Category: Psalms (Page 26 of 41)

Following Our Own Devices Doesn’t Work – From the Daily Office – July 12, 2014

July 12, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Letter to the Romans:

Of Israel he says, “All day long I have held out my hands to a disobedient and contrary people.”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Romans 10:21 (NRSV) – July 12, 2014)

Paul quotes Isaiah here. His translation was obviously rather different from the rendering in the New Revised Standard Version, but the meaning is the same: “I held out my hands all day long to a rebellious people, who walk in a way that is not good, following their own devices.” (Isa 65:2)

The point cannot be made strongly enough nor forcefully enough nor clearly enough that the modern nation-state of Israel is not the biblical people of Israel, and yet these words of condemnation can be fully understood to apply to the modern country.

Having spent two weeks in the Holy Land, I’ve seen what the nation of Israel is doing to the Palestinian people, and I can fully understand (if not entirely sympathize with) the anger and frustration that have overflowed into violence. I understand the intifadas.

I have walked beside the tall, concrete, barbed-wire-topped, machine-gun-equipped, guard-tower-punctuated, grafitti-defaced wall that Israel has built through the Palestinian homeland. Israel calls it a “security barricade,” and its defenders like to point out that many stretches of it are “simply a fence” (a barbed-wire and chain-link fence, one notes). Whatever one calls it, it has ghettoized Palestinians (both Muslims and Christians), created what are essentially “reservations” of Arabs (not unlike the reservations the United States created for Native Americans), and separated people from their loved ones and their livelihoods (many farmers, herd and flock owners, and orchard owners have been cut off from and denied access to their fields, their pastures, and their orchards). Those who build such things “walk in a way that is not good” and “follow their own devices.”

The barricade is just one part of a much larger social program of oppression being practiced by the Israelis against the original inhabitants of the land they moved onto in 1948 and the lands they have occupied since 1967: poor schools, inadequate social services, intermittent (or non-existent) provision of utilities, segregation, creation of high quality roads on which it is illegal for Palestinians to travel through their own country, denial of import and export rights to Palestinian business, and the list could go on.

Why? As I listened to Israeli Jews defend this state of affairs, the bottom-line justification always seems to come back to the Holocaust. “Never again,” they say. And what they seem to mean is, “Never again to us . . . so we do it to someone else.” That’s what it is, a paying forward of bad stuff, really truly awful stuff!, done to them. When it was done to them, it was the paying forward of bad stuff done to Germany in the aftermath of the First World War. When it was done to Germany, it was a paying forward of bad stuff done to other Europeans. And one could probably trace it all back and back and back to first bad stuff done by someone to someone.

Will it stop here? If (as an Israeli commander is recently quoted as saying) the Israelis “wipe out” people seen as “enemies of God” (they aren’t, by the way) will it end? No, obviously not. Genocide has been tried before and it doesn’t work. No people can “wipe out” another, and in the current context that is painfully obvious. The Palestinian diaspora will still be there and eventually they would pay it back to Israel or pay it forward to someone else.

It will only stop, it will only end if all the people of God, all the children of Abraham — Jewish, Muslim, and Christian — can come together as equals and agree to stop it. So long as we rely on our own devices, so long as we are contrary and disobedient the conflict and the killing will go on. Only by relying on the faithfulness of God can this horror be brought to an end. As the last of today’s evening Psalms says:

Praise the Lord, all you nations;
laud him, all you peoples.
For his loving-kindness toward us is great,
and the faithfulness of the Lord endures for ever.
Hallelujah!
(Ps 117, BCP Version)

Following our own devices doesn’t and won’t work. Only relying on God’s faithfulness can and will.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Fruits of the Spirit and Groaning: Another Day in Palestine – From the Daily Office – July 5, 2014

July 7, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Letter to the Romans:

We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Romans 8:22-23 (NRSV) – July 5, 2014)

We saw the fruits of the spirit today in the faces of young children — and we did a lot of groaning as our tired muscles climbed yet another mountain!

On our second full day in the area of Nablus we drove first to Zababdeh, a town about 19 miles away to the north. Here we met Fr. Saleem Dawani (who happens to be Bishop Dawani’s nephew). He is the pastor of St. Matthew’s Arab Episcopal Church, one of four Christian congregations in this town of about 7,000 people. The other three are Greek Orthodox, Greek Catholic, and Roman Catholic (called “Latin” in this part of the world). There are two mosques in the town. Fr. Saleem estimated that the town is 60% Christian and 40% Muslim.

Fr. Saleem met us on the main street of the town and guided us on the approximately two block walk to St. Matthew’s Church. He explained along the way that the church is currently hosting its summer camp for village children.

I was fortunate to walk with Fr. Saleem and learned that he was ordained a priest less than a year ago. He attended seminary in Beirut, Lebanon; I got the impression that the seminary is an ecumenical one. He told me the Diocese of Jerusalem sends its seminarians to five different theological schools: a Lutheran school in Cairo (which is where Fr. Nairouz of Nablus went); the school in Beirut; Virginia Theological School; Cuddesdon at Oxford in England; and a school in Austria (which seems to be an Old Catholic school).

When we arrived at the gate of the church’s courtyard, we could hear the happy sounds of children at play. There are, he told us, 150 children and 50 adult volunteers participating in the camp.

After we observed the courtyard activities for a few minutes, Fr. Saleem ushered us into the church building and gave us some information about the parish. There are 275 members. Some are high church Anglicans, some are low church Anglicans, so the congregation tends to be “broad” or middle of the road. They have a projection screen on which contemporary music is projected and occasionally other parts of the service.

With regard to the summer camp program, he told us that children come from all four of the Christian communities for two weeks of learning, singing, games, and fun Their families are asked to make a summer donation of NIS 60 (about $20) to the program — this helps defray the costs of food (every child is served lunch) and the craft/educational supplies.

The church has a very lovely carved stone altar and a similar pulpit, baptismal font, and tabernacle. On the front of the pulpit and the baptismal font are stenciled in verses familiar to most. On the pulpit Psalm 51:15 is stenciled (in Arabic) — “Open my lips, O Lord, and my mouth shall proclaim your praise” (vs. 16 in the BCP version) — and on the font, Matthew 19:14 (“Let the little children come to me”), which is the same verse carved into the font at St. Paul’s, Medina.

While we looked around the church and observed the summer camp activities, I met a seminarian named Jameel, a native of the town. Jameel is also attending the school in Beirut, where he has completed his second of a Master of Divinity degree. His bachelor’s degree is from Arab American University located close to Zababdeh; his undergraduate major was accounting.

After seeing the church, we went to lunch with Fr. Saleem at the Sultan Ibrahim Restaurant. Lunch was the usual assortment of salads with a main course of chicken seasoned with onion and sumac, a popular spice in Palestinian cooking. There Fr. Saleem, who has been married only two months, told us that because his wife is an Israeli citizen from Jerusalem while he has a Palestinian passport, they could not travel together to their honeymoon destination. She had to fly from Tel Aviv, while he flew from Amman, Jordan! They were reunited in the Maldives for their two-week wedding trip, then had to fly back home again separately.

As we learned more about the church’s summer camp ministry during lunch, we took up a collection and gave Fr. Saleem about $120 to assist with their expenses. He told us he would use the money to get ice creams for the children.

From Zababdeh, we returned to Nablus by way of Sebastia, the ruins of the capital of ancient Samaria, and also of Galilee under Herod Antipas. This was the place where John the Baptist was held in prison and then beheaded. We trudged up the mountain from the car park, followed (and hounded) by souvenir hawkers, stopping at the ruined (and desecrated) Byzantine chapel said to be on the spot of John’s imprisonment and execution, then from there to the ancient palace of Jeroboam, Omri, and Ahab (and Ahab’s notorious queen Jezebel) — see the First Book of Kings for details.

Down the other side of the hill, we came upon the Roman amphitheater from the days of Herod Antipas when the city was called Sebastia (now called Sebaste). One can see why the ancient Samaritans and the Romans chose this site for a capital — it commands a fantastic view of the surrounding countryside, is steep, and looks like it would be practically impregnable. Obviously, it wasn’t.

It was an exhilarating and exhausting day. As I said, the fruits of the Spirit and groaning!

Post by That Which We Have Heard & Known.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Uplifted Hands: Dashed Expectations in the Holy Land – From the Daily Office – July 4, 2014

July 5, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Psalter:

Let my prayer be set forth in your sight as incense,
the lifting up of my hands as the evening sacrifice.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Psalm 141:2 (BCP Version) – July 4, 2014)

Today, we lifted up our hands for prayer in two important places: on Mt. Gerzim where the Hebrews confirmed their covenant with God by affirming the blessings and curses commanded by Moses, and at Jacob’s Well where Jesus talked with the Samaritan woman.

Today, is the Fourth of July! In this part of the world, it is remembered as the anniversary of the defeat of the Crusaders at the Horns of Hittim by Salah Eddin (“Saladin”) in 1187. There were fireworks last night and will be again tonight, but those are for Ramadan and will continue every night for the month. In any event, happy Fourth!

Our day began with an interesting drive to the top of Mt. Gerizim where most of the few remaining Samaritans (a community of 776 people at this time) now live. The drive was “interesting” in the sense of the old Chinese curse, “May you live in interesting times.” We drove through narrow, winding, climbing city streets; our driver Ismain’s skill in piloting this large travel coach is phenomenal. He takes it places where I would simply say “No,” and not take my Honda Pilot!

Part way up the mountain we found the road blocked by a double line of large stones across the pavement. Ismain, Keith, and Mark got off and kicked the stones out of the way, then Ismain was confronted by a mute who demanded money — he gave him a dollar bill (US currency is widely used here) and then the mute grabbed several pieces of candy from a basked Ismain keeps on the dash. Further up the road, we encountered a third row of stones — Mark and Keith moved those aside without further trouble.

Through a gate (and past an Israeli “settlement” — they are literally everywhere and in the most inappropriate locations) we entered a village of modern stone buildings. Not what I had expected the Samaritan town to be. My expectations were even further dashed when we parked, got off the bus, and walked to the Samaritan Museum. The door was locked, but an elderly man in a long grey gown and a red Fez-like hat quickly came and unliked the door. This turned out to be Priest Husney Cohen, one of the Samaritan priests and general manager of the museum. Inviting us to take a seat in the several chairs set up lecture-hall style, he began turning on flat-screen TVs, satellite receivers, and other high tech equipment, waving a universal remote control about like a magic wand! So much for my expectations of an “ancient religion”!

He was, nonetheless, a gracious and ingratiating informant about the Samaritan people and their religion. His brother (who is 80) is the current High Priest; Husney (who is 70) is next in line, and his sister’s husband would come after him. The High Priest is always the oldest male in his family. He told us that when he succeeds his brother, he will be the 164th High Priest in direct line of descent from Adam!

He showed us the ancient Hebrew Torah scroll maintained by the Samaritans, explained how their worship and beliefs differ from those of the Judeans (the Jews), and showed us other implements of their worship, including a huge canopy of fruits made by their women for the Feast of Sukkot (Tabernacles). He also explained how their understanding of the Hebrew language is slightly different from that of the Jews. “We,” he said, “are the real Israelites.” He made the claim (with some historical validity) that the Jews of the southern kingdom are the descendants of only two of the original twelve tribes of Israel, Judah and Benjamin, while the Samaritans are the descendants of the other ten tribes who broke from the kingship of the Davidic dynasty and created the northern kingdom (which called itself “Samaria”).

Following his presentation, I was able to chat with him about his life and family. I asked if he had children and it turns out he has two sons and three daughters. One of his daughters runs a nursery school, one is a pharmacist, and one works for Hewlitt-Packard. I asked if his sons would succeed him as priest and he said, “Oh, no! Because they are tall like me, they are professional basketball players.” That “ancient religious community” expectation was not only dashed, it was completely obliterated!

Bidding Priest Husney farewell, we made our way to almost the top of the mountain where there is an outlook over the valley toward Mount Ebol. This is the place on which Joshua and the Hebrews, following a commandment of Moses, performed the ritual of the Blessings and Curses. We read both the Deuteronomy passage (Moses’ words) and the Joshua passage (recording the actual event). As we were doing so, an Israeli soldier appeared seemingly out of nowhere fully armed and armored for battle! Mark told us he was there for our protection because Jewish groups often come to this place to recall their heritage and might be targets for a “crazy sniper” in the city below.

We returned to the Samaritan village and to a cafe next door to the museum where we had a lunch of the usual salads and some very tasty, very tender roast chicken.

After lunch we returned to Nablus to visit the Greek Orthodox Basilica of St. Photini. “Photini” (which means “enlightened”) is the name given by the Greek tradition to the Samaritan woman Jesus met at Jacob’s Well. The Basilica is built over Jacob’s Well which is accessible in a lower church chapel; we actually drank water from the Well! It is cold and sweet. The well is (as the woman told Jesus) very deep!

The Bailica is an amazing place. It has been restored by the current priest, Fr Justinus, who wrote most of the icons on its walls — he is a very talented iconographer. For me, the most moving — and the most troubling — is one of his immediate predecessor Fr Philomenas who was martyred by Israeli settlers. He was hacked to death with axes and cut into pieces! The icon depicting this is painted on a pillar in the church. I asked if there were reproductions among the several icons for sale, but the Arab caretaker (with a sad, ironic look) said, “We are not allowed to.” Such is life in Israeli occupied Palestine.

Fr. Justinus, deeply aware of the transitory nature of life, in his restoration of the church built into it (in the entrace courtyard) his own tomb. He walks past it everyday as it is between the priest’s residence and the door of the church.

Our visit to St. Photini was all-at-once spiritual, moving, and disconcerting. To lift our spirits, and to celebrate Independence Day, Iyad (who is still not back with us) treated us to a sweet — some kunafeh — at a local shop. I’m growing quite fond of this sweet, flowery, goat cheese dessert. I’m going to have to learn to make it.

After that — it was back to the hotel for a rest, then dinner, and then a night on the town … except that I begged off the late-night outing. I just wasn’t up for it.

So it was a day of humorously dashed expectations and of sadly bittersweet reality. I’m amused by the image of the Samaritan priest defending his ancient faith, his belief in his descent from Adam, his insistence that his small remnant people are the true Israel, while at the same time exhibiting astonishing proficiency with modern technology. Did I mention that he has a Facebook page and a Twitter feed? On the other hand, I’m deeply troubled by the martyrdom of Fr Philomenas, by the senselessness of Israeli settler violence against innocent people simply because they are Arabs, by the Arabs need for vengeance. My expectations of a peaceful, purely spiritual pilgrimage and retreat are equally, much less humorously, dashed.

I lift up my hands, O Lord. Let my cry come to you. Let there be peace in this land.

Post by That Which We Have Heard & Known.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Who Would Be the Church? – A Holy Place in the Holy Land – From the Daily Office – July 3, 2014

July 5, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Psalter:

Behold now, bless the Lord, all you servants of the Lord, you that stand by night in the house of the Lord.

Lift up your hands in the holy place and bless the Lord; the Lord who made heaven and earth bless you out of Zion.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Psalm 134 (BCP Version) – July 3, 2014)

Up an hour later than usual, breakfast at the Sisters of Nazareth today was the same as yesterday. Our bags were collected and we walked down past the R.C. Basilica, past the open air mosque, through the market district and to the bus. A long ride first to Mount Tabor and then to the very small town of Burkin.

Mount Tabor is the traditional location of the Transfiguration, that strange vision seen by Peter, James, and John of Jesus in conversation with Moses and Elijah. There is a lovely church here designed by (you can, by now, probably guess) Antonio Barluzzi. To get to the top of the mount, we had to get off the bus at a visitor center at the base and then ride up the mountain in minivans.

The road up is steep and has many switchbacks — now there is a physical parable or metaphor for the spiritual life! The physical reality of the place is lost in the simple description one finds in the gospels: “Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves.” (Mk 9:2) Mark (and Matthew who repeats the story) make it sound like they went out for a Sunday afternoon stroll. This would be a hike! This really is a high – and steep – mountain.

The church is quite beautiful with a dazzling mosaic of the Transfiguration event in the dome of the apse, two interior side chapels — one dedicated to St Francis; one for the Reserved Sacrament — and two exterior chapels — one for Elijah and one for Moses. St. Peter never got to build his three monuments (booths) but the Franciscans and Barluzzi did it for him. The Elijah chapel is interesting in that it contains a mural of the prophet’s competition with the prophets of Baal — two altars are depicted, one with a pile of meat but no fire and one with fire consuming what is on it. I’ve never seen that story depicted in art before; in this mural, the meat on the altar of Baal looks like it came straight from a really good butcher’s shop, prime cuts.

On the terrace next to the church, we encountered a cat (the most recent of many), really just a kitten, who was very vocal and very affectionate. She would have made a great souvenir, but getting her through customs would likely have been impossible. She was quite a distraction from the view, however.

One other interesting piece of art was in a gated (locked) garden — I think it shows St Francis either taking Jesus’ body from the cross, or helping Jesus’ to get down from the cross. Without being able to get closer to it and more time to study it, I can’t really be sure. In either case, it is a subject for further contemplation.

Back down the mountain we got back in our bus and took off for Burkin which turns out to be a small and very depressed village (most cities, towns, and villages in Palestine are depressed — whatever economic prosperity there is in Israel is not being shared with the Arabs). Here we visited the tiny church of St. George, which commemorates the spot on which Jesus healed ten lepers. (Luke 17:12-19) It is the fourth oldest continuously in use worship space in the world! There has been a church here since the early Fourth Century! It is under the jurisdiction of the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate.

We were guided into town and to the church by Usama, a member of the Greek Orthodox congregation. One can tell that he and the other members of this church are very proud of their heritage. Unlike most older Orthodox buildings we have visited, this space is immaculate. The silver is polished; the cloth hangings and altar vestments are clean and bright; the icons are dusted. Pride in their place is patent in every corner.

The worship space is tiny – our group of 18 people more than half filled it. It is probably very crowded on Sundays for the Divine Liturgy and at other times of Orthodox worship. This congregation has a membership of 65 people. They are the only Christians in a town of over 7,000 population. Their witness is astounding!

Usama then guided us to his home where his wife and some other ladies in the congregation, assisted by a young boy, hosted us to lunch. The tables were filled with tomato and cucumber salad, yoghurt, pita, and chiken and lamb shwarma served on heaping platters of seasoned rice. There was enough to feed a group five times our size.

Several of us had two or three helpings of the delicious food when Usama’s wife, Neda, came around and piled one more serving on everyone’s plate: “Eat,” she said, “how do I know you liked it if you leave some behind?” It was all in good fun and the graciousness and vibrancy of their hospitality was overwhelming.

The congregation supports itself by selling the usual trinkets, but mostly by making pure olive oil soap which they sell for an amazingly low price. Evie and I will look into whether we can find a way to help sell their soap in our part of the U.S. to provide greater income for them as they maintain the Christian presence in this place.

We talked with them about the dwindling of the congregation, what it is like to be a Christian minority in an overwhelmingly Muslim community. Neda said that she and her neighbors get along just fine, that she and her family visit them to celebrate Eid al-Fitr (the major Muslim feast celebrating the end of Ramadan) and their neighbors visit them to celebrate Christmas. We asked if they had ever considered leaving. “No,” Neda replied quickly, “If we left, who would be the church?”

Who would be the church? A question for us all to ponder.

Lord, bless these servants who lift up their hands in your holy place and witness to your Name!

Post by That Which We Have Heard & Known.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem – From the Daily Office – June 30, 2014

July 1, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Psalter:

I was glad when they said to me, “Let us go to the house of the Lord.” Now our feet are standing within your gates, O Jerusalem.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Psalm 122:1-2 (BCP Version) – June 30, 2014)

Our feet left Jerusalem today and went to Bethlehem, and what a day of varied impressions. We began in Manger Square (which is more like a parking lot than a town square) with Iyad’s presentation on the history of the Church of the Nativity, then we entered the building. It is currently under restoration, so there is scaffolding everywhere! The pillars in the nave are wrapped in cloth and banded with wood to protect them (apparently they are painted). Electric construction lighting hangs from the ceiling. The place looks like (and is) a construction zone.

Yet in the midst of this the various denominations (the Greeks, Latins, and Armenians share the space) go about their daily round of services and devotions. As we were entering, the Greeks were completing their worship in the upper church (ground floor, above the crypt of the Nativity). We were led passed them and into the adjoining more modern Church of St. Catherine, the local Franciscan (Roman Catholic) parish. Mass was just being completed there, as well.

On the right side of the Nave is a stairway leading down to some crypts adjacent to the crypt of the Nativity. Here it is said that St. Jerome translated the Vulgate (Latin) version of the scriptures. Here, also, is a crypt where the bones of several infants were found and tradition teaches the infants killed in the slaughter of the Holy Innocents were buried. There is a shrine to St. Jerome, another to the Holy Innocents, and a chapel of the Nativity whose backwall is the common wall to the crypt of the Nativity.

We gathered in this chapel, read the story of the Lord’s birth, sang What Child Is This? and O Little Town of Bethlehem. As we were finishing, the Greeks were completing their time in the crypt (down the tunnel from our chapel) and the sound of the bells (jingle bells) on the Greek thurible added to the “Christmas feel” of what we had just done.

Afterward, we went back up to St. Catherine’s where we waited for the Franciscans to begin their time in the crypt. We had been invited to participate in their Eucharist, which we believed would be in either English or Italian. As it turned out, it was in Spanish. Two young Mexican deacons were ordained yesterday and were serving their first Mass today. A group of pilgrims from Mexico (probably family members or members of their home parishes) were on hand. It was a lovely service and it was a privilege to receive communion in the Crypt, as it was to venerate the star over the place of Christ’s birth. But our few minutes of singing together in the side chapel next door was more meaningful for me.

As we left the Church, the Armenians were getting ready for their turn in the Crypt and I made note the beautiful, exceptionally celtic carving on the doors of their sacristy. Fr. Keith Owen said, “Those Celts! They got everywhere!” Indeed.

After the Mass, we traveled to another part of Bethlehem to do some souvenir shopping at a store known to our guide. (Evie and I bought only a few olive wood items. The sales staff were exceptionally pushy and while I might have bought something, my obstinate contrariness kicks in when I’m being pressured so they lost a sale. But, hey, as we keep saying, “It’s the middle east.”) The shop is in a part of the city very much affected by the Israeli security barrier; it is very much “in your face” in this section. One house (which was reported on by 60 Minutes in 2013 is almost completely surrounded by the wall!

We walked along the wall for about half a mile and really got a feel for its impact on the lives of the people of Bethlehem. I took several pictures of posters and grafitti that have been put on barricade.

After that, we drove to Beit Sahour (“House of the Angel”) a city about two miles from Bethlehem where the Shepherd’s Field (one of them, anyway) is located. There we had a great lunch of beef and chicken kabobs, and then walked to the Shepherd’s Field.

Another small Barluzzi church is located there – with a great statue of an angel over the door. We sat around the altar in the church and sang Angels We Have Heard on High and O Little Town of Bethlehem. Then we went down the hill to an archaeological excavation (on the Shepherd’s Field property) of some caves which were probably inhabited in the First Century. The cave opened to the public really gives a great sense of what the cave where Jesus was born would have been like. (He wasn’t born in an “inn” despite centuries of mistranslation of the Greek word kataluma.)

After Beit Sahour, we went to Ein Karem (“Vineyard Spring”) where it is believed that John the Baptist’s parents, Zechariah and Elizabeth, lived. Another Barluzzi church is found here commemorating the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Here, we hiked up the hill to the church, saw its lovely murals, statuary, and other objects. On the way back down, we stopped at a gelateria and got a dish or cone of gelato (Italian ice cream). I had Belgian chocolate and berries – it was wonderful!

It was an exceptionally full day! Psalm 122 (one of the several morning psalms for today) concludes:

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem:
“May they prosper who love you.

Peace be within your walls
and quietness within your towers.

For my brethren and companions’ sake,
I pray for your prosperity.

Because of the house of the LORD our God, *
I will seek to do you good.”

(vv. 6-9; BCP Version)

The biggest impression of the day was, as it has been on other days, not the religious sites, but the political sights: the wall, the grafitti on it, the posters put there by the Wall Museum, the disruption of people’s lives, the separation of famers from their fields and orchards, the utter contempt of Israel for the Palestinian Arabs that it represents. How can there ever be peace when people are treated like this? I have spent the day with 17 other good Christian people trying to follow the Prince of Peace in a land torn by conflict. I have no answers. I have only prayers. I will pray for the peace of Jerusalem!

Post by That Which We Have Heard & Known.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

The Holiest Place – From the Daily Office – June 28, 2014

June 28, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From Matthew’s Gospel:

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.” This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying, “Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Matthew 21:1-11 (NRSV) – June 28, 2014)

Is it merely fortuitous that this turns out to be the Gospel lesson for the Daily Office today? Today we went to the Mount of Olives, to Gethsemane, to the place were Jesus was questioned by Caiaphas the High Priest.

We started, as we started yesterday, with that Middle Eastern breakfast of cucumbers and olives, pita and cheeses, yogurt and pickled eggplant. It was an early start, too. A short bus ride to the Garden of Gethsemane where we were the only people present! Walking around (not in) the Garden, seeing the ancient (though not 2,000 year old) olive trees, smelling the garden flowers in the early morning . . . it was (as my wife said) exactly as one would have envisioned it. And, of course, it’s designed that way. This Garden is a relatively modern iteration of the old reality, a modern version whose creation was guided by those spiritual and artistic sensitivities of centuries of Christian devotion. It’s emotional impact is not less real for all of that. Modern garden or not, this is the place where Jesus spent his last free moments of life.

The Garden is dominated by the Church of All Nations, a 1924 structure built by an Italian architect, Antonio Barluzzi. Heavy, dark, and foreboding as befits the story of Maundy Thursday, it is an impressive structure. It houses what is called the stone of agony: “Going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him.” (Mark 14:35) By tradition, this stone is the “ground” on which Jesus prayed for an alternative outcome. Kneeling before the altar, placing one’s hands and forehead on the stone, and giving up one’s will to God’s will is deeply profound experience.

After Gethsemane, we went up the Mount of Olives and back a few days in the Holy Week story, to Palm Sunday. We went to the Church of Bethphage at the place where Jesus is said to have stopped on his way into the city:

When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’ ” (Mark 11:1-3)

Another Barluzzi church (actually his restoration of a pre-existing church), Church of Bethphage is quite small, but was wonderful accoustics. Mark Stanger and Keith Owen blessed small olive branches for us to carry, and we sang All Glory, Laud, and Honor (“Valet will ich der geben”). That was glorious! Great to be with people who clearly love to sing and in a place where that singing is enhanced.

Then we cheated a bit . . . we took a bus part of the way down the Mount, disembarked, and walked to the church called Dominus Flevit, “The Lord Wept.” Again, a Barluzzi building built in the 1950s. At the corners of the building, at roof level, are representations of urns supposed to be vials for collecting tears, inspired by the psalm verse, “You have noted my lamentation;put my tears into your bottle; are they not recorded in your book?” (Ps. 56:8, BCP version) The reference to Jesus weeping is not to the death of Lazarus, but to Jesus weeping over the city of Jerusalem which is said to have occurred at this spot.

This was the most moving part of the day for me, and I will return to it in a minute.

From there we walked on to Gethsemane, where we had already been, then board the bus for a drive through the Kidron Valley and up the slopes to an old part of Jerusalem outside the current walls, but not before a small detour to learn more about the state of things in modern Israel and Palestine.

At the top of the highway is Mount Scopus, or Mount of the Lookout. Hebrew University has a campus here and we stopped at a scenic viewpoint and terrace owned by the university on the Jerusalem side of the mountain. Visible from there was the Hecht Synagogue on the campus, which was built in honor of US Senator (from Nevada) Chic Hecht; Chic had been a good friend of my father when I was child in Las Vegas! From there, we went to a similar viewpoint on the other side of the mountain. Visible from there was the desert landscape of occupied West Bank . . . and the “settlements” Israel is building there.

“Settlement” has always suggested to me a small group of temporary houses or perhaps mobile homes occupied by a few crazy Zionist families. That’s not what they are at all. They are massive planned communities housing hundreds of thousands of people. Israel is surrounding Arab East Jerusalem (which is in the West Bank – geography here is confusing) with a ring of settlements so that, eventually, 200,000 Palestinian Arabs will be surrounded by nearly half a million Jewish “settlers.” This is not a bunch of fanatics breaking the law — this is a nation breaking international law and stealthily, steadily taking over and conquering occupied territory!

After that eye-opener about the modern state of Israel, we returned to the First Century, making our way to what is believed to have been the location of the High Priest Caiaphus’s house where Jesus was taken after his arrest and where Peter denied knowing him. A Byzantine church was built on the site many centuries ago. That was replaced in the 1990s by a modern French Benedictine church called St. Peter in Gallicantu which means “St. Peter at Cock Crow.”

Below the church is a dungeon where it is believed Christ was questioned and spent the night before his crucifixion. Here, in the pit, we gathered and recited Psalm 87. Outside the church is an ancient stone stairway leading up from the Kidron Valley into the old city. Our guides tell us that we can be certain that Christ walked these steps when he went to and from Jerusalem from and to the home of his friend’s Mary, Martha, and Lazarus in Bethany.

After that . . . lunch in a local restaurant (a variety of salty Middle Eastern “salads,” followed by baked chicken with rice, carrots, and peas) and then a return to St. George’s Guest House where, after freshening up and napping, we heard a presentation on Islam, enjoyed a lovely dinner of fish, and then read Compline together.

As I mentioned above, the most moving part of the day for me was at the Church Dominus Flevit. I entered the church and found a congregation gathered for Holy Communion. The Franciscans were setting the altar and preparing to say the Mass, and I noted that the altar window frames the Dome of the Rock. Christians celebrating our most holy sacrament would look out at two of the most holy sites of the other two Abrahamic faiths: Judaism’s temple mount and Islam’s Dome of the Rock. It occurred to me that our holiest site is not a geographically fixed place. As holy and moving as all the places we have visited (and those we will visit) are, none of them is our faith’s holiest place. Our holiest place is a table. It may be the altar or communion table of our local church; it may be a table in our own homes; it may be a folding table set up at summer camp. Wherever the elements of bread and wine are offered, blessed, broken and shared as the Body and Blood of Christ, that is our holiest place.

I had to come half-way around the world to this land of the Holy One to discover that the holiest place is back home, wherever home may be.

Post by That Which We Have Heard & Known.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Thirsty: A Walking Tour of Jerusalem – From the Daily Office – June 26, 2014

June 27, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Book of Numbers:

Now there was no water for the congregation; so they gathered together against Moses and against Aaron. The people quarreled with Moses and said, “Would that we had died when our kindred died before the Lord! Why have you brought the assembly of the Lord into this wilderness for us and our livestock to die here? Why have you brought us up out of Egypt, to bring us to this wretched place? It is no place for grain, or figs, or vines, or pomegranates; and there is no water to drink.”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Numbers 20:2-5 (NRSV) – June 27, 2014)

We have nearly come to the end of our second day in Israel, which has actually been our first full day. We began with what was described to us as a typical Palestinian breakfast — cheeses, pita, hummus, olives, pickled baby eggplant, fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, yogurt, hardboiled eggs, and a sautéed mixture of green olives, grape tomatoes, and mushrooms. There was also labneh, a salted yogurt cheese with herbs (in this case, I think it was a combination of basil and mint). It was all very different from our standard breakfast fare, and all very good.

Next on the agenda was a video of a 60-Minutes report from last year about Christians in the Holy Land. There a fewer of them than there used to be. Why that is so is an issue for debate. The Israeli government asserts that it is because of Muslim violence; the Christians we have met say that’s not true. That it is because of Israeli government policies. Perhaps the best analysis was the man who said that Christianity and the Christian community in this land are being lost through “collateral damage” in the conflict between Israeli Jews and Palestinian Arabs (who are mostly Muslim).

After that we began a walking tour of Jerusalem. St. George’s Cathedral Close is outside the Old City about a mile at the intersection of two roads which both lead to gates of the Old City: Nablus Road and Salah Eddin Street. Nablus Road leads north from the Damascus Gate; Salad Eddin Street leads north-northwest from Herod’s Gate; they cross at St. George’s Cathedral.

We walked our the “back gate” of the close (which is the front gate of St. George’s College) south through a business district (mostly the businesses were closed because it is Friday – the Muslim weekly holy day – and because today is the start of Ramadan – the Muslim holy month). Before getting to Herod’s Gate, we turned on Sultan Sulayman Road and walked west, across the street from the Old City walls. We entered the Old City through Damascus Gate and down “the Cardo,” the main north-south artery through the city.

Nearly every “street” (they are all foot traffic paths) through the city is a suq (marketplace) with stores hawking a variety of products; they are noisy, crowded, exciting, vibrant, and very alive places. Everyone seems to be quite friendly, but one suspects everyone is trying to lure you in for a sale.

It was a very hot day – temperatures are in the 90s (Fahr.) – and this is arid, high desert. We were cautioned many times to drink water. And so this episode of the Hebrews complaining to Moses and Aaron about their lack of water, today’s Old Testament lesson for the Daily Office, seemed a fitting introductory scripture for my summary of our activities. Every place where we could find a bit of shade and every entry into a building was welcome; every time we made a stop, I pulled my water bottle from my backpack and took a drink. Returning to our rooms, Evie and I each bought a 1.5 liter bottle of water and we downed them pretty quickly. The metaphor of water as God’s grace makes so much sense in a desert environment like this, and our thirst for rehydration is a reminder of our thirst for God.

The most striking thing of the day for me was the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. As I mentioned to our pilgrimage group during our sharing at Compline this evening, there was one part of that visit that made a huge impression. The church which was once one large space built by the Emperor Constantine’s mother St. Helena has been torn apart and subdivided by centuries of sectarian difference. It is now divided up into spaces claimed by Armenian Christians, Ethiopian Orthodox, Greek Orthodox, Roman Catholic (here called “the Latins”), Syrian Christians, and others. The only space jointly used is the actual Holy Tomb itself.

At set times during the day, each group holds prayers, and throughout the day deacons from each of the traditions come by to cense the Tomb. While I waited for others in our group, I watched the Roman, Armenian, and Greek deacons each come and do their ministry, each make the offering of incense, each swinging their thuribles in distinct ways. I was impressed with the way each went about this job with dedication, devotion, and singularity of purpose, unfazed by the crowds and the chaos of tourists and pilgrims. But I was also saddened by the fact that, because of the same sectarian division that had carved up the once magnificent space into smaller chapels, they could not do their ministry together. What could be a model for peace and reconciliation in this land which sorely needs it was yet another example of human division.

A fun thing for me today happened at the Western Wall. After I had gone to the wall and offered my prayers, impressed by the thousands and thousands of prayers written on slips of paper that pilgrims (perhaps of many faiths) had tucked into the joints and cracks in the stone, I was standing waiting to rejoin my wife. Two women came up to me and started asking me something in Hebrew! I could only shrug and say, “I’m sorry.” Then the younger, in what I believe to be an Israeli accent, said to me, “O, you’re not from here! You’re not a Jewish boy!” I admitted that I was not, but thanked her for calling me a boy!

A final impression of the day — Compline this evening with our group. As we began, a loudspeaker from a nearby mosque was broadcasting the sound of verses of the Holy Qur’an being chanted, and then more of the traditional Ramadan fireworks sounded. Our prayers were added to these manifestations of praise of God. Meanwhile, the sabbath of the Jews was underway. In this dry, arid land where water is life, three major world faiths come together in prayer, perhaps involuntarily, perhaps with tension, certainly with division, and clearly in this place with enmity . . . and yet at that moment, we were all united like different herds of thirsty animals coming together at a desert oasis or at a spring in time of drought. We ought to be able to learn from this!

And that is my prayer for the people of Israel and Palestine as Ramadan begins, that peace and reconciliation might come to this place and that, at long last, as the Psalmist once wrote, “Jerusalem . . . [will be] at unity with itself.” (Ps. 122:3, BCP Version)

Photos from our day can be found in this Facebook gallery:

Post by That Which We Have Heard & Known.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Broken Clocks – From the Daily Office – June 21, 2014

June 21, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Psalter:

The span of our life is seventy years,
perhaps in strength even eighty;
yet the sum of them is but labor and sorrow,
for they pass away quickly and we are gone.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Psalm 90:10 (BCP Version) – June 21, 2014)

A friend and colleague preparing to sell her home and take up residence with her husband in a retirement community told me recently that she and he had begun disposing of their many possessions. Among the things to which they have said “Good-Bye” is her husband’s collection of clocks.

That got me thinking about two clocks that my wife and I own but which I’ve not seen in several years. I know where one is; the other’s location is a complete mystery.

The first is a handmade seven-foot tall grandfather clock; the actual clock workings are in the top 30″ or so. It is made almost entirely of wood. The gears, teeth, all the inner workings are hand-carved from a variety of hardwoods. Everything is open to view. There is no case, but rather a frame of hand-rubbed mahogany. The face is smoky gray plexiglass with applied hand-carved wooden numerals; one can see the escapement and other parts working away behind. Or … at least … one was able to do that.

The clock, which was made by my stepfather many years ago, was damaged, badly, by the moving company which transported our possessions from Las Vegas, Nevada, to Overland Park, Kansas, in 1993. Because that move was so bizarrely accomplished, with separation of family, temporary quarters, two storage facilities, and a variety of other missteps, we didn’t know about the damage until way too late to file a claim with the movers. But we have kept the clock and moved it to Ohio and now it sits in a storage loft that we visit maybe four times in a calendar year.

I dread opening its crate and looking at it. I will hate myself for what I have allowed to happen to that clock. I should dispose of it, but I can’t bring myself to do so. I’m sure it is unrepairable, yet I can’t let go of something that my stepdad spent so much time creating.

The other is a mantel clock we found in a garage sale many years ago. It is the sort known as an “anniversary” or “400-day” clock. It didn’t work when we bought it, but we had it repaired and it sat on the mantel in our Las Vegas home for several years. Like my stepfather’s clock, its inner workings are all visible through a glass dome. Like my stepfather’s clock, it went into a packing crate with many other things when we moved to Kansas. And like that handmade clock, I’ve not seen it since. To the best of my knowledge we’ve never opened that box; I’ve no idea what else is in it nor even where it is, in fact. (We have unopened moving boxes in a spare bedroom, in our basement, and in that storage facility. Why, I often wonder, do we have all this stuff?)

All these clocks — my colleague’s husband’s collection, my stepfather’s handmade grandfather clock, our long-unseen anniversary clock — came to mind reading today’s Psalm, supposed to be “a prayer of Moses” in which the ancient Hebrew contemplates the nature of time. “So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts to wisdom,” he prays (v. 12). And we have learned to “number days” with ever increasing exactitude. We measure not only days, but hours, minutes, seconds, fractions of time so tiny that millions pass in the blink of an eye. Scientists have calculated the infinitesimally small life span of sub-atomic particles and the inconceivably long existence of the entire universe (now believed to be something just short of 14 billion years). But do we really understand time?

We can reduce time to days, hours, minutes, seconds, and even smaller units. We can envision months, years, eons, and longer periods. We can measure and divide time into constituent parts just like we could separate the components of my stepfather’s broken clock or the anniversary clock. But we cannot explain time; we don’t really understand its mystery. The most we can say of time is that it exists, it passes, and we can measure it. Albert Einstein is supposed to have said, “The only reason for time is so that everything doesn’t happen at once.”

Although we experience time as “moving” in only one “direction,” from past through present and into the future, there is no reason that it must do so. The equations of quantum mechanics and superstring theory insist that time can just as well “move” in the opposite direction, although we’ve never seen it and cannot seem to make that happen in the laboratory. Nonetheless, the mathematics are there and the equations make logical sense.

So here we are 1,500 (or whatever) years after Moses still no better able to understand the workings of time than he and the wandering, wondering Hebrews were. The mysteries of time are as hidden from us as my two boxed-up clocks. In another psalm, one attributed to David, we read, “My times are in your hand.” (Ps. 31:15a) So it was for Moses, so it was David, so it was for my stepfather and the maker of the anniversary clock, and so it is for us. Teach us to use our time wisely, Lord.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Taste & See – From the Daily Office – June 20, 2014

June 20, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Book of Numbers:

And they came to the Wadi Eshcol, and cut down from there a branch with a single cluster of grapes, and they carried it on a pole between two of them. They also brought some pomegranates and figs. That place was called the Wadi Eshcol, because of the cluster that the Israelites cut down from there.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Numbers 13:23-24 (NRSV) – June 20, 2014)

Cluster of Grapes Have you ever noticed how one of the most common sorts of souvenirs to be brought back from a trip is food? Every time we travel, my wife and I, we bring back food. Sometimes the authorities thwart us, but we try.

For example, when we made our first trip to Ireland a few years ago, we fell in love with some Irish sausages and with Irish bacon. In the duty-free shop at Dublin’s airport, however, we found a big sign on the meat products refrigerator advising that they could not be brought into the United States. We contented ourselves with some chocolates and some Irish whiskey.

When I was a kid, as I may have mentioned before, I spent summers in Kansas with my paternal grandparents. At the end of the summer my grandparents would often drive me back to Las Vegas and then on to southern California to visit their relatives and my maternal grandparents in the Los Angeles metroplex. Leaving Kansas, my grandfather would pack up some vegetables (especially tomatoes) from his garden into an ice-filled galvanized Gott can (the original Gott cans were made in my grandparents’ town).

Along the road, the ice would be replenished and the produce would stay fresh all the way to Nevada and California. When we got to the California border, there was an agricultural check-point on the highway at (I think) Yermo (or maybe it was Barstow). An officer of the state ag service would ask, “Do you have any fresh fruits or vegetables?” and my strict, up-standing Methodist grandfather, with a straight face and his oh-so-honest-sounding voice would answer, “No, officer.” Off we would drive with our illegal booty of garden produce. A little thing like preventing crop blight was not going to prevent our food souvenirs getting to their final destination.

And at the end of their trip those tomatoes and other veggies produced such delight! It was almost religious the way my maternal grandmother would receive her friends’ gift of a vine-ripened tomato, tenderly caress it, wash it gently, slice and serve it with the lunch she had prepared to welcome us. The look of sheer joy on her face as she tasted her first bite of it, the taste of her home town.

The taste of food reminds us of the places we have been; like the sound of music or certain smells, a taste can incite a flood of memories. Food also anticipates. We, my wife and I, are headed to the Holy Land in a short while. A few weeks ago, our tour organizer hosted a dinner at a near-by Middle Eastern restaurant so that we could meet other group members, hear a bit about our itinerary, and in the meal we shared get a foretaste of what we can expect to enjoy when we are there.

Moses sent spies over into Canaan and they came back with grapes, pomegranates, and figs to prove the land the Hebrews were entering was a bountiful one; like them, we are looking forward to entering the Promised Land. They named the place Eshcol (“cluster”) because of those grapes. One presumes that Moses and the other leaders tasted those fruits and knew the goodness of the land and of God who was giving it to them; they anticipated the future.

We do the same sort of thing each time we gather in worship and share the Eucharist. In it is the taste both of memory and of expectation. Every celebration of Holy Communion is both a memorial of what God has accomplished and a preview of what God has promised. In the Eucharist the past and the future irrupt into the present; our fellowship in the Eucharist with God and with all Christians across time and space is both a remembrance of Christ and a foretaste of the heavenly banquet.

“Taste and see that the Lord is good;” says the Psalmist, “happy are they who trust in him!” (Ps 34:8) Taste and see.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Playing to an Empty Theater – From the Daily Office – May 28, 2014

May 29, 2014 / eric / 0 Comments

From the Letter to the Hebrews:

God did not subject the coming world, about which we are speaking, to angels. But someone has testified somewhere,
“What are human beings that you are mindful of them,
or mortals, that you care for them?
You have made them for a little while lower than the angels;
you have crowned them with glory and honor,
subjecting all things under their feet.”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Hebrews 2:5-8a – May 29, 2014 – Ascension Day)

Empty Theater I cannot read these verses of Hebrews (nor the verses of Psalm 8 which the author quotes) without thinking of Hamlet:

What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculty! in form, in moving, how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not me; no, nor woman neither . . . . (Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, Act II. Scene II)

Hamlet may not have delighted in humankind, but the story of Jesus and the witness of Scripture (Old and New) assure us that God does. With all our flaws and foibles, God loves the human race. (There are days when I wonder what that says about God, but the Feast of the Ascension is not one of them.) On this feast, we are assured that God loves us so much that God “crowns us with glory and honor.” We read not only this assurance in the Letter to the Hebrews, but also in the vision recorded in the Book of Daniel:

As I watched in the night visions,
I saw one like a human being
coming with the clouds of heaven.
And he came to the Ancient One
and was presented before him.
To him was given dominion
and glory and kingship,
that all peoples, nations, and languages
should serve him.
His dominion is an everlasting dominion
that shall not pass away,
and his kingship is one
that shall never be destroyed.
(Dan 7:13-14)

As I read today’s lessons I am saddened that this Feast is so ignored by the Church. It passes by and our members never even think about it, if they even know of it. In the Sunday rota it is noted only as the day after which the Seventh Sunday of Easter comes: that’s how next Sunday’s collect is titled in The Book of Common Prayer, “Seventh Sunday of Easter: The Sunday after Ascension Day.” Kind of sad, because the Ascension really is the last event, the last scene of the last act of the great drama which is “the Christ event.” Fortunately, this year (Year A of the Revised Common Lectionary) we will hear the story of the Ascension from the Book of Acts on Sunday morning; this is not the case in the other two years of the rotation.

If the Incarnation (meaning the whole of Jesus’ earthly being) were viewed as a stage play, the drama of salvation would be seen in this way: Act One — In the Nativity, God becomes a human being offering great promise to humankind. Act Two — In the life of Jesus, God fully enters human existence in all its aspects making clearer the meaning of the promise. Act Three — In the death and resurrection of Jesus, God defeats death and opens the way of eternal life to all human beings setting the scene for fulfillment of the promise. Act Four — In the Ascension, a human being becomes God bringing the promise of the Nativity revealed Act One to fruition. (Pentecost and all that follows it are the epilogue, just as the story of Israel and the words and works of the Prophets are the prologue.)

The Ascension is the denouement of the entire story but, unfortunately, most of the audience, thinking the play concluded, left after Act Three; some may even have left in the middle of that act. The climax of the drama plays out to a largely empty theater.

One of the Episcopal Church’s collects for today says: “We believe your only-begotten Son our Lord Jesus Christ to have ascended into heaven, so we may also in heart and mind there ascend.” (BCP 1979, page 226) I think this prayer gets it slightly wrong. Our ascension with Jesus, I believe, is not a future thing that we “may” later attain. Rather, in Jesus’ Ascension we all have already ascended. God has already seated us in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus; our ascension is not so much an experience to be attained, but a reality to be experienced. As St. Athanasius famously put it, “God became man that man might become God.” In the Ascension of Jesus, this theosis (deification) has already happened.

What a piece of work is humankind! Crowned with glory and honor. Given dominion and glory and kingship that shall not pass away. It’s sad that on the feast day that acknowledges this the theater is largely empty; the climax of the drama of redemption passes by largely unnoticed.

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Father Funston is the rector of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio.

Category: Psalms (Page 26 of 41)

Following Our Own Devices Doesn’t Work – From the Daily Office – July 12, 2014

Fruits of the Spirit and Groaning: Another Day in Palestine – From the Daily Office – July 5, 2014

Uplifted Hands: Dashed Expectations in the Holy Land – From the Daily Office – July 4, 2014

Who Would Be the Church? – A Holy Place in the Holy Land – From the Daily Office – July 3, 2014

Pray for the Peace of Jerusalem – From the Daily Office – June 30, 2014

The Holiest Place – From the Daily Office – June 28, 2014

Thirsty: A Walking Tour of Jerusalem – From the Daily Office – June 26, 2014

Broken Clocks – From the Daily Office – June 21, 2014

Taste & See – From the Daily Office – June 20, 2014

Playing to an Empty Theater – From the Daily Office – May 28, 2014

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