cool

I have a library listing now! How cool is that? No, it's not checked out right now, but I'm sure it will be any day now. Just wait. A couple people here have asked to read my copy. The chances I'll ever write a sequel are slim-to-none. What a beast of a job that kind of writing is! It's sure not for me.

No need to run out and get yourself a copy of the book. Wait until the movie comes out.

I can even do all my own liturgical stunt work! Thuribles have safety chains. What could possibly go wrong?















"But Mr. Spielberg, if I step over there I'll be out of camera angle. ...Oh... I see."

surfacing

I've been quiet for the past few days because I've been hyper-critical of the things I was going to write about. One never knows who's reading one's blog. It seems you both have another gentle reader. Here's what happened:

The Sunday I posted the Bishop's visit was also the Sunday of our Hurricane Katrina benefit event. The Diocese asked each parish to contribute $500 to help defray the cost of sending 50 people down to Camp Coast Care in Mississippi. I thought I'd be cute and raise the bar for St. Andrew's to $700. Turns out they got cuter than me (if you can imagine that!), and raised the bar to over $1300! What a banner day it was. It just doesn't get much better than that.

I have said it before gentle readers and I will say it again: I serve the finest parish in the diocese.

Anyhoo... We did it with the help of two other parishes in town - part of the ministerial association I belong to. That sounds so professional doesn't it? Basically we just have lunch once a week. It's easy to give props to my own peeps at church, but a little more difficult to do the same for the other parishes. So I decided to write a little blurb for the local paper. Props not just to the parishes involved, but a little more visibility for our common mission, and St. Andrew's as a leader in the community.

*Whell*.... while I was at the paper's office finding out how to go about including this note, a young woman came striding out of an office - ditched a meeting it looked like (you go girl) - to introduce herself to me as the religion reporter.

"Are you the new minister at the Episcopal Church?"
"Yes, I am."
"I wondered when you'd surface."

Surface?! I didn't think I was being stealthy! I guess I wasn't trying hard enough to be obvious, what with the walking around in the clericals all the time. Ahhh... but now I know the key - one of them at least - to being more visible in town. That little newspaper has quite a readership. She asked me if I would like to write an article. Hhmmm... Interesting invitation.

Last week one of the other ministers tried to have his article published but was turned down, the reason being that it crossed a line that the paper wasn't willing to cross. I know this because a good number of parishioners texted, and e-mailed me to let me know about the brouhaha. When this young woman asked me to write an article my first thought was that our little town paper could easily become a battle ground for differing theological stances. I have no interest in making that so. It's just way to snarky a thing for my tastes. However, and this is a big however, it was made clear to me during my interview process that the parish wishes greater visibility in the community. So, an article or two would actually be a good thing. I've read a couple of the ministers' articles - not very many to be honest. More than that I've listened to people's opinions of the other ministers' articles. The conclusion I'm moving toward is this: articles that try to push agendas are out. Sermons are out - mostly because I preach for my specific congregation and it would surely seem out-of-context for the rest of town. Woo-hoo, go St. Andrew's: definitely in. Christian concepts that transcend any individual church's "take" on Christian mission (is that even possible?) are in.

I'm still pondering the invitation to write something. Visibility is what the parish wants, and this seems a perfect way to do that. But still... I need more time. Madam Reporter, if you're reading this -

"Do you have a blog?"
"Yes, I do."
"I thought that was you."

don't hold the presses in my account. I'm still praying about this.

special guest

St. College Town had a very special guest this morning for both services. I've known about this for a week, but I didn't want to say anything, on the off chance that plans might be changed. The Right Reverend Barbara Harris came and worshiped with us. For those of you who don't keep up with The Episcopal Church, Bishop Harris was the first woman consecrated Bishop in our denomination. She is the retired Suffrigan Bishop of the Diocese of Massachusetts, on vacation in a nearby town here in the Diocese of Wine Country.






















What a thrill it was for me to introduce her to the congregation and to spend some time talking with her about history, and current events. I showed her the timeline the parish and I are creating as part of a congregational development project. I don't know how "into" congregational development she is, but she very politely listened as I geeked on and on about the topic and how it relates to this parish context.
















At one point she said I made a mistake on a date. She said The Philadelphia Eleven were ordained in 1974, and that I had put them under 1975. The timeline is marked in bold at each 5-year mark, and the years in-between are written lighter. She didn't see the lighter numbers. I had placed the event in its correct year. *whew!* Did you know she was the crucifer for that ordination? I didn't know that. (Some years ago I also had the opportunity to sit down to coffee with Carter Hayward, one of the actual Eleven. Sure wish I got a picture of that! Who knew?)

That's Rev. Peete in the first picture, on the left. She's my presider-of-the-month for August. She and the Bishop are friends, and when she told me that the Bishop would be in town, I did my best to express just how wonderful it would be for the parish if the Bishop were to come by and spend a Sunday with us. Hey, when you've got a string... pull it, as my neighboring Episcopal rector would say.

I suppose for some of you, meeting a bishop is no big deal - happens all the time. But for me this is living history, a unique heritage. There are so many important people out there who have made significant strides for humanity, that I consider it a great honor to be in their presence. I think about people like Jacques Cousteau and Mary Leakey, and what their having been on the planet means for all of us. It is inspiring to me in ways hard to describe. History books will say what they will about names and dates, but they never really capture the essence of the person: the twinkle in the eye, the laugh, the way they carry themselves, the quality of their voice or handshake. I may pass from this life in complete obscurity, but having met people like these at least makes me dream of greater things.

Tee-hee... I'll be giddy about this for weeks.

update

Save the date: Saturday, December 6th: ordination to the priesthood.

Got more to say on that, but for now we wait...

so far so good

Things are going well here at St. College Town. I've been working my way through the parish directory visiting people. I've got presiders scheduled all the way to my ordination date. The liturgy is always ready to go by Thursday. I haven't had to punt a sermon yet. Ecumenical relations are good. Short-range planning is good to go. Medium-range planning is coming together. Long-range planning is in the works. We've arranged to send three kids to diocesan summer camp. I'm just about ready to lead two through confirmation/reception formation (waiting on the book order). Sunday is the big Gulf Coast Mission Trip benefit event. We're shooting for $500 and we've already secured $300. And I've got myself registered for the Internet Ministry Conference in October.

In spite of this, I'm concerned that I've missed something really important that I should have gotten a handle on a long time ago. I keep double-checking myself, and I think I've got things in order. I've put a call in to one of my mentors to have a sit-down to talk out what I've been doing. I've only been here for 6-weeks, and yet it often feels like I've been here for a very long time. I don't know if that's good or bad.

what we talked about

Today's sermon, the result of Friday's walk in the woods, went over very well.

Jesus says, “Do Not Be Afraid.”
© Laurel Dahill 2008

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.”
-Robert Frost

What does it mean to step out of the boat?

Why would anyone want to do such a thing, especially in a storm? It’s safer in the boat than out of the boat for sure.

Stepping out of the boat means leaving security. It means deliberately putting yourself in a place where something unexpected will happen. Will it be good? Will it be bad? Will there be an opportunity to get back in the boat once you’ve gotten out? Maybe. Getting back in the boat is the furthest thing from mind when Peter first steps out. For Peter, there was something beyond the implied security of the boat that was worth taking the risk to leave it.

Jesus was there. He revealed his divine nature by walking on the water. He revealed that there is something even more able to handle the storm than a boat. More than that, there was something even stronger than the storm itself. Peter saw it, and was compelled to it. At first he wasn’t sure. Lord, is that you? He says. I think he saw something of the nature of Jesus that even Matthew can’t describe in words. Did the other disciples hear the dialog between Jesus and Peter? The disciples generally stick together. When Jesus said, “Come,” why didn’t they all go? There was something for Peter out there on the storm-tossed sea; something for him to learn that couldn’t be taught in the boat. This is a story of Peter’s transformation in faith. This step out of the boat is the next step he takes in his journey of becoming the person God is calling him to be. Sometimes, to learn, to grow, to become, we have to step out of the boat.

I think of important moments in human history that came from acts of “stepping out of the boat.” We used to all agree that the earth was flat. The horizon has always been like that. If there’s nothing else we can be sure of in this crazy world, we can be sure of the certainty of that unchanging horizon. And if you don’t believe me, maybe you’ll believe the sea monsters. No, I can’t see them, but they’re out there. Then someone said, no, there’s something else out there, beyond the horizon, and it’s calling us. Who gains by frightening people in the Age of Enlightenment with superstition? Egypt, of the Exodus account, was a place of certainty and security, even if it was also the place of slavery and oppression for Israel. The forces that held them captive for so long, and kept them from living into the abundant life of God’s people, were at least comfortingly predictable. Moses led Israel out of Egypt, “out of the boat,” if you will, and through the wilderness to meet God. From their fear of this unknown place they complained, “If only we had died in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread. You have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly.” But what kind of life under Pharaoh was that for the people of God? They had to get out, and experience the unpredictable for a while, to begin to change their way of knowing themselves, and who - and who’s - they really were. Growth is found in disequilibrium, not in balance. The things we fear most - fluctuations, disturbances, imbalances - need not be signs of impending destruction. Instead, disturbances are the primary source of creativity. Through changes, we learn to become all that God desires us to be.

What happened to Peter when he stepped out of the boat? Jesus came to him and caught him up. Jesus touched him. It’s not often in the gospels that Jesus actually touches the disciples. What happens when there’s physical contact with Jesus? People are healed. People are made strong. Sight is restored. Strength is recovered. People become empowered and boldly proclaim the right relationship with God. Their lives are transformed.

I think stepping out of the boat is what we’re supposed do. I think Christians have been out of the boat for a long time really. We first stepped out when Jesus defeated death through resurrection, and brought us all into everlasting life. We stepped out when we were baptized, and committed our lives to Christ. We are invited to continue to step out, each time we find ourselves oppressed, by forces that attempt to keep us, from growing into the full stature of the people of God, and claiming God’s abundant gifts.

It’s not always easy to do. Fear is a very real thing, and there are those who can wield its influence too well. The disciples on the stormy sea cried out, “It’s a ghost!” Peter saw Jesus in the midst of the anxious sea, and Jesus called him. He called him to step out of the thing that claimed certainty and safety, to find who - and who’s - he really was. He was touched by Jesus in that wilderness sea, and was forever transformed. Peter shows us how to do it. He returns to the boat with Jesus, and the sea is calmed for everyone.

I came up with the phrase on the sign out front on Wednesday, “When will you step out of the boat?” As I continued to ponder this gospel throughout the week, I think I was wrong. We’ve already stepped out of the boat as Christians. We said in our baptismal vows that we would persevere in resisting evil and return to the Lord. Persevere. Stepping out of the boat is something I think we must do over and over, throughout our lives. We must discern carefully what it is we see in the storms that surround us. Do we see sea monsters and ghosts, or is that Jesus calling us from it. The question isn’t when, but how. How will you let your journey into the unknown, into the wilderness, into the storm, transform you, and how will you bring that transformation to others? When does the feeling of certainty become fear of God’s call to us? The earth is round sisters and brothers. And God is waiting to meet us in the storm. Jesus tells us today, “Do not be afraid.”

"Wilderness is Paradise"

I've been shopping around for a new pair of hiking boots. I met an interesting and delightful Egyptian woman at a local BR shoe store who offered me a substantial discount if I came back to buy the boots I saw on Sunday. So I did. They fit perfectly. I've been eyeballing them all week in anticipation of yesterday's day hike. The hike was to be my day-off treat for getting all my work stuff done. It didn't quite work out that way. I wasn't able to finish my sermon. I've got so much going on in my mind, that it was hard to focus. Sunday's gospel is one of my favourite stories too! Nothing like a walk in the woods to clear the mind and heart. I laced up the new boots, grabbed my walking stick, and God and I went hiking.

Bowman Lake, Baldwin, MI.

The trailhead looks just like any trailhead you might find in the White Mountains. It was in the White Mountains of New Hampshire that I fell in love with wilderness hiking. There is plenty of parking, two information boards, and a simple wooden post with the introductory marker. With a deep breath of tree-filtered air, I stepped into my latest beloved forest.

The first quarter mile looks like this. The trail is clear, and the forest not too dense. Plenty of tracks, shod, cloven and clawed to notice. A wild turkey jumped out of the brush and startled me. I'm so glad they weren't chosen to be our national symbol. They are the most non-graceful beasts. Yes, they can in fact fly, contrary to the WKRP episode, but not far and not well. They perch in tree branches, and when they want to come down they come crashing down, hitting every branch on the way, and land, exactly like the WKRP description, like sacks of wet cement. I didn't get a picture. It is far too shocking. All hail the majestic and coordinated eagle.

















At the end of this first part, the trail opens up to Bowman Lake. Bowman is a glacial lake, and the surrounding terrain is a series of dry glacial depressions. Two trails meet up here the one I took, and North Country which has trails all across the Great Lakes region.

















Around and past the lake is an easy canopied trail. The sunlight at the end of one straight offers an intriguing contrast to the shade.

















The trail opens up to one of the glacial depressions that forms something like a gully. There's all sorts of vegetation, including a bluish lichen. This is an eastern view:

















... and a western view. There are tall grasses that start green at the base and become reddish and wheat-like toward the top, which was over my head.

















As the depression curves southwestward another open space is carpeted with ferns.

















These are waist-high. The trail is barely visible as very narrow seam through the ferns. A marker at the other end of the depression makes the trail line more clear.

















Finally back to Bowman. There are 4 designated camp sites, two of which have a small beach area. "Beach" as in a sandy approach to the water grasses.

















With the exception of the occasional and distant small plane and train echoes, this place is just about as perfect as possible.

I cleared my head and heart over the 3-ish mile hike. God and I talked out tomorrow's sermon. This place is a gift. Ah wilderness!


"Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse - and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness -
And Wilderness is Paradise enow."

"Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam"
Quatrain XI
Translated by Edward Fitzgerald
1st edition – 1859