Fathers John & Charles

14 years ago I walked into the Bishop of Georgia’s office in Savannah. For the past five years, I had been a student at a United Methodist seminary and had served two wonderful congregations in a pastoral capacity. At the point where my training was nearly finished and my path was becoming clear, I had a theological crisis, more specifically I had a sacramental crisis. I was convicted of the importance of apostolic succession (and the theology of ordination) and Real Presence of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament. I knew if I stayed in the United Methodist Church out of duty and yet against my conscience, I would kill every congregation to which I was appointed and that horror would certainly wound me.

But I loved John Wesley and I loved what Methodism had done for me. The United Methodist Church introduced to me to Jesus and the power of liturgy. I felt called to serve God in this tradition. I remember quite distinctly feeling the power of the liturgy one Maundy Thursday, and to this day I cannot get through a Solemn High Mass on Christmas Eve without thinking about singing Silent Night with candles in the church I was raised.

In this theological and sacramental crisis, I felt I was both betraying my conscience and betraying the people and tradition that raised, nurtured, and supported me.  I explored the Orthodox Church and I dearly loved it and still do. Honesty required me to admit that I am too western in thought and theology. The Roman Catholic Church did not accept married clergy, and I felt so clearly a call to parish ministry, later to be understood as the priesthood. So I explored the most logical place – the church of John Wesley, or at least its American expression, the Episcopal Church.

When I walked into the office of the Bishop of Georgia, I knew I was risking much and I was afraid I would throw away even more. But all of that anxiety went away the moment I saw this icon. Hanging in the diocesan office was an icon written by Louise Shipps, the wife of the 8th Bishop of Georgia, of John and Charles Wesley. On the left was Charles Wesley, holding Christ Church, St Simon’s Island, of which he was vicar. His left-hand holds a page with the words of one of his best-known hymn, “Love divine, all loves excelling.” On the right is John Wesley, holding either a Bible or a Prayer Book (I’m not sure). Between the two brothers is Christ Church, Savannah, where John was vicar.

I saw this icon as a message of assurance. By coming to the Anglican tradition you are not amputating your history, you are fulfilling it. This icon gave me so much hope and confidence. A year later that same bishop ordained me as a priest.

On this feast of John and Charles Wesley I give thanks for warmth of their hearts that gave the light and heat of faith to the generations that followed. And I’m thankful for where I’ve been called. I’m often out of step with the Episcopal Church but for well-being or woe, this is where I’ve been called, and this is where I shall serve. A charge to keep I have; a God to glorify.

Stations

On Fridays in Lent our custom is to pray the Stations of the Cross; 14 stations that mark the final moments in the life of Jesus Christ. Most of these moment are taken from scripture and the ones that aren’t are from pious tradition (for instance, Jesus falling three times isn’t in Scripture, but it’s hardly a stretch to say he fell whilst carrying his cross). The stations are marked by plaques along the north and south ends of the church, adorning the walls with the Via Dolorosa thus making a walk around the church a pilgrimage with Jesus to the Cross.

We pray the stations in order after Evening Prayer, usually just after 5pm. When we pay attention, however, we can see them jumbled throughout the day in the lives around us.

5:30am: The Fifth Station – Simon of Cyrene helps Jesus carry his cross.
We adore Thee, O Christ, as we bless Thee. Because by Thy holy cross Thou hast redeemed the world.

At 5:30am I walked into the church via the St Michael the Archangel Law Enforcement Chapel. This is my day to volunteer at the overflow shelter with checkout. There were two Winston-Salem police officers having a cup of coffee in our chapel and hospice. Who knows what they lived through during their shift? How man times were their lives in danger, even when they didn’t know it? Who did they help? Whose burdens did they help carry? Whose lives did they save? Simon didn’t want to help carry the cross; he was compelled. Thank you, Lord, for putting the right people in our path who willingly help with our weakness. Help me to be the same for others. Help me to not refuse the cross.

6:10am: The Eighth Station – Jesus Meets the Women of Jerusalem
We adore Thee, O Christ, as we bless Thee. Because by Thy holy cross Thou hast redeemed the world.

17 women spent the night in our shelter. 2 of the women are parishioners. What brought them from the pew to the pallet is complicated and sad. They met Christ in the Sacrament and now, I pray, they will meet Christ in our patience and welcome. As they exchange their blankets for their coats, may their tears this day be met with compassion and may they return this refuge safely. Help me, Lord, to realize that I bear your love and light to those I meet. May they see and feel your grace and love.

6:52am: The Fourth Station – Jesus Meets his Afflicted Mother
We adore Thee, O Christ, as we bless Thee. Because by Thy holy cross Thou hast redeemed the world.

I receive a text with the news that a former shelter guest was hit by a car and killed. I don’t know if I remember this guest but I am reminded that she asked for a rosary. She never returned to the shelter and she never received her rosary. I pray that she is aided by the prayers and love of the Blessed Mother. As she grieved for her son the moments before his death, she cares for us in the moments before ours. If she didn’t have it on her lips, I pray our friend had the words of the Hail Mary in her heart: Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.

12:20pm: The Fourteenth Station – Jesus is Placed in the Tomb
We adore Thee, O Christ, as we bless Thee. Because by Thy holy cross Thou hast redeemed the world.

Evangelist Billy Graham is buried. Billy Graham was and is not Jesus Christ, but his life had a singular focus of pointing to him. Dr. Graham endeavored to know one thing and one thing only: Jesus Christ and Him Crucified. As he was placed in his tomb, may we reflect on the tomb that held, but only temporarily, the body of Our Lord.

5:39pm: The Tenth Station – Jesus is Stripped of His Garments
We adore Thee, O Christ, as we bless Thee. Because by Thy holy cross Thou hast redeemed the world.

After Stations I placed a phone call to a parishioner was just yesterday diagnosed with cancer. Today was the meeting with the oncologist to plot a path forward. Regardless of stage or aggressiveness, a diagnosis of cancer emotionally strips a person bare. There is nothing to cover it up. You cannot hide from it. Oftentimes the treatment is even more exposing. There is the possible loss of hair and the side effects from chemotherapy. Help us, O Lord, to remember to unite what has been stripped from us with what was stripped from you. Help us to unite our sufferings with yours so we trust in both the meaning and the triumph.

I finished the Stations in the church at about 5:20pm. The Stations in the world around us never end. Our Lord continues to walk the way of sorrows with everyone who suffers. When we see suffering, may we see Our Lord. In seeing Our Lord, may we truly see our brother and sister.

Stabat Mater dolorosa
Juxta crucem lacrimosa
Dum pendebat Filius.

At the cross her station keeping,
Stood the mournful mother weeping
Close to Jesus to the last. 

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

This has been a hard week for death. I realize it’s a hard week for death for someone every week, but at least for me, this week has been particularly harsh. This week alone in my hometown, two family friends, and one aunt have passed away. I was at one of the local funeral homes today and observed that business was, indeed, good.

The idea of the funeral has changed over the years, even during my 19 years of pastoral ministry. The death of a loved one is a devastating event and I mean no disrespect the obsequies for any person. However, trends in funerals have led to utter confusion as to what we are supposed to be doing. Is the funeral therapy for the living or a celebration of the dead? A combination of both? Sometimes the body is present and sometimes the body isn’t. I’ve noticed in obituaries that funeral homes insert “memorial service” as a matter of course without any real consideration as to what that means.

Christian burial serves two purposes. The first is to commend the soul of the deceased to Almighty God and the second is to commit their body to the earth. A funeral properly done can provide tremendous comfort and peace to the living but only because the liturgy is focused on the dead. The comfort comes partly in giving the living a duty, a job, to pray for the dead and to reverently prepare the body for restful anticipation of the Resurrection.

Historically, the funeral rites have consisted of five liturgical movements: the procession of the body to the church, the Office of the Dead, the Requiem Mass, the Absolution (Commendation), and the Committal. Each of these movements could be a stand-alone liturgy and officiated by a different priest and each of these movements is preserved in the current Book of Common Prayer.

In the first 60 days of 2018, I’ve had some liturgical function around 6 deaths. Broken down, I’ve done 1 requiem, 3 burial offices, 1 stand-alone committal, and 1 commendation. Ideally, all five movements would be included for the funeral but these were done as they were for pastoral considerations. Yet, each one still keeps the focus on the commendation of the soul and the burial of the body. When the integrity of the liturgy is kept, the focus is always on the mercy of God, our hope in Christ, and our duty and privilege to pray for and bury the dead. The beauty of the liturgy is that if we trust it, we are not shouldered with the burden of trying to sum up a person’s life with our inadequate tributes. We can never do justice to a person’s life with a 60-minute presentation, nor should we try. Our memories and love for them do not end at the burial. Nor do our prayers.

The burial of the dead is a corporal work of mercy. Unless circumstances made it impossible, I’ve never turned down a funeral. Weddings? Yes. Funerals? Never. No one likes to talk about death or even think of their own mortality. But I am convinced that if we take care of the dead and recover our beautiful theology surrounding death, we will pay more attention and care to the living.

Rest eternal grant to all the faithful departed and may light perpetual shine upon them.
May they rest in peace.

How Good It Is

As I opened the church door this morning I received a text from one of our parishioners who is in Costa Rica with our mission team. Over many years we've had a close relationship with the bishop and one parish in particular. Every year a team travels to assist in the building of the parish church and, more importantly, the building of relationships. Our mission team is currently on the Caribbean coast in Limon and wanted to know if they could FaceTime for Morning Prayer and Mass. 

I've often said that we hold daily prayer and mass at St Timothy's not to guilt those who can't attend due to work and other reasonable obligations but precisely because they can't. We offer the prayers of the Church on behalf of the Church. We (Fr Griffin and myself) keep this rhythm of prayer and Eucharistic Sacrifice in order that the Faithful may unite their prayers to those of the Church wherever they might be.

Even though members of our parish are 1,800 miles away and in a different time zone, they knew when we were offering our prayers. And thanks to modern technology, they FaceTimed in, not as a gimmick, but to pray in community. This is catholicity. Two groups of people in different countries joined together through prayer and faith.

Today, on the 28th day of the month, the psalms for Morning Prayer are 132 through 135. Psalm 133 begins 

Oh, how good and pleasant it is, when brethren live together in unity.

I looked at the iPhone propped against the missal and smiled. Yes it is indeed. 

Our Lady of the Bug

This morning walking to Morning Prayer, I noticed two of these lovelies on my surplice. Then at mass, I noticed one on my prie dieu. While not technically a bug, Ladybugs have always been my favorite...bug. The internet is full of stories of why coccinellids  are called Ladybugs or Ladybirds, but there is agreement they are named in honor of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

The prevailing legend is of farmers who asked the Virgin Mary's intercession during an invasion of pests on their crops. Their prayers were answered in the coming of ladybugs who ate the pests and thus saved the harvest.

The other reason is associated with one specific species in the genus: the Coccinella septempunctata, or seven-spotted lady bug. Christians took a creature that was already associated with the Virgin Mary due to legend and color (coccinellids comes from the Latin word coccineus meaning "scarlet" and the Virgin Mary is often depicted in a scarlet robe) and compared the seven spots on the beetle to the Seven Wounds in the heart of the Virgin Mary, or Our Lady of Seven Sorrows.

At the Presentation of Our Lord, the prophet Simeon told the Virgin Mary that "a sword will pierce your own soul also" (Luke 2.35). The "swords" that rose in devotion to Mary are

1. Simeon's Prophecy (Luke 2.34-25)
2. The escape and flight into Egypt (Matthew 2.13)
3. Losing Jesus in the Temple (Luke 2.43-45)
4. Meeting Jesus on the way to the cross
5. The Crucifixion (John 19.25)
6. The piercing of Jesus's side and his descent from the cross (Matthew 27.57-59)
7. The burial of Jesus (John 19.40-42)

I gently brushed the Ladybug off the prie dieu and s/he fell next to me as I knelt for the canon of the mass. Kneeling next to a reminder of Our Lady seemed appropriate during that moment and I thought of the words of her Son of the cross: Woman, behold your son. Son, behold your mother.

Devil on My Shoulder

“You’re going to screw this up. You’re going to screw this up. Here it comes, get ready, you’re going to screw this up.”

The world of internal dialogue is a strange, strange place. Conversations that seem to last several minutes occur within the span of just a few seconds. I found myself in this world on Sunday. As I turned to the altar to chant the Lenten Preface, I preface I have sung many, many times, I heard those words. “You’re going to screw this up. You’re going to screw this up. Here it comes, get, you’re going to screw this up.”

I am not a trained singer and am, at best, a passable chanter. I don’t practice as I should, which is part of my fault, but the greater fault lies in vanity. I want to sound good. I want to be good. The voice in my head was telling me that I am not good and I am going to mess this preface up. Because I allowed it, the voice was right. I missed my note on “through Jesus Christ our Lord.” A passing error for most ears in the congregation, but an irritating and infuriating grievous for mine.  

I’d like to think that I don’t often have the cartoonish experience of the angel and demon on my shoulders, but the scenario is taken seriously by the saints of the Church, and therefore should be taken seriously by me. St Ignatius of Loyola writes that it is

 “common for the evil spirit to cause anxiety and sadness, and to create obstacles based on false reasoning, through preventing the soul from making further progress. It is characteristic of the good spirit to give courage and strength, consolation, tears, inspiration, and peace, making things easy and removing all obstacles, so that the soul may make further progress in good works.”

Very literally, at the altar of God, I heard two voices. One was creating anxiety by preying on a weakness and inadequate preparation and the other was encouraging me to trust in experience and to have confidence in what I have to offer. I listened to the wrong voice.

We might assume that the liturgy is our refuge from evil thoughts and distraction but that would be a dangerous assumption. The liturgy is oftentimes where those thoughts intensify. Remember the demonic Screwtape advising his nephew Wormwood on how to sabotage his new assignment: “All you then have to do is keep out of his mind the question ‘If I, being what I am, can consider that I am in some sense a Christian, why should the different vices of those people in the next pew prove that their religion is mere hypocrisy and convention?’ You may ask whether it is possible to keep such an obvious thought from occurring even to a human mind. It is, Wormwood, it is! Handle him properly and simply won’t come into his head.”

In the Philokalia, the wisdom of the Eastern Orthodox fathers advise us to reflect on what happened when we listen to the wrong voice. During temptation our intellect is clouded and we do not see what is happening to us. Upon reflection (self-examination) we are to retrace where we gave in to those thoughts and where the weakness lies. And when we find ourselves hearing those words again, we rebuke them and make them obedient to Christ.

As for me, my weakness was in pride. I was more focused on being seen as good than I was offering my prayer, as imperfect as it is, with my own voice. God wants our best and not our boast. He wants our prayer and not our performance.

When I hear that voice again telling me that I’m going to screw this up, I will turn my hear to the other voice telling me that I can’t screw it up. This is the Sacrifice of the Mass. This is the offering of Jesus Christ.

A New Subdeacon

Once upon a time, the path to the priesthood took a more graded route. There were actually seven steps of ordination that led one to the priesthood. The first four steps of ordination were called minor orders. They were, in order: porter, lector, exorcist, and acolyte. The final three were major orders and consisted of subdeacon, deacon, and priest. Included in the logic, I presume, is a pilgrimage toward the altar. The porter unlocks the door, the lector reads Holy Scripture in public worship, the exorcist casts out the demons, and the acolyte serves at the altar. One can see an eastward progression. I always like to tell our newest acolytes that once upon a time, they would have ranked higher than those casting out demons!

In 1972, Pope Paul VI abolished the subdiaconate as a minor order. He did not abolish the subdiaconate per se as he allowed the role to continue but not as a part of ordained ministry. The subdeacon often exists now as a liturgical anachronism. If you want to have a solemn high mass, in the way it used to be done, you would need a subdeacon.

According to his Motu Proprio, Pope Paul’s rationale is based on the work of Vatican II, specifically the constitution Sacrosanctum Concilium and this paragraph in particular:

“Mother Church earnestly desires that all the faithful should be led to that fully conscious, and active participation in liturgical celebrations which is demanded by the very nature of the liturgy. Such participation by the Christian people as "a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a redeemed people (1 Pet. 2:9; cf. 2:4-5), is their right and duty by reason of their baptism.

In the restoration and promotion of the sacred liturgy, this full and active participation by all the people is the aim to be considered before all else; for it is the primary and indispensable source from which the faithful are to derive the true Christian spirit; and therefore pastors of souls must zealously strive to achieve it, by means of the necessary instruction, in all their pastoral work.” (Paragraph 14)

In eliminating the ordained roles of porter, lector, exorcist, acolyte, and subdeacon, Pope Paul VI wished to elevate the lay roles of reader and acolyte, which would serve many of the same functions as the subdeacon. While the minor orders haven’t been an issue for Anglicanism, this papal act did place greater focus on the laity’s participation in the liturgy and not just their participation from the pew. Acolytes and lectors are now drawn from all walks of lay life and not just those preparing to serve the Church in the ministerial priesthood.

But I think we should, as best we can, resurrect the minor orders. I don’t mean they should return as ordained ministries, but I think their roles should take on a more prominent nature in the life of the parish.

Today we welcomed a new subdeacon to our common life. Our regular (and excellent) subdeacon is currently in Costa Rica on a mission trip. Subdeacons don’t exactly grow on trees. In my opinion, the liturgical work is more complex than that of the celebrant. There is a lot to do and a lot to remember. And since subdeacons only serve when there is both a deacon and celebrant, it’s not as if you can get your liturgical reps in during the week. It has to be a Solemn High Mass.

Our newest subdeacon has served as an acolyte and has graduated to thurifer. In our sacristy, you have to be able to hold a candle before you can swing the smoke. He’s also a normal, All-American 17-year-old young man. He did an excellent job and I look forward to his continue liturgical maturation and devotion.

This development and devotion are greatly aided by the availability of liturgical ministry. Instead of the subdiaconate stifling full and active participation in the liturgy, it has opened it up.

I don’t know for sure because I’m not with him, but my hunch is he has talked to a lot of people about what happened today. He’s talked to a lot of people about what happened at church. In the best and most Christian sense of the word he, and all our wonderful liturgical ministers, have pride in their offering. It is for the greater glory of God and as an adornment to His Kingdom. And most importantly, they know and pray the mass.

This young 17-year-old may never be an ordained priest and that is just fine. Because he is already an active member of the priesthood of all believers.

Occurrence

The problem with using one's phone as an alarm clock is that the first things you see when you wake up are notifications. It is indeed a good and holy practice to eliminate notifications from our smartphones, but it’s so very tempting to hit the button to end the alarm and then open our email and see what will cause alarm. Before I get out of the bed, there is a digital map of what needs to be done in the next 12 hours. Emails, calendar notifications, texts, etc. One of the most jarring realities of a parish priest (and this is not limited to priests) is that it never, ever ends. Sunday is always barreling down like the Niagara. Crisis never comes at a convenient time. Otherwise, it would be called an appointment. There is no use whining about this, for this is our life. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be. Our response isn’t so much time management, as it is triage. What is most important right now?

Liturgically, this is called occurrence. Whenever there are two (or more) liturgical celebrations on the same day, they are said to be in occurrence. It is like walking into the sacristy and seeing multiple notifications of various important things that must be remembered, celebrated, and observed. For instance, today, February 24, is the Feast of St Matthias and a Lenten Ember Day. In the past, there were rules and even a chart to help you discern what to do and what not to do. Some occurrences can be quite complicated and takes almost as much time to figure out what to celebrate than it does to actually celebrate it! Feasts and observances had categories like 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th class. Double, semi-double, and simple. Privileged ferias, ferias, and the like. St Matthias is a 2nd Class Feast and Lenten Ember Days are 2nd Class Ferias. In 1969, the revision of the Roman Catholic Calendar greatly simplified the process and removed the classes and replaced them with the taxonomy of solemnities, feasts, and memorials. When Rome sneezes, everyone else catches a cold, so we don’t often hear of the older way of keeping time. I am a citizen of both times, which is often confusing and perhaps always unwise, but I find great spiritual benefit in the old ways.

Seemingly obsolete liturgical conundrums like occurrence (and its cousin concurrence) speak of the importance of making distinctions and priorities. It is a reminder that the day is constantly full of demands and challenges, but there is a way forward. And each of those demands and challenges is, in some way, a gift to be received with the expectation that we will be drawn closer to God and deeper in love with our brothers and sisters. I could have scrapped the Lenten Ember Day (doesn’t everyone?) and just celebrated the Feast of St Matthias, but I would be the poorer for it. It’s like that old illustration of having to fill a bucket with rocks of all sizes. Unless you put the big rocks in the bucket first, you’ll never be able to fit them all in. The smaller rocks are able to find their way through the small spaces and fill them. They fit there. If we learn how to recognize and keep the big things, the smaller things will find their place and purpose and they all will fit.

In case you’re wondering, as I understand the chart, we say the office of St Matthias and commemorate with a collect the Saturday Ember Day. For the Mass, we offer the mass for St Matthias, but commemorate the Ember Day and use the Ember Day Gospel for the Last Gospel. Commemorations include saying the collect, secret, and postcommunion of the lesser second feast/observance after the collect, secret, and postcommunion of the first.

This is a lot to organize, but I think it’s worth it.

And of course, this morning, my server had to leave after Morning Prayer. As Saturdays are our least attended days, I was alone and could not say mass. And with an interior smile, put all the things away that had been carefully prepared.