I'm writing a new blog

In April 2013 I stopped posting to this blog and took a year off. Recently I started a new blog entitled Program for Living. Check it out if you're curious.

Where is June?

Wondering why I haven't posted lately?

By the grace of God, since April 10th I've been at Father Martin's Ashley, a rehab center for pain management and alcohol or drug addiction (I'm here for pain and alcohol). I'll be here until around May 8th.

This is an incredibly wonderful place that addresses your problems physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. And the right place for me.

I will tell some stories after I get out.

If You Ever Need Me, Let me Know

I have slightly altered a poem by Laurie Wyrner (my apologies to her), that speaks to me about Jesus’ eternal and unending desire to be there for us in times of trouble.

 

No one, not even me, said life would be easy.

It seems so unfair sometimes.

Yet life’s ups and downs

Make us better and stronger,

Even though we may not realize it at the moment.

 

Remember –

When you hurt, let the pain out.

When you’re sad, let the tears flow.

When you’re angry, release it. (You know I did.)

When frustration sets in, work it out.

 

Help yourself as much as you can.

You can be your own best friend.

 

But when you need to share,

In your confusion, let me know.

I want to know when to be there,

But I can’t always reach out to you

Unless you reach out to me.

 

Love is the greatest gift

We can give to one another.

And giving is one of the

Greatest joys life bestows upon us.

 

I’m here to give you what you need,

Whenever and for always.

Difficult Times in Life Can Help Us Grow

I found this poem on a website. I think it describes the times that we all face -- sometimes often, sometomes occasionally. But it spoke to me.

TRY TO REMEMBER THE GOOD THINGS

by Sherrie L. Householder

When times become difficult

(and you know they sometimes will),

remember a moment in your life

that was filled with joy and happiness.

Remember how it made you feel,

and you will have the strength you need

to get through and trial.

When life throws you one more obstacle
than you think you can handle,
remember something you achieved
through perseverance and by struggling to the end.
In doing so, you'll find you have the ability to overcome
each obstacle brought your way.

When you find yourself drained and depleted of energy,
remember to find a place of sanctuary and rest.
Take the necessary time in your own life
to dream your dreams and renew your energy,
so you'll be ready to face each new day.

When you feel tension building,
find something fun to do.
You'll find that the stress you feel will dissipate
and your thoughts will become clearer

When you're faced with so many negative
and draining situations, realize how minuscle problems will seem
when you view your life as a whole -- and remember the positive things.

With God's unlimited grace,
we can get past the bad times and find Him again.

There Are Always New Things to Do

“Dreadful will be the day when the world becomes contented, when one great universal satisfaction spreads itself over the world. Sad will be the day for every man when he becomes absolutely contented with the life that he is living, with the thoughts that he is thinking, with the deeds that he is doing, when there is not forever beating at the doors of his soul some great desire to do something larger which he knows that he was meant and made to do because he is a child of God.”

This was written by Phillips Brooks (1835 – 1893), an American clergyman and author who briefly served as Bishop of Massachusetts in the Episcopal Church during the early 1890s. In the Episcopal liturgical calendar he is remembered on January 23. He is known for being the lyricist of "O Little Town of Bethlehem".

During the recent meeting of the Diocese of Virginia representatives and clergy, this spoke to me as a retired person who could, all too easily, contentedly sink into a relaxing life of leisure, going to the gym, watching TV and having lunch with my friends. But that's not enough. There are still things that I want (and need) to do, whether they are a call from God or just for my own mental health. Is it the former or the latter? Or maybe are they the same? Regardless, there's still this inner need to continue to do things that take time and effort -- and sometimes are a stretch for my soul -- to help others in body or spirit.

Do you feel the same thing? Are you looking for fullfillment? Or have you already found it?

Let Your God Love You

Let Your God Love You

Be silent.
Be still.
Alone.
Empty before your God.
Say nothing.
Ask nothing.
Be silent.
Be still.
Let your God look upon you.
That is all.
God knows.
God understands.
God loves you
With an enormous love,
And only wants
To look upon you
With that love.
Quiet.
Still.
Be.
Let your God love you.

          -- Edwina Gateley

Edwina Gateley is a bestselling author and poet, a pioneering missioner and lay minister, well known to large numbers of Christians in the USA, Canada, Britain and Ireland. She has been featured on CBS's "60 Minutes" and on "48 Hours," and is in high demand as a speaker and retreat giver. Her bestselling books include Soul Sisters, Christ in the Margins, I Hear a Seed Growing, and In God's Womb. She lives in Erie, PA.

The Star of Bethlehem

 One day this summer I was watching an episode of "Royal Pains" (one of my favorite shows) where a florist was one of the main characters. Apropos of I-don't-remember-what, he said that the Star of Bethlehem means reconciliation. That sent me into research mode..... no surprise there.

The official name of the "Language of Flowers" is "floriology." Using flowers to send a message probably dates to prehistoric times as symbolic use of flowers is mentioned in Egyptian inscriptions, in Chinese writings and in both Greek and Roman mythology.

In the 1600’s there was an actual "language" of flowers used in Turkey allowing specific messages sent of great importance through a seemingly harmless bouquet. Flowers could declare intentions, indicate acceptance, announce dismissal or even arrange a rendezvous. Flowers gained meanings which enabled lovers to convey messages to each other without having to write or talk. Shakespeare alludes to the meaning of plants and flowers in some of his writing -- in Act 4, Scene 5 of Hamlet, Ophelia says "There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember. And there is pansies, that’s for thoughts." The passing of messages via the floral code was then adopted by the French, and returned to England during the reign of Queen Victoria. Mme. Charlotte de la Tour wrote the first flower dictionary in 1818 in Paris. Entitled Le Language des Fleurs, it was very popular.. A Victorian lady, Miss Corruthers of Inverness, wrote a book on the subject in 1879. Her book became the standard for flower symbolism both in England and the United States.

The Society of American Florists website on this subject claims that the Star of Bethlehem stands for hope rather than reconciliation. I'm quite willing to accept both, and believe that the flower, like the actual star of Bethlehem, stands for "hope of reconciliation" -- in the floral sense between two persons, and in the spiritual sense between God and mankind.

If I could send each of my readers a bouquet this Christmas, it would contain gardenia for joy, violet for faithfulness, geranium for comfort, and azalea for abundance. Lacking that ability this evening, I can only send you my wish that God's grace be with you at this special time of the year.

The Advent Wreath

The word Advent means "coming" or "arrival" and our focus is the celebration of the birth of Christ in his First Advent, and the anticipation of the return of Christ the King in his Second Advent. But Advent is far more than simply marking a 2,000 year old event in history. It is celebrating a truth about God, the revelation of God in Christ whereby all of creation might be reconciled to God. This is a process in which we all participate, and the consummation of which we anticipate.

The circle of the advent wreath reminds us of God Himself, His eternity and endless mercy, which has no beginning or end. The green of the wreath speaks of the hope that we have in God, the hope of newness, of renewal, of eternal life.

Candles symbolize the light of God coming into the world through the birth of His son. The four outer candles -- which might be white, pink, purple or red -- represent the period of waiting during the four Sundays of Advent, which themselves symbolize the four centuries of waiting between the prophet Malachi and the birth of Christ. The first candle is called “prophecy” or “hope” because it symbolizes the prophets’ promises that foretold Christ’s birth and the hope we have in Christ. The second candle is called “the Bethlehem candle” in honor of Christ’s birthplace or “love” because Christ is the Light sent into the world to show us the way out of darkness. The third candle is called “the shepherds’ candle” or “peace” because the only lasting peace to be found is through Christ. The fourth candle is called “the angels’ candle” or “joy” because it represents the angelic proclamation of joy at Christ's birth. On Christmas Eve, the white center candle – called the “Christ candle” -- is lit, representing our sinless, spotless, pure Savior.

A ring of evergreens decorated with candles was seen in northern Europe long before the arrival of Christianity. It symbolized the eternal cycle of the seasons, while the evergreens and lighted candles signified the persistence of life in the midst of winter. One theory credits a Protestant pastor in Germany as the inventor of the modern Advent wreath. The custom first gained ground among Protestant churches in Germany, Roman Catholics in Germany began to adopt the custom in the 1920s, and in the 1930s it spread to North America.

The "Coming" of Advent

I was originally going to do a four-part series on Advent this year, beginning on December 1st. Then other things got in the way. Our rector, Father Malm, says "We make plans, and God laughs." This is one of those times I gave him a good laugh. But I like the concept of God laughing, so I don't feel so bad about it.

Advent began this year on Sunday, December 1, the fourth Sunday before Christmas. The word itself is Anglicized from the Latin word adventus meaning "coming", and the Latin word is a translation of the Greek parousia, commonly used in reference to the second coming of Christ. Advent is the beginning of our liturgical year and also a time of expectant waiting and preparation for the celebration of Jesus’ birth.

The theme of readings and teachings during Advent is to prepare for the second coming while commemorating the first coming of Christ at Christmas. From the 4th century through the Middle Ages, the Advent season was kept as a period of fasting as strict as that of Lent. In some localities it began right after November 11, the feast day of St. Martin of Tours. In some countries this feast was a time of frolic and heavy eating – similar to Mardi Gras -- since the 40-day fast began the next day. In the Anglican and Lutheran churches the fasting rule was later relaxed, with the Roman Catholic Church doing likewise later,but Advent was still kept as a season of penitence. The Eastern Orthodox and Oriental Orthodox churches still hold the tradition of fasting for 40 days before the Nativity Feast.

In many countries, Advent has been marked by interesting popular observances, some of which still survive. In England, especially in the northern counties, there was a custom (now extinct) for poor women to carry around the "Advent images", two dolls dressed to represent Jesus and the Blessed Virgin Mary. A halfpenny coin was expected from every one to whom these were exhibited, and bad luck was thought to menace the household not visited by the doll-bearers before Christmas Eve. In Normandy, farmers employed children to run through the fields and orchards armed with torches, setting fire to bundles of straw and driving out vermin that would damage the crops. In Rome, the Calabrian pifferari (bagpipe players) entered the city during the last days of Advent to play before the shrines of Mary, because Italian folklore stated that the shepherds played these pipes when they came to the manger at Bethlehem to pay homage to the infant Jesus.

The origins of the Advent calendar come from German Lutherans, who would count down the first 24 days of December physically. This might be as simple as drawing a chalk line on the door each day, beginning on December 1. Some families had more elaborate means of marking the days, such as lighting a new candle or hanging a little religious picture on the wall each day (these pictures became part of some Advent calendars). The candles might also be placed on a structure which was called an "Advent clock" and later “Advent wreath.” In Scandinavia there is a more recent tradition of having a so-called julekalender in the form of a television or radio show, starting on the first of December and ending on Christmas Eve.

Being Thankful

I recently read an article that addressed why some people find the Christmas season to be something less than a time of untrammeled delight. Possible reasons included seasonal affective disorder or SAD (due to lack of sunlight); exhaustion from shopping, wrapping, mailing, cleaning, preparing and/or traveling; and unrealistic expectations of a Currier and Ives type of holiday where everything is beautiful and everyone gets along with everyone else.

I haven't read anything about people who don't care much for Thanksgiving, but I suspect that some of the same reasons apply ... except for the shopping, wrapping and mailing. And then there's another aspect of it -- the laser-like focus on being thankful. If you're or sick, or troubled, or stressed, or out of work, or lonely, or bereaved, it can be a real challenge to find things to be thankful for, because all you can think about is what you don't have -- good health, a clear mind, a calm body, a decent job, or someone to love who loves you back. All you want to do is crawl under the covers and wait for it to be over.

I recently read a poem in a local magazine that gave me the idea for this blog. Since it was marked "Author Unknown" I can't give it proper attribution, but I'd like to share it.

Be thankful that you don't already have everything you desire.

If you did, what would there be to look forward to?

Be thankful when you don't know something, 

For it gives you the opportunity to learn.

Be thankful for the difficult times.

During those times you grow.

Be thankful for your limitations,

Because they give you opportunities for improvement.

Be thankful for each new challenge,

Because it will build your strength and character.

Be thankful for your mistakes.

They will teach you valuable lessons.

Be thankful when you're tired and weary,

Because it means you've accomplished something.

It's easy to be thankful for the good things.

A life of fulfillment comes to those who can be thankful for setbacks.

Gratitude can turn a negative into a positive.

Find a way to be thankful for your troubles, and they can become your blessings.

If you find something in this poem that speaks to you, I will be thankful for that. On the other hand, if you think it sounds way too much like the saying "If life gives you lemons, make lemonade," I will understand that too. I used to be a lemonade-kind-of-person when I was younger, and my husband would periodically tease me about coming down from my cloud. I'm older now, there have been bumps in the road, and sometimes it's hard to remember what the lemonade days felt like. But now and then I still have one and when I do, I try to remember to be thankful.

The Book of the Web

A good friend and former colleague recently shared with me a copy of an ancient text that didn't make it into the Bible ... not even the Apocrypha. Although I cannot vouch for its authenticity, nor do I know who may have written it, I thought that it was important that it's story should not be lost.

In ancient Israel , it came to pass that a trader by the name of Abraham Com did take unto himself a young wife by the name of Dorothy, whom Abraham fondly called Dot. And Dot Com was a comely woman, large of frame, broad of shoulder and long of leg. Indeed, she was often called Amazon Dot Com by others. 

And Dot said unto Abraham, her husband, "Why dost thou travel so far from town to town with thy goods when thou canst trade without ever leaving thy tent?" And Abraham did look at her as though she were several saddle bags short of a camel load, but simply said, "How could that be?" And Dot replied, "I will place drums in all the towns, and drums between the towns, to send messages saying what you have for sale, and they will reply telling you who hath the best price. It will be as a spider's web, each strand linked to each other strand, so that all strands are connected. When an agreement on price has been made, you can deliver the goods by partnering with your cousin Uriah, who has a successful pony stable" (UPS).

Abraham thought long and decided he would let Dot have her way with the drums, for he loved her greatly and wished her to be happy. So the drums were put in place, and idle young persons were employed to use the drums, and the new enterprise was an immediate success. Abraham sold all the goods he had at top price without ever having to leave his tent. To prevent neighboring peoples from overhearing what the drums were saying, and thereby competing with her husband, Dot devised a system that only she and the drummers knew. It became known as Must Send Drum Over Sound (MSDOS), and she also developed a language to transmit ideas and pictures, Hebrew To The People (HTTP). And the young persons did take to Dot Com's new inventions as doth the greedy horsefly take to camel dung. They were called Nomadic Ecclesiastical Rich Dominican Sybarites, or NERDS. 

And lo, the land was so feverish with joy at the new riches and the deafening sound of drums that no one noticed that the real riches were going to the enterprising drum fabricator, William of Gates, who bought off every drum maker in the land. Indeed, he did insist on drums to be made that would work only with his own drum heads and drum sticks. And Dot did say, "Oh, Abraham, what we have started is being taken over by others." And Abraham looked out over the Bay of Ezekiel , or eBay as it came to be known. He said, "We need a name that reflects what we are." And Dot replied, "Let us call yourselves Young Ambitious Hebrew Owner Operators." "I agree, but YAHOO is shorter and easier to remember," said Abraham. And because it was Dot's idea, they named it YAHOO Dot Com. 

Another of Abraham's cousins, Joshua, being the young Gregarious Energetic Educated Kid (GEEK) that he was, soon started using Dot's drums to locate things around the countryside. It soon became known as God's Own Official Guide to Locating Everything (GOOGLE). 

And that is how it all began. And God looked upon it and saw that it was good.

All Saints Day and The Calendar of Saints

Most everyone (including my husband and I) are ready (or preparing) for tonight's Halloween activities. We bought the pumpkin, I drew the design, and Brad just finished the carving. The candy is sitting in a basket in the kitchen, awaiting the first trick-or-treaters. It's a holiday I've always loved.

Tomorrow is another holiday I love -- All Saints' Day. Although we will "transfer" it and celebrate it at Grace Church on Sunday, November 3rd, tomorrow is the "real thing." On this day we celebrate all of the saints who have gone before. And they all deserve it!

The veneration of saints in the Episcopal Church began with the early Church. Our use of the term "saint" differs from Roman Catholic and Orthodox traditions in that we don’t canonize individuals and we don’t

generally invoke saints as intercessors in prayer. Instead, we believe that all baptized Christians are saints of God and have the potential to be examples of faith to others. We pray for each other and for all Christians as members of the Communion of Saints, including both the living and the dead, since all are considered to be in the hands of God. The first English Book of Common Prayer (BCP) retained a small number of feasts celebrated by the Roman Catholic church, but included no post-Biblical saints. The 1662 BCP, used by Anglicans living in the American colonies, listed the names of 67 saints in its Calendar. The first American BCP (1789) listed no minor Holy Days (lesser feasts) in its Calendar, and that didn’t change in either the 1892 or 1928 BCPs.

Things changed as a result of the General Convention of 1964, when more than 100 new saints’ days were added and the book Lesser Feasts and Fasts – an official resource of the Episcopal Church -- was first published. Since then, the number of saints in the Calendar has gradually increased, and Lesser Feasts and Fasts was updated on the average of every three years. The 2003 General Convention called for a significant revision of Lesser Feasts and Fasts that, among other things, would reflect cultural diversity, our ecumenical partners and local customs. This resulted in the development of Holy Women, Holy Men: Celebrating the Saints, which was approved for use in 2009 and added over 100 new saints. One example is G. A. Studdert Kennedy (March 8), a priest who served as chaplain to soldiers on the Western Front during World War I, published poems based on his experience as a war chaplain, was a powerful influence on the pacifist cause, and inspired Desmond Tutu.

In most cases, two generations or 50 years from a person’s death must elapse before that person can be added to the Calendar. If you want to learn more about the saints themselves, and the process by which the Episcopal church adds individuals to the Calendar of Saints, pick up a copy of Holy Women, Holy Men. It’s also available online in a couple of different places.

Our saints weren’t models of perfection. They were flesh-and-blood men and women from various

denominations and traditions, whose lives were shaped by God and who serve as examples of Christian faith and works. I love the hymn we often sing on All Saints' Day, "I Sing a Song of the Saints of God" (Hymn 293). I especially love these words:

"You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea,

In Church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea,

For the saints of God are just folks like me,

And I mean to be one too."

In many cases our saints faced serious challenges, because they often held beliefs and positions that made them unpopular during the time they lived. I'm sure they faltered at times, and had to pray for strength. But, as Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 12:9, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

Why no posts lately?

I've been a bad blogger -- it's more than a month since I've written anything here. First I fractured a bone in my right foot. Then we were getting ready for a trip to France (canal barge in Alsace, then 4 days in Paris). Then when I returned I had a horrible pain in my right neck and shoulder that got worse when I used the computer. Having had disc replacement surgery 3 years ago, my worry-meter was off the scale. Fortunately I was diagnosed with a bad muscle strain from wearing a surgical boot and lugging a suitcase around France. All is now recovering, thank God.

Here are a few shots of our trip, including me in my boot. It was lovely.

Remembering 9-11 ... Differently

I wake up this morning thinking about this day, twelve years ago. The tragedy, the sadness, and then the almost-immediate backlash in this country against all Muslims. I drink my first cup of morning coffee and look at Facebook postings. Most of my friends post some kind of memorian to those who died, those who still mourn, and those who came to the rescue of others. I do the same. And yet a few of my friends post unpleasant comments about the "Million Muslim March" planned today in Washington, DC. Yes, they are my friends, and some of my family, although we don't share certain opinions.

I think back to last Sunday's Holy Eucharist, its readings and hymns. Some seem so well-positioned for my thoughts this week, like Hymn 603.

"When Christ was lifted from the earth,
his arms stretched out above
through every culture, every birth,
to draw an answering love.

Still east and west his love extends
and always, near or far,
he calls and claims us as his friends
and loves us as we are.

Where generation, class, or race
divide us to our shame,
he sees and labels but a face,
a person, and a name.

Thus freely loved, though fully known,
may I in Christ be free
to welcome and accept his own
as Christ accepted me."

He "loves us as we are." Even if we don't always love each other. Even if we don't worship Him. Even if we can't see beyond the skin color and the clothing and the politics and the religion and the other things that make people different. And wonderful.

The first lesson from the Book of Jeremiah (18:1-11) compares God to a potter. "Just like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.  At one moment I may declare concerning a nation or a kingdom, that I will pluck up and break down and destroy it,  but if that nation, concerning which I have spoken, turns from its evil, I will change my mind about the disaster that I intended to bring on it.  And at another moment I may declare concerning a nation or a kingdom that I will build and plant it, but if it does evil in my sight, not listening to my voice, then I will change my mind about the good that I had intended to do to it." God is telling us that any nation, any people, can have hope. If they do what is right, even after doing what was wrong, they will be forgiven and can start anew. This applies to others, and it also applies to us. Are we without guilt?

The second lesson, from the Letter of Paul to Philemon (1:17-18), Paul writes about a former slave, Onesimus. "So if you consider me your partner, welcome him as you would welcome me.  If he has wronged you in any way, or owes you anything, charge that to my account." It's all about forgiveness.

 

Finally, in our Postcommunion Prayer we say, "We humbly beseech thee, O heavenly Father, so to assist us with thy grace, that we may continue in that holy fellowship, and do all such good works as thou hast prepared for us to walk in."

 

On this day, I remember those who died, those who still mourn, and those who came to the rescue of others. But I also remember, and pray for, all those who have suffered innocently because we are not by nature a forgiving people. And I hope that, "Thus freely loved, though fully known, may I in Christ be free to welcome and accept his own as Christ accepted me."

An Ancient Prayer -- Still Good

One of the places we visited during this summer's walking tour of Cornwall was Saint Wyllow Church in the parish of Lanteglos, which includes the ancient villages of Polruan, Bodinnick, Mixtow, Pont and Lanteglos Highway. Border by the River Fowey (pronounced "Foy") to the east and the Atlantic to the south, it's been settled as far back as the Bronze Age. The name "Lanteglos" is from the old Cornish Nant Eglos, which means "church valley." Many of the surrounding farms date back to the Doomsday records of 1086. Frankly, I don't think that much has changed since then.

The story goes that Saint Wyllow, a Christian hermit, was living nearby in Pont around 596.  Legend has it that he was killed by a relative and beheaded, but he got up and brought his own head to the current location, thus deciding where the church should be built. The building dates mostly from the late fourteenth century.  The tower is 70 feet tall, in four stages and stands on four piers.  The belfry has six bells (described as ‘silver tongued’ by Sir Arthur Quiller Couch).

It's a quiet and peaceful place. The church is old and musty and the gravestones are lichen-covered. But I could tell that it was still a vibrant parish because in the back corner of the nave was a children's corner full of scattered toys and crayons. And there was a sticky-note posted on the bulletin board dated from the previous day that said, "Dear Claudia, I'll be back on Tuesday evening to pick up the leftover dishes. Love, Susan."

As I left, I picked up a xerox copy of something entitled "An Ancient Prayer."

Give me a good digestion, Lord,

And also something to digest.

Give me a healthy body, Lord,

With sense to keep it at its best.

Give me a healthy mind, O Lord,

To keep the good and pure in sight,

Which seeing wrong is not appalled,

But finds a way to set it right.

Give me a mind that is not bored,

That does not whimper, whine or sigh.

Don't let me worry overmuch 

About that fussy thing called "I."

Give me a sense of humor, Lord,

Give me the grace to see a joke,

To get some happiness from life

And pass it on to other folk.

It seems to me that pretty much everything that's important is covered in this prayer, and when I read it now I wonder who wrote it, and how long ago. I think about the centuries of Cornish people who have worshipped in this place, and those who worship here still. I say a prayer for them, and remember these words written by Saint Paul in 1 Corinthians 3:10: "According to the grace of God given to me, like a skilled master builder I laid a foundation, and someone else is building on it. Each builder must choose with care how to build on it.

Now that I've re-discovered this piece of paper, in the pile of brochures and other papers from that trip, I think I'll begin using it on a daily basis. At least for a while.

Writing, Speaking and Connecting

Yesterday was the fortieth anniversary of the ordination of Father John Wires, who often serves as supply clergy at Grace Church. We celebrated this during and after the 10:00 am Choral Eucharist -- he preached during and we had a cake after. We love cake almost as much as we love wine, and cake goes much better with after-church coffee.

I enjoy Father John's sermons because his voice is deep and clear, and I always learn something new. This time was no different. In a sermon entitled "Orally Speaking" he preached about the importance of words, and of speech, to communicate things of great importance. In Genesis we're told the story of creation, how God says words such as "Let there be light" and these things miraculously appear. John begins his gospel with the words, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." 

What I didn't realize before Father John mentioned it was that written words were originally meant to be read aloud. (How did I miss that in my otherwise-excellent liberal arts education?) In ancient times, documents were read aloud so that the illiterate (which included most people) could benefit. The Romans, who were great orators, were in the habit of "declaiming" a text, even in private. But after St. Augustine of Hippo visited St. Ambrose of Milan, he wrote the following in Book 6, chapter 3 of his Confessions:

"When [Ambrose] read, his eyes scanned the page and his heart sought out the meaning, but his voice was silent and his tongue was still. Anyone could approach him freely and guests were not commonly announced, so that often, when we came to visit him, we found him reading like this in silence, for he never read aloud."

Augustine probably would not have mentioned this if it hadn't struck him as something entirely unusual.

Why do I think this is important? Because I think it marks a change in human culture.  Reading aloud was usually a social activity that included a reader and an audience. There were probably times when the audience would listen quietly and respectfully, but I bet there were plenty of times when the audience would add comments and maybe engage in a little heckling (I'm thinking of today's political speeches). But even if it involves communication from the writer to the reader, silent reading isn't a social activity because it isn't two-way communication. It's something interior, which involves listening to not only the "voice" of the writer, but also the reader's quiet inner voice that lends personal meaning that is unique to each and every reader.

I wonder whether we are currently experiencing a further change in human culture as a result of social media, texting and electronic gaming. In the past I might have telephoned a friend to share something I thought she would be interested in; now I'm more likely to post it on her Facebook page. I've heard other people (far younger than me) complain when someone leaves them a voicemail message instead of just texting. And playing web-based versions of "Words With Friends" has taken the place of sitting around the Scrabble board. I bet that you've also seen a photo or cartoon of two people sitting side by side (or back to back), texting each other.

I know that some elementary schools have stopped teaching cursive writing and replaced it with keyboarding skills. Even my own handwriting, once elegant, has atrophied from lack of practice. It doesn't just "flow from the pen" any more. (Sigh.) Language seems to be changing so that complete thoughts can be made to fit into 40-character spaces (LOL). And it's impossible to read someone's body language in an email message.

I hope you'll believe me when I tell you that I'm not necessarily complaining about this. There are definite advantages. I love to receive pictures and funny memes. I can now stay in touch with more people than I ever did before, no matter how far away they are. In fact, less than two weeks ago I spent time with two friends in Toronto -- it was the first time the three of us got together since sixth grade, fifty years ago, and we reconnected through Facebook.

But I do wonder whether we will lose some amount of skill in face-to-face oral communication, just through lack of practice. Will we lose the ability to connect closely with others? Maybe Skype will solve that problem. And will there be anyone left to read the handwritten documents of yesterday? Maybe not, but I won't worry about it, I'm sure there will be an app for that.

A Red Letter Day for Civil Rights

Today is a "red letter day" when we celebrate Jonathan Myrick Daniels (March 20, 1939 – August 20, 1965), an Episcopal seminarian who was killed for his work in the American civil rights movement. His death helped galvanize support for the civil rights movement within the Episcopal church.

 Born in New Hampshire, Jonathan Myrick Daniels joined the Episcopal Church as a young man and considered a career in the ministry as early as high school. He began to question his religious faith during his sophomore year of high school, possibly because his father died and his sister Emily suffered an extended illness. He graduated as valedictorian of his class at the Virginia Military Institute and, in the fall of 1961, entered Harvard University to study English Literature. In the spring of 1962 Daniels was attending an Easter service at the Church of the Advent in Boston, and suddenly felt his doubt disappear, to be replaced with a renewed conviction that he was being called to serve God. Soon after he decided to pursue ordination and was accepted to the Episcopal Theological School in Cambridge, Massachusetts, starting his studies in 1963 and expecting to graduate in 1966.

In March 1965, Daniels answered the call of Dr. Martin Luther King, who asked that students and clergy come to Selma, Alabama, to take part in a march to the state capital in Montgomery. Daniels and several other seminary students left for Alabama on Thursday and had intended to only stay the weekend, but realized how badly it must appear to the native civil rights workers that they were only willing to stay a few days. Convinced they should stay longer, Daniels and one other student went back to school just long enough to request permission to spend the rest of the semester in Selma, studying on their own and returning at the end of the term to take exams. Daniels stayed with a local African-American family and devoted himself to integrating the local Episcopal church, taking groups of young African-Americans to the church, where they were usually scowled at or ignored. In May Daniels traveled back to school to take his semester exams and, having passed, went back to Alabama in July to continue his work.

The following heartfelt words, written by Daniels, are taken from American Martyr: The Jon Daniels Story by William J Schneider, copyright 1992.

“There are good men here, just as there are bad men. There are competent leaders and a bungler here and there. We have activists who risk their lives to confront a people with the challenge of freedom and a nation with its conscience. We have neutralists who cautiously seek to calm troubled waters. We have men about the work of reconciliation who are willing to reflect upon the cost and pay it. Perhaps at one time or another the two of us are all of these. Sometimes we take to the streets, sometimes we yawn through interminable meetings. Sometimes we talk with white men in their homes and offices, sometimes we sit out a murderous night with an alcoholic and his family because we love them and cannot stand apart. Sometimes we confront the posse, and sometimes we hold a child. Sometimes we stand with men who have learned to hate, and sometimes we must stand a little apart from them. Our life in Selma is filled with ambiguity, and in that we share with men everywhere. We are beginning to see as we never saw before that we are truly in the world and yet ultimately not of it. For through the bramble bush of doubt and fear and supposed success we are groping our way to the realization that above all else, we are called to be saints. That is the mission of the Church everywhere. And in this, Selma, Alabama, is like all the world: it needs the life and witness of militant saints. “

On August 14, 1965, Daniels and 28 other protesters picketed whites-only stores in the small town of Fort Deposit, Alabama. All of the protesters were arrested and taken to jail in the nearby town of Hayneville. Five juvenile protesters were released the next day. The rest of the group was held for six days; they refused to accept bail unless everyone was bailed. Finally, on August 20, the prisoners were released without transport back to Fort Deposit. After release, the group waited by a road near the jail. Daniels with three others—a white Catholic priest and two female black protesters—went down the street to get a cold soft drink at Varner's Cash Store, one of the few local stores that would serve nonwhites. They were met at the front by Tom L. Coleman, an engineer for the state highway department and unpaid special deputy, who wielded a shotgun. The man threatened the group, and finally leveled his gun at seventeen-year-old Ruby Sales. Daniels pushed Sales down to the ground and caught the full blast of the gun. He was killed instantly. The priest, Richard F. Morrisroe, grabbed Joyce Bailey, the other protester, and ran. Coleman was acquitted of manslaughter charges by an all-white jury.

The murder of an educated, white, priest-in-training who was defending an unarmed teenage girl helped shock the Episcopal Church into facing the reality of racial inequality that it had tacitly participated in and continued. Daniels' death helped put civil rights on the map as a goal for the church as a whole, and reminded many Episcopalians that this struggle was not nearly so distant as they had imagined it to be. In 1991, Jonathan Myrick Daniels was designated a martyr of the Episcopal Church, one of fifteen modern-day martyrs, and August 14 was designated as a day of remembrance for the sacrifice of Daniels and all the martyrs of the civil rights movement.

Ruby Sales, the teenager whose life Daniels saved, went on to attend Episcopal Theological School (now Episcopal Divinity School), and has gone on to work as a human rights advocate in Washington, D.C. as well as founding an inner-city mission dedicated to Daniels.

Virginia Military Institute created the Jonathan Daniels Humanitarian Award in 1998, of which former President Jimmy Carter has been a recipient.

Rosebuds, Lilies and "I Like Ike"

In the July/August issue of AARP Bulletin, editor Jim Toedtman provides an interesting thought-piece entitled "All Together, Let's Like Ike." In it he talks about Former President Eisenhower's concerns for the future, and quotes from his televised farewell address:

"As we peer into society's future, we-you and I, and our government-must avoid the impulse to live only for today, plundering, for our own ease and convenience, the precious resources of tomorrow. We cannot mortgage the material assets of our grandchildren without risking the loss also of their political and spiritual heritage. We want democracy to survive for all generations to come, not to become the insolvent phantom of tomorrow."

Toedtman urges his readers to decide what we want government to do, and then find the means to finance it; to rebalance our spending and the taxes we pay in a way that relies less of selfishness (today) and more on the resources of tomorrow. He ends with this: "Our challenge is to balance our short-term desires with future needs."

Poet Robert Herrick (1591-1674) also wrote about the dynamic tension between the present and the future in his poem Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May (To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time).

"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old Time is still a-flying:

And this same flower that smiles today

To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of Heaven, the sun,

The higher he's a-getting,

The sooner will his race be run.

And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,

When youth and blood are warmer;

But being spent, the worse, and worst

Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,

And while ye may, go marry:

For having lost but once your prime,

You may for ever tarry."

Some people believe that the message of this poem is to live only for today. Herrick certainly offers incentive and enthusiasm for living life fully, seizing opportunities as they appear, and making the most of every day. He does not, however, advise against preparing for tomorrow. He just doesn't address that need.

In Matthew 6:25-34, Jesus offers us his advice.

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, “What will we eat?” or “What will we drink?” or “What will we wear?” For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today."

When Jesus says "do not worry about tomorrow" he doesn't necessarily mean do not do anything to prepare for the future. After all, in the Parable of the Ten Virgins (Matthew 25:1-13) Jesus gives advice about being prepared. Instead, Jesus is saying that if we "strive for the kingdom of God and his righteousness," we will receive what we need. If we strive to be the kind of people that God created in his own image -- just, compassionate, loving, charitable -- then we will all be blessed with God's bounty.

"From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace." (John 1:16)

Finding Grace in Unlikely Places

Brad and I are on a plane to London. Dinner is over and I head back to the toilet for a quick visit before settling down to watch a movie. A few minutes later I return to my seat and Brad asks me why I'm smiling. I tell him that it was the first spiritual experience that I've ever had on an airplane. I hasten to add, "No, I haven't really lost my mind."

In case the photo is too blurry for you to read, the bottle of hand soap reads:

"pure grace ... with clean hands we find our grace. we realize the slate can be as clean as we allow it to be"

Think about it.

What Not to Wear ... to Worship

I never expected this to be the subject of a front page article in the Washington Post, so I was surprised to see Michelle Boorstein's article on the front page of Saturday's print edition.

"Churches grapple with clothing and what’s appropriate as summer heats up"

I won't quote from or summarize the article, because you can click on it and read it yourself. But it did cause me to examine my own views on this subject.

When I was a child in the 1950's women wore dresses, hats, stockings and gloves (white for summer) when they went to church, regardless of the weather.  Men wore suit and tie ... always.  But this is what they wore for all "dressy" occasions that took place during the daytime.  Times have indeed changed.  More casual clothing -- what I call "nice casual" as opposed to faded jeans and T-shirts -- is now de rigueur for most restaurants, parties and events.

Those who support more relaxed dress codes do so on the basis that congregants should come to God just as they are, and that communion with God requires no special clothing. Those who support more formal dress consider that although communion with God does indeed not require special clothing, a church service is an office of devotion and as a matter of respect, it is therefore appropriate to wear one's best attire.

In his essay "Clothing Matters: What We Wear to Church," Duane Litfin argues that what we wear to worship DOES matter. "In the Old Testament, the place of worship and everything about it was considered holy. Worshipers were taught to approach that "sacred space" with awe and reverence. Today, God's people, both individually and corporately, do not visit that sacred space; they constitute that sacred space." Although he doesn't suggest that we all return to the white-gloves-and-hat days, Duane makes a good case for making a little extra effort to look clean, modest and respectable.  I can't help but agree.

Nevertheless, I think it's more important to come to church, and to participate in corporate worship, than it is to worry about what I'm wearing.  If I'm doing something else during the day on Sunday, and just barely make it to the 5:00 pm service, I'm going to attend regardless of what I'm wearing rather than miss Sunday worship entirely.   I believe that God would rather have me there, and I KNOW that I would rather have me there.

I would rather see a church full of people in all varieties of dress than a church only half-full of well-dressed parishioners.  I want my church to welcome teenagers in tank tops and flip flops.  I want poor visitors to feel welcome at the communion rail, even if they spent the night in a shelter and didn't have an opportunity to shower.  In the words of Charlotte Elliott's hymn, I believe that if we come, God will receive me "just as I am."

"Just as I am, Thou wilt receive,

Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;

Because Thy promise I believe,

O Lamb of God, I come, I come."

Just as God receives us as we are, I pray they we may receive each other with grace and love.

What do you think?