Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Who's a Clever Duck? I'm a Clever Duck!

     Having been retired from teaching about nine months, I admit I miss joking and talking with the kids. What I don't miss, however, is my stomach clenching when I would see the weather forecast on the evening news. If there was rain or snow predicted, it meant a terrible forty-five minute commute, and a rough day. Today, it's snowing, school's delayed, and you just know we would have to keep the kids in at lunch and recess, effectively cancelling any private or quiet time. I would be condemned to sitting in a box all day surrounded by the aromas and noise of wet, hyper eleven-year-olds. So, I woke up this morning, saw the blizzard conditions outside, and said to myself, "Who's a clever duck? I'm a clever duck!" I get to relax at home with my second cup of coffee (OK, my seventh cup of coffee, but who's counting?), and enjoy my birds in the winter wonderland outside my window! I'm feeling terribly, terribly clever.

Seeing Others

     You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, “You shall not murder”; and “whoever murders shall be liable to judgement.” But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgement… You have heard that it was said, “You shall not commit adultery.” But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart… It was also said, “Whoever divorces his wife, let him give her a certificate of divorce.” But I say to you that anyone who divorces his wife, except on the ground of unchastity, causes her to commit adultery… Again, you have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, “You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the vows you have made to the Lord.” But I say to you, Do not swear at all…
               – Matthew 5:21-37
               [Click here to read entire passage.]
     Some days it's great to be a priest!

     Like when you get assigned to preach the day before Valentine's Day – you know: love, hearts, chocolate – and the Gospel is the one where Jesus talks about anger, murder, lust, adultery, divorce, and swearing.

     Jesus wasn't afraid to tackle the tough questions.

     These are not comfortable topics to address, but I think Jesus saw a common thread between them all. If you think about it, each of these topics is about our sight. They're all about how we see others. How we see others determines how we treat them when we're angry with them; when our hormones take over; when our relationships go bad; when we're called on to tell the truth.

     We are in the season of Epiphany, the season of light, shouldn't we be able to see things more clearly? In that new light, Jesus calls us to see things clearly. The subjects of anger, murder, lust, divorce, adultery, and oaths were just as tough in Jesus' day as they are in our own.

     In a way, Jesus seems to be saying all murder is premeditated in the sense that it begins with what we do with our anger. Anger in it of itself is a natural human emotion, but how we deal with our anger, how we channel it, how we let go of it, is our task as Christians. Jesus said our anger with our fellow human beings interferes with our relationship with God:
     So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift.
               – Matthew 5:23, 24
     In ancient Israel, a woman was considered to be the property of her father and then her husband; thus adultery was a violation of the husband’s property rights. Jesus was dealing not just with God's laws, but the laws in place in his country at that time. A man could decide he didn't want his wife and just dump her, and she had to find a way to fend for herself in a culture that pretty much only gave her and her children two options: begging on the streets or prostitution. Can you imagine the startled looks on the faces of the men and, at the same time, the joy on the faces of the women and children in his audience? I would loved to have watched Jesus' audience: the men with the mouths dropping open, and the women in the audience saying, "I think I like this guy!"

     Divorce in Jesus' day was nothing like what we experience today. But, before we get too comfortable thinking this doesn't apply to us, I think we have to admit there is a clear principle that when relationships go south, we are still responsible to treat the other person with dignity and respect. And if there are children involved in that relationship, we are absolutely responsible for their welfare.

     Having to take an oath presumes you're not going to tell the truth unless you're forced to do so. Recently in Virginia there was a case where a man was arrested for not stopping for a school bus with its lights flashing, stop sign out, and kids unloading. The case was thrown out because he found an error in the way the law was written. The law said "a car shall stop a school bus" instead of "a car shall stop FOR a school bus". It was a typo. The guy knew he had done wrong but he went after the letter of the law to find a way out.

     Many have tried to isolate sections of these teachings about adultery, divorce, taking an oath, and even cutting off your hand or putting out your eye and force it to have a literal application today. But Jesus was not a legislator and in this twilight world he gave us not a law but a Spirit to live by — the spirit of an informed and understanding love that sees our fellow human beings made in the image of God.

     Mark Twain said, "It is not those parts of the Bible that I do not understand that bother me. It is the parts of the Bible that I do understand that bother me the most." I am responsible for how I handle my anger. I am responsible that all my relationships are to be based on mutual respect and not exploitation. I am responsible to consider the needs of others. I am responsible to be honest.

     Sometimes this light and improved sight comes slowly. In America, we understand that it sometimes takes a long time to see others clearly as fellow human beings made in the image of God. It wasn't until 1792, people who were not Protestants like Jews, Quakers, and Catholics could vote in America, 16 years after our founding. Slavery was finally done away with in 1865, 89 years after the founding of America. Women got the vote in 1920, 144 years after the founding of America. Discrimination against other human beings – whether because of their race, gender, religious faith, sexual orientation, age, or any of a hundred different ways we human beings define "us" and "them" – sadly continues.

     Today, in the Episcopal calendar, we commemorate Absalom Jones, the first African-American to become a priest in the Episcopal Church in 1802. Absalom Jones has a tale to tell us about seeing your fellow human beings clearly.

     Long before he became a priest, he was a lay reader and lay evangelist at St. George's Methodist Episcopal church in Philadelphia. Unfortunately, he did his job too well... the number of African Americans who attended St. George's increased dramatically. The vestry was alarmed, and had a balcony built to segregate the African Americans without telling anyone. On a Sunday in November of 1787, three short years after he had purchased his own freedom from slavery, Jones and his friend Allen knelt for prayer in their usual pew, and the sexton collared Jones and tried to pull him to his feet during opening prayers. The Blacks walked out in a body. He and others left and went on to found St. Thomas African Episcopal Church.

     In 1793, the first wave of a disastrous epidemic of yellow fever hit Philadelphia. 20,000 citizens fled to the countryside during this time, including George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and other members of the federal government (at that time headquartered in Philadelphia), but Absalom and his congregation weren't going anywhere. They stayed. Under Absalom's leadership, Philadelphia's black community put aside their resentment and dedicated themselves to working with the sick and dying in all capacities, as nurses, cart drivers, and grave diggers. In 1793, Philadelphia was the largest city in the United States with more than 50,000 residents. By the end of the summer of 1793, one-tenth of the population of Philadelphia had died. Almost 300 of Absalom's congregation died of yellow fever ministering to white and black alike during this epidemic. In 1794, one year later, the St. Thomas African Episcopal Church was received into the Episcopal church, and we became all the richer for their presence among us.

     Jesus frees us from the bondage of old ways of seeing people as "us" and "them". Jesus calls us into the light so that we may see ourselves and others clearly; so, we will be compassionate in our dealings with one another, honest, humble.

     Absalom Jones was speaking of slavery, but his words ring true today as we still struggle as Americans and as citizens of the world to treat our fellow human beings with dignity, love, and compassion. He said,
     "Arise out of the dust and throw off that servile fear, that the habit of oppression and bondage trained us up in … and in meekness and fear… desire to walk in the liberty wherewith Christ has made us free."
Amen.

– Sermon delivered Sunday, February 13, 2011, at Trinity Episcopal Church, Reno, NV.

Monday, February 14, 2011

It's OK to be a cat guy!

     Although I style myself the "Man of the House," it's probably not a secret I'm actually ruled by the firm, yet gentle paws of my two cats. You might think I'm a pushover, but check out this biker in the video. Don't mess with us cat guys – we're pretty tough customers.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

The 7 Best and Worst Things about Being an Episcopal Priest

7 Best Things About Being an Episcopal Priest:

     1. You don't have to think too hard about what you're going to wear to church. ("I think I'll wear black today. Yes, black… with a white collar.")
     2. People think your G-rated jokes are actually funny. Corollary: If you tell an off-color joke (privately, of course, to personal friends) it will have them rolling on the floor practically wetting their pants because they can't imagine a priest would tell such a joke.
     3. Celibacy is optional!
     4. If it's cold in the church, you're ready since you're already dressed in layers. (If you're not warm enough, throw on an extra chausible; it may look odd, but you'll be warmer, and people will simply think you're extremely Anglo-Catholic.)
     5. When you really mean, "No, I don't want to do it," you can say, "I'll pray about it," and people will really accept it. You can both get out of the task and be seen as quite holy at the same time.
     6. If you're invited to a black-tie event, you don't have to rent a tuxedo, you can just wear what you wore on Sunday – your uniform is considered formalwear.
     7. You get Mondays off!

7 Worst Things About Being an Episcopal Priest:

     1. When you took your vows, there was that dreadful phrase in them: "…and you will take your seat in the councils of the Church." That means committee work!
     2. It's awkward to go on a first date ("So, what you do for a living?")
     3. People constantly apologize to you every time they swear. (Like I haven't heard that word before.)
     4. You're never supposed to be sick or cranky.
     5. You can't cry at a funeral you're conducting, even if you really need to.
     6. People assume you don't have a personal life.
     7. You can't cut people off in traffic, especially when you have that bumper sticker that says, "The Episcopal Church welcomes you!"

     Feel free to add your own best and worst things about being an Episcopal priest in the comments!

Monday, January 31, 2011

Our Greatest Enemy

     "Have mercy on me, O God, for my enemies are hounding me; all day long they assault and oppress me…"
          – Psalm 56:1
     Using the Daily Office from the Book of Common Prayer for both morning and evening prayer has been my spiritual practice for many years. You go through the entire Old Testament in the year, twice through the New Testament, and the complete book of Psalms spins by at a dizzying pace every month. Frequently in the Psalms, there is talk of "enemies": Enemies who oppress us; enemies who plot against us; enemies who wish to take our lives. I've always had a hard time with this kind of talk. Jesus said that we are to pray for our enemies, not beg God that their blood be running in the gutters. So, I get to a Psalm this morning that is all about enemies, and I really can't think of any. Maybe I can think of hypothetical enemies such as vague terrorists plotting half a world away, but I don't want them destroyed; I pray for their hearts to soften and for the unjust social structures, such as grinding poverty and loss of hope that give rise to terrorism, to be undone. It isn't that I can't think of people in my life who don't care for me – Lord knows I'm an acquired taste; part of achieving maturity is recognizing that not everyone is going to think I'm wonderful. Still, I would never describe such people as "enemies".

     But I do have enemies I deal with on a daily basis that "hound, assault, and oppress me all day long." It would be so much easier if they were the kind of enemies you could punch in the mouth, but they're not. My most fearsome enemies are the voices of that dire Greek chorus in my head. You know the Greek choruses? When a hero in ancient Greek plays was about to attempt something heroic, the oh-so-helpful chorus behind him would be singing something cheery like, "He's going to fail! He's going to die horribly!" A great way to add suspense to a theater production, but a lousy way to live your life. I suspect we all live with those Greek choruses in our heads. You go through your day, and they manage to fit in a nice little musical interlude whenever you try to make positive plans. It goes something like this:
      "I've really got to get back on my diet today."
           "You're going to fail again! O, you're going to fail again! Geez, what a fatso!"

     "I need to apologize to Michael. I was kind of short with him this weekend."
           "You're a horrible person! O, you're a horrible person! How can you be so horrible?!"

     "I can't believe I didn't get the laundry done today. Oh well, I'll get it done tomorrow."
           "You're so lazy! O, you're so lazy! And did we mention you're a fatso?!"
     It sounds ridiculous writing it out like that, but I'll bet if most of us would admit it, we say these kind of things to ourselves and probably even worse things.

     So when I read Psalm 56 this morning, and think of my real enemies, the Greek chorus in my head, it really seems to make more sense:
     "They hound me all the day long; truly there are many who fight against me, O Most High. Whenever I am afraid, I will put my trust in you… All day long they damage my cause; their only thought is to do me evil… You have noted my lamentation; put my tears in your bottle; are they not recorded in your book? Whenever I call upon you, my enemies will be put to flight, this I know, for God is on my side."
      As God calls us day by day into His light, and invites us to see ourselves and others more and more as made in His image, it is truly the Greek chorus that is our greatest enemy.

A Gentle Soul Gone Home

     This morning, I heard of the passing of Sam Caldwell, a priest in our diocese. Sam was a gentle soul who served at my church Trinity in Reno for many years after his retirement as rector in Carson City.

     He was a kind person who never took himself terribly seriously. I was in the choir for many years at Trinity before becoming a priest. Every Christmas Eve as we were preparing to process, Sam would tell the same joke to me privately. I suspect he told many others too. He'd come out of the sacristy splendid in his robes and cope, and lean over to me and mutter, "Years of seminary to be called Father, and here I am dressed as mother." He told the same joke every year, and I laughed every year. It didn't seem like Christmas Eve without Sam's joke. He left Trinity a number of years ago to go into retirement, but I still think of his gentle humor every Christmas Eve.

     Rest in peace, Sam. Rise in glory!

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Nevada Sunsets

     There's something special about a Nevada sunset. The sheer lack of humidity in our desert climate seems to make the edges of the clouds sharper and the colors more vibrant. Ours are not the sunsets that fade into gray because of the reflected grime of a megalopolis, nor are they the gentle watercolor sunsets of Florida or the Hawaiian Islands. Nevada sunsets are defined and shot through with slashes of gold, fiery orange, deep red, and purple. They're the kind of sunsets you can ride off into at the end of the movie.