Occasional thoughts of an Anglican Episcopal priest

Category: Ministry (Page 46 of 59)

Something Is Wrong! Something Is Broken! – From the Daily Office – May 16, 2013

From the Psalter:

They asked, and quails appeared, and he satisfied them with bread from heaven.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Psalm 105:40 (BCP Version) – May 16, 2013.)

Grocery ShelvesOnce again I find this serendipitous connection between one verse in the Daily Office psalm and a news item in the daily papers. Psalm 105 is divided into two parts and our lectionary bids us read the first at Morning Prayer and the second at Evening Prayer. The psalm describes the Hebrews sojourn in Egypt. Part One (vv. 1-22) describes the captivity of Joseph and his later elevation to leadership in the pharaoh’s court, which occasioned the children of Israel taking refuge in “the land of Ham” where they were subsequently enslaved. Part Two (vv. 23-45) tells the story of Moses, the Exodus, and the Hebrews coming into the Promised Land.

So hunger and famine, deprivation and want surface as themes both as a cause of the Israelites residence and ensuing slavery in Egypt, and as a consequence of their journey through the Sinai desert escaping from that servitude. The quoted verse celebrates God’s provision of food during their desert trek.

In today’s Los Angeles Times there is an article which begins with this question, “What happens to the 40% of food produced but never eaten in the U.S. each year, the mounds of perfect fruit passed over by grocery store shoppers, the tons of meat and milk left to expire?”

Twice a month about 100 families line up in the parking lot and hallways of my church to receive a few bags of food. As a distribution point for the local food bank system, our pantry operation offers canned goods, fresh vegetables, meats, bread, and other staples, as well as such things as paper towels, toilet paper, and personal hygiene products, to those unable to afford them in the stores. On the last Saturday of each month we see our biggest crowds as the month’s Social Security, WIC, food stamps, and other assistance funds have diminished.

In light of that monthly experience, I read the L.A. Times’ opening question and all I can do is shake my head in wonder! 40% of food produced in this country is never eaten? And yet there are these hundreds of people lining up for a food hand-out in my church . . . and that scene is repeated across the country in countless venues, and on an almost daily basis. Something is wrong! Something is broken!

The partial answer to the Times’ question is that some of it goes into the production of electrical power. The article is about the Kroger grocery company (through its Ralph’s and Food4Less divisions) composting the “garbage” food and producing methane gas to power generators. While I applaud this environmentally sound disposal solution, I can’t help but wonder, “Wouldn’t it be better if the food didn’t go to waste? Wouldn’t it be better if, instead of allowing the food to become inedible, it was distributed to those who are hungry?”

In the story of the Exodus, the food provided by God – the quail and the manna – could not spoil because it could not be kept. It was to be gathered and eaten; whatever wasn’t eaten simply didn’t hang around – the quail flew off – the manna evaporated. So neither the psalm nor the longer story in Exodus provide guidance for what to do with leftovers. Common sense, I think, has to fill that in. And common sense, I think, suggests that instead of letting food go bad and become fodder for a methane generator, it ought to be used to feed the hungry. I also think that that would be more attuned to the Gospel imperative.

Turning old food into electricity is at least a sounder decision than that reported a few months ago in Augusta, Georgia, where the inventory of a bankrupt supermarket was simply thrown away – in the presence of hungry people hoping for a handout! The needy poor, according to an article in the Augusta Chronicle, stood in the parking lot and “watched marshals stand guard as food was tossed into the trash” and hauled away to the city dump. “Some people even followed the truck to the landfill and were still turned away,” GreenLeft reported.

God provided food for the people. God satisfied them with quail and bread. God still provides food for the people. How we use it or misuse it is up to us. We don’t seem to be doing a very good job. Something is wrong! Something is broken!

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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.

Evil Lies in Our Own Voice – From the Daily Office – May 14, 2013

From the Gospel according to Luke:

[Jesus said to his disciples] “Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Luke 10:16 (NRSV) – May 14, 2013.)

Church WindowI’ve been thinking a lot about this listen to voices stuff. A few weeks ago, the Fourth Sunday of Easter (April 21, 2013), we heard one of the “good shepherd” lessons in which Jesus says, “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” (John 10:27). Now, he says, we hear his voice in the voices of his apostles, those whom he has sent. (This verse is taken from his instructions to and commissioning of the Seventy who are sent out to preach the Good News and heal those who come to them.)

And elsewhere he suggests that we hear his voice in the pleas of the needy for help. In Jesus’ explanation of the eschaton (end time) when the king shall separate the goats from the sheep, those who fail to help the needy from those who provide aid, he says, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” (Matt. 25:40) Clearly, in some sense, those who render assistance have “listened” to those in need; the needy speak on behalf of Christ when they seek relief.

On the other hand, it is often said that God normally speaks to us through our consciences. That “still, small voice” that Elijah heard (1 Kings 19:12, KJV), that voice that speaks within the heart of a person is understood to be the voice of God. This is why prayer is described as a conversation with God, why prayer is understood to be as much (if not more) an activity of listening as of speaking. The thoughts that come to me in those moments of prayer, the promptings expressed by that “small voice,” however, sound like me. I hear my conscience in my own voice.

At a conference in the past few days, I heard a recovering alcoholic say, “I have a disease which lies to me in my own voice.” He went on to suggest that this is true of the power of evil in general, that it lies to us in our own voice. That interior voice we hear speaking to us may not, in fact, be God.

I’ve learned through the years that anything I hear in that “still, small voice” (which, I must admit, always sounds like my own voice) needs to be tested. I need to take those promptings and subject them to examination in the light of Scripture, but (again) that’s usually just me and my own voice doing the examining. I also need to take those promptings and lay them before one or more trusted advisors; I need to listen to those whom God sends into my life to aid in discernment. These may be family members, fellow clergy, lay leaders and members of the church, a spiritual director, or the hierarchs of my denominational tradition. Whomever, they help me to figure out if what I am hearing in my own voice is from God, from the power of evil, or from my own ego and wishful thinking.

“Whoever listens to you listens to me,” but whoever listens only to his or her own voice may not be doing so. Yes, God speaks to us in our own still, small voice, but the power of evil lies to us in our own voice. Inner promptings must be tested by community discernment.

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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 Crisis of Lifelong Learning – From the Daily Office – May 11, 2013

From the Letter to the Hebrews:

For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you again the basic elements of the oracles of God.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – Hebrews 5:12 (NRSV) – May 11, 2013.)

Jesus TeachingAs I read this verse from the Letter to the Hebrews, continuing education in the faith (an “adult Christian formation” program) has apparently been an issue in the church for quite a while. There is certainly a crisis of lifelong learning – or the lack of it – in the church today!

Despite the fact that the Episcopal Church declares that Christian formation is a lifelong process in which each persons should grow in his or her relationships with God, self, others, and all creation, and encourages participation in adult education, it doesn’t happen. It doesn’t happen in my congregation, despite my best efforts and despite the efforts of good lay people to offer and sustain Bible study groups; and if my colleagues in other congregations are being truthful, it’s not happening in other places either.

That strikes me as tragic in a denomination which has published a charter for life-long learning which asserts that God continually invites God’s People

  • To enter into a prayerful life of worship, continuous learning, intentional outreach, advocacy and service.
  • To hear the Word of God through scripture, to honor church teachings, and continually to embrace the joy of Baptism and Eucharist, spreading the Good News of the risen Christ and ministering to all.
  • To respond to the needs of our constantly changing communities, as Jesus calls us, in ways that reflect our diversity and cultures as we seek, wonder and discover together.
  • To hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people, placing ourselves in the stories of our faith, thereby empowering us to proclaim the Gospel message.

Over a year ago, my seminary classmate the Rev. LeeAnne Watkins, offered a video confession of the “failure” in on-going education in her parish. It struck a chord with clergy throughout our denomination, and in the past couple of weeks I have seen some Presbyterian and Lutheran colleagues make reference to her video on their Facebook pages, so I know that chord is resonating in the broader mainstream.

I don’t know what the solution is. What I do know, from reading this verse from the Letter to the Hebrews, is that the crisis of lifelong learning and the problem of sustaining on-going Christian formation has been around a long time!

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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.

Pecking Chickens – From the Sanctoral Lectionary (Julian of Norwich) – May 8, 2013

From the Gospel of John:

Jesus said to her, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.”

(From the Santoral Lectionary – John 4:26 (NRSV) – May 8, 2013.)

Roosting ChickensNote: Today, my verse for contemplation isn’t from the Daily Office Lectionary. It’s from the sanctoral lectionary for the commemoration of Julian of Norwich. Today is the 23rd anniversary of my ordination to the Sacred Order of Deacons; we used the lessons for Julian’s feast. So, I took the personal prerogative of reading those lessons this morning.

Jesus and an unnamed Samaritan woman are conversing by a village well where she, an unmarried woman apparently living in an adulterous relationship, has come to draw water at a time when other women will not be present. He, a Jew traveling through this hostile countryside, in contravention of Law and custom, has spoken to her. At the end of what must have been the oddest conversation of her life, he drops this bombshell: “I am the Messiah.” I’m sure she could hardly believe her ears!

Yesterday I spent the afternoon at a conference for clergy in which the presenter at the opening session asked us to engage in a bit of silent reflection, first to remember our sense of call (when did it happen? has it faded? when did it start to fade? what is different, then and now?), and then to call to mind the ways in which we feel bound up and exiled from that original sense of ministry. During our time of silent reflection, the presenter softly read selected verses from the Psalms.

As he was reading, I closed my eyes. I listened carefully to the words he was reciting. I tried to recall that growing understanding of discernment, of a sense of urgency about doing ministry as an ordained person. But a sound intruded, a rhythmic but irregular tapping, a familiar staccato, as if my consciousness were being pecked by hens the way my hands often were when gathering eggs in my grandmother’s chicken coop. I tried to ignore it . . . but there it was: tickety-tick-tick-tack, tackety-tack-tick-tick, pause, tickety tickety tickety. Pecking away at my mind. Suddenly I recognized it — the tapping of the keys on a lap-top computer not unlike the one I am using right now. I could hardly believe my ears!

I opened my eyes and searched the room. There! One of my colleagues across the room, typing away on a MacBook or a Dell or something. Apparently not listening to the speaker sonorously reciting the Psalms. Apparently not contemplating, reconnecting with his call. Not seeming present to the moment at all.

At first I was amused. I smiled. I closed my eyes again, determined to ignore the sound; now that I knew what it was, I could filter it out. — But I couldn’t. The more I tried not to hear it, the louder the typing became: TICKETY-TICK-TICK-TACK, TACKETY-TACK-TICK-TICK, TICKETY TICKETY TICKETY! I stopped smiling; I wanted to strangle my colleague! Those damned hens were pecking away at my soul!

Suppose the speaker had quietly announced in that tone of voice we all have heard, the one that cannot be denied, the one we know in the depths of our souls is speaking truth . . . suppose he had said to us, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.” Would my colleague have heard it? Would I have heard it?

I don’t blame my colleague. I had arrived late, so I had left my lap-top in my car and run into the conference room just as the session had started. If I’d gotten there early, I’d probably have found an electrical outlet, plugged in my converter, fired up the ol’ MacBook, and started working on something. And when it came time to close my eyes and contemplate my sense of call, the chickens at my own hands would have pecked so loudly I’d never have heard a word of what was said.

The woman who came to the well came at a time when only she would be there. When the foreign rabbi spoke to her, she put down her bucket. She listened. She contemplated. She connected. She was present in the moment. No chickens pecked at her consciousness; no chickens pecked at her soul. She was able to hear him say, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.”

We need to do that from time to time. We need to do that often. We need to get away from the pecking chickens so that we (and those around us) can hear.

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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 News vs. The Truth – From the Daily Office – April 20, 2013

From the Third Letter of John:

Beloved, I pray that all may go well with you and that you may be in good health, just as it is well with your soul. I was overjoyed when some of the friends arrived and testified to your faithfulness to the truth, namely, how you walk in the truth. I have no greater joy than this, to hear that my children are walking in the truth.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – 3 John 2-4 (NRSV) – April 20, 2013.)

TruthThe first verse of this bit from John’s Third Letter brings to mind an old hymn, the first verse of which is

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

In today’s world, it seems, the sea does not so much roll with sorrows, although there are plenty of those, as with speculations and rumors. There is a difference between “the news” and “the truth.”

For the past five days, since the bombs went off near the finish line of the Boston Marathon on Monday afternoon, the news media and social media have been awash in a sea of speculation into which have splashed the occasional fact and, more often, gross inaccuracies. It has all been “news,” but it has not often been the truth.

In the world of 24-hour news cycle anything and everything gets reported. Jon Stewart of The Daily Show eviscerated John King of CNN for his very early and very incorrect report that a suspect had been identified, found, and arrested. The report was apparently based on a misinterpretation of a tweet from a single law-enforcement officer. Such things used to be called “rumors” and checked out – now they are treated as sensational “breaking news” until disproved, and then the “news” becomes an excuse-laden analysis of “why we got it wrong” although it is never put quite so bluntly. It’s always someone else’s fault . . . . It’s all been “news,” but it has not often been the truth.

We have sacrificed truth on the altar of sensation; we have drowned it in the sea of speculation.

This morning we know who the perpetrators of Monday’s horror were. One of them is dead; one of them is in custody. Will we get to the truth of the matter? Will we ever know why this thing was done? I doubt it. We will learn some facts, perhaps, but the sea of speculation is deep and the truth may never surface.

In this environment, how does one read John and his praise for truth? How does one read Jesus’ claim to be “the Truth”? If one truly “walks in the truth,” if one is a follower of “the Truth,” I think it means viewing every report with suspicion; it means withholding judgment until “facts” are verified and more is known. It means being both skeptical and charitable. View the “news” in such a way and you may find the truth, and it will be well with your soul.

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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 Lesson of Bombings – From the Daily Office – April 19, 2013

From the Second Letter of John:

Everyone who does not abide in the teaching of Christ, but goes beyond it, does not have God; whoever abides in the teaching has both the Father and the Son. Do not receive into the house or welcome anyone who comes to you and does not bring this teaching; for to welcome is to participate in the evil deeds of such a person.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – 2 John 9-11 (NRSV) – April 19, 2013.)

No Man Is an IslandReading this on a morning when parts of Watertown and Cambridge, Massachusetts, are “locked down,” when the entire city of Boston and its environs are under a “shelter in place” order as police engage in a massive manhunt for one of the two suspected perpetrators of the Boston Marathon bombing (the other having been killed already) is a bit strange.

“Do not receive into the house or welcome anyone who comes to you” is exactly what the authorities are telling people. Of course, they are doing so for safety’s sake not because of some religious or philosophical concern for approving or participating in evil.

Nonetheless, this is precisely the problem that the incidents of this week present to each of us. How do we, by our “welcome” or by our silence, participate in the evil deeds that pollute our world? John Stuart Mill in the late 1880s said, “Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing.” Similarly, “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing,” runs a saying often attributed to Edmund Burke. Although it’s unlikely Burke ever said that, it is true.

Mosaic law, to which the elder may be referring in this letter, provides, “When any of you sin in that you have heard a public adjuration to testify and — though able to testify as one who has seen or learned of the matter — do not speak up, you are subject to punishment.” (Lev. 5:1) By one’s silence, one participates in the sin and is subject to the law.

Are there any who might have prevented the Boston bombings simply by speaking up? If so, how many? We may never know. What we do know is that each of us has an obligation to do what we can to improve the world, to do something when confronted with evil. A verse in the Mishnah reads:

Humans were created singly, to teach you that whoever destroys a single soul [of Israel], Scripture accounts it as if he had destroyed a full world; and whoever saves one soul of Israel, Scripture accounts it as if she had saved a full world. (Sanhedrin 4:5)

The Unitarian clergyman Edward Everett Hale, in the same spirit, is often quoted as saying, “I am only one; but still I am one. I cannot do everything; but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.” (This is often misattributed to Helen Keller.)

Most artistically, perhaps, is the expression of this sentiment of connection in the famous poem by Anglican priest John Donne:

No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend’s were.
Each man’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.

There are many big lessons to be learned from the events of this week, but this lesson of individual responsibility may be the most important: we are not alone, we are not disconnected, we not without responsibility — to welcome the perpetrator of evil, even to remain silent in the face of evil, is to participate in it.

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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.

What Is the Good of That? – From the Daily Office – April 16, 2013

From the First Letter of John:

God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them. Love has been perfected among us in this: that we may have boldness on the day of judgment, because as he is, so are we in this world. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; for fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not reached perfection in love. We love because he first loved us. Those who say, “I love God”, and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen. The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – 1 John 4:16-21 (NRSV) – April 16, 2013.)

Homeless Man Sleeping on the StreetIn the 1989 movie Romero starring Raul Julia as the martyred Archbishop of El Salvador, there is a scene in which Father Manuel Morantes (played by actor Tony Plana) paraphrases these words of the elder John: “How can we love God, whom we have not seen, if we do not love our brothers and sisters whom we do see?” It is clear from the setting that what Father Morantes means by “love” is not merely romantic emotion; it is not starry-eyed sentimentalism; it is not impractical idealism. What Father Morantes means, and what I believe the elder means in this letter, is hard and gritty, down-to-earth, hands-on, practical caring about and caring for others.

In the 10th Chapter of the Gospel of Luke, Jesus affirms that the way to salvation includes both loving God and loving one’s neighbors as one loves him- or herself. A lawyer challenges Jesus with the question “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus’ answer is to tell the story that has come down to us with the name The Good Samaritan, illustrating the concepts of love and neighbor with an appeal to action, to tending the wounds of the victim of a mugging, to nursing that victim back to health, to providing him food and shelter . . . hard and gritty, down-to-earth, hands-on, practical caring about and caring for another.

Recently, the US Conference of Catholic Bishops, which is sort of the governing body of Roman Catholicism in this country, has instituted a program they call Two Feet of Love in Action. The first “foot” is social justice which addresses the political and economic aspects, the structural dimensions of social problems and their solutions. The bishops call upon Roman Catholics to work to address the root causes of social issues by advocating for just public policies and working to change social structures which contribute to suffering and injustice. The second “foot” is charitable works, which are very simply our response to immediate needs and specific situations: feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, caring for and healing the sick, visiting those in prison, and so on. This includes all activities to aid or assist others both locally and globally to meet immediate, short-term needs.

I think the Roman Catholic bishops are on to something – love of neighbor, love of brother and sister, is a two-pronged action: reforming structures and meeting immediate needs. In the 2nd Chapter of the Letter of James, the writer asks a pertinent and poignant question: “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?” (James 2:15-16)

Love of brother and sister is the hard and gritty, down-to-earth, hands-on, practical work of caring about and caring for others, reforming structures and meeting immediate needs. What is the good of anything else? Those who do not do this for the brothers and sisters whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen!

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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.

Faith, Works, Fruits – From the Daily Office – April 12, 2013

From the First Letter of John:

Little children, let no one deceive you. Everyone who does what is right is righteous, just as he is righteous. Everyone who commits sin is a child of the devil; for the devil has been sinning from the beginning. The Son of God was revealed for this purpose, to destroy the works of the devil. Those who have been born of God do not sin, because God’s seed abides in them; they cannot sin, because they have been born of God. The children of God and the children of the devil are revealed in this way: all who do not do what is right are not from God, nor are those who do not love their brothers and sisters.

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – 1 John 3:7-10 (NRSV) – April 12, 2013.)

The Fruits of the SpiritIt’s been several days since I last offered one of these meditations. I took time off to deal with a family medical issue and then there was Holy Week and then there was Easter and then there was something else and then . . . . Life can become a series of excuses for not getting things done. John, in this first catholic epistle, will brook no excuses, no procrastination. Get it done! Do what is right, for that is righteousness; “all who do not do what is right are not from God.”

Among my favorite verses of Scripture is James 1:22 – “Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves” – which I guess is why I could never really be a Lutheran (of any sort). Luther condemned James as a “straw epistle” because, apparently, its author’s insistence that “religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world” (1:27), and that “faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead” (2:17) conflicted with Luther’s insistence on a Pauline doctrine of justification by grace through faith alone. I wonder what Luther made of John’s insistence that the righteous actually do something . . . .

I am an Episcopalian by choice. If I was schooled in any sort of religion as a child, I was reared in the American Campbellite tradition on my mother’s side of the family and in the Methodist tradition on my father’s; but the truth is, my nuclear family was pretty much unchurched. So when I was in high school I made my own decision about a church to attend and, when I experienced the worship and ministry in the Episcopal Church, I knew was “home.”

One of the things I most appreciate about our tradition is our insistence that a professed faith has active consequences; in our liturgy of baptism, these are laid out in the Baptismal Covenant. I preached about that last Sunday when I had the privilege to preside at a baptism. I won’t get into that again; I would just ask my reader to read that sermon (the last posting on this blog).

Righteousness is not just about works; justification is not just about faith. It’s not either-or; it’s a both-and sort of thing. (That’s something we Episcopalians and Anglicans say a lot, “It’s a both-and sort of thing.”) Belief produces results; faith is made alive in works; the Spirit brings forth fruit. As Someone once said, “You will know them by their fruits.” (Matt. 7:16) But that same Someone suggested that there is a limit to how long one can procrastinate before actually doing something, before actually bearing that fruit. Remember the parable about a fruitless tree which ended, “If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down”? (Luke 13:-10) There is a limit to procrastination and to excuses, so be about it; whatever it is that your faith requires of you, get it done!

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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.

Lord, I Believe; Help Thou My Unbelief – Sermon for “Thomas Sunday” (Easter 2) – April 7, 2013

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This sermon was preached on the Second Sunday of Easter, “Thomas Sunday,” April 7, 2013, at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Medina, Ohio, where Fr. Funston is rector.

(Revised Common Lectionary, Second Sunday of Easter: Acts 5:27-32; Psalm 150; Revelation 1:4-8; and John 20:19-31. These lessons can be read at The Lectionary Page.)

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Doubting Thomas by GuercinoLeslie Dixon Weatherhead (1893-1976) was an English Methodist Minister who served at the City Temple, a Congregational Church in London. He served there from 1936 until his retirement in 1960. In one of his several book, The Christian Agnostic, he wrote, “When people said to me, ‘I should like to be a member of the City Temple, what must I believe?’ I used to say, ‘Only those things which appear to you to be true.’”

Last week at our Easter services, many of us reaffirmed our Baptismal Covenant doing exactly what we are about to ask Graham _____________, or those speaking on his behalf, to do . . . and we will all do it again with them. We will ask one another, “What do you believe?” and in good liturgical fashion we will all answer in the same way; we will answer the questions, “Do you believe in God the Father? Do you believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God? Do you believe in God the Holy Spirit?” with responses which are nothing more and nothing less than the ancient Apostle’s Creed. Our Anglican tradition calls this creed “the Baptismal Symbol.”

Not a single one of us is likely to balk in the midst of our liturgy and say, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” And yet I’ll bet that some of us might be thinking something very much along those lines as we dutifully recite the answers set out for us in The Book of Common Prayer. Many people in our world today, both outside and inside the church, do.

And there is nothing wrong with thinking that. Nothing at all. Because, you see, there are varieties of belief. Writing to the church in Corinth, St. Paul said, “Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone.” (1 Cor. 12:4-6) I suggest to you that there are varieties of belief, but the same Christian faith throughout the church.

For example, on a regular Sunday, a Sunday when we are not baptizing new member of God’s household, we would recite the Nicene Creed, which begins:

We believe in one God,
the Father, the Almighty,
maker of heaven and earth,
of all that is, seen and unseen.

Now let’s just take the last phrase of that bit, the part that says God is the “maker of all that is, seen and unseen.” Let’s just take the last word of the last phrase of that bit, “unseen.” What, in your understanding, does that mean?

Are you one of those who believes in a spiritual or supernatural realm? One who believes that, as the introduction to an old television anthology series used to put it, “there is, unseen by most, an underworld, a place that is just as real, but not as brightly lit.” Is that what you think of when you acknowledge your belief in God as maker all that is unseen?

Perhaps you think of the microscopic, atomic, and subatomic realms of Newtonian space or Einsteinian space-time. Maybe you think of the multiverse and the infinite number of alternate realities suggested by the probability equations of quantum mechanics. Possibly you give thought to the 13 tightly curled, hidden dimensions of superstring theory. Or perhaps you don’t think of any of that. Maybe you’ve never given it any thought; you just say the words that are put there in the Prayer Book.

Whatever, it’s all perfectly acceptable because, as the Rev. Mr. Weatherhead said, there is nothing in particular that you must believe about God as maker of all things unseen, “only those things which appear to you to be true.” And if we were to make our way through the rest of the creed, whether the Apostle’s Creed or the Nicene Creed, we would find ourselves facing a bewildering variety of beliefs as we paused at each phrase or word and teased out the various and sundry meanings we all might give it. One of us might say, “This is what that means,” and another would respond, “I don’t believe that at all!” And yet all of us would nonetheless still be comfortable in saying the creed together because, as Peter said to the Temple authorities, “We must obey God rather than any human authority.” (Acts 5:29) And the creeds, important as they are, are human authority, the words of bishops and church counsels and church tradition, not the word of God.

Early in our Anglican history, there were those who wanted to impose a single understanding, a single interpretation of the creeds, of our several prayers, of the Sacraments, and of Scripture. They wanted to enforce a single way of worshiping God and they prevailed upon Queen Elizabeth I to enforce that uniformity for them. She declined. She simply required that the English people worship together, but what each might make of that worship, of the words spoken, of the Sacraments administered, or of the Scriptures read she left to each: “I would not open windows into men’s souls,” she declared. Her preference, worked out in Parliament in a series of acts known as The Elizabethan Settlement, has been called the terminal point of the English Reformation and, in the long run, the foundation of Anglicanism and the “via media” (or “middle way”) we still, 550 years later, claim to be. We still do not open windows into each other’s souls; we still treat ascent to the historic creeds as a matter of individual conscience and interpretation.

Mr. Weatherhead, in his book The Christian Agnostic, also wrote this:

I believe passionately that Christianity is a way of life, not a theological system with which one must be in intellectual agreement. I feel that Christ would admit into discipleship anyone who sincerely desired to follow him, and allow that disciple to make his creed out of his experience; to listen, to consider, to pray, to follow, and ultimately to believe only those convictions about which the experience of fellowship made him sure.

Mr. Weatherhead may have been a Methodist, but these words would sum up the understanding of every Episcopalian or Anglican true to our heritage. Being an Anglican follower of Christ, to which manner of life today we welcome Graham _____________, is not a matter of theological system, even though we ask those questions with prescribed, systematic, creedal answers. Being an Anglican follower of Christ is about community and fellowship, a community and a fellowship in which it would be perfectly acceptable to say, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” Because more than mere intellectual assent to particular propositions is at stake. Because there are varieties of belief, but the same Christian faith throughout the church.

That is why the Baptismal Covenant does not end with those three questions and those three systematic, creedal responses. The Baptismal Covenant continues with questions about community and fellowship, questions about respect and dignity, questions about behavior and practice, questions about ministry and mission. Five questions:

Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?
Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?
Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?
Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?
Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

Five questions to which the answer is the same: “I will, with God’s help.”

In the ninth chapter of the Gospel according to Mark there is a story of a man who comes to Jesus seeking healing for his son who is possessed by a demon. The mean tells Jesus that the demon “has often cast him into the fire and into the water, to destroy him; but if you are able to do anything, have pity on us and help us.” Jesus responds to man saying, “If you are able! – All things can be done for the one who believes.” In the wonderful poetic language of the King James version of the Bible we are told that, with tears, the father cries, ” Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.” (Mark 9:17-24)

It is that same cry that we utter when we answer those behavioral questions of the Baptismal Covenant, “I will, with God’s help.” Lord, we believe (we have said that in answer to the first three questions; we believe in whatever manner each of us believes) . . . Lord, we believe; help thou our unbelief. Help us to carry through on the way of life which is implicit in those stated beliefs. We will; we’ll carry through “with God’s help.”

Belief is one of those ambiguous words that can mean so many things. In the creedal sense, it means to give intellectual assent to a stated proposition. “Do you believe in God?” in this sense means do you accept the proposition as true that there is a God. Suppose we change the object of question, however. “Do you believe in your wife/husband/child/parent?” It would be ridiculous, wouldn’t it, to interpret this as asking, “Do you accept as true the proposition that your wife/husband/child/parent exists?” We know that the question, that the word belief as used in the question, means something very different. It means, “Do you trust in your family member? Do you have faith in them? Do you expect them to behave in certain ways, to carry through on promises, to have your best interests at heart?” And if you believe in your family member, will you behave toward them and within the community of your family in equivalent and considerate ways?

And that is precisely what the word belief really means in the creeds and in the Baptismal Covenant. Do you trust in God? Do you have faith in Christ? Do you expect the Holy Spirit to act in certain ways in your life? Are you confident that God will carry through on God’s promises with your best interests at heart? Do you believe in God? And if you believe in God, will you behave toward God and within the community of God’s household the church and of God’s world, “all that is, seen and unseen,” in equivalent and considerate ways?

Thomas, known for all time as “Doubting Thomas,” wanted to believe! The words of that grieving father, “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief,” could as easily have been his. And they are, most certainly, ours. “I will, with God’s help.” Help thou mine unbelief!

Jesus gave Thomas the help he needed; he showed him his hands and his feet; he invited him to put his hand into the wound in his side. “Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’ Jesus said to him, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.'” Jesus was talking about us, about you, about me, about all of us “who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” And he was talking about Graham _____________ who, if we do as we promise each time we reaffirm our Baptismal Covenant, if we continue “with God’s help,” if we persevere “with God’s help,” if proclaim “with God’s help,” if we seek and serve others “with God’s help,” if we strive for justice and peace “with God’s help” . . . if we do all that, with God’s help, Graham too will be blessed as one who has not seen and yet has come to believe, because he will, in fact, have seen. He will have seen Christ in us.

“Lord, we believe; help thou our unbelief.”

And now, “to him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen.” (Rev. 1:5b)

The candidate for Holy Baptism will now be presented . . . . .

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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.

When I Needed a Neighbor – From the Daily Office – March 21, 2013

From the Gospel according to John:

At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. So the Jews gathered around him and said to him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” Jesus answered, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand. The Father and I are one.”

(From the Daily Office Lectionary – John 10:22-30 (NRSV) – March 21, 2013.)

“I have told you, and you do not believe.”

Jesus Walks in the Portico of Solomon by James J TissotWhat does it mean to believe? That is really the crux of the matter and the stumbling block for 21st Century folks. In modern American English, the dictionary tells us, the the verb to believe means, “to accept a statement, supposition, or opinion as true.” Is this what Jesus is saying to the Jewish authorities in the Jerusalem Temple? “I have told you and you do not accept my statements, suppositions, and opinions as true.” Somehow, I don’t think so.

The Greek-English lexicon, in quite a contrast to the modern English dictionary, tells us that the Greek verb pisteuo, used in the original Greek of the New Testament and translated here and elsewhere into English as to believe, is “used in the [New Testament] of the conviction and trust to which a [person] is impelled by a certain inner and higher prerogative and law of soul to trust in Jesus or God as able to aid either in obtaining or in doing something: saving faith.” This is what Jesus is saying to the Temple authorities: “I have told you and you do not have that inner certainty which impels you to trust, with your soul, in God.”

In the same way, I was once told that the Latin verb credere, which is also translated to believe and from which we get our words credo, creed, and credibility, is related to the Latin word for “heart” (cardia) and can be understood as meaning “to put one’s heart upon.”

So religious belief, Christian belief is more than simply intellectual assent to a statement, supposition, or opinion. Religious belief is a matter of heart and soul, a matter of trust and conviction, not simply a matter of the head but of the whole person. This is what the Temple authorities lacked, this whole-person trust in and commitment to God. Jesus had told them, and they did not believe.

In recent days, I have had to put that kind of trust into people I have never before met. I have had to hand over to them and entrust them with one of the most precious things in my life. Not only have I had to accept their statements that they know what to do and have the skills and wherewithal to do it, I have had to steel my soul and my heart with the conviction, the inner certainty that they do. I have never doubted in God; in these days, I have had to not doubt these neighbors who, like the Samaritan, are ministering to my and my family’s needs. When they have told me what they know and understand, what they believe (in the modern English sense) needs to be done, I have had to believe it, too (in every sense of the word).

The experience of these days has reminded me of a lovely English hymn entitled When I needed a neighbour:

When I needed a neighbour were you there, were you there?
When I needed a neighbour were you there?
[Refrain:]
And the creed and the colour and the name won’t matter,
were you there?

I was hungry and thirsty, were you there, were you there?
I was hungry and thirsty, were you there? [Refrain]

I was cold, I was naked, were you there, were you there?
I was cold, I was naked, were you there? [Refrain]

When I needed a shelter were you there, were you there?
When I needed a shelter were you there? [Refrain]

When I needed a healer were you there, were you there?
When I needed a healer were you there? [Refrain]

Wherever you travel I’ll be there, I’ll be there,
Wherever you travel I’ll be there.
And the creed and the colour and the name won’t matter,
I’ll be there.

I do believe that what Jesus was really saying to the Temple authorities was, “I have told you to be neighbors to those around you, to those in need, and you have not done that; you have not committed yourself heart and soul to the love and care of others.” When I needed a neighbor, many were there. When I needed an answer to prayer, it came through these neighbors. Thanks be to God.

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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.

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