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Fragility as a Superpower
I’d like you to consider this: there is power and strength in fragility. I’d like to spend some time pondering it with you.
Before, when I thought about fragility, I would consider it to be synonymous with weakness. Fragility is something to either hide or protect with strength. But I have found there is power in fragility. Take for example the orchid. It is beautiful and it is fragile. Despite its delicate and fragile appearance, orchids are quite long lasting, some can live for fifteen to twenty years.
As we age, it appears that we become more fragile. When I was young, we would fall down for fun and laugh about it. I can’t imagine doing that now. At the same time, my emotional state has become more resilient. Things don’t bother me as much. I am not as worried about failure as I had been. It’s probably because I have failed, several times, and learned that I can get back up and go on. Spiritually speaking, I have also learned that God is there when I fall (proverbially and literally) and will help me get back up on my feet.
Why is there power in fragility? As I outlined in my sermon last Sunday, the number one product of fragility is empathy. And empathy is a strength. Because I have failed, I am more empathetic to those who are down. Likewise, because God has led me through dark valleys, when I was most fragile, I believe that God will lead others when they too are fragile in a dark valley. In the Church, fragility is our power because it helps us to be empathetic to one another along the same lines that God listens to us.
Fragility has power because it produces adaptation. Fragile systems create new ways to survive. The Church responds to fragility with adaptation. Mary rode a donkey. Peter sailed in a boat. Philip rode on a wagon. The first bishop of England rode a horse. Our new Archbishop of Canterbury flew on a plane to visit the Bishop of Rome (the pope). Prayers were said on Artemis II on the dark side of the moon. The Church embraced the printing press, the radio, television and now the internet as a means of communication. It is because of our fragility that we adapt.
Fragility has power because it produces authentic connection with God and one another. Some of the most powerful connective conversations I have had happened before Last Rites when people are facing the fragility of their mortality. Or in the ICU. Or facing a divorce. As something new is blossoming in their life (because something else is diminishing), with the fragile petals of new life reaching outward, fragility makes for authentic connection with God and one another.
All Angels is a welcoming church – it’s our strength – that is born out of our fragility, empathy, adaptivity and authentic connection with God and one another.
- Fr. Dave
Before, when I thought about fragility, I would consider it to be synonymous with weakness. Fragility is something to either hide or protect with strength. But I have found there is power in fragility. Take for example the orchid. It is beautiful and it is fragile. Despite its delicate and fragile appearance, orchids are quite long lasting, some can live for fifteen to twenty years.
As we age, it appears that we become more fragile. When I was young, we would fall down for fun and laugh about it. I can’t imagine doing that now. At the same time, my emotional state has become more resilient. Things don’t bother me as much. I am not as worried about failure as I had been. It’s probably because I have failed, several times, and learned that I can get back up and go on. Spiritually speaking, I have also learned that God is there when I fall (proverbially and literally) and will help me get back up on my feet.
Why is there power in fragility? As I outlined in my sermon last Sunday, the number one product of fragility is empathy. And empathy is a strength. Because I have failed, I am more empathetic to those who are down. Likewise, because God has led me through dark valleys, when I was most fragile, I believe that God will lead others when they too are fragile in a dark valley. In the Church, fragility is our power because it helps us to be empathetic to one another along the same lines that God listens to us.
Fragility has power because it produces adaptation. Fragile systems create new ways to survive. The Church responds to fragility with adaptation. Mary rode a donkey. Peter sailed in a boat. Philip rode on a wagon. The first bishop of England rode a horse. Our new Archbishop of Canterbury flew on a plane to visit the Bishop of Rome (the pope). Prayers were said on Artemis II on the dark side of the moon. The Church embraced the printing press, the radio, television and now the internet as a means of communication. It is because of our fragility that we adapt.
Fragility has power because it produces authentic connection with God and one another. Some of the most powerful connective conversations I have had happened before Last Rites when people are facing the fragility of their mortality. Or in the ICU. Or facing a divorce. As something new is blossoming in their life (because something else is diminishing), with the fragile petals of new life reaching outward, fragility makes for authentic connection with God and one another.
All Angels is a welcoming church – it’s our strength – that is born out of our fragility, empathy, adaptivity and authentic connection with God and one another.
- Fr. Dave
P.A.U.S.E.
Over the past seven years of pastoral ministry at All Angels, I have become convinced that deep, lasting personal change only comes in increments. I am now convinced of two more things: Change happens in the slog of life and making small changes, and sticking with it, makes a big difference. Big victories seldom happen in life. However, small changes that make an impact in life are victories that should be reflected on and celebrated from time to time.
I admire happy-go-lucky people that don’t let the troubles, and angers, of life get them down. When I first moved here, I used to be easily upset about the backup from a bridge being up (to allow a boat pass by underneath). One morning, on the way to a morning meeting at All Angels, the red stop light turned on the Longboat Pass bridge. As I started to slow down, the car behind me started honking and motioning for me to run the light. When I didn’t, she zoomed around me (illegally, across the double yellow line) and then slammed on her brakes when the arm came down (almost hitting her car). She put the car in park and jumped out of her car. She ran to the guard rail and yelled this at the pleasure boat going under the bridge: “Hey you expletives! Put down your expletive antennas because some of us have to get to expletive work!” Incidentally, she was wearing a nurse uniform.
An article this week in the NY Times reported on how small changes in life can add up to be victories. The author, Jancee Dunn, collected over 800 responses from readers about small changes that made a major impact on their life. Jean, from Salt Lake City, wrote that in retirement she has been practicing tai chi twice a week for over twelve years at a local senior group. This twice-a-week practice has helped her balance, gave her a routine, and new friends. 46-year-old Katie from Rio Rancho taught herself to play chess instead of doomscrolling on social media. It improved her patience and problem solving in life. Jon in Miami texts someone he has not been in touch with in a while. While some never respond, others do and it makes him feel good for days. Fern from New York City started meditating just ten minutes a day. Her husband has noticed that she is calmer, nicer and less reactive. Carl from Utah wrote that he and his wife now drive the speed limit. They never realized the amount of anger and anxiety that rushing while driving caused – just to save a minute or two. They are now calmer (and safer) drivers with lower blood pressure. These are small changes that have had a big impact in life.
If you are looking at making a small change, let me suggest the P.A.U.S.E. method. It stands for Postpone Action Until Serenity Emerges. This slogan is designed to prevent rash decisions, arguments and emotional reactions by encouraging a waiting period until one is calm and collected. This technique helps with making healthier decisions because one has moved from reactionary anger to a state of clarity and perspective. This works especially well with electronic communication. PAUSE; and then once serenity emerges, respond. It is a small change that can make a big difference.
Faith life at All Angels, whether for a day a year, or a season, or a lifetime, happens in increments but makes a big impact. Making small faith-based changes – praying for just ten minutes a day, meditating on Scripture, sitting quietly with an icon, reading this weekly Reflection, or practicing the PAUSE when a bridge goes up, will make a big, All Angels, impact in life.
I admire happy-go-lucky people that don’t let the troubles, and angers, of life get them down. When I first moved here, I used to be easily upset about the backup from a bridge being up (to allow a boat pass by underneath). One morning, on the way to a morning meeting at All Angels, the red stop light turned on the Longboat Pass bridge. As I started to slow down, the car behind me started honking and motioning for me to run the light. When I didn’t, she zoomed around me (illegally, across the double yellow line) and then slammed on her brakes when the arm came down (almost hitting her car). She put the car in park and jumped out of her car. She ran to the guard rail and yelled this at the pleasure boat going under the bridge: “Hey you expletives! Put down your expletive antennas because some of us have to get to expletive work!” Incidentally, she was wearing a nurse uniform.
An article this week in the NY Times reported on how small changes in life can add up to be victories. The author, Jancee Dunn, collected over 800 responses from readers about small changes that made a major impact on their life. Jean, from Salt Lake City, wrote that in retirement she has been practicing tai chi twice a week for over twelve years at a local senior group. This twice-a-week practice has helped her balance, gave her a routine, and new friends. 46-year-old Katie from Rio Rancho taught herself to play chess instead of doomscrolling on social media. It improved her patience and problem solving in life. Jon in Miami texts someone he has not been in touch with in a while. While some never respond, others do and it makes him feel good for days. Fern from New York City started meditating just ten minutes a day. Her husband has noticed that she is calmer, nicer and less reactive. Carl from Utah wrote that he and his wife now drive the speed limit. They never realized the amount of anger and anxiety that rushing while driving caused – just to save a minute or two. They are now calmer (and safer) drivers with lower blood pressure. These are small changes that have had a big impact in life.
If you are looking at making a small change, let me suggest the P.A.U.S.E. method. It stands for Postpone Action Until Serenity Emerges. This slogan is designed to prevent rash decisions, arguments and emotional reactions by encouraging a waiting period until one is calm and collected. This technique helps with making healthier decisions because one has moved from reactionary anger to a state of clarity and perspective. This works especially well with electronic communication. PAUSE; and then once serenity emerges, respond. It is a small change that can make a big difference.
Faith life at All Angels, whether for a day a year, or a season, or a lifetime, happens in increments but makes a big impact. Making small faith-based changes – praying for just ten minutes a day, meditating on Scripture, sitting quietly with an icon, reading this weekly Reflection, or practicing the PAUSE when a bridge goes up, will make a big, All Angels, impact in life.
Patience or Indifference
"Patience is the ornament of the brave. Patience is the real badge of courage; it is equally the mark of love." – Eknath Easwaran
The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. The opposite of life is not death, it's indifference. – Elie Wiesel
“All will be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” – Julian of Norwich
According to a new survey of 2,000 British adults, the luxuries of modern life have made a negative impact on patience. The survey revealed that respondents expect to pick up their luggage after a flight within 13 minutes. Waiting in line seemed to especially annoy respondents, with 45% admitting they had lost their temper after waiting an “excessive” amount of time in line – which is just 30 seconds. Surprisingly, 95% of respondents still admitted that they believe patience is a virtue.
We might be living in a time when being patient is the most difficult it has ever been in recorded human history. The part that concerns me, however, is we also might be living in a time of indifference.
Professor and Holocaust survivor, Elie Wiesel, believes the opposite of love, art, faith and life is indifference. Love, art, faith and life make us human. Indifference removes our humanity and makes us act inhuman to one another.
Observed from the outside, a patient person might look as if they are indifferent. For instance, a very tired Jesus was asleep in a boat despite the storm. The disciples (probably Peter) woke him up and said, “Do you not care that we are about to drown?!” Peter thought Jesus was indifferent to their impending doom. In reality, Jesus did care; he was being patient with them and with the storm.
The discussion groups this week talked about the difference between patience and indifference. The patient person may look as if they have given up to indifference; but, just because the outside looks the same, the important part is what is going on inside.
According to author Roy Bennett, “Patience is not the ability to wait. Patience is to be calm no matter what happens, to constantly take action to turn it into growth opportunities, and to have faith to believe that it will all work out in the end while you are waiting.” The patient person may look indifferent, but what people see is the patient person remaining calm, looking for opportunities to grow, and holding onto faith that God is working all things to their fulfillment.
Jesus in the boat was doing just that. He knew they were not going to drown. He took the opportunity, however, to teach them (and us) an important lesson about remaining calm while looking for opportunities to grow and live out one’s faith that all will be well.
- Fr. Dave
The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. The opposite of life is not death, it's indifference. – Elie Wiesel
“All will be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” – Julian of Norwich
According to a new survey of 2,000 British adults, the luxuries of modern life have made a negative impact on patience. The survey revealed that respondents expect to pick up their luggage after a flight within 13 minutes. Waiting in line seemed to especially annoy respondents, with 45% admitting they had lost their temper after waiting an “excessive” amount of time in line – which is just 30 seconds. Surprisingly, 95% of respondents still admitted that they believe patience is a virtue.
We might be living in a time when being patient is the most difficult it has ever been in recorded human history. The part that concerns me, however, is we also might be living in a time of indifference.
Professor and Holocaust survivor, Elie Wiesel, believes the opposite of love, art, faith and life is indifference. Love, art, faith and life make us human. Indifference removes our humanity and makes us act inhuman to one another.
Observed from the outside, a patient person might look as if they are indifferent. For instance, a very tired Jesus was asleep in a boat despite the storm. The disciples (probably Peter) woke him up and said, “Do you not care that we are about to drown?!” Peter thought Jesus was indifferent to their impending doom. In reality, Jesus did care; he was being patient with them and with the storm.
The discussion groups this week talked about the difference between patience and indifference. The patient person may look as if they have given up to indifference; but, just because the outside looks the same, the important part is what is going on inside.
According to author Roy Bennett, “Patience is not the ability to wait. Patience is to be calm no matter what happens, to constantly take action to turn it into growth opportunities, and to have faith to believe that it will all work out in the end while you are waiting.” The patient person may look indifferent, but what people see is the patient person remaining calm, looking for opportunities to grow, and holding onto faith that God is working all things to their fulfillment.
Jesus in the boat was doing just that. He knew they were not going to drown. He took the opportunity, however, to teach them (and us) an important lesson about remaining calm while looking for opportunities to grow and live out one’s faith that all will be well.
- Fr. Dave
Sabbatical
In the seventh year you must let your fields and vineyards rest in honor of me, your Lord.
This is to be a time of complete rest for your fields and vineyards. Leviticus 25:4-5
Jesus would often go to some place where he could be alone and pray.
Luke 5:16
I started at All Angels on Ash Wednesday, March 5th, 2019. Now that I’ve been here seven amazing and wonderful years, it is time for me to take a Sabbath rest – commonly called a sabbatical. My last Sunday before the sabbatical will be Memorial Day weekend, May 24th. My first Sunday back will be Sunday, August 23rd. I will be away for twelve Sundays.
When Jesus would slip away to be alone and pray, his disciples went to work. The same pattern happens when the rector goes on sabbatical – the lay leadership gets more involved in ministry. It can be a time of leadership growth and new experiences for the parish. Four of the twelve Sundays will be Holy Eucharist with a supply priest. Eight of the twelve services will be morning prayer led by parishioners. The Episcopal church I grew up in had Holy Communion once a month; we will do something similar to that this summer. The benefit for us is that lay-led morning prayer leads to leadership growth and development.
We have lay eucharistic visitors that can visit people in the hospital. And, if a funeral service becomes necessary during the summer, we have many options (including me stepping in to do it). We are working on office support during the week which also has the opportunity for leadership growth.
My sabbatical plans are to do some travel and primarily stay around town and do some deep writing. Meanwhile, I will continue to write to you each week about what is happening on my sabbatical. The Reflection will be printed each Sunday, like normal, and Maria will email it to you in the Tidings each Thursday. Speaking of travel, here is the schedule. Week 1: Christi, Elijah and I are going on a cruise. Week 2: I will travel to Seattle to see my mom. Week 8: Vail Colorado. Week 9: Visit our daughter Galina and her family in Rapid City, South Dakota. I imagine there will be time for going out on the boat and fishing too.
Scripture commands that the farmland must go on a rest every seven years. It is wise land stewardship because it allows the soil to recover from cultivation which improves soil fertility. It also allows for the land to produce from generation to generation. Likewise, sabbatical rest helps clergy recover which leads to new growth (and provides revitalization for longevity which the pastorate requires). It is also a good time of growth for the parish.
It is believed that the Dust Bowl of the 1930s was a result of the land being continuously farmed so that it could no longer support vegetation. On my first day at All Angels, I placed ash on the foreheads of the participants and said, “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Since we are dust, (just like the land) we too need a sabbath rest. And yes, one day we will return to dust, but I think God has a lot more work for us to do before then. Let us take time for rest and growth so we can continue to grow into the people, and church, God is calling us to be.
- Fr. Dave
This is to be a time of complete rest for your fields and vineyards. Leviticus 25:4-5
Jesus would often go to some place where he could be alone and pray.
Luke 5:16
I started at All Angels on Ash Wednesday, March 5th, 2019. Now that I’ve been here seven amazing and wonderful years, it is time for me to take a Sabbath rest – commonly called a sabbatical. My last Sunday before the sabbatical will be Memorial Day weekend, May 24th. My first Sunday back will be Sunday, August 23rd. I will be away for twelve Sundays.
When Jesus would slip away to be alone and pray, his disciples went to work. The same pattern happens when the rector goes on sabbatical – the lay leadership gets more involved in ministry. It can be a time of leadership growth and new experiences for the parish. Four of the twelve Sundays will be Holy Eucharist with a supply priest. Eight of the twelve services will be morning prayer led by parishioners. The Episcopal church I grew up in had Holy Communion once a month; we will do something similar to that this summer. The benefit for us is that lay-led morning prayer leads to leadership growth and development.
We have lay eucharistic visitors that can visit people in the hospital. And, if a funeral service becomes necessary during the summer, we have many options (including me stepping in to do it). We are working on office support during the week which also has the opportunity for leadership growth.
My sabbatical plans are to do some travel and primarily stay around town and do some deep writing. Meanwhile, I will continue to write to you each week about what is happening on my sabbatical. The Reflection will be printed each Sunday, like normal, and Maria will email it to you in the Tidings each Thursday. Speaking of travel, here is the schedule. Week 1: Christi, Elijah and I are going on a cruise. Week 2: I will travel to Seattle to see my mom. Week 8: Vail Colorado. Week 9: Visit our daughter Galina and her family in Rapid City, South Dakota. I imagine there will be time for going out on the boat and fishing too.
Scripture commands that the farmland must go on a rest every seven years. It is wise land stewardship because it allows the soil to recover from cultivation which improves soil fertility. It also allows for the land to produce from generation to generation. Likewise, sabbatical rest helps clergy recover which leads to new growth (and provides revitalization for longevity which the pastorate requires). It is also a good time of growth for the parish.
It is believed that the Dust Bowl of the 1930s was a result of the land being continuously farmed so that it could no longer support vegetation. On my first day at All Angels, I placed ash on the foreheads of the participants and said, “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Since we are dust, (just like the land) we too need a sabbath rest. And yes, one day we will return to dust, but I think God has a lot more work for us to do before then. Let us take time for rest and growth so we can continue to grow into the people, and church, God is calling us to be.
- Fr. Dave
From "What If" to "Even If"
Raise your hand if you have ever lost sleep over worry. Have you ever obsessed over something and no matter how many times you thought about it nothing changed? (And then it is 3 a.m. and you are still awake and frazzled and are worried about how much you are obsessing.)
Worry was the discussion theme for this past week. It was the central theme of my Easter Sunday message when we handed out over 150 cards that read, “Do not be afraid.” The most often repeated message of the Bible – be not afraid – is a reassurance and not a command. Yet, human development has brought us to a point where fear keeps us alive. At the same time, constant fear (obsessing) is apparently as damaging to one’s heart as smoking multiple packs of cigarettes. So, we humans are caught with the conundrum of fear as a way of keeping us from doing stupid, life-ending things (like eating any random mushroom we see growing in a field) and also fear diminishes peace and joy and longevity. What are we to do?
One of the discussion group participants said there is a simple, and very difficult, thought process that helps. When I am obsessing about something, identify what it is that I am asking “what if” about and switch it to “even if”. I’ll go with something simple, what if the boat motor stops running. Let’s switch the “what if” to “even if”. Even if the boat motor stops running, all on board will be safe.
Even if… they will still love me.
Even if… at least we’re out on the water enjoying the day.
Even if… I will be clear headed and will know exactly what to do.
“Even if” helps us to focus on resilience. We can look back at past challenges as a reminder of our ability to cope and move forward. For instance, I have been stuck on the water and survived (and came up with a really good sermon idea) so even if the motor stops, which is unlikely, I will be okay.
A friend I correspond with in a different state was obsessing about an upcoming doctor’s appointment based on a blood test he took. He was rattling off what ifs in his mind – what if it’s cancer, what if I am diabetic, what if there is a blockage, what if it’s more tests and more questions without any answers. After he was exhausted from the unanswerable “what if” questions, he tried switching one to “even if”. Even if it’s cancer, I will be loved by my wife and family. Even if it’s a blocked artery, I will still have my faith. He told me, “Even if it is… God is not giving up on me and I’m not giving up on him.”
Humans in general like to be in control of things. Obsessing makes it feel like we’re in control because “what if” thinking is an activity. But switching to “even if” does not give up control. “Even if” reminds us of our identity, what we control, and where our love is. Even if the Seattle Seahawks move to another city, I’ll still choose to be a fan.
My out-of-state friend met with his doctor. There is a treatment plan in place and all will be well. The MD said he took the news surprisingly well. My friend replied: It’s because, regardless of what you told me doc, I know that I am loved and supported.
- Fr. Dave
Worry was the discussion theme for this past week. It was the central theme of my Easter Sunday message when we handed out over 150 cards that read, “Do not be afraid.” The most often repeated message of the Bible – be not afraid – is a reassurance and not a command. Yet, human development has brought us to a point where fear keeps us alive. At the same time, constant fear (obsessing) is apparently as damaging to one’s heart as smoking multiple packs of cigarettes. So, we humans are caught with the conundrum of fear as a way of keeping us from doing stupid, life-ending things (like eating any random mushroom we see growing in a field) and also fear diminishes peace and joy and longevity. What are we to do?
One of the discussion group participants said there is a simple, and very difficult, thought process that helps. When I am obsessing about something, identify what it is that I am asking “what if” about and switch it to “even if”. I’ll go with something simple, what if the boat motor stops running. Let’s switch the “what if” to “even if”. Even if the boat motor stops running, all on board will be safe.
Even if… they will still love me.
Even if… at least we’re out on the water enjoying the day.
Even if… I will be clear headed and will know exactly what to do.
“Even if” helps us to focus on resilience. We can look back at past challenges as a reminder of our ability to cope and move forward. For instance, I have been stuck on the water and survived (and came up with a really good sermon idea) so even if the motor stops, which is unlikely, I will be okay.
A friend I correspond with in a different state was obsessing about an upcoming doctor’s appointment based on a blood test he took. He was rattling off what ifs in his mind – what if it’s cancer, what if I am diabetic, what if there is a blockage, what if it’s more tests and more questions without any answers. After he was exhausted from the unanswerable “what if” questions, he tried switching one to “even if”. Even if it’s cancer, I will be loved by my wife and family. Even if it’s a blocked artery, I will still have my faith. He told me, “Even if it is… God is not giving up on me and I’m not giving up on him.”
Humans in general like to be in control of things. Obsessing makes it feel like we’re in control because “what if” thinking is an activity. But switching to “even if” does not give up control. “Even if” reminds us of our identity, what we control, and where our love is. Even if the Seattle Seahawks move to another city, I’ll still choose to be a fan.
My out-of-state friend met with his doctor. There is a treatment plan in place and all will be well. The MD said he took the news surprisingly well. My friend replied: It’s because, regardless of what you told me doc, I know that I am loved and supported.
- Fr. Dave
Anyone or Everyone?
A couple of weeks ago I wrote to you about the Committal service (when we place the ashes of a loved one into the ground) that begins with these words:
Everyone the Father gives to me will come to me;
I will never turn away anyone who believes in me.
Based on what I wrote, I was asked, “Is ‘everyone the Father gives me’ the same as ‘everybody will come to me’”? This is a wonderful question. I’d like to explore it with you.
The words of the Committal are taken from chapter six of John’s Gospel. The chapter starts with an uncountable number of people following Jesus; he feeds them; he walks on water; the crowd catches up to him and he says, “I am the bread of life. … Everyone the Father gives me will come to me and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away.” The chapter ends with thousands of people leaving him (because he said, “You must eat of my flesh and drink of my blood”). Only Peter and the twelve remain. Jesus looked at them and asked if they will leave too. Peter responded: “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”
I think the context helps to understand the passage. Thousands of people were interested in Jesus. Wait, let me clarify that; thousands of people wanted to see what Jesus could do – miracles, healings and signs. When it came time to believe and follow him, they turned away. He invited them from being spectators to become participants. And, as aforementioned, they walked away. It might be easier nowadays to believe in Jesus because we don’t have the expectation of witnessing miracles. But back then they wanted to see the magic (for lack of a better term).
In the first few years that followed the crucifixion and resurrection, the movement of Jesus the Christ was called The Way because it was a way of life, a way of following Him who rose for us, and a way of participating in God’s grace and love.
Jesus knew what was in the hearts of the multitudes – they wanted to see a show. In contrast, he wanted true disciples who would follow him along The Way. Yet, he did not say to them, “I cast you away because you are not interested in following the way of life I am teaching.” Jesus taught them (he taught everyone) and they self-selected. Everyone and anyone who came to Jesus was invited along The Way. Not everyone followed.
When the crowd caught up to Jesus (after he walked on water), they asked him this question: “What must we do to perform the works of God?” Jesus responded plainly, “This is the work [singular] of God: that you believe in him whom He sent.” In other words, it’s not many “works” that need to be done, it is one work: to believe. In the New Testament, faith and belief are action verbs – not thinking verbs. This means you can think plenty of doubts. There are many examples of when Jesus drew near to those who doubted. So, we can think doubts; but we act in faith.
Jesus said: “This is my Father’s will: that all who see the Son and believe in him will have eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day.” (John 6:40) Anyone and everyone can think doubts but to believe is to step forward in faith; anyone and everyone who has faith will come to Him. He will never, ever turn anyone who steps forward in faith. He will raise them up on the last day.
Everyone the Father gives to me will come to me;
I will never turn away anyone who believes in me.
Based on what I wrote, I was asked, “Is ‘everyone the Father gives me’ the same as ‘everybody will come to me’”? This is a wonderful question. I’d like to explore it with you.
The words of the Committal are taken from chapter six of John’s Gospel. The chapter starts with an uncountable number of people following Jesus; he feeds them; he walks on water; the crowd catches up to him and he says, “I am the bread of life. … Everyone the Father gives me will come to me and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away.” The chapter ends with thousands of people leaving him (because he said, “You must eat of my flesh and drink of my blood”). Only Peter and the twelve remain. Jesus looked at them and asked if they will leave too. Peter responded: “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”
I think the context helps to understand the passage. Thousands of people were interested in Jesus. Wait, let me clarify that; thousands of people wanted to see what Jesus could do – miracles, healings and signs. When it came time to believe and follow him, they turned away. He invited them from being spectators to become participants. And, as aforementioned, they walked away. It might be easier nowadays to believe in Jesus because we don’t have the expectation of witnessing miracles. But back then they wanted to see the magic (for lack of a better term).
In the first few years that followed the crucifixion and resurrection, the movement of Jesus the Christ was called The Way because it was a way of life, a way of following Him who rose for us, and a way of participating in God’s grace and love.
Jesus knew what was in the hearts of the multitudes – they wanted to see a show. In contrast, he wanted true disciples who would follow him along The Way. Yet, he did not say to them, “I cast you away because you are not interested in following the way of life I am teaching.” Jesus taught them (he taught everyone) and they self-selected. Everyone and anyone who came to Jesus was invited along The Way. Not everyone followed.
When the crowd caught up to Jesus (after he walked on water), they asked him this question: “What must we do to perform the works of God?” Jesus responded plainly, “This is the work [singular] of God: that you believe in him whom He sent.” In other words, it’s not many “works” that need to be done, it is one work: to believe. In the New Testament, faith and belief are action verbs – not thinking verbs. This means you can think plenty of doubts. There are many examples of when Jesus drew near to those who doubted. So, we can think doubts; but we act in faith.
Jesus said: “This is my Father’s will: that all who see the Son and believe in him will have eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day.” (John 6:40) Anyone and everyone can think doubts but to believe is to step forward in faith; anyone and everyone who has faith will come to Him. He will never, ever turn anyone who steps forward in faith. He will raise them up on the last day.
Egeria
This Sunday is our annual celebration of the procession of palms and the reading of the passion. For some, it is their favorite service of the year. Participating in Palm Sunday helps make the wonders and alleluias of Easter more profound and joyful. Yet, if not for one woman in the 4th century, this tradition may have been lost.
Let me introduce you to Egeria. She went on a three-year religious tour from 381 to 384 and wrote extensively about her travels – postcards, a long letter, and a diary. No one really knows what city (or region) she departed from or where she returned (some argue Spain, others argue France). However, we do know that she wrote to her friends. She calls them “sisters” but don’t jump to the conclusion that they were family members or a monastic community. In the late 4th century, church members were referred to as “brothers and sisters” just like what we do today. Egeria could have been a part of a monastic community; but it would have been an unusually well-funded order. This author takes the opinion that she was wealthy and was writing to her home church about all the amazing sites and religious customs she observed.
Incidentally, my friend, Pastor Ken Blythe (St. Armands Lutheran), recently returned from guiding a group of pilgrims (ordained ministers) to religious sites in the Holy Land. Like Egeria, he wrote to me, and others, but it was through email and Facebook posts. Wherever Egeria was from, and whoever she was writing to, it is clear that religious tourism was popular in the 4th century and remains popular in the 21st.
The surviving letters, postcards and diary accounts offer detailed descriptions of biblical sites, monastic communities and liturgical practices in the Holy Land. Egeria’s reporting on what happened in Holy Week in Jerusalem influenced the Church and how we participate on Sunday. Here is what she wrote:
As the eleventh hour draws near … all the children [gathered at the top of the Mount of Olives], including those who are not yet able to walk because they are too young and therefore are carried on their parents’ shoulders, all of them bear branches, some carrying palms, others, olive branches. And the bishop is led in the same manner as the Lord once was led. … Everyone accompanies the bishop the whole way on foot, and this includes distinguished ladies and men of consequence.
Egeria also provides an eyewitness account to the practice of venerating the cross on Good Friday. She was awed by being present for worship on the very spot where Jesus had been crucified. A throne on Golgotha was set up for the bishop. A gilded silver casket, containing the sacred wood of the cross, was brought in and opened. The faithful approached, one by one, to bow down before the wood, some kiss it, and then move on. Her account details where the Church of the Holy Sepulchre now stands (it wasn’t there when she wrote).
I am thankful for Egeria’s writing and that it has survived to this day. If she had not taken this trip, and written about it, who knows what Palm Sunday would look like (or if we would even do it). By way of reflection, I don’t imagine she had any clue that her postcards to her church friends would have such an impact. Likewise, you will not know what impact your accounts of travel will have on those you love. Accordingly, for those who say, “what’s the point”, I’d like you to consider Egeria and the impact she had.
- Fr. Dave
Let me introduce you to Egeria. She went on a three-year religious tour from 381 to 384 and wrote extensively about her travels – postcards, a long letter, and a diary. No one really knows what city (or region) she departed from or where she returned (some argue Spain, others argue France). However, we do know that she wrote to her friends. She calls them “sisters” but don’t jump to the conclusion that they were family members or a monastic community. In the late 4th century, church members were referred to as “brothers and sisters” just like what we do today. Egeria could have been a part of a monastic community; but it would have been an unusually well-funded order. This author takes the opinion that she was wealthy and was writing to her home church about all the amazing sites and religious customs she observed.
Incidentally, my friend, Pastor Ken Blythe (St. Armands Lutheran), recently returned from guiding a group of pilgrims (ordained ministers) to religious sites in the Holy Land. Like Egeria, he wrote to me, and others, but it was through email and Facebook posts. Wherever Egeria was from, and whoever she was writing to, it is clear that religious tourism was popular in the 4th century and remains popular in the 21st.
The surviving letters, postcards and diary accounts offer detailed descriptions of biblical sites, monastic communities and liturgical practices in the Holy Land. Egeria’s reporting on what happened in Holy Week in Jerusalem influenced the Church and how we participate on Sunday. Here is what she wrote:
As the eleventh hour draws near … all the children [gathered at the top of the Mount of Olives], including those who are not yet able to walk because they are too young and therefore are carried on their parents’ shoulders, all of them bear branches, some carrying palms, others, olive branches. And the bishop is led in the same manner as the Lord once was led. … Everyone accompanies the bishop the whole way on foot, and this includes distinguished ladies and men of consequence.
Egeria also provides an eyewitness account to the practice of venerating the cross on Good Friday. She was awed by being present for worship on the very spot where Jesus had been crucified. A throne on Golgotha was set up for the bishop. A gilded silver casket, containing the sacred wood of the cross, was brought in and opened. The faithful approached, one by one, to bow down before the wood, some kiss it, and then move on. Her account details where the Church of the Holy Sepulchre now stands (it wasn’t there when she wrote).
I am thankful for Egeria’s writing and that it has survived to this day. If she had not taken this trip, and written about it, who knows what Palm Sunday would look like (or if we would even do it). By way of reflection, I don’t imagine she had any clue that her postcards to her church friends would have such an impact. Likewise, you will not know what impact your accounts of travel will have on those you love. Accordingly, for those who say, “what’s the point”, I’d like you to consider Egeria and the impact she had.
- Fr. Dave
The Committal
Jesus said: Everyone whom the Father gives to me will come to me, and I will not send away anyone who comes to me. I have come down from heaven not to do my will, but the will of him who sent me. This is the will of the one who sent me, that I will not lose anything he has given me, but I will raise it up at the last day. This is my Father’s will: that all who see the Son and believe in him will have eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day.” John 6:37-40
When we gather in the memorial garden to place a loved one’s ashes in the columbarium or directly into the ground, the first words I say at the Committal from our Book of Common prayer are these:
Everyone the Father gives to me will come to me;
I will never turn away anyone who believes in me.
He who raised Jesus Christ from the dead
will also give new life to our mortal bodies through his indwelling Spirit.
My heart, therefore, is glad, and my spirit rejoices;
my body also shall rest in hope.
That paragraph is a summary of the Good News we believe in the Episcopal Church. It starts universally with “everyone” and “I will never turn away anyone.” Next, “He who raised” will also give us new lift to our mortal bodies. It concludes with, “My heart is glad… my body shall rest in hope.” This phrase is a blend of life on this earth and the life to come. My favorite word (at least for today) is “therefore”.
Since He will never turn anyone away.
Since He raised Jesus.
Since He will give us new life.
Therefore: my heart is glad, my spirit rejoices, my body will rest in hope.
The service is called The Committal because we are committing someone in burial. It is a “committal” because there is no re-do, no turning back, we’ve committed to this; it can’t be undone. The Greek and Hebrew Scriptures define what we do at The Committal as a “deposit” to be held in trust and a “roll” of our burden onto God. The words of The Committal are from Jesus’s Last Supper when he told the followers that he was going away. The Committal from God was the incarnation – Jesus was born and there was no re-do, no going back. The incarnation cannot be undone. On the horizon was the crucifixion and resurrection which also cannot be redone or undone. Jesus talked openly about The Committal from God – everyone the Father gives me; I will never turn away anyone. Jesus said that he has made the commitment to not lose anything (anyone) the Father has given and that he commits to raising them up on the last day. Our response to Jesus’s committal is this:
Therefore, my heart is glad.
Therefore, my spirit rejoices.
Therefore, my body will also rest in hope.
When we gather in the memorial garden to place a loved one’s ashes in the columbarium or directly into the ground, the first words I say at the Committal from our Book of Common prayer are these:
Everyone the Father gives to me will come to me;
I will never turn away anyone who believes in me.
He who raised Jesus Christ from the dead
will also give new life to our mortal bodies through his indwelling Spirit.
My heart, therefore, is glad, and my spirit rejoices;
my body also shall rest in hope.
That paragraph is a summary of the Good News we believe in the Episcopal Church. It starts universally with “everyone” and “I will never turn away anyone.” Next, “He who raised” will also give us new lift to our mortal bodies. It concludes with, “My heart is glad… my body shall rest in hope.” This phrase is a blend of life on this earth and the life to come. My favorite word (at least for today) is “therefore”.
Since He will never turn anyone away.
Since He raised Jesus.
Since He will give us new life.
Therefore: my heart is glad, my spirit rejoices, my body will rest in hope.
The service is called The Committal because we are committing someone in burial. It is a “committal” because there is no re-do, no turning back, we’ve committed to this; it can’t be undone. The Greek and Hebrew Scriptures define what we do at The Committal as a “deposit” to be held in trust and a “roll” of our burden onto God. The words of The Committal are from Jesus’s Last Supper when he told the followers that he was going away. The Committal from God was the incarnation – Jesus was born and there was no re-do, no going back. The incarnation cannot be undone. On the horizon was the crucifixion and resurrection which also cannot be redone or undone. Jesus talked openly about The Committal from God – everyone the Father gives me; I will never turn away anyone. Jesus said that he has made the commitment to not lose anything (anyone) the Father has given and that he commits to raising them up on the last day. Our response to Jesus’s committal is this:
Therefore, my heart is glad.
Therefore, my spirit rejoices.
Therefore, my body will also rest in hope.
Fermentation
Jesus’s disciples got into the boat. They forgot to bring bread – there was only one loaf.
Jesus ordered them: “Be on guard for the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod.”
The disciples discussed this behind Jesus’ back saying, He said this because we have no bread,
and tried to blame each other for not packing enough bread.
Jesus perceived this and said, “Why are you talking about the fact that you don’t have any bread? Don’t you grasp what has happened?
Don’t you understand? Are your hearts so resistant to what God is doing? Don’t you have eyes? Why can’t you see? Don’t you have ears?
Why can’t you hear?
Don’t you remember? When I broke five loaves of bread for those five thousand people, how many baskets full of leftovers did you gather?”
They answered, “Twelve.”
“And when I broke seven loaves of bread for those four thousand people, how many baskets full of leftovers did you gather?”
“Seven,” they answered.
Jesus said to them, “Do you not yet understand?” Mark 8:14-21 (trans. mine)
Have you ever seen yeast at work? When my dad made bread, my brother and I would watch the yeast at work. Watching bread rise is almost like magic. Jesus used fermentation as an example of negative human behavior – and then pointed out how the disciples were fermenting negative thought patterns. Think of it this way: bad news ferments and travels faster than good news. Misunderstandings can ferment and harden the heart. Resentment can ferment into hate. Hate can ferment violence. Generalizing and stereotyping can stop unity and love from growing. The author Mark wrote that Jesus continually warned the disciples about this type of fermentation in their thinking and in their hearts.
This story appears at the half-way point of Mark’s Gospel. I wonder if Jesus is thinking about how these disciples were soon going to have to spread the Good News without him. Perhaps he thought, if they are laying blame over bread, are their hearts ready to spread the message of forgiveness and grace, love and unity!?
After taking a moment, Jesus reminded them that they watched bread multiply (like yeast) on two separate occasions. Yet they were worried they only had one loaf of bread. Fear of scarcity, it seems, can ferment quickly. They appeared to forget who they had in the boat with them. From time to time, especially in ministry, I let the fear of scarcity ferment in me. If this happens with you, here’s a prayer.
Lord Jesus, like the disciples in the boat, sometimes I forget my blessings and focus instead on my anxiety about my "one loaf". Guard my heart against the fermentation of legalism, pride, materialism, and fear that silently corrupts my faith. Lord Jesus, Bread of Life, I ask for the grace to remember all the good things you have done. When I am worried about material needs, remind me of your abundance. Help me to recall how you have provided for me before, and to trust that your grace is always enough. Amen.
- Fr. Dave
Jesus ordered them: “Be on guard for the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod.”
The disciples discussed this behind Jesus’ back saying, He said this because we have no bread,
and tried to blame each other for not packing enough bread.
Jesus perceived this and said, “Why are you talking about the fact that you don’t have any bread? Don’t you grasp what has happened?
Don’t you understand? Are your hearts so resistant to what God is doing? Don’t you have eyes? Why can’t you see? Don’t you have ears?
Why can’t you hear?
Don’t you remember? When I broke five loaves of bread for those five thousand people, how many baskets full of leftovers did you gather?”
They answered, “Twelve.”
“And when I broke seven loaves of bread for those four thousand people, how many baskets full of leftovers did you gather?”
“Seven,” they answered.
Jesus said to them, “Do you not yet understand?” Mark 8:14-21 (trans. mine)
Have you ever seen yeast at work? When my dad made bread, my brother and I would watch the yeast at work. Watching bread rise is almost like magic. Jesus used fermentation as an example of negative human behavior – and then pointed out how the disciples were fermenting negative thought patterns. Think of it this way: bad news ferments and travels faster than good news. Misunderstandings can ferment and harden the heart. Resentment can ferment into hate. Hate can ferment violence. Generalizing and stereotyping can stop unity and love from growing. The author Mark wrote that Jesus continually warned the disciples about this type of fermentation in their thinking and in their hearts.
This story appears at the half-way point of Mark’s Gospel. I wonder if Jesus is thinking about how these disciples were soon going to have to spread the Good News without him. Perhaps he thought, if they are laying blame over bread, are their hearts ready to spread the message of forgiveness and grace, love and unity!?
After taking a moment, Jesus reminded them that they watched bread multiply (like yeast) on two separate occasions. Yet they were worried they only had one loaf of bread. Fear of scarcity, it seems, can ferment quickly. They appeared to forget who they had in the boat with them. From time to time, especially in ministry, I let the fear of scarcity ferment in me. If this happens with you, here’s a prayer.
Lord Jesus, like the disciples in the boat, sometimes I forget my blessings and focus instead on my anxiety about my "one loaf". Guard my heart against the fermentation of legalism, pride, materialism, and fear that silently corrupts my faith. Lord Jesus, Bread of Life, I ask for the grace to remember all the good things you have done. When I am worried about material needs, remind me of your abundance. Help me to recall how you have provided for me before, and to trust that your grace is always enough. Amen.
- Fr. Dave
Row Me Out Jesus
Jesus led his disciples down to the shore of the lake. Large crowds followed him. Some people walked for three days because they had heard what Jesus was doing. He told his disciples to get a boat ready to keep him from being crushed by the crowds. After Jesus had healed many people, the other sick people begged him to let them touch him. Mark 3:7-9
I am writing daily meditations for the season of Lent which are posted on All Angels’ website. I want to share Monday’s lesson with you. Mark’s Gospel has the fewest of words out of the four Gospels. Because of that, I think the author weighs every word. Translating Mark from his original Greek to English means we get to focus our attention to the intention of his words. There are two verbs that caught my attention in the passage: “crushed” and “make-ready”. Let’s start with “crushed”.
Jesus wanted to avoid being “crushed” (θλίβωσιν thlibo) by the crowds. Thlibo is a widely used Greek term in the 1st century for wine making – to crush the grape. It was also used for emotional distress. Even today, some would say they were “crushed” by sad news or by their many responsibilities.
To avoid being crushed, Jesus asked the disciples to “make-ready” a rowboat for him. The words Mark used indicate this boat would be rowed along side Jesus as he walked along the shoreline greeting people. When Jesus felt as if he would be crushed – physically or emotionally, he’d simply step onto the rowboat and they’d take him out to a safe distance.
Commentators on this passage believe Mark used “crushed” and “make-ready” to demonstrate Jesus’s popularity. I think it’s deeper than that. People of the 21st century put a lot of importance on the number of likes on a Facebook page, the number of viewers of the Super Bowl, and how quickly a concert sells out. I think Mark’s point is beyond Jesus’s message going “viral”. The New Testament narrative of Jesus is that he lived, and died, like one of us. That means Jesus can be crushed – physically – by a crowd and that he can also get distressed and overwhelmed. He knows what it feels like to be crushed.
I’d like to be in the rowboat following Jesus along the shoreline. I’d like to be the one ready to take him into the boat when he was feeling crushed. I’d like to row him out, away from everybody, so that he can have a moment to himself. I’d like to do that because I believe Jesus does that for me every day of my life. I feel that his presence is with me always. Prayer and reading and meditating on Scripture is like a rowboat. It is always there, waiting for me when I am feeling crushed. Perhaps Jesus is telling us to make-ready our lives to turn to him in prayer and to take a moment to read Scripture when the world feels like it’s going to crush us.
If you are feeling that way, here’s a prayer that I use: Lord Jesus, in the busyness of my life, when I feel crushed by the demands of the world, I seek the protection of You on a boat. Row me out a bit so I can see the demands placed on me; but, with You by my side, I know they will not leave me distressed. Take me out from the shore, Lord Jesus, row me out. Amen.
- Fr. Dave
I am writing daily meditations for the season of Lent which are posted on All Angels’ website. I want to share Monday’s lesson with you. Mark’s Gospel has the fewest of words out of the four Gospels. Because of that, I think the author weighs every word. Translating Mark from his original Greek to English means we get to focus our attention to the intention of his words. There are two verbs that caught my attention in the passage: “crushed” and “make-ready”. Let’s start with “crushed”.
Jesus wanted to avoid being “crushed” (θλίβωσιν thlibo) by the crowds. Thlibo is a widely used Greek term in the 1st century for wine making – to crush the grape. It was also used for emotional distress. Even today, some would say they were “crushed” by sad news or by their many responsibilities.
To avoid being crushed, Jesus asked the disciples to “make-ready” a rowboat for him. The words Mark used indicate this boat would be rowed along side Jesus as he walked along the shoreline greeting people. When Jesus felt as if he would be crushed – physically or emotionally, he’d simply step onto the rowboat and they’d take him out to a safe distance.
Commentators on this passage believe Mark used “crushed” and “make-ready” to demonstrate Jesus’s popularity. I think it’s deeper than that. People of the 21st century put a lot of importance on the number of likes on a Facebook page, the number of viewers of the Super Bowl, and how quickly a concert sells out. I think Mark’s point is beyond Jesus’s message going “viral”. The New Testament narrative of Jesus is that he lived, and died, like one of us. That means Jesus can be crushed – physically – by a crowd and that he can also get distressed and overwhelmed. He knows what it feels like to be crushed.
I’d like to be in the rowboat following Jesus along the shoreline. I’d like to be the one ready to take him into the boat when he was feeling crushed. I’d like to row him out, away from everybody, so that he can have a moment to himself. I’d like to do that because I believe Jesus does that for me every day of my life. I feel that his presence is with me always. Prayer and reading and meditating on Scripture is like a rowboat. It is always there, waiting for me when I am feeling crushed. Perhaps Jesus is telling us to make-ready our lives to turn to him in prayer and to take a moment to read Scripture when the world feels like it’s going to crush us.
If you are feeling that way, here’s a prayer that I use: Lord Jesus, in the busyness of my life, when I feel crushed by the demands of the world, I seek the protection of You on a boat. Row me out a bit so I can see the demands placed on me; but, with You by my side, I know they will not leave me distressed. Take me out from the shore, Lord Jesus, row me out. Amen.
- Fr. Dave
To Provoke
God takes his stand in the council of heaven;
he gives judgment in the midst of the gods:
"How long will you judge unjustly,
and show favor to the wicked?
Save the weak and the orphan;
defend the humble and needy;
Rescue the weak and the poor;
deliver them from the power of the wicked.
They do not know, neither do they understand; they go about in darkness;
all the foundations of the earth are shaken.
Now I say to you, 'You are gods, and all of you children of the Most High;
Nevertheless, you shall die like mortals, and fall like any prince.'"
Arise, O God, and rule the earth, for you shall take all nations for your own.
Psalm 82
Yes, this psalm is in the Bible. Taking it as it is written, God addresses the other “gods” of the earth and tells them to save the weak, the poor and the orphan; to defend the humble and needy. What strikes me about the psalm is the last line: Arise, O God, and rule the earth. My favorite interpretation of the last verse of the psalm is that the people singing to God: “Arise! Rule the earth, take the nations as Your own!”
I’ve been thinking about “arise” and how it wells up from inside of humanity. Arise is a word of hope. When the people say, “Arise”, they believe that a) God hears us, b) God can do it, and c) the broken world is worth God’s attention and fixing. Arise equals hope.
Where does hope come from? I keep a book on my desk that I read portions of from time to time. It is The Hopeful Heart by John Claypool. Episcopal priest and author, Claypool writes this:
"What breath is to the physical body, hope is to the human spirit.
Hope is what consoles us. It is the fuel that energizes us,
gets us up in the morning and propels us through the day."
So, where does it come from? I think hope comes from God. I think God provokes in us with a spirit of hope. Despite the “council of gods” that judge unjustly and show favor to the wicked, there is a provocation of the human spirit, stirred up by God, for us to say to God, Arise!
God, our protector and guide, and God our provocateur of hope, has created us so that hope is to the human spirit as breath is to our physical body. As we are given breath, God too gives us hope.
Hope is what consoles us and is fuel that energizes us, but it doesn’t end with us individually. God’s provocation is a gift that we share with others. When God puts the Spirit of hope in us every morning, it is calling on us – you and me – to Arise! We are the ones arising to rescue the weak and the poor. In this world that has gone astray, it is God who is provoking us.
Let us pray: Lord God, You provoke in me a Spirit of hope. Arise in me to do Your work, to bring light and hope to a world gone wrong. Help me to bring hope to those who need it this day. I pray this with a hopeful heart that You have created. Amen.
- Fr. Dave
he gives judgment in the midst of the gods:
"How long will you judge unjustly,
and show favor to the wicked?
Save the weak and the orphan;
defend the humble and needy;
Rescue the weak and the poor;
deliver them from the power of the wicked.
They do not know, neither do they understand; they go about in darkness;
all the foundations of the earth are shaken.
Now I say to you, 'You are gods, and all of you children of the Most High;
Nevertheless, you shall die like mortals, and fall like any prince.'"
Arise, O God, and rule the earth, for you shall take all nations for your own.
Psalm 82
Yes, this psalm is in the Bible. Taking it as it is written, God addresses the other “gods” of the earth and tells them to save the weak, the poor and the orphan; to defend the humble and needy. What strikes me about the psalm is the last line: Arise, O God, and rule the earth. My favorite interpretation of the last verse of the psalm is that the people singing to God: “Arise! Rule the earth, take the nations as Your own!”
I’ve been thinking about “arise” and how it wells up from inside of humanity. Arise is a word of hope. When the people say, “Arise”, they believe that a) God hears us, b) God can do it, and c) the broken world is worth God’s attention and fixing. Arise equals hope.
Where does hope come from? I keep a book on my desk that I read portions of from time to time. It is The Hopeful Heart by John Claypool. Episcopal priest and author, Claypool writes this:
"What breath is to the physical body, hope is to the human spirit.
Hope is what consoles us. It is the fuel that energizes us,
gets us up in the morning and propels us through the day."
So, where does it come from? I think hope comes from God. I think God provokes in us with a spirit of hope. Despite the “council of gods” that judge unjustly and show favor to the wicked, there is a provocation of the human spirit, stirred up by God, for us to say to God, Arise!
God, our protector and guide, and God our provocateur of hope, has created us so that hope is to the human spirit as breath is to our physical body. As we are given breath, God too gives us hope.
Hope is what consoles us and is fuel that energizes us, but it doesn’t end with us individually. God’s provocation is a gift that we share with others. When God puts the Spirit of hope in us every morning, it is calling on us – you and me – to Arise! We are the ones arising to rescue the weak and the poor. In this world that has gone astray, it is God who is provoking us.
Let us pray: Lord God, You provoke in me a Spirit of hope. Arise in me to do Your work, to bring light and hope to a world gone wrong. Help me to bring hope to those who need it this day. I pray this with a hopeful heart that You have created. Amen.
- Fr. Dave
Take On Lent
During our Ash Wednesday service, I read this to you from the Book of Common Prayer:
I invite you to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God's holy Word.
Each of those invitations could involve giving something up or taking something on.
There are many ways to do fasting. Some chose to give up caffeine. Others give up sweets. For me, I am fasting from watching television news. There are many ways to do self-denial. I am going to try to refrain from overthinking and self-doubt.
Repentance can be done in a variety of ways from being more open minded, to recognizing wrongdoing, to saying a prayer of forgiveness every night before going to bed – “Forgive me for what I said, and for what I didn’t say; what I did and did not do; and for when I fell short today.”
Self-examination as a Lenten practice also can be done in a variety of ways. I have a friend who gets his annual physical during Lent. It’s literally a self-examination. Another way is to consider aspects of your personality and perhaps one thing that you’d like to change about yourself.
Not surprisingly, there are many ways to read and meditate on God’s holy Word. You can pick up a Bible every day and randomly read something out of it (and I can tell you from experience, this works and is rather amazing). I have given out several Bibles this season to people who want to try it. For me, reading and meditating on God’s holy Word involves prayer, self-examination, denial of the self, repentance (new ways of thinking), and frankly it involves fasting from reading something fast-paced like the latest murder-mystery book. It does not take long but the effects of reading and meditating on the Word will stick with you.
My take-on for Lent this year is to post a Scripture passage on our website, allangelslbk.org. Along with the passage, I will post something to meditate on and a prayer. I invite you, therefore, in the observance of a holy Lent. Together, let us read and meditate on God’s holy Word.
And, to make a right start of it, here is the passage I posted for Wednesday.
Jesus said: Store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes
and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Mt 6:20-21
Consider this: What is weighing on your heart right now? How would you describe your greatest heavenly treasure? What does Jesus promise you in this passage? Are you ready to give to Jesus that which weighs on your heart?
Prayer for today: I confess that I have allowed my heart to become entangled with earthly treasures. Forgive me for prioritizing material gain over spiritual wealth, for seeking satisfaction in things that rust and spoil. Help me to store up the treasures of love, joy and peace, because you promise those treasures will never be stolen and will never be consumed. Amen.
I invite you to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God's holy Word.
Each of those invitations could involve giving something up or taking something on.
There are many ways to do fasting. Some chose to give up caffeine. Others give up sweets. For me, I am fasting from watching television news. There are many ways to do self-denial. I am going to try to refrain from overthinking and self-doubt.
Repentance can be done in a variety of ways from being more open minded, to recognizing wrongdoing, to saying a prayer of forgiveness every night before going to bed – “Forgive me for what I said, and for what I didn’t say; what I did and did not do; and for when I fell short today.”
Self-examination as a Lenten practice also can be done in a variety of ways. I have a friend who gets his annual physical during Lent. It’s literally a self-examination. Another way is to consider aspects of your personality and perhaps one thing that you’d like to change about yourself.
Not surprisingly, there are many ways to read and meditate on God’s holy Word. You can pick up a Bible every day and randomly read something out of it (and I can tell you from experience, this works and is rather amazing). I have given out several Bibles this season to people who want to try it. For me, reading and meditating on God’s holy Word involves prayer, self-examination, denial of the self, repentance (new ways of thinking), and frankly it involves fasting from reading something fast-paced like the latest murder-mystery book. It does not take long but the effects of reading and meditating on the Word will stick with you.
My take-on for Lent this year is to post a Scripture passage on our website, allangelslbk.org. Along with the passage, I will post something to meditate on and a prayer. I invite you, therefore, in the observance of a holy Lent. Together, let us read and meditate on God’s holy Word.
And, to make a right start of it, here is the passage I posted for Wednesday.
Jesus said: Store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes
and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. Mt 6:20-21
Consider this: What is weighing on your heart right now? How would you describe your greatest heavenly treasure? What does Jesus promise you in this passage? Are you ready to give to Jesus that which weighs on your heart?
Prayer for today: I confess that I have allowed my heart to become entangled with earthly treasures. Forgive me for prioritizing material gain over spiritual wealth, for seeking satisfaction in things that rust and spoil. Help me to store up the treasures of love, joy and peace, because you promise those treasures will never be stolen and will never be consumed. Amen.
E.G.O.
Sandy Wood, treasurer of All Angels, told me that All Angels is a modest church.
The sanctuary, the nave of the church, and our parish hall are modest. We do not have high-end custom designs, the cross and altar do not represent extravagance, our landscaping lends towards natural design, ease of maintenance, and functionality.
Our design and our plan is for modesty.
The sanctuary, the nave of the church, and our parish hall are modest. We do not have high-end custom designs, the cross and altar do not represent extravagance, our landscaping lends towards natural design, ease of maintenance, and functionality.
Our design and our plan is for modesty.
The opposite is found at Gesu Roman Catholic church near South Beach, Miami. It is a fantastically ornate and beautiful church. One of the greatest things about Christianity is our diversity – both All Angels and Gesu are a part of Christ’s one holy Church (although they look vastly different).
The Christianity that All Angels lends itself towards is also modest. We are not a politically engaged church that is trying to reshape politics. We focus on stability, conversion and obedience as found in the Benedictine tradition. We lend ourselves to St. Francis’s approach to Christianity found in simplicity and humility. Our primary focus is on fellowship and personal spiritual growth for those who are here for a weekend, a season or a lifetime.
I find God in modesty, in simplicity and in humility. Other clergy find God by organizing marches on Washington DC or giving loud fiery sermons. And to be honest, some clergy find it better to do as they say and not as they do. Conversely, I believe in stability (both in our personal life and our church life); and conversion in prayer; and obedience in listening to others and contemplating God’s holy word.
A friend of mine told me that ego (the arrogant, self-absorbed part of each person) is an acronym that stands for Edging God Out. The self-fixated, extravagant, and expansive side of our personality, will edge God out if we let it. Modesty in our daily living, humility, simplicity, and attempting to seek God in every encounter, is how we let God in.
This morning, on my daily drive to All Angels, I was annoyed at a driver who would not pass a city bus who had pulled over on Cortez to let passengers off; instead, at each stop, the driver treated it like a school bus. By the third stop (just before the bridge), I uttered a phrase, which upon reflection, had plenty of e.g.o. in it. I was not proud of what I said so I turned off the rock music and said more prayers.
We’re a modest church and we are teaching others, including the priest, how to avoid edging God out and finding ways to let God in.
- Fr. Dave
The Christianity that All Angels lends itself towards is also modest. We are not a politically engaged church that is trying to reshape politics. We focus on stability, conversion and obedience as found in the Benedictine tradition. We lend ourselves to St. Francis’s approach to Christianity found in simplicity and humility. Our primary focus is on fellowship and personal spiritual growth for those who are here for a weekend, a season or a lifetime.
I find God in modesty, in simplicity and in humility. Other clergy find God by organizing marches on Washington DC or giving loud fiery sermons. And to be honest, some clergy find it better to do as they say and not as they do. Conversely, I believe in stability (both in our personal life and our church life); and conversion in prayer; and obedience in listening to others and contemplating God’s holy word.
A friend of mine told me that ego (the arrogant, self-absorbed part of each person) is an acronym that stands for Edging God Out. The self-fixated, extravagant, and expansive side of our personality, will edge God out if we let it. Modesty in our daily living, humility, simplicity, and attempting to seek God in every encounter, is how we let God in.
This morning, on my daily drive to All Angels, I was annoyed at a driver who would not pass a city bus who had pulled over on Cortez to let passengers off; instead, at each stop, the driver treated it like a school bus. By the third stop (just before the bridge), I uttered a phrase, which upon reflection, had plenty of e.g.o. in it. I was not proud of what I said so I turned off the rock music and said more prayers.
We’re a modest church and we are teaching others, including the priest, how to avoid edging God out and finding ways to let God in.
- Fr. Dave
Sandpaper
Suffering is the sandpaper of our incarnation. It does its work of shaping us.
― Ram Dass
The discussion groups this past week talked about the concept of incarnation, and particularly our Christmas story about the Word becoming flesh (the birth of Jesus). It can be a confusing topic. To act as a discussion primer, I created a document with seven quotes about incarnation; the last one was from Ram Dass, a spiritualist writer who connects incarnation, suffering, and shaping as a part of the human experience. His quote, shown above, says that suffering, like sandpaper, shapes us.
A major critique about whether God exists or not is this: how can God exist because there is suffering in the world. One way to look at that question is to see the connection between physical life and suffering. When Jesus was born, did he suffer? Yes, he did; a lot. Suffice it to say that God plays by the same rules of suffering (Jesus was not immune to it). Because the Incarnate Holy One was willing to suffer, that means there has to be some greater meaning and significance to suffering. What if suffering is a way that the human psyche and soul become compassionate, kind and empathetic. In that way, sandpaper – like suffering – is what smooths out the rough edges of our psyche and soul.
If that sounds strange, perhaps it is because 21st century American society (86% of adults) believes that suffering is a result of a “bad thing”. A vast majority believes that the “bad thing” is from societal structures and/or from individual actions. Incarnation is a good thing for us – Joy to the World – but it brought suffering to the Incarnate Word. The Christmas story is a very good thing. Perhaps one lesson we can learn from it is to take a different look at suffering. Maybe we should look at it like sandpaper.
My dad had a whole range of different sandpaper in his toolbox. Some had very fine grit, others had large grit that was visible to the naked eye. I learned that the sandpaper with the largest grit did the most amount of shaping. The fine grit, however, made wood smooth. Following along with our analogy of suffering and sandpaper, perhaps not all suffering has the same grit. And, perhaps not all of us have to be shaped in the same way.
One last thought: because the Incarnate One suffered, I like to think that suffering became holy. If that’s true, then the incarnation/holiness/suffering relationship is the sandpaper that gives shape to our earthly life. If that sounds too far-fetched, at least we have the notion that because of the Incarnation and suffering, Jesus knows what it is like to suffer and can identify with us when we do.
- Fr. Dave
― Ram Dass
The discussion groups this past week talked about the concept of incarnation, and particularly our Christmas story about the Word becoming flesh (the birth of Jesus). It can be a confusing topic. To act as a discussion primer, I created a document with seven quotes about incarnation; the last one was from Ram Dass, a spiritualist writer who connects incarnation, suffering, and shaping as a part of the human experience. His quote, shown above, says that suffering, like sandpaper, shapes us.
A major critique about whether God exists or not is this: how can God exist because there is suffering in the world. One way to look at that question is to see the connection between physical life and suffering. When Jesus was born, did he suffer? Yes, he did; a lot. Suffice it to say that God plays by the same rules of suffering (Jesus was not immune to it). Because the Incarnate Holy One was willing to suffer, that means there has to be some greater meaning and significance to suffering. What if suffering is a way that the human psyche and soul become compassionate, kind and empathetic. In that way, sandpaper – like suffering – is what smooths out the rough edges of our psyche and soul.
If that sounds strange, perhaps it is because 21st century American society (86% of adults) believes that suffering is a result of a “bad thing”. A vast majority believes that the “bad thing” is from societal structures and/or from individual actions. Incarnation is a good thing for us – Joy to the World – but it brought suffering to the Incarnate Word. The Christmas story is a very good thing. Perhaps one lesson we can learn from it is to take a different look at suffering. Maybe we should look at it like sandpaper.
My dad had a whole range of different sandpaper in his toolbox. Some had very fine grit, others had large grit that was visible to the naked eye. I learned that the sandpaper with the largest grit did the most amount of shaping. The fine grit, however, made wood smooth. Following along with our analogy of suffering and sandpaper, perhaps not all suffering has the same grit. And, perhaps not all of us have to be shaped in the same way.
One last thought: because the Incarnate One suffered, I like to think that suffering became holy. If that’s true, then the incarnation/holiness/suffering relationship is the sandpaper that gives shape to our earthly life. If that sounds too far-fetched, at least we have the notion that because of the Incarnation and suffering, Jesus knows what it is like to suffer and can identify with us when we do.
- Fr. Dave
Consider Your Call
Taking time to ponder and consider life is vital to our mental and spiritual health. The intentional practice of mental and spiritual self-evaluation boosts emotional balance, self-awareness and cognitive health. So why don’t we do it more often?
There is a line from some sales guru who said this: walk fast, talk fast, always-be-closing. Some in the sales profession want you to not consider, or ponder, but to act; now. Of course, there are many fine professionals who help you consider and make the right choice, but they’re not on my mind right now. What I am thinking about is the mind-numbing amount of advertisements we are inundated with daily. In the regular NFL season, I watched most Seahawks games through an app that automatically skipped over the commercials. During the playoffs, however, I watched games on live television. At one point I looked over at Christi and said, “Gosh, there are a lot of commercials.” Now that we are heading to the Super Bowl, where many people say, “I watch for the commercials,” I’d like to invite you to do something: consider your call.
The Apostle Paul wrote a letter to the Church in Corinth, around the year 0055, and invited them to consider their call. Although professional football, or television, had yet to be invented, life in Corinth had plenty of distractions. It was the capital city of the Roman province of Achaea and was a major cosmopolitan commercial center that controlled trade between northern Greece and the Peloponnese peninsula. The city featured a large, centralized marketplace, a forum for a variety of activities, and is situated on a narrow isthmus of land which made the population center dense and property expensive. I imagine the people of the city were used to the hustle and bustle of life. Amid, and perhaps because of, their city slicker life, Paul asked his readers to ponder and consider their call to religious life.
Accepting Paul’s invitation, let us also consider our call. Who invited you to All Angels? How did the church find you? Thinking back further, who invited you to participate in religious life? How would you categorize yourself back when you started? Have you grown since then?
Paul reflects that not many Corinthians were of noble (wealthy) birth. Not many were wise. Not many were powerful. Yet now, many are wealthy, powerful, and wise. Consider your call, he writes. In our day and time, I think Paul would write something like this:
Remember where you came from. See how far you have come.
Imagine the amazing things God is going to work through you in the future.
Consider your call, brothers and sisters.
Taking Paul’s invitation, I considered my call this week. It was an especially busy week; but, I took time to be quiet, turn off all distractions, be a little bored (frankly), and consider my call. I was invited to know Christ on a deeper level when I was a teenager. I was not mentally strong, or wise, or of noble birth, or powerful. I was a kid with loving, supportive parents and some amazing friends. I still have a loving, supportive family and amazing friends. Yet, look how far I have grown in Christ and all the amazing things God is doing in and around me!
When I consider those things, I feel more centered – both spiritually and mentally – just in time for the Super Bowl.
- Fr. Dave
There is a line from some sales guru who said this: walk fast, talk fast, always-be-closing. Some in the sales profession want you to not consider, or ponder, but to act; now. Of course, there are many fine professionals who help you consider and make the right choice, but they’re not on my mind right now. What I am thinking about is the mind-numbing amount of advertisements we are inundated with daily. In the regular NFL season, I watched most Seahawks games through an app that automatically skipped over the commercials. During the playoffs, however, I watched games on live television. At one point I looked over at Christi and said, “Gosh, there are a lot of commercials.” Now that we are heading to the Super Bowl, where many people say, “I watch for the commercials,” I’d like to invite you to do something: consider your call.
The Apostle Paul wrote a letter to the Church in Corinth, around the year 0055, and invited them to consider their call. Although professional football, or television, had yet to be invented, life in Corinth had plenty of distractions. It was the capital city of the Roman province of Achaea and was a major cosmopolitan commercial center that controlled trade between northern Greece and the Peloponnese peninsula. The city featured a large, centralized marketplace, a forum for a variety of activities, and is situated on a narrow isthmus of land which made the population center dense and property expensive. I imagine the people of the city were used to the hustle and bustle of life. Amid, and perhaps because of, their city slicker life, Paul asked his readers to ponder and consider their call to religious life.
Accepting Paul’s invitation, let us also consider our call. Who invited you to All Angels? How did the church find you? Thinking back further, who invited you to participate in religious life? How would you categorize yourself back when you started? Have you grown since then?
Paul reflects that not many Corinthians were of noble (wealthy) birth. Not many were wise. Not many were powerful. Yet now, many are wealthy, powerful, and wise. Consider your call, he writes. In our day and time, I think Paul would write something like this:
Remember where you came from. See how far you have come.
Imagine the amazing things God is going to work through you in the future.
Consider your call, brothers and sisters.
Taking Paul’s invitation, I considered my call this week. It was an especially busy week; but, I took time to be quiet, turn off all distractions, be a little bored (frankly), and consider my call. I was invited to know Christ on a deeper level when I was a teenager. I was not mentally strong, or wise, or of noble birth, or powerful. I was a kid with loving, supportive parents and some amazing friends. I still have a loving, supportive family and amazing friends. Yet, look how far I have grown in Christ and all the amazing things God is doing in and around me!
When I consider those things, I feel more centered – both spiritually and mentally – just in time for the Super Bowl.
- Fr. Dave
Wisdom and Fear
The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear?
The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom then shall I be afraid?
Psalm 27:1
Sometimes I worry about the “what-ifs” of life. Very few, if any, “what ifs” ever happen. But, when I start to worry, I turn to Psalm 27. It was written in Hebrew, around the year 1000 BCE, by King David. Musician, shepherd, and king, he united the tribes of Israel and began the construction of the first temple in Jerusalem. When I think about the first verse of psalm 27, wisdom comes to mind. I get the sense that the author has been through some rough times and has found the Lord to be his light and strength. It also tells me that this passage was written by someone who wasn’t certain of the future – he had his own “what ifs” – but he was certain about this: the Lord is his light and strength.
It is said there is a difference between saying the Lord is light and the Lord is my light. God is a personal God. We can believe and say anything about God; but, when it comes down to it, we decide who is our light; who is our strength. David believed it was the Lord. Wisdom brings us the knowledge that we are a part of something bigger. King David could have taken all the credit for uniting Israel and starting the most important construction project in history. But, as a testimony, his psalm says the light and the strength are of the Lord. Wisdom shows him he is a part of something bigger and therefore to not worry about the “what ifs”.
The light David spoke of is, in my experience, the type of light that finds us in the dark and refuses to leave us there. It is the light that I felt while sitting in the shadow of death visiting with my father for the last (earthly) time. It’s the light that joins us in sorrow and grief but will not let us stay there. Wisdom is counting on the light finding us and never leaving.
Of whom shall I fear? There are two Hebrew words for fear – yirah and pachad. This passage has both. Yirah often points to fear as reverence, respect and awe. Pachad is a gut-clenching, trembling fear of danger or punishment.
The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I yirah?
The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I pachad?
The first line – who shall I yirah – is a question answered by the One who is Light and Salvation. We offer reverence, respect and awe for life and light from the One who Was, and Is, and Will Be. In the second line, the question asked is one that David asked (over three thousand years ago) and we are still asking today – of what do you have a gut-clenching, trembling fear? King David is asking us to name what we are afraid of. Once named, he invites us to read the first line again. Since the Lord is my light and salvation, what am I really fearing? The answer: nothing, I pachad nothing.
Let’s say your greatest pachad is the volatile stock market. Can one offer respect, reverence and awe to God and, at the same time, be afraid of the stock market. David would say no. The Light finds you in darkness and will not leave you there. If your pachad is your health, political instability, the housing market, or death; King David is inviting us to not focus on the “what-ifs” of life but instead to follow the One who gives light and strength. Even in death, the Lord will lead us with his light, so, let us have no fear – except reverence and awe – and let go of the what ifs of life.
- Fr. Dave
The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom then shall I be afraid?
Psalm 27:1
Sometimes I worry about the “what-ifs” of life. Very few, if any, “what ifs” ever happen. But, when I start to worry, I turn to Psalm 27. It was written in Hebrew, around the year 1000 BCE, by King David. Musician, shepherd, and king, he united the tribes of Israel and began the construction of the first temple in Jerusalem. When I think about the first verse of psalm 27, wisdom comes to mind. I get the sense that the author has been through some rough times and has found the Lord to be his light and strength. It also tells me that this passage was written by someone who wasn’t certain of the future – he had his own “what ifs” – but he was certain about this: the Lord is his light and strength.
It is said there is a difference between saying the Lord is light and the Lord is my light. God is a personal God. We can believe and say anything about God; but, when it comes down to it, we decide who is our light; who is our strength. David believed it was the Lord. Wisdom brings us the knowledge that we are a part of something bigger. King David could have taken all the credit for uniting Israel and starting the most important construction project in history. But, as a testimony, his psalm says the light and the strength are of the Lord. Wisdom shows him he is a part of something bigger and therefore to not worry about the “what ifs”.
The light David spoke of is, in my experience, the type of light that finds us in the dark and refuses to leave us there. It is the light that I felt while sitting in the shadow of death visiting with my father for the last (earthly) time. It’s the light that joins us in sorrow and grief but will not let us stay there. Wisdom is counting on the light finding us and never leaving.
Of whom shall I fear? There are two Hebrew words for fear – yirah and pachad. This passage has both. Yirah often points to fear as reverence, respect and awe. Pachad is a gut-clenching, trembling fear of danger or punishment.
The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I yirah?
The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I pachad?
The first line – who shall I yirah – is a question answered by the One who is Light and Salvation. We offer reverence, respect and awe for life and light from the One who Was, and Is, and Will Be. In the second line, the question asked is one that David asked (over three thousand years ago) and we are still asking today – of what do you have a gut-clenching, trembling fear? King David is asking us to name what we are afraid of. Once named, he invites us to read the first line again. Since the Lord is my light and salvation, what am I really fearing? The answer: nothing, I pachad nothing.
Let’s say your greatest pachad is the volatile stock market. Can one offer respect, reverence and awe to God and, at the same time, be afraid of the stock market. David would say no. The Light finds you in darkness and will not leave you there. If your pachad is your health, political instability, the housing market, or death; King David is inviting us to not focus on the “what-ifs” of life but instead to follow the One who gives light and strength. Even in death, the Lord will lead us with his light, so, let us have no fear – except reverence and awe – and let go of the what ifs of life.
- Fr. Dave
Thirty
In my sermon this past week, I said that in my mind’s eye, I see Jesus as a fifty-year old rabbi of Palestinian descent. Although Hollywood often hires actors in their early thirties to portray him, I think Jesus was one of the oldest people in the room and was twenty years (or more) older than the disciples.
One way to live into our mission of bringing the Living Christ to those inside and outside the church is to post our service and video “shorts” online for people outside the church to engage with. My imagining of Jesus being a fifty-year old Palestinian Rabbi has generated a negative comment. The viewer wrote, “This is so dumb. Luke 3:23 says that Jesus was 30 when he started his ministry.” Here is my reply: Luke was most likely following the Hebrew Scripture approach of "30" being the time that one begins what they are called to do for the Lord. King David was "30" when he started his reign. Likewise, Jesus was "30". It's probably not about his birth to that day – like thirty years old – but rather a time of transition or beginning of ministry.
Here is the first sentence of the viewer’s reply to my reply: In no sense can this be taken figuratively, because Christ, as the perfect High Priest, had to fulfill the Law perfectly.
Anglican theology believes that two people can read the same passage of Scripture and have two different interpretations. For this viewer, fulfilling the law “perfectly” would be to begin his ministry when he was thirty. For me “thirty” is a way of expressing a beginning but not an actual birthdate. The Bible is full of numbers. The question is how to interpret them. “Rain fell on the earth forty days and forty nights.” (Gen 7:12) “The Israelites traveled in the wilderness for forty years.” (Joshua 5:6) “Forty” is mentioned more than 145 times in the Bible. “Thirty” is mentioned over 170 times. “Twelve” is mentioned over 180 times. Thirty, forty, and twelve are important numbers; are they exact numbers or are they symbolic?
I think they are all symbolic and sometimes they are exact. The big question, however, is what does it mean to us, today? Symbolically speaking, I was “30” when I was ordained in the Episcopal Church because it was the beginning of my ordained life and nothing about my life would be the same. My driver’s license, however, showed that I was 37 years old. If I had been ordained when my license showed I was thirty years old, I would not be the same priest I am today because I wasn’t ready. My friend, Deacon Tom, was “30” when he was ordained but his license said he was 62. Bishop Scharf was “30” at the start of his ministry but in terms of earth years he was 27. Perhaps Jesus was ready when he was 30-years old, but the world was not.
Unity of the Holy Spirit is that we are all “30” when our work of ministry begins; our actual age, however, will vary. The Altar Guild is transitioning in leadership from Ginny Upshaw to Linda Fletcher. For us at All Angels, Linda has turned 30 because it’s when her leadership in ministry begins. Her actual age, however, is different. Abraham was 30 when he heard the Lord call him to a new land. His actual age was substantially different.
The viewer and I are united in our belief that Jesus is the perfect High Priest. We believe he started his ministry and that it is ongoing. We also (probably) believe that Scripture is all that is necessary for salvation and that it is the Word of God. That unifies us in belief, faith and hope. The rest are just numbers.
- Fr. Dave
One way to live into our mission of bringing the Living Christ to those inside and outside the church is to post our service and video “shorts” online for people outside the church to engage with. My imagining of Jesus being a fifty-year old Palestinian Rabbi has generated a negative comment. The viewer wrote, “This is so dumb. Luke 3:23 says that Jesus was 30 when he started his ministry.” Here is my reply: Luke was most likely following the Hebrew Scripture approach of "30" being the time that one begins what they are called to do for the Lord. King David was "30" when he started his reign. Likewise, Jesus was "30". It's probably not about his birth to that day – like thirty years old – but rather a time of transition or beginning of ministry.
Here is the first sentence of the viewer’s reply to my reply: In no sense can this be taken figuratively, because Christ, as the perfect High Priest, had to fulfill the Law perfectly.
Anglican theology believes that two people can read the same passage of Scripture and have two different interpretations. For this viewer, fulfilling the law “perfectly” would be to begin his ministry when he was thirty. For me “thirty” is a way of expressing a beginning but not an actual birthdate. The Bible is full of numbers. The question is how to interpret them. “Rain fell on the earth forty days and forty nights.” (Gen 7:12) “The Israelites traveled in the wilderness for forty years.” (Joshua 5:6) “Forty” is mentioned more than 145 times in the Bible. “Thirty” is mentioned over 170 times. “Twelve” is mentioned over 180 times. Thirty, forty, and twelve are important numbers; are they exact numbers or are they symbolic?
I think they are all symbolic and sometimes they are exact. The big question, however, is what does it mean to us, today? Symbolically speaking, I was “30” when I was ordained in the Episcopal Church because it was the beginning of my ordained life and nothing about my life would be the same. My driver’s license, however, showed that I was 37 years old. If I had been ordained when my license showed I was thirty years old, I would not be the same priest I am today because I wasn’t ready. My friend, Deacon Tom, was “30” when he was ordained but his license said he was 62. Bishop Scharf was “30” at the start of his ministry but in terms of earth years he was 27. Perhaps Jesus was ready when he was 30-years old, but the world was not.
Unity of the Holy Spirit is that we are all “30” when our work of ministry begins; our actual age, however, will vary. The Altar Guild is transitioning in leadership from Ginny Upshaw to Linda Fletcher. For us at All Angels, Linda has turned 30 because it’s when her leadership in ministry begins. Her actual age, however, is different. Abraham was 30 when he heard the Lord call him to a new land. His actual age was substantially different.
The viewer and I are united in our belief that Jesus is the perfect High Priest. We believe he started his ministry and that it is ongoing. We also (probably) believe that Scripture is all that is necessary for salvation and that it is the Word of God. That unifies us in belief, faith and hope. The rest are just numbers.
- Fr. Dave
Theopoetic
I like to read books on vacation. On our most recent cruise, over the New Years holiday, I was given a fiction book which was not a murder mystery and yet I enjoyed it (Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Bookstore by Robin Sloan). I also like to read heavy theological tomes that I don’t have the patience or time to ponder during the work week. For this vacation, I read, Is It God's Will: Making Sense of Tragedy, Luck, and Hope in a World Gone Wrong by Brandon Ambrosino. Written in 2025, the book grapples with suffering and divine providence, exploring God's role as a sustainer of love and hope, not just a controller of events.
In that book, the author self-describes as a “theopoetic”. Theo means God. Poetic means “making” through artistic creation – using words and art to express lived experience. The word is common in English as “poetry”. Poets were considered “makers” which is a concept that now extends to all arts; most recently to “film makers” (kinemato-poetic).
While on vacation I had an epiphany that I am a theopoetic. I use words and metaphor to describe the awe and wonder of God. St. John of the Cross and many other theologians asserted that God is transcendent and therefore unknowable. In response to their Theo-critique, those of us who identify as theopoetics use words and art to “make” God knowable and relatable.
The Bible exists because of theopoetics. Abraham experienced God and someone expressed it in words. Moses experienced God, in some unique and unexpected ways, and people expressed his lived experience in words that later created some of the world’s most profound art (and inspired Cecil b. DeMille to make the epic movie The Ten Commandments in 1956).
We have a parishioner – who retired from a 42-year newspaper career – who was badly injured by a fall over the New Years holiday. After substantial medical procedures, he is now recovering well. When I visited him this past week, I took his hands and saw that he was beaming with joy. Some might see his fall as a tragedy and wonder where God is in times of suffering. But, in his theopoetical way his smile expressed to me that God is working with, and through, and in him.
The Bible helps us, theopoetically, to get a sense of the Divine in suffering. Every person in the Bible suffered. Yet, the words of the Bible show us that suffering is not the end. Moses suffered humiliation and defeat. He was alone, tending sheep that were not his in a foreign land. Yet, God spoke to him through a bush that was burning yet not consumed by the flame. God, in His theopoetical way, expressed to Moses that he was seen, heard, forgiven, loved and that God had a nearly unimaginable plan for him. As a result of God’s theopoetical way, as the One who sustains love and hope, Moses headed out to set his people free from bondage.
I think you have the choice to be a theopoetic too (without having to see a burning bush). Choosing to sustain love by expressions of welcome to others, and saying kind words, are making Theo known. If you choose to express hope, even in times of suffering, by helping others, you too will be joining in making God known through words, art and expression.
- Fr. Dave
In that book, the author self-describes as a “theopoetic”. Theo means God. Poetic means “making” through artistic creation – using words and art to express lived experience. The word is common in English as “poetry”. Poets were considered “makers” which is a concept that now extends to all arts; most recently to “film makers” (kinemato-poetic).
While on vacation I had an epiphany that I am a theopoetic. I use words and metaphor to describe the awe and wonder of God. St. John of the Cross and many other theologians asserted that God is transcendent and therefore unknowable. In response to their Theo-critique, those of us who identify as theopoetics use words and art to “make” God knowable and relatable.
The Bible exists because of theopoetics. Abraham experienced God and someone expressed it in words. Moses experienced God, in some unique and unexpected ways, and people expressed his lived experience in words that later created some of the world’s most profound art (and inspired Cecil b. DeMille to make the epic movie The Ten Commandments in 1956).
We have a parishioner – who retired from a 42-year newspaper career – who was badly injured by a fall over the New Years holiday. After substantial medical procedures, he is now recovering well. When I visited him this past week, I took his hands and saw that he was beaming with joy. Some might see his fall as a tragedy and wonder where God is in times of suffering. But, in his theopoetical way his smile expressed to me that God is working with, and through, and in him.
The Bible helps us, theopoetically, to get a sense of the Divine in suffering. Every person in the Bible suffered. Yet, the words of the Bible show us that suffering is not the end. Moses suffered humiliation and defeat. He was alone, tending sheep that were not his in a foreign land. Yet, God spoke to him through a bush that was burning yet not consumed by the flame. God, in His theopoetical way, expressed to Moses that he was seen, heard, forgiven, loved and that God had a nearly unimaginable plan for him. As a result of God’s theopoetical way, as the One who sustains love and hope, Moses headed out to set his people free from bondage.
I think you have the choice to be a theopoetic too (without having to see a burning bush). Choosing to sustain love by expressions of welcome to others, and saying kind words, are making Theo known. If you choose to express hope, even in times of suffering, by helping others, you too will be joining in making God known through words, art and expression.
- Fr. Dave
Humility and Simplicity, Part 2
Last week I wrote to you about the Franciscan practice of humility. Today I am writing to you about humility’s twin – simplicity. Before we jump into simplicity, let’s recap humility. It is a chosen path of modesty and recognizing your worth without exercising arrogance. Some would say it is thinking of yourself less, not thinking less of yourself. Humility frees us to see everything as a gift from God. Breath in your lungs, the beauty of this day, love in your heart and friendships – each one, through humility, is seen as a gift from God.
Inner simplicity is the life-long spiritual practice of releasing emotional clutter. One way to start is to consider the emotional strings that bind your soul. Many will start with their attachment to judgement and blame. How often do you judge yourself with the phrase, “I should have.” I should have known better. I should have done this or not done that. I should have been better at this by now. Each one of those “should-haves” is a judgement that binds the soul. The companion phrase to I-should-have is he/she should have. You can add the phrase, “known better”, “Done (or not done) that”, “be better by now”. Judgement and blame can be leveled at a medical doctor, a professor, a family member or even the stranger driving the car in front of you. These little strings of judgement and blame are sometimes too light to be felt until they are too strong to be broken without intention. Simplicity is the intentional practice of cutting your soul free from each one.
This past year I preached about the book Let Them by Mel Robbins. She exemplifies simplicity, in how to release oneself from judgement and blame, with this two-word phrase: let them. Her philosophy is to let go of external expectations of others and to focus on what you can control. Simplicity/humility teaches us that one can control one’s own actions; you cannot control what others do. “Let them” is an invitation to release yourself from judging others – because you cannot control their behavior – and to consider what you have control over.
Simplicity – releasing oneself from judgement and blame – will help us to find appreciation for the small wonders of daily life. I practiced this one day on the way home from All Angels. The car in front of me was consistently driving below the speed limit on the Tamiami. Not surprisingly, we missed the green light by the airport. I had been writing this piece and decided to practice letting go of the judgement and blame I had placed on the driver in front of me (he should have gone the speed limit so we didn’t miss the light!). As soon as I replaced the “should have” with this thought: let them drive below the speed limit, I noticed a drop of water on the windshield that I was not aware of before. The low afternoon sun, shining through the drop, created a rainbow bubble that was about the size of a dress shirt button. I stared at it with awe. Inside of that drop of water was every color imaginable in creation. All of them. Those colors were the same yesterday and will be the same always. Had I not stopped at that light, I would not have been in awe of God’s creation in its simplicity and majesty and its changelessness.
There is a simplicity to faith that brings joy. If we can release judgement and blame that binds our soul, we will allow ourselves to be free to see the simple wonders in daily life. Humility will help us to see our place in creation and to think less often of ourselves and to instead find appreciation for being included in this vast and beautiful creation.
-Fr. Dave
Inner simplicity is the life-long spiritual practice of releasing emotional clutter. One way to start is to consider the emotional strings that bind your soul. Many will start with their attachment to judgement and blame. How often do you judge yourself with the phrase, “I should have.” I should have known better. I should have done this or not done that. I should have been better at this by now. Each one of those “should-haves” is a judgement that binds the soul. The companion phrase to I-should-have is he/she should have. You can add the phrase, “known better”, “Done (or not done) that”, “be better by now”. Judgement and blame can be leveled at a medical doctor, a professor, a family member or even the stranger driving the car in front of you. These little strings of judgement and blame are sometimes too light to be felt until they are too strong to be broken without intention. Simplicity is the intentional practice of cutting your soul free from each one.
This past year I preached about the book Let Them by Mel Robbins. She exemplifies simplicity, in how to release oneself from judgement and blame, with this two-word phrase: let them. Her philosophy is to let go of external expectations of others and to focus on what you can control. Simplicity/humility teaches us that one can control one’s own actions; you cannot control what others do. “Let them” is an invitation to release yourself from judging others – because you cannot control their behavior – and to consider what you have control over.
Simplicity – releasing oneself from judgement and blame – will help us to find appreciation for the small wonders of daily life. I practiced this one day on the way home from All Angels. The car in front of me was consistently driving below the speed limit on the Tamiami. Not surprisingly, we missed the green light by the airport. I had been writing this piece and decided to practice letting go of the judgement and blame I had placed on the driver in front of me (he should have gone the speed limit so we didn’t miss the light!). As soon as I replaced the “should have” with this thought: let them drive below the speed limit, I noticed a drop of water on the windshield that I was not aware of before. The low afternoon sun, shining through the drop, created a rainbow bubble that was about the size of a dress shirt button. I stared at it with awe. Inside of that drop of water was every color imaginable in creation. All of them. Those colors were the same yesterday and will be the same always. Had I not stopped at that light, I would not have been in awe of God’s creation in its simplicity and majesty and its changelessness.
There is a simplicity to faith that brings joy. If we can release judgement and blame that binds our soul, we will allow ourselves to be free to see the simple wonders in daily life. Humility will help us to see our place in creation and to think less often of ourselves and to instead find appreciation for being included in this vast and beautiful creation.
-Fr. Dave
Humility & Simplicity, Part I
I wrote to you about the Benedictine spiritual practices of stability, conversion and obedience. Franciscan spirituality developed roughly 700 years later and focuses on two principles: humility and simplicity. Similar to stability-conversion-obedience, humility and simplicity are twins; they are woven together to make a tapestry of life-long faith. I’m going to explore these with you this week and next in the Reflection. If you are seeking freedom from fear, and the constant changes of life that pull us one way and then the next, this series about humility and simplicity is for you.
Humility, according to St. Francis, is knowing our place in creation. According to God’s created order, our place is as stewards of creation. Francis believed that true humility is recognizing these three principles: We are nothing without creation. We are nothing without God. We have a place – a job to do – in the order. Humility is recognizing that all we have (especially that for which we take for granted) is a gift from God.
There is a big difference between humility and humiliation. Humility is a chosen path of modesty and recognizing your worth without exercising arrogance. Some would say it is thinking of yourself less, not thinking less of yourself. Humiliation, on the other hand, is a negative, imposed feeling of embarrassment that takes away dignity. In other words, being made to feel like we are nothing. Humility is recognizing we have a place in God’s order and, as such, we are something.
St. Francis’s humility is the intentional spiritual practice of recognizing everything we have is a gift from God. The air you are breathing is a gift from God. Your digestive system. The beating of your heart. Gravity. Everything is a gift from God. We depend on it. Without it, we’re nothing.
Francis highlights the things we take for granted, like gravity, air, our circulatory and digestive system. If you’ve ever run out of, or had trouble with, any of those, you’ll have a deeper sense of Franciscan spirituality. My friend from High School, Geoff, has recently had his bladder removed because of cancer. He hadn’t really thought much about his digestive and waste elimination system before; but he does now. To grow in gratitude, Francis, the teacher, would not want us to waste the opportunity of a malfunctioning system. For instance, when we get sick, the humble person will take the opportunity to find gratitude in simple things. Conversely, the healthy person must work harder to seek gratitude. Without gratitude, we are nothing.
Do you have a particular spot you like to sit in at church, or at home, or your favorite restaurant? I think we all do. We, as humans, like to know our place. Francis teaches us that our place in creation is as humble stewards and beloved children all within a single, interconnected family of God’s creation. Creation does not create possessions for us to use and discard. Instead, we are to see our place in creation as stewards – harmony creators if you will – and to praise God through our connection to nature. Humility, seeing everything as a gift, and growing in gratitude, will help us to see nature as a mirror of God. A simple walk outdoors will then feel like a gift. Fear of our ever-changing times and finding joy in creation cannot exist at the same time. Joy, rooted in humility with nature, will naturally drive out fear. Taking time to see God reflected in nature, and in ourselves, will release fear of our ever-changing times and bring about joy.
Humility, according to St. Francis, is knowing our place in creation. According to God’s created order, our place is as stewards of creation. Francis believed that true humility is recognizing these three principles: We are nothing without creation. We are nothing without God. We have a place – a job to do – in the order. Humility is recognizing that all we have (especially that for which we take for granted) is a gift from God.
There is a big difference between humility and humiliation. Humility is a chosen path of modesty and recognizing your worth without exercising arrogance. Some would say it is thinking of yourself less, not thinking less of yourself. Humiliation, on the other hand, is a negative, imposed feeling of embarrassment that takes away dignity. In other words, being made to feel like we are nothing. Humility is recognizing we have a place in God’s order and, as such, we are something.
St. Francis’s humility is the intentional spiritual practice of recognizing everything we have is a gift from God. The air you are breathing is a gift from God. Your digestive system. The beating of your heart. Gravity. Everything is a gift from God. We depend on it. Without it, we’re nothing.
Francis highlights the things we take for granted, like gravity, air, our circulatory and digestive system. If you’ve ever run out of, or had trouble with, any of those, you’ll have a deeper sense of Franciscan spirituality. My friend from High School, Geoff, has recently had his bladder removed because of cancer. He hadn’t really thought much about his digestive and waste elimination system before; but he does now. To grow in gratitude, Francis, the teacher, would not want us to waste the opportunity of a malfunctioning system. For instance, when we get sick, the humble person will take the opportunity to find gratitude in simple things. Conversely, the healthy person must work harder to seek gratitude. Without gratitude, we are nothing.
Do you have a particular spot you like to sit in at church, or at home, or your favorite restaurant? I think we all do. We, as humans, like to know our place. Francis teaches us that our place in creation is as humble stewards and beloved children all within a single, interconnected family of God’s creation. Creation does not create possessions for us to use and discard. Instead, we are to see our place in creation as stewards – harmony creators if you will – and to praise God through our connection to nature. Humility, seeing everything as a gift, and growing in gratitude, will help us to see nature as a mirror of God. A simple walk outdoors will then feel like a gift. Fear of our ever-changing times and finding joy in creation cannot exist at the same time. Joy, rooted in humility with nature, will naturally drive out fear. Taking time to see God reflected in nature, and in ourselves, will release fear of our ever-changing times and bring about joy.
Endless Peace
He is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. There shall be endless peace. He will establish and uphold peace with justice and with righteousness from this time onward and forevermore.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this. Based on Isaiah 9:6-7
This will be a sign for you: you will find a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger. Suddenly a multitude of the angels praising God said, “Glory to God in the highest, and peace to his people on earth.” Luke 2:12-14
This past summer my 15-year-old son and I went on a road trip to the World War II museum in New Orleans. I’d highly recommend a trip to experience it. They do not glorify war; instead, they show the sacrifice that was needed to bring peace.
When Isaiah prophesied endless peace and, more than 700 years later, the angels declared peace to God’s people on earth, it was clear that they were not talking about the end of war on earth. The endless peace is, I believe, internal. Inner peace is most profound when in times of turmoil – like how the stars shine brightest on the darkest night.
Through all the varied and swift changes in our world, the Peace of God is inside of us and guiding us like a star. May you experience that peace and have a Merry Christmas.
- Fr. Dave
The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this. Based on Isaiah 9:6-7
This will be a sign for you: you will find a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger. Suddenly a multitude of the angels praising God said, “Glory to God in the highest, and peace to his people on earth.” Luke 2:12-14
This past summer my 15-year-old son and I went on a road trip to the World War II museum in New Orleans. I’d highly recommend a trip to experience it. They do not glorify war; instead, they show the sacrifice that was needed to bring peace.
When Isaiah prophesied endless peace and, more than 700 years later, the angels declared peace to God’s people on earth, it was clear that they were not talking about the end of war on earth. The endless peace is, I believe, internal. Inner peace is most profound when in times of turmoil – like how the stars shine brightest on the darkest night.
Through all the varied and swift changes in our world, the Peace of God is inside of us and guiding us like a star. May you experience that peace and have a Merry Christmas.
- Fr. Dave
Men Wholly and Holy
I attended St. Martin’s University, a Benedictine university in western Washington, that has an active monastery. The monks at St. Martin’s have dedicated their lives to the Order of St. Benedict and to the education of the students of St. Martin’s. I am a recipient of their devotion.
Lunch at St. Martin’s is a highlight of the day. One can eat lunch with the Abbot or the President of the university as well as the landscaping crew and professors. I got to know a monk who shared with me about the Order and the stability-conversion-obedience he has dedicated himself to. One day, while eating lunch together with a group of students, a friend asked Br. Andrew about what drew him into the Order of St. Benedict. In typical monastic fashion, he paused, reflected on the question, and then responded with this: My life was chaotic and out of control. I tried everything that I thought would bring stability – workaholism, alcoholism, dating, strict dieting, overeating, excessive workouts – which led to debilitating depression. My therapist, who was in the Order of St. Benedict, suggested I check myself into a five-day stay at a monastery.
The student asked: What happened when you got there? Did you feel the strong pull of God’s love? Br. Andrew chuckled. He responded: No, that’s not what happened. I was given a schedule of labor then prayer then more labor. I was woken up at 4:30 am for morning prayer. Then I pulled weeds until 6 am. Then came Lauds (day prayer). I swept the front walk until Mass was at 7 am. I trimmed trees until Sext (midday prayer). Then a simple meal. More trimming until None (2 pm afternoon prayer). I was given psalms to read and contemplate until Vespers at 5:30. We had a large but simple meal in silence. Then I cleaned the kitchen until 7 pm Compline. After that, I showered and got ready for the next day. Lights out and silence at 8:30 pm. The order of day suddenly brought stability into my life. What had been chaotic had become ordered.
The student asked: So you were a believer before you started? He chuckled again, and replied: No; no I wasn’t a believer when I started. Six months after my five-day stay, I relied on the structure and order. I thought about leaving but realized my life would quickly become chaotic again. Two years, maybe three years later, I found comfort in faith in Christ. I could tell that a presence was with me in labor and in prayer; but, if I can be frank, the Presence is much stronger when I am doing labor than in prayer. I think of my prayer; of my adoration; as a thanksgiving response to the Presence that I feel while doing work for the monastery.
We were all surprised. Here is one of the most holy people we have ever met. We thought he had it all figured out. What he shared with us is that he too is trying to figure it out. His devotion to the Order has brought him stability. We saw his conversion – none of us could imagine him as a workaholic, alcoholic, or dating (or excessively working out). He is a holy man. He, however, did not consider himself that way.
Matthew’s Gospel begins with this: The birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. I consider Joseph to be one of the most holy and dedicated people in the Bible. But, if you had lunch with Joseph, he might tell you he doesn’t consider himself that way. He simply followed in his Jewish tradition of obedience – listening to God – and, as a result, he named the newborn child, Jesus.
Lunch at St. Martin’s is a highlight of the day. One can eat lunch with the Abbot or the President of the university as well as the landscaping crew and professors. I got to know a monk who shared with me about the Order and the stability-conversion-obedience he has dedicated himself to. One day, while eating lunch together with a group of students, a friend asked Br. Andrew about what drew him into the Order of St. Benedict. In typical monastic fashion, he paused, reflected on the question, and then responded with this: My life was chaotic and out of control. I tried everything that I thought would bring stability – workaholism, alcoholism, dating, strict dieting, overeating, excessive workouts – which led to debilitating depression. My therapist, who was in the Order of St. Benedict, suggested I check myself into a five-day stay at a monastery.
The student asked: What happened when you got there? Did you feel the strong pull of God’s love? Br. Andrew chuckled. He responded: No, that’s not what happened. I was given a schedule of labor then prayer then more labor. I was woken up at 4:30 am for morning prayer. Then I pulled weeds until 6 am. Then came Lauds (day prayer). I swept the front walk until Mass was at 7 am. I trimmed trees until Sext (midday prayer). Then a simple meal. More trimming until None (2 pm afternoon prayer). I was given psalms to read and contemplate until Vespers at 5:30. We had a large but simple meal in silence. Then I cleaned the kitchen until 7 pm Compline. After that, I showered and got ready for the next day. Lights out and silence at 8:30 pm. The order of day suddenly brought stability into my life. What had been chaotic had become ordered.
The student asked: So you were a believer before you started? He chuckled again, and replied: No; no I wasn’t a believer when I started. Six months after my five-day stay, I relied on the structure and order. I thought about leaving but realized my life would quickly become chaotic again. Two years, maybe three years later, I found comfort in faith in Christ. I could tell that a presence was with me in labor and in prayer; but, if I can be frank, the Presence is much stronger when I am doing labor than in prayer. I think of my prayer; of my adoration; as a thanksgiving response to the Presence that I feel while doing work for the monastery.
We were all surprised. Here is one of the most holy people we have ever met. We thought he had it all figured out. What he shared with us is that he too is trying to figure it out. His devotion to the Order has brought him stability. We saw his conversion – none of us could imagine him as a workaholic, alcoholic, or dating (or excessively working out). He is a holy man. He, however, did not consider himself that way.
Matthew’s Gospel begins with this: The birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. I consider Joseph to be one of the most holy and dedicated people in the Bible. But, if you had lunch with Joseph, he might tell you he doesn’t consider himself that way. He simply followed in his Jewish tradition of obedience – listening to God – and, as a result, he named the newborn child, Jesus.
Overshadowed
Mary replied to the angel Gabriel, “How can this be?” The angel replied: “The Holy Spirit will come over you and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore, the one who is to be born will be holy. He will be called God’s Son.”
The week of the third Sunday of Advent is named “joy”. It is the week we take time to focus on Mary, the mother of Jesus. I’ve been thinking about Mary lately. She asks good questions and she likes to ponder before reacting. Those are qualities that make a happier life. Perhaps that is why the third week of Advent is called “joy”.
Mary asked the angel Gabriel, how can it be that I will give birth? She was told the Holy Spirit will overshadow her. The Greek word the Gospel writer Luke used is episkiázōTh. It literally means “to shade”, “to overshadow”, the way a cloud casts a shadow. Usage of “overshadow” is rare in the Bible. Luke used the word in the Book of Acts, when Peter’s shadow covered people as he walked by and they were instantly healed (5:15). Mark used the word in his Gospel to describe the cloud that overcame Peter, James and John at the transfiguration of Jesus (9:7). And, as shown above, it was also used in describing how the virgin will bear a child.
Luke’s Gospel is not simply a report, like a diary or a news show; it also is not poetry that should only be read allegorically. His Gospel is somewhere in-between those two styles. He is reporting on what he has heard and seen. It also has a strong spiritual element that goes much deeper than the detailed description of the events. “Overshadowed” (episkiázōis) is one of those times where the reader gets to engage in the story and ponder it deeply in our own life.
Each person who was overshadowed had a life-changing event. Peter, James and John were with Jesus when suddenly his clothes became dazzling white. As they were pondering this they were overshadowed by a cloud. God spoke to them directly – this is my son, listen to him. The overshadowing changed the trajectory of their life forever. After Jesus’s resurrection and ascension, the apostles lived into the authority and power given them by the Holy Spirit. Crowds would gather along the road to see the Apostle Peter walk by. Luke recorded stories of people who were healed by the shadow of Peter overshadowing them. That healing event also changed the trajectory of their lives.
The biggest overshadow of them all is also the most intimate. Mary was overshadowed... then later gave birth to Jesus. We have no accurate record of what Mary’s life was like before she was overshadowed. What we can imagine, however, is that her life took a sudden and dramatic turn and she was never the same again.
I think overshadowing still occurs. I myself have been overshadowed by becoming a parent and my life was never the same again. Some have been overshadowed when they became grandparents. Others have been overshadowed by a diagnosis. Once they received treatment and healing, their life was never the same again. Pondering the times when we have been overshadowed and have been transformed as a result can be a source of joy. Following in Mary’s footsteps and pattern of life, let us take time this week to ponder when we too have been overshadowed and transformed. May the time of pondering fill us with joy this Advent season.
-Fr. Dave
The week of the third Sunday of Advent is named “joy”. It is the week we take time to focus on Mary, the mother of Jesus. I’ve been thinking about Mary lately. She asks good questions and she likes to ponder before reacting. Those are qualities that make a happier life. Perhaps that is why the third week of Advent is called “joy”.
Mary asked the angel Gabriel, how can it be that I will give birth? She was told the Holy Spirit will overshadow her. The Greek word the Gospel writer Luke used is episkiázōTh. It literally means “to shade”, “to overshadow”, the way a cloud casts a shadow. Usage of “overshadow” is rare in the Bible. Luke used the word in the Book of Acts, when Peter’s shadow covered people as he walked by and they were instantly healed (5:15). Mark used the word in his Gospel to describe the cloud that overcame Peter, James and John at the transfiguration of Jesus (9:7). And, as shown above, it was also used in describing how the virgin will bear a child.
Luke’s Gospel is not simply a report, like a diary or a news show; it also is not poetry that should only be read allegorically. His Gospel is somewhere in-between those two styles. He is reporting on what he has heard and seen. It also has a strong spiritual element that goes much deeper than the detailed description of the events. “Overshadowed” (episkiázōis) is one of those times where the reader gets to engage in the story and ponder it deeply in our own life.
Each person who was overshadowed had a life-changing event. Peter, James and John were with Jesus when suddenly his clothes became dazzling white. As they were pondering this they were overshadowed by a cloud. God spoke to them directly – this is my son, listen to him. The overshadowing changed the trajectory of their life forever. After Jesus’s resurrection and ascension, the apostles lived into the authority and power given them by the Holy Spirit. Crowds would gather along the road to see the Apostle Peter walk by. Luke recorded stories of people who were healed by the shadow of Peter overshadowing them. That healing event also changed the trajectory of their lives.
The biggest overshadow of them all is also the most intimate. Mary was overshadowed... then later gave birth to Jesus. We have no accurate record of what Mary’s life was like before she was overshadowed. What we can imagine, however, is that her life took a sudden and dramatic turn and she was never the same again.
I think overshadowing still occurs. I myself have been overshadowed by becoming a parent and my life was never the same again. Some have been overshadowed when they became grandparents. Others have been overshadowed by a diagnosis. Once they received treatment and healing, their life was never the same again. Pondering the times when we have been overshadowed and have been transformed as a result can be a source of joy. Following in Mary’s footsteps and pattern of life, let us take time this week to ponder when we too have been overshadowed and transformed. May the time of pondering fill us with joy this Advent season.
-Fr. Dave
Obedience
This is the third Reflection about the three-fold Benedictine spirituality of stability, conversion, obedience. According to the Rule of St. Benedict, stability is rooting oneself in community as a rule of life. In his day, like in ours, globalization was making the pace of life accelerate past the tolerance of the human condition. Stability (the placing of oneself in a Christian community centered on prayer, contemplation and praise) is a bulwark against the rapidity of life. By participating in the community of All Angels; whether in person, online, or both; the community becomes a stabilizing factor in your life. With stability comes conversion which was my topic last week. Conversion is like a river rock that is made smooth in community (the river) by transportation along the riverbed (people) and the natural flow of water (the Holy Spirit). Conversion takes time and often is imperceptible to the rock (the person) but is visible to others in time.
Stability and conversion require obedience. According to Benedict, obedience is a spiritual practice of listening intently to God. It is not about following orders. The Latin root of obedience – ob-audiens – means “to listen intently”. One can listen intently to God with stability and conversion. Without the community, one cannot hear or perceive the subtle nudges of God.
I knew a guy in college who didn’t have stability in his life, yet he wanted an answer from God. So, he ran into an open field, flung his arms open wide, and yelled, “God, speak to me!!” All he heard was the gentle breeze blowing through his arms. One of the Benedictine monks from the college saw him standing in the field. He slowly approached the student. The student pleaded with the monk, “Why isn’t God speaking to me.” The monk said, “Because you’re standing in a field. God doesn’t speak out here. He speaks in here,” and pointed to the man’s heart.
Obedience – listening to God with the ears of your heart – is expressed through stability, conversion and meditating on Scripture.
Let’s look at obedience in a different way. Obedience is freedom from self-will. With stability and conversion, one is gently and intentionally released from the bondage of the ego and self-desires. A Benedictine monk told me a phrase he repeats slowly and intentionally when he feels the bondage of his self-desires taking root. It is this: not mine but Thine; not mine but Thine, not mine but Thine.
Scripture shows us that Jesus established this way of life most notably in the garden of Gethsemane right before he was arrested, handed over, and crucified. Our Lord asked Peter, James and John to remain with him and watch with him. (Remain – stability; Watch – conversion) Then, with obedience, Jesus pleaded with God to remove this cup from him. And then he said: Not as I will but as you will.
Because of Jesus’s obedience, we have the freedom today to join in His will. Obedience, in community with stability and conversion, will set us free from the bondage of our own ego and self-desire, by intentionally listening for the still, quiet voice of God with the ears of our heart.
Stability and conversion require obedience. According to Benedict, obedience is a spiritual practice of listening intently to God. It is not about following orders. The Latin root of obedience – ob-audiens – means “to listen intently”. One can listen intently to God with stability and conversion. Without the community, one cannot hear or perceive the subtle nudges of God.
I knew a guy in college who didn’t have stability in his life, yet he wanted an answer from God. So, he ran into an open field, flung his arms open wide, and yelled, “God, speak to me!!” All he heard was the gentle breeze blowing through his arms. One of the Benedictine monks from the college saw him standing in the field. He slowly approached the student. The student pleaded with the monk, “Why isn’t God speaking to me.” The monk said, “Because you’re standing in a field. God doesn’t speak out here. He speaks in here,” and pointed to the man’s heart.
Obedience – listening to God with the ears of your heart – is expressed through stability, conversion and meditating on Scripture.
Let’s look at obedience in a different way. Obedience is freedom from self-will. With stability and conversion, one is gently and intentionally released from the bondage of the ego and self-desires. A Benedictine monk told me a phrase he repeats slowly and intentionally when he feels the bondage of his self-desires taking root. It is this: not mine but Thine; not mine but Thine, not mine but Thine.
Scripture shows us that Jesus established this way of life most notably in the garden of Gethsemane right before he was arrested, handed over, and crucified. Our Lord asked Peter, James and John to remain with him and watch with him. (Remain – stability; Watch – conversion) Then, with obedience, Jesus pleaded with God to remove this cup from him. And then he said: Not as I will but as you will.
Because of Jesus’s obedience, we have the freedom today to join in His will. Obedience, in community with stability and conversion, will set us free from the bondage of our own ego and self-desire, by intentionally listening for the still, quiet voice of God with the ears of our heart.
CAMP
One of the challenges of Episcopal camps is how to take the spiritual mountain top experience of camp and incorporate it into daily life. It’s also the challenge of churches like All Angels, who have meaningful Sunday worship experiences, to incorporate faith throughout the other six days of the week. Here is one way to do it. The process is called C.A.M.P.
C – Choose a Bible passage
A – Ask questions
M – Make it personal
P – Pray daily
Choose a Bible passage. From this Sunday’s Gospel lesson, I chose the following passage:
[The son came to his senses and said to himself] I will get up and go to my father.
Ask questions: What did it take for the son to get up? Did he procrastinate? How much emotional pain did he endure before he decided to “get up”?
Make it personal: What does it take for me to get up and go do something? Where in life do I procrastinate? What am I afraid of?
Pray: God of compassion, the more I procrastinate, the more you show your divine patience. Give me strength to get up and return to you. Save me from the temptations that lead me away from you. Draw me back by the constancy of your love so that I may take my place in your household and share my spiritual inheritance with others. Amen.
Following the C.A.M.P. model, you would reflect on the make-it-personal and then say the prayer daily until next Sunday.
Here's one more. The psalm that has stood out to me this week is 32 verse 5.
Choose a passage: When I confessed my transgressions to the Lord
The Lord forgave me the guilt of my sin.
Ask questions: Why is it that guilt feels like a weight?
Make it personal: Where do I feel that weight of guilt? Am I ready to give it to the Lord?
Pray daily: Lord, I give to you this day the weight of my guilt.
Thank you for lifting my burden.
Thank you for your forgiveness and love. Amen.
And now it’s your turn. If you’d like to continue the worship experience of All Angels throughout your week, you are invited to C.A.M.P.
- Fr. Dave
C – Choose a Bible passage
A – Ask questions
M – Make it personal
P – Pray daily
Choose a Bible passage. From this Sunday’s Gospel lesson, I chose the following passage:
[The son came to his senses and said to himself] I will get up and go to my father.
Ask questions: What did it take for the son to get up? Did he procrastinate? How much emotional pain did he endure before he decided to “get up”?
Make it personal: What does it take for me to get up and go do something? Where in life do I procrastinate? What am I afraid of?
Pray: God of compassion, the more I procrastinate, the more you show your divine patience. Give me strength to get up and return to you. Save me from the temptations that lead me away from you. Draw me back by the constancy of your love so that I may take my place in your household and share my spiritual inheritance with others. Amen.
Following the C.A.M.P. model, you would reflect on the make-it-personal and then say the prayer daily until next Sunday.
Here's one more. The psalm that has stood out to me this week is 32 verse 5.
Choose a passage: When I confessed my transgressions to the Lord
The Lord forgave me the guilt of my sin.
Ask questions: Why is it that guilt feels like a weight?
Make it personal: Where do I feel that weight of guilt? Am I ready to give it to the Lord?
Pray daily: Lord, I give to you this day the weight of my guilt.
Thank you for lifting my burden.
Thank you for your forgiveness and love. Amen.
And now it’s your turn. If you’d like to continue the worship experience of All Angels throughout your week, you are invited to C.A.M.P.
- Fr. Dave
Rector’s Report Annual Meeting 2025
This is our mission: To bring the Living Christ to those inside and outside the Church. Here are some of the ways we have accomplished it over the past twelve months.
To Bring. At All Angels, we bring Christ. We bring Christ with our prayer list. We bring Christ when we invite people to church. Every flower arrangement brings Christ in beauty. We bring Christ in hymnody and song. We bring Christ when we listen with a compassionate ear. We bring Christ when we go in peace to love and serve the Lord. We bring Christ when we sell used art to help those in need. We bring Christ when we maintain our beautiful campus for people in our community to find a place of rest. Our discussion groups and educational offerings bring the unity and wisdom of Christ. We bring Christ when we remember all those for whom we love but see no longer.
The Living Christ. The images we have of Christ in the church are that of the living Christ. The stained-glass window shows Christ walking in nature. The icons of Christ are that of teacher and guide. Our worship services illuminate our ancient faith that is relevant to our lives. We also bring our questions, our doubts and our fears to Christ at our church. No matter where you are in your spiritual journey, you will be welcome and find a living faith in Christ at All Angels.
To Those Inside. The centerpiece of bringing Christ is our in-person worship and fellowship. There is a feeling inside of the church that is joy, peace and unity. Our music program is focused on being an uplifting presence. We have warm and friendly ushers, excellent lay readers, and we offer the sacrament of Holy Communion every Sunday for those inside. Fellowship is one of our strengths; and it is especially important in this time of isolation and loneliness. Fellowship starts inside of the church – our seats have been arranged so that we can greet one another in peace. For those inside, we had a wonderful Christmas Tea and concert, a Spring Fling with tasty barbeque, our Annual Meeting, a harp concert, the dining club and many more fellowship events that are at the heart of our parish life.
And Outside. This is our number one area of growth at All Angels. It all started with adapting to Covid requirements. Nowadays, we offer a high-quality a/v production that brings the specialness of what we do inside the church to those outside. We bring a message of love and peace to those who are familiar with the Episcopal Church, to those new in the Christian faith and to those who struggle with faith. We hosted our Comfort Station (again) for all those whose lives were disrupted by storms. Our parish is home to the Rotary of Longboat Key; we hold almost monthly meetings for various community groups on the island; and we hosted a community event called Finding Our Strength Together After a Loss. We hosted the Interfaith Thanksgiving Service (on very short notice) where we welcomed over 300 people to sing and pray together in one voice giving thanks. All Angels is host to the monthly Interfaith Ministerial meeting where all the island religious leaders support one another in fellowship and prayer. And, because of our outreach programs, we brought dignity and peace to those who struggle to attend school, those who fear eviction, and those who struggle with food insecurity. All of this is done because we bring the Living Christ to those outside.
The Church. That’s us – you and me, we, all of us – we are the Church, the living and active, relevant, helpful and supportive, loving, forgiving, prayerful and rejoicing Body of Christ.
Thank you for inviting and supporting me and my family in our shared life, ministry and mission of bringing the Living Christ to those inside and outside the church.
- Fr. Dave
- Fr. Dave