The beautiful chapels atop the mount (and inside the church) call to mind the suffering of our Lord, and the passion experienced by his mother and all those who loved him. As I knelt to touch the spot where the upright of the cross fitted into the rock, I felt a rush of my own unworthiness, and the reality faced me that this was all of my doing, of our doing. I lit a candle in thanksgiving for and in memory of those who had gone before me and followed the line of pilgrims down the narrow and steep stairs and around to the right into the Greek reliquary, where resides the largest remaining piece of the Holy Rood, the True Cross upon which our Lord suffered and died. As I knelt in that holy place, the rude impositions of flash bulbs and jangling tourists faded into nothingness and I sensed the love of God in a deep and abiding way. I knew that He had died for me, and I was overcome. After that moment, the Greek monks moved us out quickly to make room for more pilgrims, and we beheld the stone upon which the body of our Lord was prepared for burial. Incense wafted in the air and the chant of a lone monk rose above the excited chatter and general disrespect of tour groups. In my mind’s eye, I saw the women, and St. Joseph of Arimathea, who later brought the gospel to the Britons, gently carrying the limp body to this place of sorrow, and performing as quickly as possible the rites prescribed in Jewish law for the dead. Minutes passed with an agonizing sense of eternity, and I could not think of words to pray. I was dimly aware of people coming to pray or snap a photo, but time seemed to stand still at this holy place.
Then I walked with others past an Armenian shrine to our Lord, around the small and dark Coptic Chapel, and stood in the quietly meditative line of pilgrims waiting to enter the tomb of our Lord. The Greek guardians of this Holiest place glared with some intensity at a group of tourists who chatted gaily and snapped pictures without regard for the devotions of others. Finally the monk, with his flat black hat and threadbare cassock motioned me into the crypt, and I knelt before the stone upon which our Lord was laid by loving hands so very long ago. My mind was empty, and as I signed myself, I mumbled the Jesus Prayer and the Our Father.
The misbehavior of a group of my fellow countrymen, jockeying for position to get a picture of themselves before this holy place, disrupted my reverie, and the tomb’s guardian motioned for us to move on. I wandered on, through the numerous side chapels and crypts, considering what my Lord had done for me, and giving thanks for the love which caused him to take the punishment for my sins. As I emerged some hours later through the great doors which guard the sacred sites, the bright sunlight blinded me, and reminded me that Christ, the light of the world, is risen indeed, and that because of his resurrection, I too will live forever.
Never again will I approach Easter without remembering the Holy City of Zion, and never again will I proclaim the Easter salutation without reliving the joy that God gave me that day in Jerusalem.
I hope that you will join me in Church on this blessed Easter Day, and that together, our hearts might be warmed by the experience of the presence of God.
Bill+
Saturday, February 6, 2010
St John's Rector's Rambling: Lent 2010
Rector’s Rambling March 2010
A good snow storm is a great time for dreaming. Surrounded by the warm glow of finished pine and hickory, I sit at the study end of the chapel with a size 16 Mustad fine wire hook in the vise, trying to decide whether to reach for the hare’s mask, the turkey bots, or the back feathers of a ring necked pheasant. I don’t know that it will make much difference to the fish I hope to catch this spring, but right now, here in the grips of winter, it seems an interesting, if unimportant question. I daresay that most of the things we think about fall into the same category as my dilemma over which dressing to use for the body of a trout fly. They are interests of the moment which may have some utility, but hardly classify as significant in the grand scheme of things. And yet how often do we imagine them to be of supreme importance? How often have we all been so attached to our own ideas or opinions on any given question that our defense of them has led to interrupted friendships, regularized bickering, or generalized dissatisfaction with life? Lent calls me to think about such things, because it is a time when I am called by our Holy Mother the Church to examine my own motives and to confess my own sins. It is a time for honesty with God and with myself. It is a time for transformation from what I have been into what God calls me to be.
At its best, a parish is like a family. We live together well much of the time, but our necessary vocations demand so much of our time that we fail to know each other as well as we should. We make assumptions about each other, and about each other’s motives on a regular basis. We do care for each other after a fashion, but often take one another for granted. Our interests and concerns develop and wander with predictable irregularity. As a result, we often neglect those opportunities afforded us to know one another more completely, to understand one another, and to truly appreciate the pressures and issues that so often dominate our lives. We are committed to each other and to this place, but often we are strangers- strangers who assume so very much about each other without adequate data- strangers who attempt to protect ourselves from each other by erecting walls of control or by blaming others for our own attitudes and negative responses. Since we fail to take the time to know each other, we miss out on the opportunity God gives us to bear one another’s burdens, and to create a place where any one of us can feel safe and secure in the worst of times. Every parish, and every family, struggles with these issues to a greater or lesser degree because we are so very, very human.
As we continue through this holy season, we have a wonderful opportunity to address those patterns of human behaviour which are outlined above. Our Evangelism and Renewal Committee has worked very hard to afford us all several opportunities to eat and fellowship together, to worship together, and to consider the implications of that worship as it relates to us being the family of God. I hope you will be sure to attend the Lenten programs if you are in town. Be sure to sit at table with someone you don’t know, and even better, if there is someone that you don’t particularly like, strike up a conversation with them about something that is important to them, their children, their work, or their hobbies. We have been blessed with a wonderful parish family here at St. John’s, but like every family, there is always work to be done as we learn to love and respect each other to the glory of God, and to the edification of our souls.
At the beginning of this ramble, I wrote that days like this are good for dreaming, and so I think I’ll tie three flies instead of one, but I promise before God that I will never let these gentle reveries of rushing water and flashing fish obscure my true calling to love those around me more perfectly. I hope you will join me in this determination.
Pax Vobiscum,
Bill+
A good snow storm is a great time for dreaming. Surrounded by the warm glow of finished pine and hickory, I sit at the study end of the chapel with a size 16 Mustad fine wire hook in the vise, trying to decide whether to reach for the hare’s mask, the turkey bots, or the back feathers of a ring necked pheasant. I don’t know that it will make much difference to the fish I hope to catch this spring, but right now, here in the grips of winter, it seems an interesting, if unimportant question. I daresay that most of the things we think about fall into the same category as my dilemma over which dressing to use for the body of a trout fly. They are interests of the moment which may have some utility, but hardly classify as significant in the grand scheme of things. And yet how often do we imagine them to be of supreme importance? How often have we all been so attached to our own ideas or opinions on any given question that our defense of them has led to interrupted friendships, regularized bickering, or generalized dissatisfaction with life? Lent calls me to think about such things, because it is a time when I am called by our Holy Mother the Church to examine my own motives and to confess my own sins. It is a time for honesty with God and with myself. It is a time for transformation from what I have been into what God calls me to be.
At its best, a parish is like a family. We live together well much of the time, but our necessary vocations demand so much of our time that we fail to know each other as well as we should. We make assumptions about each other, and about each other’s motives on a regular basis. We do care for each other after a fashion, but often take one another for granted. Our interests and concerns develop and wander with predictable irregularity. As a result, we often neglect those opportunities afforded us to know one another more completely, to understand one another, and to truly appreciate the pressures and issues that so often dominate our lives. We are committed to each other and to this place, but often we are strangers- strangers who assume so very much about each other without adequate data- strangers who attempt to protect ourselves from each other by erecting walls of control or by blaming others for our own attitudes and negative responses. Since we fail to take the time to know each other, we miss out on the opportunity God gives us to bear one another’s burdens, and to create a place where any one of us can feel safe and secure in the worst of times. Every parish, and every family, struggles with these issues to a greater or lesser degree because we are so very, very human.
As we continue through this holy season, we have a wonderful opportunity to address those patterns of human behaviour which are outlined above. Our Evangelism and Renewal Committee has worked very hard to afford us all several opportunities to eat and fellowship together, to worship together, and to consider the implications of that worship as it relates to us being the family of God. I hope you will be sure to attend the Lenten programs if you are in town. Be sure to sit at table with someone you don’t know, and even better, if there is someone that you don’t particularly like, strike up a conversation with them about something that is important to them, their children, their work, or their hobbies. We have been blessed with a wonderful parish family here at St. John’s, but like every family, there is always work to be done as we learn to love and respect each other to the glory of God, and to the edification of our souls.
At the beginning of this ramble, I wrote that days like this are good for dreaming, and so I think I’ll tie three flies instead of one, but I promise before God that I will never let these gentle reveries of rushing water and flashing fish obscure my true calling to love those around me more perfectly. I hope you will join me in this determination.
Pax Vobiscum,
Bill+
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