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)