 |
 |
| From My Heart to Yours: Blog of The Rev. F. Buddy Stallings, St. Bartholomew's Church, New York City |
The Goodness of People (and Fried Okra!)
I am not Jesus and Jackson is not Nazareth. For that matter, I am not much of a prophet. But this week in a way I did go "home" again, certainly to one of the places I think of as home, to inaugurate a new speaking series at St. James' in Jackson. Created as an enrichment series to enliven the hearts and quicken the spirits of parishioners, I can speak only for myself: my heart was indeed deeply enriched by being with these wonderful friends, many whom I remembered and a good number who have come to the parish in the twelve years that I have been away.
Our time together was the best of the church -- conversation about hopes and dreams of opening ourselves to the presence of God residing not beyond each of us but within us; admissions of how little we know but how broadly we hope; tentative thoughts about what it might mean to truly put on the mind of Christ, possibility or pipe dream; and discourse about how all our talk about faithful living begins and ends in love -- how we love God, ourselves and one another. Respectfully we chose to talk beyond the restrictions of doctrine and church rules, putting our faith and hope in the continuing presence of God, whose movement among us is timeless and unaffected by any efforts to truncate the wideness of God's grace in our lives or in the world.
|
|
And besides all of that, at lunch I had fried okra in my Cobb salad (transforming a simple salad into something to be treasured) and at the reception -- little round tomato sandwiches with homemade pesto mayonnaise, cheese straws that make my mouth water even as I write about them, almond cookies with soft chewy centers, the memory of which still leaves me breathless and much more. My heart may have been more than enlivened by these indulgences, but a trip down gastronomical memory lane for just a couple of days won't kill me!
At this moment I am almost back to New York City and though fried okra may be a little harder to find, the goodness of people in search of God is not regional. My heart will be glad to be back home again.
|
|
| Brian's Reflection, by Brian Orrock McHugh |
Easter 4
"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."" - The Gospel called John, chap 19
Ultimately, who are "the sheep" who follow Jesus's voice? Since I believe that Jesus is an authentic voice of the one Mystery that we call "God", the answer to my question has to be "Everyone". It has nothing to do with adherence to any particular institution. Jesus is a voice of Compassion, of Love (as well as of Justice, Kindness, Goodness) ... and He is One with that Divine Voice. Along, I believe, with other such Great Voices in human history.
Here is part of my response to him: "Jesus said, "Love your enemies" ... which statement Joseph Campbell thought the most difficult three words in the Gospel ... Is there a parallel, perhaps, in what these alleged perpetrators did in pursuit of their "vision" (if there was one) with what Bush/Cheney did in killing thousands of Iraquis and Afghanistanies, and torturing hundreds of people for the "American vision"??
|
|
I think so. Loving One Another, or our "enemies" ... does not mean we have to like them or approve/accept their actions ... but the Gospel says we are to love them ... why? So that we don't diminish, first, our own humanity - as the Gospel sees the nature of our humanity - or theirs. It does not mean that murders can't be punished for vicious anti-social acts ... it means we shouldn't do to them what we would not want done to ourselves."
Politically, a very hard row to hoe!
I continued: "Jesus saying (in my interpretation) to His fellow Jews that every human being is to be a "sheep" of His that can/will hear His voice - the voice of compassion, of love, of sharing in the nature of the God of Love - and become one with God. The "World" is the "World" ... and we have to live in it, yes, and it's not easy at times. But many wise people have pointed out that when we completely deny anyone's humanity, we have demeaned and lost ours. It seems to me that the World today is in a general state of whatever it is that leads us to demeaning each other's humanity. The value of persons (despite, in our case in America, our supposed value of the individual and individualism and individual freedom, which in America we seem these days to support only for those with whom we agree) has almost disappeared. Sad ... and what Hell we create for each other. Hitler did it perfectly, in seeking the dominance of the Aryan race.
|
|
Balance (that quintessential Anglican virtue, until recently) is critical. Extremism very often leads to violence. And extremism has its roots in the failure to value the thoughts and personhood of others and in the misconception that we are not related to each other. But the bell tolls for all when it tolls for one. Jesus found His identity in His oneness with God his Father ... and he clearly (to me) wanted us to find it with God and by definition with each other.
How long would it take to create understanding and Peace if we started now? No idea. But I hope we don't go on the way we're going, or the experiment of the human race may come to a short; brutal and ugly end. Sometimes I think I'd rather have that than what we have now ... after death there is always resurrection!"
A challenging Easter message.
Goodness! So much to ponder on a quiet Saturday afternoon or Sunday morning in the high desert of New Mexico! But I think we would do well to do so as we ponder the image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd of the Sheep.
|
|
| The Reprobate by Evadné |
Giving Advice and Counsel
I am in the position of attempting to deal with friends who are facing a myriad of challenges. I like to rush in with support and advice, but learned long ago, not to offer my pearls of wisdom unless asked. Sometimes folks don’t necessarily need you to solve their problems. They just need someone to listen.
But most of us do not follow advice that we do seek to the letter. I have a few close friends who defy logic. They absolutely do not take care of themselves. They do not eat properly. They indulge in risky behaviors. When they go to the doctor, they ignore/tinker with all of the instructions. I am reminded of how frustrated my Father would get, when he would prescribe antibiotics, only to find the recalcitrant/disobedient patients come back weeks later with another bout of infection. When he would prescribe something else, invariably the patients would out themselves and say: “I still have most of the pills from last time. Why can’t I just take those?”
|
|
I remember when I was a surgical technician and health educator. My job was to counsel and prepare patients for outpatient surgery, under anaesthesia or heavy sedation. At the pre-op visit to obtain medical clearance, I would go over the medical history (to make sure nothing was left out), the consent form (line by line), and the rules: after midnight the night prior to the procedure, do not eat, drink, smoke, or chew anything. When you brush your teeth in the morning, rinse your mouth, but do not swallow. The night before the procedure I would call and ask “Now what is it you are not supposed to do?” They would either parrot my words back to me or sound confused; so I would repeat the instructions: nothing to eat, drink, smoke, or chew. The morning of the procedure, I would greet them and ask casually “Did you eat breakfast?” “Oh, no, but I had a cup of coffee. With cream and sugar. And a buttered roll.” Sigh. One patient ate and drank that morning got upset and threatened to sue because we were interrupting her vacation plans. When I gently pointed out the instructions, the patient insisted that “…it wasn’t STRESSED!”
|
|
The scariest was one very bright patient (finishing up a clinical doctoral program), who finally did confess to drinking a bit of juice to swallow pills. Now we had reviewed the medical history earlier in the week and nothing was mentioned. So I asked: “What pills?” “Oh, Coumadin” (a heavy duty blood thinner). I asked “How long have you been taking Coumadin?” “Oh, since I had open heart surgery, two weeks ago.” I do not like surprises, and I assumed the doctor didn’t either. I left the room, interrupted the doctor and told him what the patient had just told me. His face went ashen. If the patient had started to bleed and did not stop bleeding because of the blood thinning medication, we would not know why. Or how to fix it without exacerbating the problem. The doctor told me to reschedule the patient for a procedure under a local anaesthetic, not heavy sedation, and he would have to consult with her cardiologist for medical clearance. The patient was compliant after that.
|
|
| Clergy Family Confidential by Tim Schenck |
Theology on Tap
Men are lonely creatures. At least suburban men who work, commute, and have families. No self-respecting man would articulate this publicly since it sounds either whiny or weak but it’s true. We used to pride ourselves on our close friendships be it the “glory days” of high school or the keg-stand fraternity days of yore.
But that was before the big “R” of responsibility took over our lives. Work, marriage, children, pets, the yard. They’re all wonderful things -- mostly. Over time, almost imperceptibly, however, they crowd out our male friendships and suddenly many of us find ourselves left with a bunch of acquaintances but little depth in our relationships.
From the male perspective, women just seem to be better at nurturing adult friendships. They meet friends for coffee, they volunteer together, they have work friends, they join book groups (or as I like to call them, wine drinking parties). My own wife certainly checks all these boxes and she’s happier for it.
Yes, this is a gross generalization but there does seem to be some truth here. A lot of men simply don’t have close friendships. Sure, we have buddies from our college days with whom we share fond memories, some printable, some not. But they generally live all over the country and, while there might be an annual golf outing or fishing trip, that’s hardly sustainable for the other 362 days of the year.
|
|
We nod to people on the commuter train and we’re on a first name basis with Jeff from Accounting. But the guard’s always up, the protective emotional armor is always donned. We work hard not to show weakness or vulnerability which is why we wear power suits and deflect intimacy with a quip or by sticking to safe topics like sports or carburetors.
But what about our humanity? Where do men go to talk about the things at the depths of our souls? Events like the bombing at the Boston Marathon bring our vulnerability to the fore and yet we have few outlets to process our emotions. So they get buried and fester until our hearts become fossilized or unhealthy behaviors emerge.
At my parish on the South Shore of Boston, we’re trying to remedy this by introducing a men’s group. Now, this won’t be your typical church men’s group where a bunch of guys get together in the nether regions of the church to gorge themselves on pancakes, give each other hugs, and tell themselves that Jesus was really a man’s man -- someone to shoot pool with or hang out in the bleachers at Fenway.
We’re calling this venture Theology on Tap. We won’t meet at church but in the upstairs room at the Liberty Grille. We’ll grab a pint, listen to one another’s stories, and talk about a topic of interest. God’s just as present when a bunch of people gather in his name at a bar as at church on a Sunday morning (just don’t tell anyone).
|
|
This won’t solve all the problems of the world but hopefully it will chip away at the hardness of our hearts that has built up through the years. Hopefully, over time, it will provide an outlet for friendship and some conversations that get below the surface of everyday life. I encourage all of my fellow men to be intentional about seeking friendships that move beyond safe topics. You may feel vulnerable at first but it sure beats the usual hunting and gathering.
|
|
| Elizabeth Ayres, founder of the Center for Creative Writing (http://CreativeWritingCenter.com) |
from The Cricket in the Canoe: Memoire of a Godward Journey
A Holy Thursday Meditation
All day I have watched the local sailing school hold class on Herring Creek, many small boats darting back and forth like birds on white canvas wings. They flutter apart then huddle together then scatter again in obedience to instructions I cannot fathom. I hear shouts, and the repeated blaring of horns that sound like a distant freight train, but the meaning of the signals eludes me. They are preparing for something, these neophyte sailors. They are being given the lessons they will need when they are out on their own in deeper waters, fouler weather, and I find myself wishing I were in possession of similarly clear assignments, for the waters and weathers never cease.
Glancing down at the scripture passage I'm reading to prepare for tonight's liturgy, I think, Here is the primer: the Gospel accounts of the Last – or, in the Eastern Orthodox tradition, the Mystical – Supper. Tonight we will commemorate the institution of the Eucharist and the priesthood, as well as the lesson of service Jesus explicated when he washed the feet of his disciples. After Mass we will carry the Blessed Sacrament in solemn procession to its place of overnight repose. In memory of Jesus' passion, which began in the Garden of Gethsemane after his last Passover meal, we will take turns watching and praying all night long at the flower-strewn altar.
|
|
Now, in the slantwise afternoon light, with the little boat-birds flying along the creek and the crows strutting across the lawn and the deer in secret enclave deep in the woods, I pick up my Bible. I hear Jesus saying, "Have I been with you for so long a time and you still do not know me?" The ospreys swoop and soar, chirping loudly, beating the air with strong, broad wings as they hunt for fish. Jesus says, "Take this all of you, eat it, this is my body, this is my blood, given for you, do this to remember me." Do this, the seagulls sing, diving into the water. Do this, the breezes whisper, tapping percussively on small green leaves. And the waves lap the silken shore. "Given for you, for you, for you," they sign. And the ground reddens with the stains of fallen cherry blossoms. "For you, for you, for you," they sign.
Soon we shall be at Mass. The priest will stand behind the altar to bless a thin, round wafer of white bread, saying "This is my body." He will bless a chalice of wine, saying, "This is my blood." We will eat from a golden chalice, drink from a golden cup, then the priest will place the sacred host inside a golden vessel, holding it aloft and starting down the aisle of the church. In solemn procession we will follow him outside, singing, "Down in adoration falling, Lo! the sacred Host we hail. Over ancient forms departing, newer rites of grace prevail." Gazing intently at the priest
|
|
with his golden vessels, will anyone look up to see the full moon? In night's black chalice, she will be a round white wafer lifted up amidst a solemn procession of stars. "Have I been with you so long a time and still you do not know me?" she will ask. And later, when I shall have returned home, the yearning of the peepers will fill the cup of evening, desire burning in the chalice of their bellies. I shall fall asleep listening to the waves of Herring Creek soughing softly on the sand. "For you, for you, for you. . . ."
|
|
|
|
|
|
 |
