Holy Week 2024: Tuesday

 

From this morning's Gospel reading:

"Now among those who went up to worship at the feast were some Greeks.  So these came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and asked him, "Sir, we wish to see Jesus."  Philip went and told Andrew; Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus.  And Jesus answered them, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.  Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.  Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.  If anyone serves me, he must follow me; and where I am, there will my servant be also. If anyone serves me, the Father will honor him.  "Now is my soul troubled. And what shall I say? 'Father, save me from this hour'? But for this purpose I have come to this hour.  Father, glorify your name." Then a voice came from heaven: "I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again."  The crowd that stood there and heard it said that it had thundered. Others said, "An angel has spoken to him."  Jesus answered, "This voice has come for your sake, not mine.  Now is the judgment of this world; now will the ruler of this world be cast out.  And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself."  He said this to show by what kind of death he was going to die.  So the crowd answered him, "We have heard from the Law that the Christ remains forever. How can you say that the Son of Man must be lifted up? Who is this Son of Man?"  So Jesus said to them, "The light is among you for a little while longer. Walk while you have the light, lest darkness overtake you. The one who walks in the darkness does not know where he is going.  While you have the light, believe in the light, that you may become sons of light." When Jesus had said these things, he departed and hid himself from them." John 12:20-36 (ESV)

So much had happened in a few dozen hours; a man dead four days was walking among the living, the words of Zechariah 9:9 had been fulfilled:

Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter of Jerusalem! Behold, your king is coming to you; righteous and having salvation is he, humble and mounted on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.

 In my own story, I can recall days in what was then West Germany when the Sonic Booms of NATO warplanes would shake our home.   They were sudden, and impossible to ignore. Like those sonic booms, the voice of God the Father exploded in the atmosphere and rolled like thunder.  Doubtless, many of those gathered in Jerusalem for the passover may have sensed in their hearts that they were on the cusp of something epic, something that was paradigm-shifting. Yet for all of this, the Christ is standing center stage, with a heart growing heavier with each beat.

A heavy heart is not an enviable possession and I suspect that most reading this this morning have the sense of a heavy heart.  Even so, our heaviest of hearts could never even approximate what Jesus was experiencing.

What weighed on Christ's heart? Was it the knowledge that in less than 72 hours, he would become the recipient of 15 hours of hell on earth? Was it knowing that the city where he stood would be leveled and her residents the recipients of imperial genocide? I suspect that what was occurring at present was certainly a cause for sorrow. At this point, the city was swelling and surging as pilgrims filled Jerusalem in preparation for the Passover. The lion's share of those coming for the Lamb of Passover would ultimately reject the Lamb of God.

Forty Day Reflections -- Lent 2020

Lent 2020 has passed under the light of a waning Gibbous Moon.  And in the words of a mime spinner, "This was the Lentiest Lent he'd ever Lented".  No doubt, this was quipped with the Wuhan pandemic in view.  And, but by Divine miracle, we'll wake tomorrow in the grip of this virus as Easter breaks across Suburbia Majora.  With all of this, I want to share how the previous lenten season touched and stretched me.

Lent began in the Dark.  Literally, for me Lent began at 4:45 AM on Ash Wednesday as I rose to prepare for the 6:30 & 8:00 AM Observances at All-Saint's. On that day too, I would encounter another type of darkness after arriving at work and discovering that in a Post-Christian world, far too many have absolutely no knowledge of Ash Wednesday. I was met with curious stares until one woman asked "what's that on on your face?  Did you forget to wash this morning?'  Trying to keep it light, I smiled and said I bumped up against my own mortality.  "Ohh, did it hurt?" she replied in a tone of concern.  From here I knew she had now context for the ashes on my forehead and it opened a door to share the season of Lent with her, explaining how may followers Christ observe this season as a time to fast, pray, and reflect in these weeks leading to the Easter season.

Lent in Lockdown.  At Lent's onset, the COVID-19 was on another Continent and effecting "other people".  Little did we know, that in two short weeks our Republic would seize up and grind to a halt.  Many were now watching their retirement portfolios evaporate as Stock Markets around the world cratered.  People were compelled to self distance and stay apart.  Churches ceased to gather for corporate worship.  March 15th saw our final public gathering and inwardly, I grieved for the saints who were being placed under interdict by reactionary public officials and denied the comfort of the Sacraments and the benedictions of their priests. A bright light in this darkness was being part of a technology-gifted parish that was able to employ existing technical resources in order to either prerecord or livestream the Holy Week from All-Saints.  In fact, tonight I'll be watching myself in the Easter Vigil.

You can't pursue a Holy Lent in your Own Strength.  Of all the takeaways from Lent 2020, for me this was the greatest.  All my attempts at this in years past we abysmal failures.  Like Charlie Brown, I'd run headlong towards the football only to have it yanked away.  Simply put, you'll find yourself incapable of ever doing this in your own strength.  Experientially, I was reminded in this season, the deeper one leans on the Spirit, the easier this pursuit becomes.

The road, and where it takes us. -- Reflections

"St. Augustine-in-the-Fields", from another time

BLOGGER's NOTE:  This one is published out of season as I've been allowing it to percolate for a month or three...

The appreciation of well-crafted poetry is largely lost in our graceless age.  Much of our society has grown too crass and too coarse to enjoy the spoken lyric, as it takes us away from the instant gratification and sensory overload, to a place where we actually must pause and think.  Of all the American poets, I have a deep appreciation for Robert Frost (1874-1963).  A man of a breadth of verse and one acquainted with sorrows, one of his most familiar poems is perhaps 'The Road not Taken" (The Road Less Traveled).

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; 

Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, 

And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. 

I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

Rod Stewart reminded us in 1971 that every picture tells us a story, and this photo offers no exception.  At first glance, this picture captures a weathered sign along a rural road, likely taken in late winter. It's weatherbeaten and fading, yet its clear that the sign was once beautiful. Even in its sad state, it conveys what was once a hopeful new vision to its community.  For me, this sign is emblematic of Mr. Frost's poem and of the final stanza particularly. Quoting the poet, "And that has made all the difference." 

Much like the vista offered by this photo, in muted late winter, I was looking up a hill on an unknown road, in a spiritually bleak season of life in early 2005. I hadn't found myself in a crisis of faith, but rather a crisis of Theology where my I'd been questioning much of what I'd taught for years as a Pentecostal pastor and teacher. At this time I was two years removed from the Church of God (Cleveland, TN), having sojourned with the Southern Baptists and more recently with a Calvary Chapel Congregation.  Each, though heresy-free, failed to satisfy an unanswered longing within my spirit. My heart yearned for a connection that transcended the transactional faith of American Evangelicalism.  

While in this place, I would routinely travel Shelton Shop Road, and pass a road sign advertising a new church which billed itself as both "Episcopal and Evangelical.  While part of me was drawn to the later, I was equally repulsed by the former.  In my mind, the Episcopal Church was essentially a toothless old dog that was bereft of the Spirit and power of the Almighty.  It was a body that once upon a time, embodied "America at prayer" but now was one the lashed itself to any and all Liberal cause.  I'd written her off as what Saint Paul spoke of as "having a form of Godliness, but denying the power thereof".  Yet for all of this internal revulsion, I was drawn and warmed by the message of this sign.  But an additional event would have to occur to knock me out a complacent space and onto the unknown road represented in this photo.

In March 2005, two prominent individuals were dying;  Pope Saint John Paul II, and Terri Schaivo.  If you remember, Ms. Schaivo was the woman who was starved to death by a "husband" who wanted to get on with his life, but his current wife was an impediment to his plans.  So, starvation was his easy fix to take Terri out of the picture.  When the Calvary Chapel pastor and his wife made it clear that they had no real issue with Michael Schaivo's intent to for his stricken wife, while rebuking me for referring to the death by starvation as demonic.  I knew that we were at an irreproachable place our time there was at an end.  So what then?

In the waning days of the 2005 Lenten season, I called the number on billboard to enquire about this new church that billed itself as such a hybrid.  I was traveling on business but would be back to visit the church on Easter Sunday.  As I now consider my life in the faith, Easter 2005 remains a significant mountaintop moments.  Had I turned onto the path "more traveled", I don't know that I'd be sitting here this evening, MacBook Pro in lap, sharing tonight.

Nearly a fifteen years have passed since that fateful Sunday.  I've been blessed to serve two Bishops, three Rectors, and two Parishes.  The bulk of my ministry has been lived out with the parish of All-Saint's Anglican, a loving, growing, serving, and going community that is truly a house of prayer to the Nations.  

Sadly, all that remains of Saint Augustine-in-the-fields (and her subsequent rebranding) is this sign.  She failed to thrive, yet for a season served the will and purposes of the Almighty.  She was the path less traveled, and the one that made all the difference.



    

On the Subject of Spiritual Gifts - II

As promised, the audio link to the Homily on St Paul's first letter to the Church in Corinth.  I want want to give a hearty thanks thank you to Miles and the Technical Ministries at All Saint's Church for work in the AV booth. Like anything else in life, it seems that those who labor unseen and out of sight are those who make the most difference in our daily lives.



 You can Click Here to access the *.mp3 file of the message.

Crossing, from Advent to Christmastide

From Yesterday's Gospel Reading:

"In those days Mary arose and went with haste into the hill country, to a town in Judah, and she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. And when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the baby leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit, and she exclaimed with a loud cry, "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And why is this granted to me that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For behold, when the sound of your greeting came to my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord." And Mary said, "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name. And his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts; he has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of humble estate; he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, as he spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to his offspring forever." And Mary remained with her about three months and returned to her home." Luke 1:39-56 (ESV)

Yesterday's Gospel Reading for the final Sunday in Advent gave me much to think about as we enjoyed a quiet Sunday.  Much of it centered on Mary, mother of The Christ.  

In my faith's journey, Ive encountered extremes in how this your maiden of Nazareth has been seen by professing Christians of all sides of the faith spectrum.  Over the years, I've witnessed Mary elevated to the place of Co-mediatrix by some, to being almost completely marginalized by others; reducing her to a status slightly above being an egg donor.  Now in Adventide, 2018, the wackiest of the fringe left have attempted to make her a poster child for the woman "#MeToo" movement by inferring that she was an unwilling victim of a sexual assault.  I want to believe that no serious adult would see this latter assertion as being nothing beyond patent nonsense.  Then, there's the sweet, sentimental Christmas ballad by Mark Lowry in & Buddy Greene, and performed by Michael English and a host of others. This song posited the idea that perhaps the fair Mary may not have known the import of the child developing in her womb.

Given the scope of Old Testament prophecy, only a relatively small population at the time of Christ's birth that could meet the profile of the one who was to bear the Christ Child.  A Hebrew woman, a virgin of the Tribe of Judah and a descendant of the house of David who would be a Nazarene who found herself in labor in Bethlehem could be the one.  Clearly, the providential hand of the Almighty was at work; she was the chosen one. 

In engaging the fringe left or fluffy sentimentality of the popular culture, we can, through Saint Luke's account, demonstrate that Mary was not only cognizant of just what child she'd be carrying, but that she was a fully willing party to this Divine opus of grace.  Her words as seen in the Magnificat capture this.  Within this brief passage of the Gospel, Mary seems to speak as both poetess and prophetess, declaring the praises of the Almighty God and his promises to His people, Israel. 

So, tonight as the sun sets on our individual worlds, the setting sun will light ablaze the fifth candle the Advent Wreath, and churches will be gathering to welcome the Christ Child afresh.  And as we welcome Him once more, may we strive to apprehend an understanding of Mary, one that's rooted in Holy Scripture rather than popular culture.

Insights from the Vicar of Grahamville

James Gibson, Vicar of Church of the Holy Trinity, Grahamville in Ridgeland, South Carolina, shares some insights in this essay on the Mass. I found it especially insightful as I'm the one who bids the dismissal as Deacon at the end of the Eucharistic celebration. You can read it here.

Sunday Reverie

A reminder, we're on a timeline and what we know will someday be transformed in an instant when He will return, to judge the quick and the dead; the point where the Kingdom will have no end.

Answer, if you hear a call today.

To be an Anglican Hooligan

(c) 2008 Anglican Hooligan Shoppe

(Author's Note:  The following essay has been percolating in my brain now for nearly a decade.  It was the recent experience of the Rector of New Creation Anglican Church in Hagerstown, MD which finally inspired me to place the fingers to the keyboard and type away.  Hat's off Father Justin, and hat's off Father Gerry for the entire idea of the Anglican Hooligan.)

 Time has a way of zipping by in a blur, yet there are some things that stick out in one's memory.  It was back in 2007/2008 during my then nascent rebirth into the Anglican Faith, and I was searching out some "witness wear" to tell the world that this one-time Pentecostal Preacher had traded the sawdust, for the Canterbury Trail.  In searching the internet for T-shirts, I found one that jumped off the screen and said click on me please!  It was a white, sleeveless T-shirt emblazoned with a Celtic Cross, flanked by two figures who I perceived to be Augustine, overlaid onto a pair of open wings.  Perfect for showcasing ones guns in the gym while speaking to ones spiritual zeitgeist.  In retrospect, my guns were larger in my mind than in reality. A Decade later and though I'm beyond wearing that T anywhere away from the pool or hot tub, I'm still drawn to its simplistic but powerful message.

The expression, "Anglican Hooligan" easily creates a dichotomy.  The words themselves at first take seem absolutely antithetical to one another.  The word Hooligan conjures up pictures of a rough, rowdy and unrefined sort who lowers the property value of whichever neighborhood they move into.  "Anglican" on the other hand paints a more refined image.  Polite to a fault, ensconced in Tweed and faintly smelling of pipe smoke; one might typically envision the Anglican as a gentle, unoffending sort who'll go to great lengths to preserve order and tranquility; one who goes along to get along. Many Americans too, have a misunderstanding of Anglicanism in general that can be born out of either ignorance or prejudice, depending on how its manifested.  On numerous occasions, I've had people say, upon learning of my Faith expression,say something along the lines of "Aren't you people just like 'Catholics'?" or with a whiff of derision, "you people are pretty much 'Catholic-lite"anyway, right?".  And of course today, now that the executive leadership of the American Episcopal Church is finding itself to the Theological and Social Left of the Unitarian Universalists, many of these same people will dismiss Anglicanism altogether as a sub-christian sect.   But even for those who have a grounded understanding of Anglicanism, the term can be incongruent.  The couplet can almost seem to create the image of Andy Capp meeting the Vicar.  For a moment or two, take this invitation to reimagine the moniker in light of some historic truths.

Christianity was spread through the world by men whom polite society would have easily considered Hooligans; crude hayseeds and fishermen who came into towns and cities, upsetting the settled order with strange doctrines.  These men and women were bold, unapologetic, and unafraid.  They engaged and rocked their worlds without fear of reprisal, often to their own demise.  This same spirit was evidenced in the Sixteenth Century with the birth of Anglicanism.  When Mary Tudor attempted to extinguish the flame of Anglicanism through her own backfires, kindled with the bodies of the faithful, "protestant hooligans" chose death over the shame or recantation.  In our own time, we're surrounded by Anglican leaders who stood the red line over the issue of historic orthodox Christianity when many of their peers were  either willfully surrendering, or simply acquiescing to the social and cultural mores of our day.  I consider these facts in the light of the Eleventh & Twelfth Chapters of the Letter to the Hebrews and see a cloud of witness that continues to grow larger by the day.

So, how are we to make application of this as we live out or lives as Third Millennium Anglicans?  Whether we live on the Left Coast, in Hagerstown, Suburbia Majora, or in your town, the guiding principals remain the same.  To be a fruitful, reproducing Christian is to live out one's life in a scrum.  We are called to move the Kingdom down field to the goal, which will be actualized when our Messiah and Lord makes his ultimate return; that day when, as stated in the historic creeds, "He will come again to judge the quick and the dead, and that His kingdom will have no end."  Yet the fact that we exist in this scrum implies that there is an opposing side to the scrum that is working at cross purposes to staunch the forward momentum of our line.  This triad of the World's system, our own fleshly nature, and our Adversary the Accuser is working tirelessly to blunt, slow and stop our forward momentum for the Kingdom of God.  Clearly, this is not a place for the timid who've no stomach for the struggle.  The Casper Milquetoast follower won't survive for very long in this scrum and will be shoved to the sideline, and rendered ineffective. 

So, to be an Anglican Hooligan is to move forward without fear, possessing only the fear of the Lord (to do so otherwise is mere arrogance, not fearlessness).  Understand, Though I've written this from the perspective of an Anglican, these principles are universal to any orthodox expression of Christianity.  Regardless of your worshipping community, you've been called to move forward in faith, with full confidence in the one who called and redeemed you, and continues to empower you through His Holy Spirit.

Game on Hooligan!  keep plowing down field until you hear the final whistle.  Maranatha! 

Tuesday Morning

From the Book of Common Prayer:

O God, you have made of one blood all the peoples of the earth, and sent your blessed Son to preach peace to those who are far off and to those who are near: Grant that people everywhere may seek after you and find you; bring the nations into your fold; pour out your Spirit upon all flesh; and hasten the coming of your kingdom; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

A beauty in praying the Liturgical Hours is their ability  give us a sort of lay line in charting the direction of our day.  And for me, I see the Office Morning Prayer as a sort of Laying the Keel of the ship that will take us on through to the nighttime.  The particular Collect seemed to jump from the pages this morning, especially in light the past Sunday's "Taste of Heaven" Gathering.  I'm tying this Collect to the recent gathering as it was Pastor Tony Addinall of All Nation's Church of God who captured this truth in his opening invocation.

The prayer opens with the declaration that the Almighty has created for Himself, a species (if you'll have it), of one blood.  He then at the appointed time sent his very expression, His son, to bring redemption to this fallen people who were of one blood.  Apprehending this truth is the beginning of the demolition of the false barriers which divide us.  Its the wrecking ball that demolishes the barriers of ignorance, fear, mistrust and hatred.

We can't affect this in our own.  It is only by the power and agency of the Almighty that humanity might be moved to seek God, and be drawn to Him. Yet in this, He has called us to be the transmission medium for His call to go forward and be heard by a world that's not intuitively listening for this call of the one God to His one people. 

In the Days of Rogation

It's Rogation Tuesday (Boo-yahh, said the Anglicans), and although Anglican, Anglo-Catholic and Roman Catholic readers may be familiar with the idea of Rogation Days, I'm relatively certain that those from other streams of orthodoxy may have no idea as to the day or its implication.

The name is derived from the Latin verb, rogare, which means simply "to ask". Think back to Sunday's Gospel reading (John 15:1-8), and you'll recall the idea of asking for a thing in Christ's name.

Rogation days have traditionally been a season for seeking the Lord. In eras past, farmers would seek the Lord's blessing on their crops. Priests and their parishes would "Beat the Bounds", processing along the Parish property lines while seeking God's hand to move in the church over the coming days. Its interesting to note that this latter practice is alive and well in many Pentecostal or Charismatic congregations, though its better known as "Praying a bloodline" around the church. I wonder how many would continue this practice if they became aware of the (gasp...) RC and Anglican origins of the practice? Anyhoo, I digress.

We are essentially a post-argarian society where most of us will never harvest any crops more significant than patio tomatoes. This said, as followers of the way, we still are called to possess a harvest mindset. We are, by virtue of our new births, co-laborers in the Kingdom of Heaven. Outside our doors stand the greatest harvest field in the history of mankind. Post-Christian United States alone is a field that would stagger the imagination. Christ, two thousand years ago, described these fields as awaiting harvest. I wonder, if the fields were ready for the harvesters 2,000 years ago, how much more are they ready today?

Jesus called His own (READ-- us) to pray that the Father would sent laborers out into these fields. Saints and servants were (are) exhorted to pray for the harvest. In this, I see a powerful tie-in to the concept or Rogation Days.

Have we in prayer, sought to discern our role as messengers for God's Kingdom? Is our walk and witness congruent with the Savior we claim as our own? Are we reaching out in prayer into these fields? All of these are worthy questions to ponder on a Rogation Tuesday.

An Interesting New Site

A pair of solid Anglican brothers in the Stafford area have launched an informative site into orbit around the blogosphere. All Souls Anglican Missionary Journal contains several useful links and insightful essays.