That Which We Have Heard & Known

Occasional thoughts of an Anglican Episcopal priest

Category: Friends (Page 5 of 7)

Light in the Darkness – From the Daily Office – October 30, 2012

October 30, 2012 / / 0 Comments

From the Gospel of Luke:

Jesus said, “No one after lighting a lamp puts it in a cellar, but on the lampstand so that those who enter may see the light. Your eye is the lamp of your body. If your eye is healthy, your whole body is full of light; but if it is not healthy, your body is full of darkness. Therefore consider whether the light in you is not darkness. If then your whole body is full of light, with no part of it in darkness, it will be as full of light as when a lamp gives you light with its rays.”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Luke 11:33-36 – October 30, 2012)

Storm Damage, New York Times photograph, 10/30/2012Last night Hurricane Sandy hit the eastern seaboard of the United States. Atlantic City was hit hard; the iconic boardwalk is gone; and with electrical power failures, the neon lights of the casino signs went dark. In Manhattan, a ConEd transformer station blew up; video of the explosion was quickly posted on Facebook and later shown on national television news programs. The lower third of the island was in darkness. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of people are now without electrical power and may not have light or heat for many days.

In this morning’s gospel lesson Jesus makes his point about the spiritual light within each person. The devastation wreaked by this storm, if our experience with prior disastrous such as Katrina, Irene, and many others, is simply the beginning of a very dark period for a lot of people. It will be a time when the light within each will be tested and some will truly shine. It goes without saying that these kinds of events can bring out the worst in some people, but it is also true that they can and do bring out the best in many others.

I have several friends who are volunteers with the Red Cross and other agencies in the affected area, and other friends who are clergy or active lay church members. I know that they will all be hard at work doing what they can to relieve the sufferings of others, even as they themselves have been affected by the storm. Their eyes are clear, they see what has to be done, and the light of Christ shines in and through them.

I thought of them last night as I watched the news of the storm. For them and for all who must now cope with the loss and damage caused by Sandy, I offered this prayer from the Order of Compline:

Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love’s sake. Amen. (BCP 1979, page 132)

Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep throughout the time of recovery from Hurricane Sandy, and bless especially those who are light in the darkness.

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A request to my readers: I’m trying to build the readership of this blog and I’d very much appreciate your help in doing so. If you find something here that is of value, please share it with others. If you are on Facebook, “like” the posts on your page so others can see them. If you are following me on Twitter, please “retweet” the notices of these meditations. If you have a blog of your own, please include mine in your links (a favor I will gladly reciprocate). Many thanks!

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

The Patients of Job: Part Three – “What Is Half of 11?” – Sermon for Pentecost 21, Proper 24B – October 21, 2012

October 21, 2012 / / 3 Comments

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This sermon was preached on Sunday, October 21, 2012, at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio, where Fr. Funston is rector.

(Revised Common Lectionary, Proper 24B: Job 38:1-7,34-41; Psalm 104:1-9,25,37b; Hebrews 5:1-10; Mark 10:35-45. These lessons can be read at The Lectionary Page. At St. Paul’s Parish, the whole of Job 38 was read as the Old Testament lesson.)

The illustrations which follow in this sermon were presented as PowerPoint slides during the homily.

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This is our third installment in the sermon series The Patients of Job and we begin with a diagnostic question: What is half of 11?

Job 38:1-7, (34-41) Psalm 104:1-9, 25, 37b or Isaiah 53:4-12 Psalm 91:9-16 Hebrews 5:1-10 Mark 10:35-45

Think about that for a while and we will return to this question in a moment. First, however, we need to catch ourselves up-to-date on the story of Job.

When we left Job last week, he and his friends Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar had had a long conversation about Job’s condition, his various misfortunes, and his own purity or blameworthiness; they then waxed philosophical about a hypothetical and stereotypical wicked man, being rather unclear whether that man was, in fact, Job. We were left with Job determined to take God to court where he would plead his innocence, but in something of a quandary because he was unsure where to find God.

Despite his confusion and bewilderment about the whereabouts of the Almighty, Job then spends the next nine chapters laying out his case. Bildad interrupts him briefly, but other than that the three friends do not speak further. There is a brief excursus in Chapter 28 about creation and wisdom, and scholars are unsure if Job is actually the speaker of that portion; it may be that this is one of the friends or even the narrator of the story speaking, but the text is unclear. When Job finishes, a newcomer begins to speak, Elihu the son of Barachel the Buzite. He comes on the scene unannounced, expresses his anger at Job and his friends because of their lack of understanding about God, and picks holes in some of their arguments. Most scholars think this a later addition to the book because Elihu’s speeches really add nothing and interrupt the flow between Job’s final speech and the appearance of the character God whose first speech in response to Job we heard today as our Old Testament reading. (I asked our lector to read the whole of Chapter 38, not simply the selected verses required by the Lectionary.)

My friend and colleague Steve _________, who is now the priest-in-charge of St. Bartholomew’s Episcopal Church in Mayfield Village, recently characterized the Book of Job, and this chapter of it in particular as “Job asking, ‘Why am I, a righteous man, suffering so?’ and God’s answer is ‘I am God and you are not.'” As Steve noted, that is not an entirely satisfying answer! I’ve often thought of the book and God’s answer in even less positive terms; it has frequently seemed to me that God’s response is (pardon the expression!), “Who the hell are you?”

But as I re-read the whole of the story in preparation for these sermons, and again as I have written each homily, I think that Steve and I have been wrong about this story. I don’t think God’s answer is either “I’m God and you’re not” or “Who the hell are you?” I think God’s answer is “What is half of 11?” And, again, I’ll come back to that.

I mentioned Chapter 28 earlier; that chapter really sets the background for God’s response to Job in this chapter. Chapter 28 has been called “one of the most exquisite poetic compositions of the entire Bible” (New Interpreters Bible, Vol. IV, Abingdon Press:1996, p. 528); I encourage you to read it! In Chapter 28, the speaker (whether Job or someone else) addresses the paradox of wisdom which cannot be found because it is everywhere. “Surely there is a mine for silver, and a place for gold to be refined,” it begins. (v. 1) “But where shall wisdom be found?” it asks, “And where is the place of understanding?” (v. 12) In what is really a hymn to wisdom and creation, the speaker sings of precious metals and prized gemstones, of the animals of nature, of the phenomena of weather, and of God who understands the way of wisdom because God “looks to the ends of the earth, and sees everything under the heavens.” (v. 24) Human beings, says the speaker, find wisdom through participation in creation in two particular ways. First, by what the speaker calls “the fear of the Lord,” a biblical term for piety or prayerful mindfulness; second, through “departure from evil,” which is to say moral action and uprightness. In these ways, human beings participate in the integrity of creation and understand the interrelatedness of all things; in a word, human beings find wisdom through creation and in creativity. This, then, is the background for what God says to Job in Chapter 38.

Job has laid out his legal case and made his arguments. God appears on the scene and rather than answer the lawsuit, he turns the tables on Job and starts asking him a lot of questions about nature. He asks about the seas, about wild animals, about storms and clouds and thunder, but says not a word about any of the points Job has laid out so carefully in his legal case . . . not a word. Instead, God’s address to Job is characterized by an “unrelenting use of rhetorical questions: ‘Who?’ ‘Where?’ ‘How?’ ‘What . . . can you . . . have you . . . do you know?'” (N.I.B., p. 598)

“What,” says God, “is half of 11?” Well, not actually. “What is half of 11?” is a question asked by my friend John O’Keefe. And, of course, we all know the answer, don’t we? Half of 11 is 5.5. You take 11; you divide it by 2; you get 5-and-a-half. Done.

5.5

But are we? In John’s book, The Church Creative (CreateSpace:2012), he suggests we ought to open ourselves to considering the question “What is half of 11?” from different and unexpected perspectives. (See also John’s website, The Church Creative.)

What if we visualize or understand this question not as “What is half of the number 11?” but “What is half of a character made up of two 1s, two vertical strokes?” Then half of 11 is . . .

1

. . . and the second half is . . .

1 & 1

Or what if we think not in Arabic numerals but in the Roman numerals?

What Is Half of XI?

Then the first half of XI is an X . . .

X

. . . and the second half is an I.

X & I

Or, we could just slice the figure horizontally so that there’s a top half . . .

Top of XI

. . . and a bottom half.

Top & Bottom of XI

Here’s another thought. Think in terms of words, not numbers. “What is half of e-l-e-v-e-n?”

What is half of eleven?

Obviously, the first half is “e-l-e” . . .

ele

. . . and the second, “v-e-n”.

ele & ven

Or, half of the word “eleven” is made up of the vowel “e” . . .

eee

. . . and the other half is made up of consonants.

eee & lvn

I suggest to you that God’s numerous rhetorical questions are meant to get Job to look at himself, his situation, his losses, and his current condition, from a different perspective, to understand God in a different way. God’s response to Job is like asking “What is half of 11?”

Just like us, when we read that question as being only and solely a math problem, Job has a particular way of seeing the world, a particular way of understanding reality, a particular way of understanding God. His frame of reference, if you will, was the social structure of his world, the village, clan, and family structure within which his life was lived. Job’s theological imagination was framed by that structure; the metaphors through which he sought to understand God came from that structure. Just as Job, acting as a person of honor, would hear and respond to a complaint from one of his employees or one of his children, so he believed God would hear and respond to his case. “Job’s image of God is developed out the highest and best values of his society, values that Job has always tried to embody.” (N.I.B., p. 556) This is fully in keeping with the Biblical tradition of “thinking about God by means of metaphors drawn largely from the realm of human relations.” (Ibid.) The problem, of course, is that such metaphors are limited and inadequate. God is not simply an ideal human person; God is “wholly other”, and God will not fit completely into the neat and tidy lines of our metaphors. Job is only partially correct about God. God will (and does) deal with Job as a loving Parent might deal with a child, but not in the way Job anticipates.

My daughter Caitlin recently shared with me an essay she wrote for one of her college courses. In it she related a story about my uncle, who was a very talented professional artist, teaching her to draw. This is her story:

My great uncle Richard was the first person to let me loose with a tool and tell me that I had the power to create “Art”. Sitting under an orange tree in my Grammy’s backyard, he handed me some colored pencils and told me to draw my favorite thing; at the time it was flowers. My geometric and organic patterns turned into a kid’s rendition of paisley. Once I got that flower thing down I wanted to move on to something more awesome. I couldn’t think of what to draw, so Uncle Richard decided to teach me a Surrealist technique to ease the imagination process. He told me to take a black pen, and without thinking about it too much, draw one continuous line all over the paper, “Just scribble it all up.”

After I scribbled the most extreme mess on the page, he told me to “make the ends meet.” I found the point at which I began my crazy doodle, connected the dots and then colored in the shapes between the lines with a myriad of color as he suggested. The great American painter Jasper Johns said the way to make art is to “Do something, then do something to that, then do something to that.”

My uncle had my daughter do something like this . . .

Squiggle

. . . and then do something like this to it.

Squiggle Colored-in

In this way, Uncle Richard taught Caitlin that she had (as she put it) “the power to create.” It must have worked; last year Caitlin painted this watercolor . . .

Red Snapper, copyright 2012, Caitlin Funston

and, with it, won a scholarship at the University of Missouri.

God’s response to Job, all those rhetorical questions – “Who?” “Where?” “How?” “What . . . can you . . . have you . . . do you know?” – were God’s way of getting Job to “just scribble it all up,” of getting Job to stop being confined within the lines and limits and inadequacies of his metaphors, of getting Job to think creatively, of helping Job to find wisdom by participating in the integrity of creation and through understanding of the interrelatedness of all things. God’s response was not asking Job “Who the hell are you?” and God wasn’t answering his complaint with “I’m God and you’re not.” God was, however, saying, “I’m God but not in anyway you’ve ever considered, understood, or even imagined.” God was saying, “Neither I nor the world I created will fit within the neat lines of your metaphorical box.”

God’s response to Job is an invitation, and therein is the balm for us as “Patients of Job”, the prescription for whatever sickens our souls, for remedy for whatever ails our realities. God’s response is an invitation to Job and to us to participate in creation, to “scribble it all up,” to do something, then do something to that, then do something to that, to answer “What is half of 11?” in unexpected ways, to be creative in our problem solving. The answer to Job’s problem is not to sit on his pile of ashes moaning and complaining, disputing legalisms and “did I deserve it?”s with his friends; the answer to Job’s problem is not to sit on his pile of ashes framing legal arguments and preparing to sue God! The answer to Job’s problem is to get creative, to do something unexpected, to think outside the box. And that is spiritual medicine for us because, just like Job’s, neither our problems, nor our world, nor our God . . .

"Come on God, Get In There!!"

. . . will fit in our neat metaphorical boxes. Amen.

A Facebook Posting – May 2, 2012

May 2, 2012 / / 1 Comment

I don’t know if this is real. I hope it is. I really hope it is. The accompanying picture and the following words were posted on Facebook recently.

A NYC Taxi driver wrote:

I arrived at the address and honked the horn. After waiting a few minutes I honked again. Since this was going to be my last ride of my shift I thought about just driving away, but instead I put the car in park and walked up to the door and knocked.. ‘Just a minute’, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940’s movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

‘Would you carry my bag out to the car?’ she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.

She kept thanking me for my kindness. ‘It’s nothing’, I told her.. ‘I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother to be treated.’

‘Oh, you’re such a good boy, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address and then asked, ‘Could you drive through downtown?’

‘It’s not the shortest way,’ I answered quickly..

‘Oh, I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. ‘I don’t have any family left,’ she continued in a soft voice..’The doctor says I don’t have very long.’ I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.

‘What route would you like me to take?’ I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.

Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, ‘I’m tired.Let’s go now’.

We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

‘How much do I owe you?’ She asked, reaching into her purse.

‘Nothing,’ I said

‘You have to make a living,’ she answered.

‘There are other passengers,’ I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.

‘You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day ,I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life.

We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware – beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.

I Am Really Angry! Get Rush Limbaugh Off the Air!

March 5, 2012 / / 3 Comments

OK – I’ve had a long day today – up at 5 a.m. to get ready to preside and preach at two church services. Arrange to make a hospital call (which turned out to be unnecessary). Nurse my knee (on which a meniscectomy and cartillage repair was performed last Wednesday). Set up the church dining room for a Lenten soup supper and study program, and then lead that program, and then oversee the tearing-down and cleaning-up afterward. It was a long, but rewarding day of parish ministry.

But then I read this blog by a mother whose daughter was bullied at school this last week – called a “slut” by classmates because she takes birth control – something that they got wind of because some adult on a band trip violated a confidence. I was a band parent – I was president of our children’s band parents boosters group. I know about permission slips and medication supervision and confidentiality. Having been a practicing attorney (and still a member of the Bar) and being a priest, I have a vested interest in confidentiality! So its violation bothers me … a lot.

AND THIS STORY JUST PISSES ME OFF! Maybe it’s just because I’m tired at the end of a long day … but I have a daughter, too. If this had happened to her, I’d have turned into a raving lunatic and sought out those who had humiliated her and probably done them harm. (Yeah, I know, clergy aren’t supposed to think or do such things … but I’m pretty sure I would have!) Some adult on the band trip has a lot to answer for, as do the bullies who abused this young lady and their parents … and mostly Rush Limbaugh and those who idolize his brand of insensitive bullshit! The Republican candidates and office holders who have failed to denounce his treatment of Sandra Fluke also bear responsibility. This just has to stop and a good place to start stopping it is to get that jackass removed from the airwaves!

Celebration of Ministries: A Sermon

January 14, 2012 / / 0 Comments

Jennifer Spreng Leider recently became Rector of St. Paul’s Parish in Oregon, Ohio. At the Celebration of New Ministry (her “installation”) her recently-born son was also baptised. I was asked to preach the sermon. The readings (all taken from the NRSV) were Jeremiah 17:7-8, Ephesians 4:7,11-16, and John 3:1-8. In addition, the 23rd Psalm, King James Version, was recited. This is the sermon I preached.

“Blessed are those who trust in the Lord…. They shall be like a tree planted by water.” In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

It is a joy and an honor and a humbling experienced to be asked by Jennifer to once again preach at a milestone in her life, this celebration of “new ministry” which also just happens to be the baptism of her and Steve’s son Ian. Although the gospel is one of the baptismal selections, neither our lesson from the Hebrew Scriptures nor our epistle are from the usual options for either the new ministry or baptism. They are selections peculiar to Jennifer, so I shall particular attention to those.

The first is from the 17th chapter of the Prophet Jeremiah. Jeremiah 17 is one of those oddball chapters we find throughout the Bible in various books where good short statements of wisdom have been collected and just lumped together. The bit we heard (verses 7 and 8 ) was half of one of these bits of wisdom, half of a sort of compare-and-contrast statement given by God to the prophet. We heard the good half, the blessing half. To fully appreciate Jeremiah’s message though, we need to hear the whole thing including the curse pronounced in verses 5 and 6. I also think we need to hear it in a translation a little closer to the original Hebrew. I love the New Revised Standard Version of the Scriptures, but there are times when its laudable effort to be gender neutral and inclusive obscures the original meaning and this is one of them. Although the NRSV translation is in the spirit of the original text, it hides a point the prophet makes about the individual within community, a point that is lost in the NRSV’s plural rendering.

So here is Judaica Press’s translation The Complete Jewish Bible, with a couple emendations of my own:

Jer. 17:5-6 Thus says the Lord: Cursed is the warrior* who trusts in the merely human** and makes flesh his arm, and whose heart turns away from the Lord. He shall be like a lone bush in the plain, and will not see when good comes, and will dwell on parched land in the desert, on salt-sodden soil that is not habitable.

Jer. 17:7-8 Blessed is the warrior* who trusts in the Lord; the Lord shall be his trust. For he shall be like a tree transplanted*** by the water, by a rivulet where it spreads its roots: it will not see when heat comes, and its leaves shall be green. In the year of drought will not be anxious, neither shall it cease from bearing fruit.

* Heb. geber = warrior or strong man
** Heb. adam = man or human, humankind
*** Heb. shathal = transplanted

The first word whose translation I changed is geber. It really is unfortunate that most English translations use the word “man” for the Hebrew geber in this and other verses, confusing it with adam (human being), and that the NRSV completely loses it by using the plural pronoun “those”. We really need to know and appreciate when a biblical author choses to use the singular noun geber. Its root is the verb “to prevail”; a person described as geber is a mighty warrior, a person of great strength, someone who can be expected to prevail in times of difficulty. The writer of the book of Job used the word fifteen times to distinguish the character of the geber from ordinary human beings. The prophet Zechariah goes so far as to use the word to describe God. The lesson is clear: all men and women are adam; only a few are geber.

Jeremiah then makes a distinction between those warriors who try to prevail relying on merely human strength, and those who achieve victory through dependence on God. The former he says “shall be like a lone bush in the plain”, while the latter “shall be like a tree transplanted by the water.” The word here is shathal which is usually translated as “planted”, but actually has more the sense of “transplanted”, a sense of intentionality. These aren’t trees that just ended up near the stream because the wind blew their seeds there! These are trees intentionally transplanted with planning and purpose by the farmer who cares for them and expects to see them flourish and produce fruit, transplanted into a grove or an orchard which receives the blessing of water and nourishment. These trees have been purposefully planted, with and among others, “beside the still waters.”

Unlike those who depend only on human strength, who end up alone in a parched and barren salt-sodden desert, these gebarim, these people of spiritual strength who rely upon God, are placed by God into a community, into a place where they receive the sustenance required for growth and productivity. A few verses later, Jeremiah will clearly identify God as “the source of [these] living waters” (v. 13) that are always flowing and always fresh. The point of the prophet’s image of the tree, transplanted into the grove by the river, is not simply about blessing, it is about the individual within community: it is that the blessing of the righteous is not received in solitude — it is received in the context of community.

This is the same point St. Paul makes in that portion of his letter to the church in Ephesus that we heard read this evening:

[E]ach of us was given grace according to the measure of Christ’s gift. The gifts he gave were that some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ. (Eph. 4: 7,11-13)

The gifts we receive are not ours alone; they are for the benefit of the community, for “all of us.” The blessings we receive are not received in solitude — they are received in the context of community “to equip [all of us] for the work of ministry,” which brings us the reason for this evening’s gathering — to celebrate new ministries, Jennifer’s as rector of this parish and, perhaps more importantly, Ian’s as a new member of the body of Christ — to celebrate the transplanting of these gebarim into this grove called St. Paul’s by the water of the River Maumee.

There are several members of St. Paul’s Parish of Medina here this evening and I assure you that I know well and good that they are not here because I am preaching; most of them had no idea I would be doing so. They are here because although it has been over two years since Jennifer was temporarily transplanted into our community, she is still important to and loved by our congregation. That so many of us have driven over 100 miles to be here is testament to her, to her gifts for ordained ministry, and to the fruits of her ministry among us. On behalf of these Medinans (and many others who could not be here but love Jennifer no less), I have some requests to make of the members of St. Paul’s, Oregon:

First of all, encourage Jennifer to focus on three priorities: preaching God’s word, celebrating God’s Sacraments, and spending time in prayer. There are many, many other things that a parish priest can and will do, but these three are central to any clergy person’s ministry. All of those other things can and, in many cases, should be done by others in your community. If Jennifer preaches the word to you clearly and fully, lovingly presides at God’s Table in an inviting and welcoming manner, and centers herself in daily conversation with God, then do not begrudge her if other things are occasionally passed over.
As part of that encouragement, give her time. If you do encourage her in this way, you must do this. Most people do not realize how much time it takes to write a sermon. Most of us have written a term paper somewhere along the way; preparing a sermon is like writing a new term paper each week. It can easily consume 10-15 hours per week. If you want Jennifer to preach well, you must give her this time to prepare. Similarly, you must give her time for liturgical planning and, most importantly, time for the important work of prayer.

Many people are willing to say their clergy should put in this kind of time, but the only way Jennifer can have this time is if other demands are relaxed. You must not expect her to make every pastoral visit, oversee every parish activity, make every administrative decision. Each member of the church is given grace according to the measure of Christ’s gift and each member must work properly promoting the body’s growth. We must reclaim the shared ministry of the whole people of God, and members of the parish must join with your rector in providing pastoral care to other members, in overseeing the activities of the congregation, and in administrative governance.

Jennifer, this obligation of the congregation means that you must answer it with a similar commitment. If you would be the geber described by Jeremiah, if you would be that transplanted, never-anxious, fruit-bearing tree, you must take the time your congregation gives you and focus on these three presbyteral priorities — preaching, sacramental celebration, and prayer — most especially on the third: spend time in conversation with God every day. The budget can wait — your treasurer can do that for you; making sure the church register is accurate can wait — perhaps your altar guild can handle that; someone else can make that pastoral visit … but no one else can listen to God for you. You must spend you own time in prayer.

Members of St. Paul’s, the second request I have is that you support her with your prayers. In his treatise The Power of the Pulpit: Thoughts Addressed to Christian Ministers and Those Who Hear Them, the early 19th Century American preacher Gardiner Spring wrote these words:

[H]ow unspeakably precious the thought to all who labor in this great work, whether in youthful, or riper years, that they are … habitually remembered in the prayers of the churches! Let the thought sink deep into the heart of every church, that their minister will be very much such a minister as their prayers may make him. If nothing short of Omnipotent grace can make a Christian, nothing less than this can make a faithful and successful minister of the Gospel!

We might express this thought differently today, but Gardiner’s point remains valid. Your prayers, even more than her own, are the wellspring from which flows the water of God’s grace on which Jennifer’s ministry as a priest so much depends. If you wish her ministry to bear good fruit, do not forget to pray for her, and let her know you are doing so!

Thirdly, good people of Oregon, respect her, listen to her, and most importantly love her (and Steve and Ian, too). The writer of the letter to the Hebrews admonished church members, “Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they are keeping watch over your souls and will give an account.” (Heb. 13:17a) Standing alone, that admonition seems more than a little bit authoritarian! But that’s only the first half of the admonition; it continues, “Let them do this with joy and not with sighing — for that would be harmful to you.” (Heb. 13:17b) Support Jennifer with your respect and your love, listen to her with an attentive ear, so that her ministry may be to her a source of joy. Be like the church of the Bereans described in the book of Acts who “welcomed the message [brought by Paul, Silas and Timothy] very eagerly.” The Bereans are described Luke, the author of Acts, as “noble minded” and “receptive.” Nothing gives a clergy person greater joy than working with noble minded folk who are receptive to the Word of God! And if this ministry bears the fruit of joy for her, it will bear the fruit of blessing for you.

So, Jennifer, I have a couple of additional admonitions for you … first, Grasshopper, right here and now, rid yourself of the notion that you are in charge or that the success of your pastorate is on your shoulders alone. You are not and it is not. God is in charge and God will nurture the fruit of success. You may be the priest, the rector of this congregation, but you are not its only minister, nor its only leader. You are to work with the vestry and program leaders who are your colleagues and co-leaders. Additionally, you must avail yourself of the fellowship of your clergy colleagues outside the parish — your mission-area clericus within our denomination, and your local ministerial alliance in ecumenical fellowship. Be open to constructive criticism and suggestions from within the congregation and from colleagues outside of it, and you will find your burden much lighter.

Second, settle it in your mind this instant that there are very few emergencies in the pastorate. Sure, there may be some things that need correction, but ask yourself, “Do these things need to be addressed right now this minute?” The answer is usually “No.” Remember Paul’s admonition to Timothy:

The Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome but kindly to everyone, an apt teacher, patient, correcting opponents with gentleness. God may perhaps grant that they will repent and come to know the truth. (2 Tim. 2:24-25)

Lastly, Grasshopper … If you haven’t already, find both a mentor and a spiritual director. Become friends with both a fellow clergy person and a soul friend, lay or ordained, whose opinions and counsel you trust and value. Ask them to be your counselors and commit to them that you will listen carefully to what they say, even though you may not always do what they suggest — that decision is your own. But do spend time with them on a regular basis for prayer and feedback.
Well, I’ve rambled on a lot about Jennifer’s pastorate and I’ve yet to say a word about Ian’s baptism! So I shall wrap this up quickly with just a brief observation.

Jesus said to Nicodemus that one may not enter the kingdom of God without being born again and Nicodemus asked how this could be possible, “Can one enter a second time into the mother’s womb and be born?” This is such a wonderfully Jewish question!

The Talmud, the tractate called Niddah, teaches that before each of us is born, while we are still in our mother’s womb, “A lamp shines over our heads with which we learn the entire Torah and see from one end of the universe to the other.” The light is held by an angel, teaches us who we are, what is expected of us, what gifts God will give us, what our purpose and our mission is. In sum, we learn the entire blueprint of our lives. We are equipped with everything we need to be gebarim, ready to prevail through the spirit of God, ready to produce the fruits of ministry.

And then … just as we are about to be born, the angel presses a finger against our mouths and says, “Shhhh….” (that’s why this little dent in our upper lips). The angel’s finger pressed against on our mouths puts us into a state of spiritual amnesia; we forget everything we have learned. After we are born, when we try to learn God’s Will, when we try to discern our gifts and our ministry, it is difficult. It seems faintly familiar and it is good and sweet, but it is only with tremendous effort, within and with the help of the community of faith, that even the tiniest ray of light begins to penetrate our minds, to illuminate our spirits. We spend the rest of our lives, taught by our faith community, learning to remember a tiny portion of the way of God that we learned in the womb.

Baptism is our entry into the Christian community of faith; it is the church’s sacramental recognition that this young geber has been planted by God in this grove or orchard to bear fruit. Baptism is the fundamental sacrament of ministry; the water of baptism assures that this young tree, transplanted here by God, “shall not fear when heat comes, and [his] leaves shall stay green; in the year of drought [he will] not [be] anxious, and [he will] not cease to bear fruit.” In baptism tonight Ian will be initiated and incorporated into the body of Christ, as we all have been, graced with gifts which he, with this community’s aid, will discern — or perhaps he will remember from the teaching he received in his mother’s womb.

Jesus said, “No one can enter the reign of God without being born of water and Spirit.” Baptism is at the heart of this gospel and at the core of the church’s mission. Since the Apostolic Age, baptism by water and baptism of the Holy Spirit have been connected. Water is administered in the name of the triune God; the Holy Spirit is invoked by anointing with oil and with the laying on of hands in the presence of the congregation.

When we baptize Ian tonight we say what we understand about ourselves as individuals and as community: that we are not lone bushes in the salt-sodden desert; that he and his mother and all of us are gebarim, mighty trees transplanted into this orchard to bear fruit, to use our gifts for the building up of the Body of Christ.

Tonight we celebrate ministry — Jennifer’s as rector in this parish — but more fundamentally, Ian’s and all of our ministry as children of God and members of the church. As baptized people of God, we respond with praise and thanksgiving to the nourishing waters of baptism, praying that God’s will be done in Ian’s life and in ours so that we shall not from bearing fruit. Amen.

Christmas Sermon 2011: Frosty the Snowman and Jesus the Christ

December 23, 2011 / / 3 Comments

As many of you know, I have a tradition of keeping my eye open, while doing my Christmas shopping, for some object to use as a physical illustration for this annual event, this sermon on the Nativity of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Over the years, these illustrative objects have included a pair of Christmas stockings, a Christmas banner with the greeting misspelled, and a stuffed frog wearing a Santa hat. Finding and using the annual “focus object” has become a source of great fun for me and I hope for the congregations who’ve been subjected to my preaching.

Frosty the Snowman Plush ToyOver the past ten days or so I have been required almost every day to visit one of our larger local grocery stores, one which has a center section devoted to seasonal merchandise. On each visit as I walked through that section, one item on a top shelf kept catching my attention, but each time I declined to buy it. Every day I would go away and wonder why I was attracted to that particular thing, and those contemplations made their way into my notes for this homily.

Finally, yesterday I went to the store and bought it – meet Frosty the Snowman.

Continue reading

Sermon for Christ the King: Prepare yourself; gotta have a friend in Jesus!

November 20, 2011 / / 0 Comments

(Sermon starts with a video of Norman Greenbaum’s Spirit in the Sky. The lyrics are reproduced here.)

When I die and they lay me to rest,
Gonna go to the place that’s the best.
When I lay me down to die,
Goin’ up to the spirit in the sky.
Goin’ up to the spirit in the sky;
That’s where I’m gonna go when I die.
When I die and they lay me to rest,
I’m gonna go to the place that’s the best.

Prepare yourself; you know it’s a must –
Gotta have a friend in Jesus,
So you know that when you die
He’s gonna recommend you
To the spirit in the sky.
Oh, recommend you
To the spirit in the sky;
That’s where you’re gonna go when you die.
When you die and they lay you to rest,
You’re gonna go to the place that’s the best.

Never been a sinner; I never sinned.
I got a friend in Jesus,
So you know that when I die|
He’s gonna set me up with
The spirit in the sky.
Oh, set me up with the spirit in the sky;
That’s where I’m gonna go when I die.
When I die and they lay me to rest,
I’m gonna go to the place that’s the best.
Go to the place that’s the best.

Isn’t that a great song? Written by a Jewish hippy folk-rocker in 1970…. A bit overly confident in the first verse, but that’s the way of some hymns, don’t you think? I mean “Praise my soul, the King of heaven” in which we claim to be “ransomed, healed, restored, [and] forgiven” betrays a pretty over-the-top confidence as well! The theology in the second verse is pretty good, although in the third it’s not so hot – so let’s take a look at that second verse because it really does have something to do with the Gospel lesson for this feast of Christ the King.

Prepare yourself; you know it’s a must –
Gotta have a friend in Jesus,
So you know that when you die
He’s gonna recommend you
To the spirit in the sky.

Today is the last Sunday of the Christian year, the last Sunday after the Feast of Pentecost, the last Sunday before the church year begins again on the First Sunday of Advent. We call it “The Feast of Christ the King” and in the lessons for the day we focus on Christ’s return, his Second Coming, to reign as king over all of creation. In this year “A” of the lectionary cycle, we are still in the same cycle of lessons that we began several weeks ago, Matthew’s description of the events of the first Holy Week. What we heard today takes place on Wednesday – Jesus has just told his disciples some parables about being prepared – the Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids – and about properly stewarding what he has given them – the Parable of the Talents. Now he tells them plainly what will happen at the end of time. This is not a parable! This is a straight-forward statement of what will happen:

When the Son of Man comes in his glory,
and all the angels with him,
then he will sit on the throne of his glory.
All the nations will be gathered before him,
and he will separate people one from another
as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats,
and he will put the sheep at his right hand
and the goats at the left. (Matthew 25:31-33)

There’s nothing parabolic about this. This is what will be – Jesus on his throne with the people gathered before him. To some he will say, “Step over here on my right and ‘inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.'” To others he will say, “Step to my left and ‘go away into eternal punishment.'”

“Prepare yourself; you know it’s a must – gotta have a friend in Jesus!” You do not want him to not be your friend, no way, no how! So how do we get to be Jesus’ friend?

Well, that’s laid out here in pretty straight-forward fashion, as well:

I was hungry and you gave me food,
I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink,
I was a stranger and you welcomed me,
I was naked and you gave me clothing,
I was sick and you took care of me,
I was in prison and you visited me.

In Matthew’s Gospel Jesus completes his teaching ministry voicing the same concerns with which he began it in the opening words of the Sermon on the Mount:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled
Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

In Luke’s Gospel we are told that Jesus began his ministry by identifying himself as the one who would provide for the hungry and the thirsty, the meek and the mournful, the poor and the persecuted. He went to his hometown synagogue and read from the Prophet Isaiah:

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

And then told them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” He would be the bringer of blessing, but now, three years later ….

At the end of his teaching ministry he has handed the Good News over to his followers, like the master handing over the Talents to his slaves, to used and to be increased, and he says to them plainly, “It’s your show now! You provide the food and the drink; you provide the clothing and the shelter; you care for the sick and the prisoner; you welcome the outcast and the lost. Befriend the least of these and you befriend me.” In John’s Gospel, he makes this even clearer when he says, “You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends.”

“Prepare yourself; you know it’s a must – gotta have a friend in Jesus!”

You know, there are two things about this end-time description that intrigue me. The first is that Jesus doesn’t mention a single one of the things that good religious people always seem to think are important. For example, he doesn’t say to either the sheep or the goats anything about sex or gambling or drinking or church-going or Bible-verse memorizing or any of that …

The sheep are not rewarded for attending religious services, nor are the goats condemned for skipping them.

The sheep are not rewarded for being faithful to their spouses, nor are the goats condemned for adultery.

The sheep are not rewarded for giving to the religious establishment, nor are the goats condemned for their lack of charitable giving.

The sheep are not rewarded for staying away from the casinos, nor are the goats condemned for betting at the racetrack.

The sheep are not rewarded for preaching their religion on street corners or on people’s door steps or at their places of work, nor are the goats condemned for failing at evangelism.

The sheep are not rewarded for being teetotalers, nor are the goats condemned for drunkenness.

The sheep are not rewarded for studying their scriptures, nor are the goats not condemned for being biblically illiterate.

We might all agree that we would expect the righteous sheep to behave as described, and that it would be a lot better if the unrighteous goats didn’t … but Christ the King judging between them at the end of time doesn’t seem to be concerned with questions of religious observance and moral behavior. He’s concerned the harsh realities of hunger and thirst, poverty and homelessness, illness and persecution, and whether anybody has addressed them.

The second thing that is intriguing and noteworthy about the scene Jesus describes is the complete lack of self-awareness by both the righteous and the condemned. “Really?” the sheep ask, “When did we do that?” “You’re kidding?” the goats exclaim, “When did we fail to do that?”

And this is where we really have to be very careful that we are understanding of what Jesus is saying. He is not suggesting, in any way, shape, or form, that there is some sort of cosmic check-list that we have comply with. “OK. I worked at Free Farmers’ Market the past four weeks handing out fresh vegetables. Feed the hungry, check! I donated all my old clothing to the Good Will. Clothe the naked, check!” No! It doesn’t work that way.

The righteous don’t go before the King waving a check list: “Look, Jesus, look what we did!” Instead, they are surprised to learn that they did it. Because it’s not really about “doing” … it’s about “being”. It’s not about doing good deeds; it’s about simply being good. That’s why Jesus doesn’t have to mention sex or gambling or religious observance, because someone who would feed the hungry, clothe the naked, house the stranger, or care for the poor without thinking about it surely would lead a moral and religious life. They “walk the walk” whether they “talk the talk” or not.

In the letter of James we are admonished to “be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves.” James asks this important question: “What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you? If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,’ and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead. But someone will say, ‘You have faith and I have works.’ Show me your faith apart from your works, and I by my works will show you my faith.”

Jesus is well aware of the differences between people. He knows that how we live our lives shows more clearly the kind of person we are than anything we might say, any belief we might claim. So his criteria for separating people at the end of time are based on what we do during the course of our lives. Those who quietly get on with living the Good News – feeding those who were hungry, clothing those who were naked, visiting those who were sick or in prison – not because there’s some rule or check list, but simply because they have a need and we have the means to meet it – these are the people who will be taken to one side and told that, in fact, they had been doing those things for Jesus himself; by their works, they showed their faith – they had done what Jesus commanded; they had been Jesus’ friends. Those who do not do these things – not out of some evil intent, but simply because they are, perhaps, too self-centered to see the needs of others – will be told that when they failed to do those things, they were neglecting to do them for Jesus; by their lack of works they showed their faith was dead; they had not done what Jesus commanded; they had not been his friends.

“You are my friends [when] you do what I command you.”

To some the King will say, “Step over here on my right and ‘inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.'” To others he will say, “Step to my left and ‘go away into eternal punishment.'”

“Prepare yourself; you know it’s a must – gotta have a friend in Jesus!”

For the Requiem of Eileen Tough Harrington

October 22, 2011 / / 0 Comments

Jesus, as we have just heard, said, “Anyone who hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life, and does not come under judgment, but has passed from death to life.” He did not, however, say that anyone who hears his word and believes in God would not die … and so we are here this morning to mourn our loss of Eileen Tough Harrington, to remember her life, and to celebrate her entry into the Presence of Almighty God. She has “passed from death to life,” larger life with the Saints in Light.

As many of you know, I often turn to the works of famous poets at times like these and one in particular is the early 19th Century writer Anna Lætitia Barbauld, the daughter and wife of Presbyterian ministers. Her poem A Thought On Death was published in 1821 in a magazine entitled The Christian Disciple. I was reminded of it when I reflected on Eileen’s long life:

When life as opening buds is sweet,
And golden hopes the fancy greet,
And Youth prepares his joys to meet,
Alas! how hard it is to die!

When just is seized some valued prize,
And duties press, and tender ties
Forbid the soul from earth to rise,
How awful then it is to die!

When, one by one, those ties are torn,
And friend from friend is snatched forlorn,
And man is left alone to mourn,
Ah then, how easy ’tis to die!

When faith is firm, and conscience clear,
And words of peace the spirit cheer,
And visioned glories half appear,
‘Tis joy, ’tis triumph then to die.

When trembling limbs refuse their weight,
And films, slow gathering, dim the sight,
And clouds obscure the mental light,
‘Tis nature’s precious boon to die.

In her time of youth, as a young girl of six years of age, Eileen emigrated from her native Aberdeen, Scotland, to the United States. As a young woman she “seized the valued prize” of a two-year college degree in business skills and became an executive secretary. “Dour Scot” though her heritage may have been, she did enjoy life – she and her brother Frederick became dancers and traveled the country entertaining others with their ballroom and tap dancing; she also loved to read and enjoyed word games and crossword puzzles. And, of course, her church membership was very important to her. A member of this parish for 27 years, she was the head of St. Paul’s Altar Guild in the 1980s.

She gave up the dancing when she married Richard Clay Harrington, but she continued throughout her life to enjoy reading and to be active in the church. Mother of two, Susan and Richard Jr., a grandmother and a greatgrandmother, Eileen like all mothers taught her children the lessons of life. A modern American poet, J.D. Deutschendorf, recently published a poem Lessons Mother Taught Us written last year when his mother died:

She planted dill for swallow-tails
and milkweed where monarchs would lay
their caterpillar offspring round
the grass green meadows of May.

The migrants returned then as always;
how quickly her crops were consumed!
but countless chrysalides dotted the dell
tucked inside their golden cocoons.

Then early one morning she beckoned
us watch the mystery unfold;
the metamorphosis almost complete
translucent shells gave up their gold.

Wet wings greeted the rising sun
and the warmth of a soft summer breeze,
soon butterflies coloured meadow and wood
floating gracefully throughout the trees.

She told us of unseen transcendings
as we watched the born-agains soar;
so certain were we then of heaven
as if we had been there before.

I don’t know if Eileen taught Susan and Richard about gardening and butterflies, but I do know that she taught her children, as all mothers do, about life.

I know that they know that we are all children of God; they know it because she knew it and I’m sure that with her Scots determination she made sure they learned her lessons.

That Scots determination (or perhaps some might call it stubbornness) is one of the things I first discovered about Eileen. From time to time, my wife Evelyn and I would have dinner with her together with her daughter Susan and son-in-law Paul. At some point during the evening, Eileen would simply decide that she’d had enough to eat and, apparently, enough of the company as well. “I’m ready to go,” she would say. And when Eileen was ready to go, everyone else had better be ready to go, too!

So last week, when Susan called me on Wednesday and said, “The nurses at Western Reserve have called and said Mom has decided to go,” I knew exactly what she meant. Eileen had finally come to that point when, as the poet Barbauld had put it, trembling limbs refused their weight and films had dimmed her the sight, when clouds obscured her mental light, and she was ready to go.

She was ready to pass through death to the life beyond, that that larger where, as our Prayer Book says, we shall see God and be reunited with those who have gone before. Eileen is now reunited with her beloved Richard, a Naval officer, and so I close with a final poem, one with a bit of a nautical theme, The Unknown Shore by Elizabeth Clark Hardy:

Sometime at Eve when the tide is low
I shall slip my moorings and sail away
With no response to a friendly hail
In the silent hush of the twilight pale
When the night stoops down to embrace the day
And the voices call in the water’s flow

Sometime at Eve When the water is low
I shall slip my moorings and sail away.
Through purple shadows
That darkly trail o’er the ebbing tide
And the Unknown Sea,
And a ripple of waters’ to tell the tale
Of a lonely voyager sailing away
To mystic isles
Where at anchor lay
The craft of those who had sailed before
O’er the Unknown Sea
To the Unknown Shore

A few who watched me sail away
Will miss my craft from the busy bay
Some friendly barques were anchored near
Some loving souls my heart held dear
In silent sorrow will drop a tear
But I shall have peacefully furled my sail
In mooring sheltered from the storm and gale
And greeted friends who had sailed before
O’er the Unknown Sea
To the Unknown Shore

It’s not really an “unknown shore”. It is, rather, our eternal home, God’s kingdom where there is no pain, no death, no sorrow, no crying, but the fullness of joy with those who have gone before, with all God’s saints. Today, we rejoice that Eileen has gone there before us.

May she rest in peace and rise in Glory! Amen.

So Much To Write About!

August 22, 2011 / / 0 Comments

I have so much to write about! Since I brought you up to date on what Caitlin, Jeff, and I had done during their first three days, these are the things we have done:

On August 17, we visited the Irish National Stud, a government-owned horse breeding facility.

Caitlin and Jeff at the Tour of the National Stud

Caitlin and Jeff at the Tour of the National Stud

Next, we visited two gardens on the grounds of the Stud, St. Fiacre’s Garden and the Japanese Garden.

Caitliin & Jeff at the Japanese Garden

Caitliin & Jeff at the Japanese Garden

We tried to see St. Brigid’s Cathedral in Kildare, but it was closed when we got there. So we went on our way to Emo Court outside of Portlaoise. This is a manor house built in the 1790s and restored in the 1970s-1990s. For part of its life it was used as a Jesuit Seminary. Originally the demesne was 16,000 acres, but most of that was distributed to local farmers during land reforms. Now the house is surrounded by a nearly 300-acre public park.

Jeff and Caitlin at Emo Court

Jeff and Caitlin at Emo Court

The next day, August 18, we went to County Cork. First, we went into the city of Cork where Caitlin wanted to visit the cooperative Cork Print Makers. After a brief stop at St. Fin Barre’s Cathedral where I chatted briefly with the dean before he began a service of Morning Prayer. From there, we found our way to the print makers and then to the English Market where we enjoyed lunch in the cafe.

Caitlin and Jeff at Cork Print Makers Coop

Caitlin and Jeff at Cork Print Makers Coop

After Cork city, we went to Blarney and visited the castle. There were busloads of tourists and a wait of more than an hour standing in line to “kiss the Blarney Stone” so we skipped that. We walked the grounds, visiting the Poison Garden and the Fern Garden.

Caitlin and Jeff at Blarney Castle

Caitlin and Jeff at Blarney Castle

Our visit to the south of Ireland ended this day at the Jameson’s Distillery in Midleton. This picture shows us at the start of the tour. All three of us got to be “official whiskey tasters” at the end; the picture of that is in Caitlin’s camera.

The Three of Us at the Jameson's Distillery

The Three of Us at the Jameson's Distillery

I’ll end this post here and start another about our next few days when we concentrated on the middle and northern parts of the country.

Memories and Good-Byes

August 10, 2011 / / 3 Comments

I received word yesterday that Earl, a long-time parishioner and good friend back home, had passed away. This was not a surprise; he had been diagnosed with lung cancer some months ago and we expected that he would die while I was on sabbatical. Still, it has filled the day with sadness. I think of his wife, his children, his grandchildren, all of whom I know, and I know that today is a hard one for them. No matter how prepared for a loved one’s death we believe we are, we aren’t. It’s that simple. Death is never easy.

My father died suddenly and unexpectedly when I was not quite six years old; we weren’t prepared. My mother and step-father both died after long and protracted illnesses; we weren’t prepared either time. My mother-in-law passed away after several years of decline into the living death that is Alzheimer’s Disease; even with that long and difficult course, we weren’t prepared. Through the years other friends and family members have died. Parishioners and parishioners’ loved ones have died and I have officiated at their burials and celebrated the Requiem Masses for the repose of their souls. The one thing all of these passings has taught me … no matter how prepared for a loved one’s death we believe we are, we aren’t.

The Irish live with death closer at hand than any other people I’ve encountered. Oh, for sure, there are places where the physical reality of death is nearer at the present; places where famine reigns, places like Somalia and in recent years Ethiopia and other north African countries from which we see the pictures of emaciated corpses and children with malnutrition-distorted bodies. The Irish lived through times like those 165 and more years ago; as the saying goes, they’ve been there, done that.

I’ve written earlier about the famine houses and how they are a living, daily memory of that time. I didn’t write in that entry that in addition to the abandoned homes, there are famine houses that were tombs. Starving families would simply close their door and huddle together in a corner of the house and die. There was no food; there was nothing else to do. (I’m told that there are recorded instances of cannibalism during the famine years. I’ve not read those records myself.) The Irish have been there, done that.

The famine houses are not the only reminders of mortality on this island. There are also the ruins of churches, of small parish churches, of missionary encampments, of great monasteries dating back to the first days of Christianity in Ireland. The names of some are well known: Ballentubber Abbey, a ruin now restored as a parish church and described in another post on this blog; Clonmacnoise in County Offaly which dates from the middle of the 5th Century; the Rock of Cashel, the remains of a 12th Century monastery on a site reputed to have been used by Patrick for the baptism of the kings of Ireland in the 5th Century; Glendalough founded in the Wicklow Mountains by St. Kevin in the 6th Century.

Others are not so well known; Teampall Mhic Ádhaimh (“Church of the Son of Adam”) is a local ruin here on An Cheathrú Rua. Local tradition has it that it was built by a Saint Smochan and archeological and architectural evidence points to a 15th Century construction date. This church is located near the water’s edge at Trá na Reilige (“Beach of the Burial Ground”) at Barr an Doire (“Oaktree Point”).

Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh (Church of the Son of Adam), An Cheathrú Rua

Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh (Church of the Son of Adam), An Cheathrú Rua

Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh (Church of the Son of Adam), An Cheathrú Rua

Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh (Church of the Son of Adam), An Cheathrú Rua

Another is Teampall Chaomháin (“St. Kevin’s Church”), the buried church on Inis Oírr, the smallest of the Aran Islands. These churches probably came into ruin as a result of “the Penal Years” when the practice of Roman Catholicism in Ireland was outlawed by the English. They came into ruin, but not disuse.

Teampall Chaomháin, Inis Oírr (photo from Ciara Grogan)

Teampall Chaomháin, Inis Oírr (photo from Ciara Grogan)

Teampall Chaomháin, Inis Oírr (photo from Ciara Grogan)

Teampall Chaomháin, Inis Oírr (photo from Ciara Grogan)

Like many local (and monastic) ruins throughout Ireland, these ruined churches were considered holy ground and so they became burial grounds.

Burial Ground at Teampall Chaomháin, Inis Oírr (photo from Ciara Grogan)

Burial Ground at Teampall Chaomháin, Inis Oírr (photo from Ciara Grogan)

Burial Ground at Teampall Chaomháin, Inis Oírr (photo from Ciara Grogan)

Burial Ground at Teampall Chaomháin, Inis Oírr (photo from Ciara Grogan)

Burial Ground at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

Burial Ground at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

Burial Ground at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

Burial Ground at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

I wandered through the graveyard at Barr an Doire and photographed some of the gravestones, many carved in beautiful Gaelic text. This one marks the grave of Bairbre Nic Donncha, who died April 20, 1960, her husband Peadar, who followed her two days later, and their son Peadar, who died a few days before Christmas in 1995. The blessing on the marker reads, Ar deis De go raibh anam – A chlann a thog, which means “May their souls be at the right hand of God, their family prays.”

Gravestone at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

Gravestone at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

The next stands over the tomb of Chóilín Phádraig Pheatsín, who died April 2, 1959, and his wife Nora, who joined him on March 1, 2002. The prayer reads Taispeáin dúinn, a Thiarna, do trócaire agus tabhair do shlánú (“Show us, Lord, your mercy and grant us your salvation”).

Gravestone at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

Gravestone at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

And finally this marker over the grave of Bhrid Leainde, who passed away at the young age of 32 in 1959 and was followed by her husband Máirtín, who died at the age of 85 in 1987. I really like the sentiment expressed on this gravestone: Ó bhás go críoch ní críoch ach athfhas i bPárrthas na ngrast go rabhaimíd (“From death to an end not an end but new growth, we go to the Paradise of grace”).

Gravestone at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

Gravestone at Teampall Mhac Ádhaimh, Barr an Doire, An Cheathrú Rua

Though surrounded by reminders of the deaths of the famine years and by the ruins of churches and the graves they contain, I’m sure Bairbre’s and Peadar’s family, that Chóilín’s and Nora’s children, that Bhrid’s and Máirtín’s loved ones were not prepared for their deaths. No matter how prepared for a loved one’s death we believe we are, we aren’t. And yet we are sustained by faith, by the faith that assures us that death is not an end, but the beginning of new growth in a paradise of grace where, through the Lord’s mercy, we enjoy the fruits of salvation and sit at God’s right hand.

There is a poem by Máirtín Ó Direáin inscribed on a stone plaque dated August 2000 at Teampall Chaomháin on Inis Oírr. The plaque includes a verse of scripture (Is mise an t-aiséirí agus an bheatha – “I am the resurrection and the life”) and a prayer (Suaimhneas sioraí dar muintir a d’migh uainn – “Eternal peace to the people who have left us”). The poem is entitled Cuimhní Cinn (“Memories”). I’ve tried to find a translation, but failing that have translated it myself.

Stone Plaque at Teampall Chaomháin, Inis Oírr (photo from Ciara Grogan)

Teampall Chaomháin, Inis Oírr (photo from Ciara Grogan)

Their memory still lives in my mind:
A white jacket and a bright shirt,
a blue shirt and a green vest,
trousers and drawers of homespun;
our honored old men
traveling to Sunday morning Mass,
a long journey on foot
wakening in my youth my own thoughts:
our ground, our earth, still our blessing.

Their memory still lives in my mind:
Long red choir robes,
blue coats dyed with indigo,
neat knitting women
now in heavy shawls up from Galway
traveling to Mass in the same way;
and although they are going out of fashion
their memory still lives in my mind.
Certainly life will come to me from this land.

Earl’s memory lives in my mind – a tweed sport coat, a purple shirt, two canes, a bushy beard, and ready smile. We knew this was coming, but no matter how prepared for death we believe we are, we aren’t. Being in community, traveling together to Mass memories alive in everyone’s minds, helps us get through that unpreparedness. I’m sorry I can’t be there with our church community to say “Good bye”.

May he rest in peace and rise in glory.

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