The Way of Love: Pray

Prayer, that is, communion with God, has always been important to God’s people. As we see in the scriptures, prayer can take many forms: Abraham argues with God on behalf of the people of Sodom (Gen. 18:22-33); Moses talks to God in the burning bush (Ex. 3:1-15); the psalms are full of lament, praise, and petition to God (and yes, sometimes anger and confusion – it’s OK to be angry with God), and in the prophets we find many instances of the entire community of Israel’s faithful brought together to offer confession and repentance, thanks and praise. The gospels illustrate, over and over, how important it was for Jesus to spend time on his own, praying and listening to God his Father. The epistles (letters) of Paul and others emphasize the prayers offered and requested on behalf of the early churches and their leaders. Of course, prayer is a two-way street. We speak to God, but we also listen for God’s voice. Sometimes, it’s enough simply to sit (or stand, or walk, or kneel!) in silence before the Divine. What’s the best way to pray? Whatever way brings you closer to God in Christ and allows you to feel the presence of God’s Spirit in your life. For me, raised in The Episcopal Church, the Daily Office in The Book of Common Prayer has always been helpful. Even though I pray the office in solitude, I feel that I am praying along with the whole Church. The collects and my own petitions help me focus on offering my own and others’ needs to God, and through the readings, prayers, and canticles, as well as time spent in silence, I hear the voice of God speaking to me. May your prayer life be ongoing and steadily enriched as you continue to draw nearer to God.

Anima Christi (Soul of Christ) - A Hymn Paraphrase

I've always been drawn to the Anima Christi prayer, included in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius (though not necessarily authored by him). There are a number of translations of the Latin, including this one from Finding God in All Things: A Marquette Prayer Book. While this translation is in the singular, some are plural. Here is a hymn paraphrase I've written for congregational singing, in Common Metre Double (CMD). Recommended tunes are Kingsfold and Forest Green. Feel free to use it, with attribution.

O Spirit of the living Christ, your holiness bestow,         

That through the bread we take and break, salvation we may know.

May your blood shed, the cup we drink, our souls inebriate;

And water from your wounded side our spirits recreate.

Your passion, Christ, will give us strength to bear the cross you bore;

And as we lift our prayers to you, O hear us, we implore.

Within your wounds may each one find a sacred dwelling place

That from you we may not depart, nor fail to see your face.

In all assaults of enemies, help us to persevere;

And when we see the face of death call us to you, Savior dear,

That with your saints and angels bright, in all their company,

Your praise shall be our joy and song throughout eternity.

The Way of Love: Learn

Learn: Reflect on Scripture each day, especially on Jesus’ life & teachings
As the Collect for Proper 28, the penultimate Sunday in the liturgical year, says, “[God] has caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning” and bids us to “read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest” these scriptures (BCP p. 236). Because the gospels focus directly on Jesus’ life and teachings, why not start, or continue, with those? You might want simply want to read straight through, beginning with Matthew. Or perhaps you’d prefer to follow the Daily Office lectionary. This lectionary is in the back of the prayer book (we’re currently in Year 2), or online at http://www.satucket.com/lectionary/. So, that’s the content; but how do we “read” these sacred texts in a way that is prayerful and reflective, and that will draw us closer to Christ? One way is the ancient method of lectio divina (“sacred reading”). Slowly read through the text, and find a word, phrase, or idea in the passage that speaks to you; maybe it’s something you get “stuck on”. Meditate, think, pray, reflect on why it got your attention: what might God be saying to you as you focus on the life and ministry of our Lord? What questions does it open for you? What new ideas does it call out of you as you go deeper into relationship with Jesus? Of course, you need not always do this on your own. A study group can be helpful for support and shared understanding.

The Way of Love: Turn

The Way of Love

During his opening sermon at the recently concluded 79th General Convention of The Episcopal Church, the Most Rev. Michael Curry, Presiding Bishop, invited us all to take up Jesus' Way of Love by embracing and engaging in seven faith practices: Turn, Learn, Pray, Worship, Bless, Go, and Rest. (What follows are brief reflections on these practices that I am sharing with my congregation. For more information on The Way of Love, including helpful resources, a video from Bishop Curry, and how to share your own experiences of these practices, click here.)

Turn: Pause, listen, & choose to follow Jesus

We hear a lot about turning, especially during the season of Advent. John the Baptizer appears in the wilderness, encouraging his hearers to repent and turn back to God in order to "prepare the way of the Lord". This kind of turning, or "re-turning" - that is, repentance - in Greek is called metanoia, which literally means "to be on the side of understanding". John baptized those who accepted that call. Candidates for baptism in The Episcopal Church are asked, "Do you turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as your Savior?" and "Will you persevere in resisting evil and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?" Clearly, turning is not a once-and-done action. We choose, again and again, to follow Jesus. So pause in the busyness of your day, and take some time to listen for that “still, small voice”. How is God’s Spirit moving you to follow Jesus?

Judas, missing

When you appeared that evening, seemingly out of thin air,

Your terrified disciples cowering in fear behind the locked door,

Surely you noticed who was missing. I don’t mean

Thomas,

Who doubted,

Who might have been there but wasn’t.

You were, perhaps, looking for someone else,

Hoping he had changed his mind,

Stayed with the others,

Observed the sabbath,

Dismissed the morning’s mourning women who had likewise found you missing.

When you appeared that evening, exhausted from the work of resurrection,

Your hands, your feet still bloodied and barely scabbed over,

Your side a gaping, open wound,

Surely you noticed who was missing. I mean

Judas,

Who had no doubts,

Who should have been there but couldn’t.

You were, perhaps, looking for him.

You could not have known that while

You had taken upon yourself all the world’s guilt and sin,

He had shouldered his own repentance and remorse.

One violent act done to each of you.

When you appeared that evening, radiant with new life,

Grace, forgiveness, love embodied,

Surely you noticed who was missing. I mean

The one

Who most needed you

To look into the eyes of his tortured soul and whisper,

“Peace be with you.”

The Song of Anna the Prophet: a Canticle for the Presentation

When Mary and Joseph present Jesus in the temple (Luke 2:22-40), Simeon takes the child in his arms and praises God that he has been allowed to see the salvation of his people. Anna is there, too, we're told; she is called a prophet, and while Luke's description of her honors Anna, we are not allowed to hear her prophetic words. Why is she silenced? We don't know. What might she have said? Perhaps something like this:

My spirit and my voice cry out in praise!

God has favored these failing eyes with the vision of redemption,

For I have seen the answer to my lifelong prayer.

She who never birthed an infant now delivers a song of joy.

She who never nursed a child sees Salvation nourished at his mother’s breast.

She who fasted day and night in the Temple now feasts on the riches of God’s grace.

You who have waited for the glory of Israel: see, your reward is here.

You who look for the redemption of Jerusalem: come, behold its appearing.

You who yearn for freedom: rejoice, for the chains of your oppression have been loosed!

God has been gracious to his faithful servant, and crowned my years with the sight of his holiness!

An Anniversary Reflection

Today is the seventeenth anniversary of my ordination as a priest in The Episcopal Church. In 2001 this was not a particular feast on the church’s calendar, lesser or otherwise (cue the hymn “Hail Thee, Ferial Day” – thanks, Jed Holdorph!) though evidently it is now a trial remembrance for John Bosco and Samuel Shoemaker, priests. To be honest, there are years when this date just slips right by without my recalling it, but it’s on my mind this year. This week I’m preparing for a weekend retreat for the newly constituted vestry in our parish, who were just elected this past Sunday at our annual meeting. As I do each year for this occasion, I’m preparing some materials about what the canons (that is, church laws) have to say about the authority and responsibility of the wardens, vestry, and rector (that is, elected lay leaders, board, and priest in charge) – not so that we’ll all know how to play by the rules, or to establish who’s really in charge, but so that we can understand our respective roles, how we work and minister as a team, what is expected of us, and the ways in which we are accountable to one another and the people we have been called and elected to serve. And in an age in which the majority of our members do not come from a background in our tradition, and may have skipped that (admittedly boring) part in Inquirers’ Class, a basic understanding of our denominational polity is helpful, too.

This year, for the first time and in order to help the vestry better understand my role, I’m including some material from the liturgy “Ordination of a Priest” in The Book of Common Prayer, specifically the words the bishop says in the Examination and Consecration, which begin this way (p 531ff):

As a priest, it will be your task to proclaim by word and deed the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and to fashion your life in accordance with its precepts…to love and serve the people among whom you work, caring alike for young and old, strong and weak, rich and poor….to preach, to declare God’s forgiveness to penitent sinners, to pronounce God’s blessing, to share in the administration of Holy Baptism and in the celebration of the mysteries of Christ’s Body and Blood, and to perform the other ministrations entrusted to you.

And then the bishop says this:

In all that you do, you are to nourish Christ’s people from the riches of his grace, and strengthen them to glorify God in this life and in the life to come.

Shortly before my ordination I took a short retreat, in which I spent time repeatedly praying and meditating on this examination. Every time, every single time, I could not get to that last sentence without crying; even today, as I type and reflect on the words, there’s a lump in my throat and my eyes are tearing up.

Not every priest will be a rector, of course, though every rector must be a priest (in rare cases, a bishop will take on that role). The canons of the church give tremendous authority and control to the rector of a parish: worship (including music), religious education, use of buildings and furnishings, determination of who may and may not exercise ministry in the parish and congregation, oversight of programs and staff. There’s very little outside the rector’s purview, actually; yet such authority and control always must be exercised in light of the sacramental responsibility we have to the people God has entrusted to our care, to nourish them from the riches of Christ’s grace. This can only be done from a posture of humility. If I cannot remember that, as I go about the business of being a parish priest, then God help me.