Pentecost, Not the End of Easter...

Today we read in the Acts of The Apostles the story of Pentecost. The divided tongues, seemingly of flame, among all the gathered. The story of each hearing in their own language. The gift of the Holy Spirit... It is a story those of us in the Christian Church read every year. Perhaps we feel we know the story all too well and we stop listening when we get to the tongues of flame or when the gathering crowd is accused of drinking too much so early in the morning. Tomorrow Compline will have fewer Alleluias, some of us will start fasting from meat this Friday. The big party, Easter, is OVER...

For whatever reason this year I have been increasingly aware that Pentecost, the fiftieth day of Easter was coming, and today... Today is here. Today I also realize (maybe with just a little bit of help from God) that this is NOT the last day of Easter, only the last day of Easter Season 2020. It cannot be the last day of Easter in our lives or in the Church. It is not the last day of Easter until next year. We are Christians and the Church BECAUSE it is, and always is, Easter. We cannot be anything but Easter, today, tomorrow, always, and forever. Jesus rose on that first Easter and that changed everything...

One thought is we end Easter, the great celebration, not because Easter is over, but to give ourselves a chance to re-find what Easter really is, so we can study what it was like before Easter was, so we remember what a great Gift God has given us...

In my daily psalm reading I marvel at how well the Psalms capture the depths of my frustration as well as my joy in living every day. But, I do pause at the request (as in Psalm 104:35) to "Let sinners vanish from the earth," or that someone be blotted out, down through their children's children... Could I read the Psalms, or live my life as a Christian, without it always being Easter? Could my only hope be that I am remembered? How could I live without knowing that I am forgiven, and not just forgiven, but have a personal relationship with God, the Creator, Redeemer, and Spirit, that gave me, and all of us, not just the first Easter, not just a season of Easter, but Easter Always!

A Prayer:

Dear God: thank you for Easter, and Ester this year, even if we could not sing our Alleluias and celebrate in our familiar places. Thank you for guiding me and keeping me safe here in my house. Thank you for dying for me, even though I don't understand so many parts of this wonderful gift. And, most of all, thank you for being with me through all that has been, all that is now, and all that will ever be. And most of all, thank you for being with me when I am not thinking about being with you, or even thinking of you at all. Amen.

Silence or Stopping Talking Enough To Listen?

Today we read the "Silence Chapter" in Benedict's Rule: Chapter 6. In the three Translations of the the Rule I have on my desk the chapter has three different titles: RB1980 has the title "Restraint of Speech," RBParry the title "On keeping silent," and RBKardong "On Silence." To me it is not about never talking, but as Bernard Bonowitz, OCSO says in his chapter on silence in Truly Seeking God it is stopping talking long enough to hear God.

Space to listen for God is only a start. As a Benedictine Oblate I make space to listen for God, but as a spouse, parent, and technical professional I also need to listen. Not just for God but to those around me. I don't have a superior that reminds me to not speak, or calls on me when it is appropriate to speak. Nor is it easy or natural to keep quiet... I am a social being, I long for recognition, I am bold enough to think I have ideas and thoughts that others need to hear... No, not just just need to hear, there are all those times I am sure that what I have to say is the most important insight, comment, or thought on the subject.

I have found making this space for listening isn't easy, nor do I always get it right. There are times, even still, when I argue with my wife rather than listen, or when as a parent I didn't listen to my children but lashed out at them, filling all the silence with loud bluster rather than thoughtful listening, or as a worker I interrupt the conversation with my "wisdom", even for the second or third time...

When I make a bit of effort the rewards are great. Nor am I able to do it alone. The Psalmist says

Lord, teach me the way of your statutes,
and I will keep them to the end.
Grant me insight that I may keep your law,
and observe it wholeheartedly.
(Psalm 119:33-34)

 and while the ten or twenty minutes quietly sitting with the Lord and listening can be fruitful, sometimes it is another person that I trust that I listen to. At work a coach suggested I sit quietly and ask myself (and answer) four questions before I (interrupt and) make comments:

1. Why: Why is this communication needed?
2. What: What needs to be communicated? (The coach even suggested I write down a bulleted list. Yes, write it down in my notebook and make sure it is bullets not sentences or, even worse, paragraphs...)
3. How: What is the appropriate time and style for the communication?
4. Who: Does the listener even care about, or  need to hear, what I am about to say?

Without all four of the above I am just a "loud gong, a clanging cymbal"

I Pray:

Lord, I long for your precepts. I know that before I was humbled I strayed, but now I want to keep your word, I wish to respect those around me. You give me all that I have: help me to sit quietly and listen more than I speak. Help me to speak thoughtfully, honestly, and succinctly. And then to keep quiet. Thank you.

Amen

What Type Are You?

Daily (well, nearly every day) I read from Psalms and I read the daily section of the Rule of Benedict.

 The reading today in Benedict's Rule is Chapter 1 the chapter describing the four kinds of monks: Cenobites, Anchorites, Sarabaites, and Gyrovagues. As a Benedictine oblate I am called to "Cenobitic" life, life in community. As a person learning to be honest with myself I can't help but see bits of the other three in me. As one that longs for solitude there is much of the Anchorite that feels natural, that I am drawn to. Looking at Benedict's description of the Sarabaites and Gyrovagues I see other things in my heart, things I am not pleased with (OK, often down-right frustrated with): Self-gratification, looking just at what appeals to me, my indulgence in my own will...

But my psalm reading includes Psalm 46 starting "God is for us a refuge and strength, an ever-present help in time of distress..." Psalm 46 goes on to tell us that "God is within... God will help..." and later invites us to "Come and behold the works of the Lord..." (to) "Be still and know that I am God..." We are told three times "The Lord of hosts is with us: the God of Jacob is our stronghold."

But I am human, I am questioning, I am unsure... so is my reaction the certain statement "This IS the answer I have been looking for!" or is my reaction the question "Is this the answer I have been looking for?"

Much as I do want the quick answer, I see the more honest answer is in the final verse, verse 13 of Chapter 1 of the Rule:  "Let us pass them by, then, and with the help of the Lord, proceed to draw up a plan for the strong kind, the cenobites."

St. Philip's Belmont - Mourning, Yet Thank You! (From 2019)

Today, May 3rd 2020 I realized I had never posted this item regarding the deconsecration of St. Phillips Church in Belmont New York. I share it now noting it is a year past already...

Here is the original post from May 19th 2019:

Today I realized I am in mourning. Last night I received news that St. Philip's Church in Belmont is being deconsecrated on Tuesday 14-May-2019. While I have been a member of other Episcopal parishes over the years, and a member of my current parish for much longer than I was a member of St. Philip's, St. Philip's holds a special place in my heart and I will miss her.

I was a member of St. Philip's from the end of 6th grade through three year's of college. I learned the traditions and sacraments at St. Philip's. My wife, Patty, and I were married at St. Philip's. My father's funeral was at St. Philip's. My appreciation for the Episcopal tradition and understanding of parish, diocesan, and national Church polity and tradition came out of St. Philip's.

More than just being there, and more than just attending, St. Philip's is a part of my life. My parents were loved and important members as well. My mother, Joanne, was organist for many years and my father, Garrett was warden for many years as well. Long after I left St. Philip's with my family, becoming members of several Episcopal parishes, my parents were there. Our family just simply "always went to church" Sundays in Belmont. No questions, just worship and time with God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

And it wasn't just being at St. Philip's, it was going to St. Philip's. During most of my high school years, and several years as Patty and I visited our family we drove the fifteen miles from Alfred to Belmont on Sundays, Christmas Eve or Christmas Morning, Easter, Good Friday, all the service days. Most Sundays Mother would read Russel Baker's "Observer" column in The New York Times. As a family we would discuss the life of St. Philip's, the life of the Episcopal Diocese of Rochester and the Episcopal Church.