The Easy Yoke (Proper 8)

 

The Easy Yoke 

Homily delivered Third Sunday After Pentecost (Proper 8; Year C RCL)
30 June 2019; 8:00 a.m. Said, 10:00 Sung Mass

The Very Rev. Anthony Hutchinson, SCP, Ph.D.
Parish Church of Trinity Ashland

1 Kings 19:15-16, 19-21; Psalm 16; Galatians 5:1, 13-25; Luke 9:51-62

God, take away our hearts of stone

 and give us hearts of flesh. Amen. 

Jesus has hardened his face, set his jaw, and started on the final trip—the one to Jerusalem, where he knows he will die.  He goes the most direct route, through Samaria.   Local Samaritans, hearing that Jesus is headed for Jerusalem, the capital of their enemies, refuse to welcome him to stay overnight. “Why should we welcome one of our persecutors?  Why provide hospitality for this racist, this oppressor?”  The disciples get angry in their turn.  Jesus, after all, has been more welcoming and tolerant of the Samaritans than anyone else around. “Can we call down fire from heaven upon them?” they ask Jesus eagerly. 

The intersection of politics, ethnicity, and religion has always been a hot topic, fraught with deep emotion:  hope for the wellbeing of people we think deserve it, fear of the wicked triumphing, ready blame dished out to those who have persecuted our group in the past, and, on the other side, anger at being blamed for the wrong-doings of one’s ancestors, or of one’s co-religionists. 

We hear expressions of such tribe-driven emotion almost daily, from all corners of the political field:  “Reparations for slavery!  But no one alive is guilty of having held slaves!”  “You benefited, and still benefit from the system of white privilege founded in slavery and later nurtured by redlining and Jim Crow.”  “Rapists, murderers and thugs have created a crisis on our Southern Border.  Show them no mercy!”  “Those children at the borders are not OUR children!  Why do we owe them anything?”  “Godless welfare leeches! Don’t enable them!”  “The culture of rape comes from testosterone poisoning: all males bear a part of the guilt.”  “All Communists are evil; Socialists are wicked.”  “Republicans are racists; they are Fascists.”  “Democrats are thieving perverts.” “Priests are pedophiles.”  “Catholics are mindless sheep.”  “Protestants are fanatics.”  “Muslims are terrorists.”  “Jews are never going to stop riding that poor-me pony of the Holocaust.”  “Christians are all bloody Crusaders at heart.” 

In our normal, messed up, mixed state of doing things and ways of being, we deny the truth of our human existence by denying our universally shared brokenness.  Instead, we focus on tribal division, religious division, ethnic division, or political division. We assign blame to the others and only good motives to ourselves.

 There are, to be sure, legitimate grievances and complaints.  But what I am talking about here is our tendency to avoid honest, fair-minded addressing such hurt and pursue in its stead a default tribal loyalty where I and my group can do no harm, and they and their group can do no right. 

“Can we call down fire from heaven! Punish them!”    The disciples here want justice.  But they tar all Samaritans with the same brush, just as the villagers have tarred Jesus and his disciples as Jewish oppressors. “Burn them down Lord!”  They are begging Daenarys Targeryon to burn the whole city, good and bad alike.  They are trying to enlist God in their partisan battle.

“Call down fire from heaven!”  They have in mind the prophet Elijah, the star of today’s Hebrew Scripture.   Elijah not only stopped the rain for three years to bring people back to God, he also called down fire from heaven on the soldiers of Ahaziah, King of—where else?—Samaria, when he turned Elijah away and sought Baal-zebub, the god of Ekron, instead (2 Kings 1).

Elijah overshadows much of Jesus’ life. When people in his hometown question his lack of local miracles, he says, “No prophet is honored in his home town… There were many widows in Israel then, but Elijah was sent only to the [foreigner] widow in Zarephath in Sidon.  There were many lepers in the time of Elisha, but none was cleansed  except Naaman the Syrian” (Luke 4:24-27).   Luke introduces John the Baptist as a forerunner of Jesus by saying that “he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah” (Luke 1:17).   Herod reacts to stories about Jesus’ mighty acts by thinking Jesus is either John the Baptist or Elijah come back to life (Luke 9:7-8).  On the Mount of Transfiguration, it is Elijah, along with Moses, who appears and tells Jesus of his need to go Jerusalem to accomplish his “departure” (his “Exodus”) (Luke 9:31).  

But, now on his way to Jerusalem, Jesus departs from the example of Elijah.   He scolds the disciples for wanting to burn down the Samaritans.   His calling is to proclaim God’s liberation, not to punish those who reject him.   Earlier, sending his disciples out, he tells them to react to rejection by simply moving on: “dust off your shoes and be on your way” (Luke 9:5).  Then when a disciple wants Jesus to silence a healer who uses Jesus’ name in exorcisms but is not one of his followers, Jesus says simply, “Let him do as he wishes.  If he’s not against us, he’s with us” (Luke 9:50).   No fire from heaven for Jesus. 

For him on the way of the cross, the model prophet is not Elijah or even Moses.  It’s Jonah.  The Book of Jonah is read in its entirety in synagogue on the Day of Atonement, and was clearly important for Jesus.  Though the prophet at first runs away because he just can’t bear bringing repentance and salvation to people who hate him, and is brought to accept his call only by miraculously surviving being swallowed by a great fish, though even near the end of the story he whines about the burning sun, the dead gourd bush, and having to preach at great personal risk in the great city, Jonah ultimately finds compassion for its inhabitants and follows through.   He offers with boldness God’s grace to the people of Nineveh, and they turn to God.  When people ask Jesus for a sign, he says he can give no sign to them at all, other than the sign of Jonah.    Suffering in love even for those who despise him, Jonah brings them to God.  He is a sign of hope:  after three days in the belly of the Great Fish, he comes to life again. 

Jesus does not call down fire from heaven like Elijah.  He does not, like Elisha, send she-bears to kill rude teenagers mocking his bald pate (2 Kings 2:15, 23-4).   Like Jonah, he proclaims the gracious forgiveness and love of God, even if it means his death.  He proclaims it to those who reject him:  the sign of Jonah indeed.   On the cross, Jesus prays, “forgive them, they don’t know what they are doing.” 

Jesus calls his followers to follow his way of self-sacrificing compassion, the ultimate escape from tribe and party.  Earlier in this same chapter of Luke, after Peter affirms his faith that Jesus is Messiah, Jesus tells him that being Messiah means suffering and dying.   And he says that all who follow him must also take up their own cross as well.  

That’s why in today’s reading, Jesus seems so harsh to the would-be follower who begs for a day or so to bury his father.  That’s why he won’t let another even say farewell to his loved ones.   Elijah gives Elisha time to say farewell and settle things.  But Jesus knows the way of suffering and compassion is so hard that you must set your face toward your goal, and not look back: “Let the dead bury their dead; keep your hand on the plow.” 

Jesus is saying we must replace our particular loves and obligations to larger ones.  We must be willing to put aside tribe, family, nation, and all other special obligations to look for serving all, and welcoming all. With your eye on the prize and hand on the plow, you eventually shed petty tribalism and party.

As part of Morning Prayer last week, I sang an old favorite of mine that I had not heard in a long while.  It is a Shaker hymn that speaks of the spiritual practice of simplicity and its liberating effect: 

“I will bow and be simple,
I will bow and be free,
I will bow and be humble,
Yea, bow like the willow tree.

“I will bow, this is the token:
I will wear the easy yoke;
I will bow and will be broken,
Yea, I'll fall upon the rock.

The rock and the yoke here are, of course, Jesus.  It is not our true self that is broken on the rock, but rather, our false self, our ego-driven self, our tribal self, the self that turns from God, and says, “No.  This much, at least. is not yours, God.  It’s MINE.”    Taking Jesus’ yoke upon us means making him our true family, our true ethnicity, our true nation and our true party.  Not that any of these other divisions cease, just that living in Jesus means honesty, compassion, and forgiveness are foremost.  Just as the resurrection of Jesus takes away the sting of death, so bearing the yoke of Jesus frees us from partisan preference, tribal warfare, and holy war.  Don't go for flash and doom.  Don’t aim at Elijah calling fire down from heaven.  Go for compassion and love, following Jesus in showing the sign of Jonah to all.  Lose division and privilege at the door.  Enter with one weight, one burden, on your shoulders:   “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I and humble and gentle of heart.  My yoke is easy, and my burden, light.” 

In the name of God, Amen.     

Holy Envy (midweek message)

Holy Envy

Fr. Tony’s Midweek Message

June 26, 2019

In the Episcopal Church’s larger cycle of saint commemoration, today is the feast of Isabel Florence Hapgood, Ecumenist and Translator.  Hapgood translated many of the great classics of Russian literature into English, and was key in creating good relations between the Episcopal Church and Eastern Orthodoxy.  Her translations of Eastern liturgical texts, authorized by senior Russian Orthodox leadership, have left a lasting impression on our own liturgies, including the wording of the blessing on the Paschal Candle during the lighting of the new fire at the Great Vigil of Easter (“Christ Yesterday and Today, Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End; all time belongs to him”), as well as the daily use of the Phos Hilaron (“O Gracious Light”) during Evening Prayer.   

Hapgood is a glorious example of what Biblical Scholar and Swedish Bishop Krister Stendahl called “holy envy,” a joyful curiosity about and desire to enjoy the many blessings of religious traditions that are not our own.  Far from “boutique religion” and cultural appropriation, holy envy means remaining firmly rooted in your tradition while appreciating the complementary and corrective effects of elements in other traditions. 

This Saturday, one of our younger parishioners is getting married in Lithia Park.  Her intended is a young Sufi Muslim born and raised here in Ashland.  Their marriage rite is based on the Prayer Book rite for Holy Matrimony, but includes prayers, readings, and references from the groom’s own faith.  It is a beautiful rite, one that underscores just how much Christianity, Judaism, and Islam have in common.  I feel honored and blessed to be part of such an expression of shared faith and hope. 

This all brought to mind one of my favorite stories from the Sufi tradition, an anecdote about a Persian woman mystic, Rabia of Basra (died 801 CE).  She was found running through the streets carrying a pot of hot coals and a bucket of water.  When asked about this, she replied, “I want to put out the fires of Hell, and burn down the rewards of Paradise. They block the way to Allah. I do not want to worship from fear of punishment or for the promise of reward, but simply for the love of Allah.”  A famous prayer of hers reads: 

“O Lord, if I worship You because of Fear of Hell,
then burn me in Hell;

“If I worship You because I desire Paradise,
then exclude me from Paradise;

“But if I worship You for Yourself alone,
then deny me not your Eternal Beauty.”

Grace and Peace,
Fr. Tony+  

Real Presence (Corpus Christi)

 

Real Presence

(Feast of Thanksgiving for the Holy Eucharist; Corpus Christi)

Homily delivered at Trinity Parish, Ashland (OR)

Thursday June 20, 2019 12 noon Said Mass

Gen 14:18-20, Psa 116:10-17, 1 Cor 11:23-29, John 6:51-58

The Very Rev. Fr. Tony Hutchinson, SCP, Ph.D.

A few years ago during the Monday evening Men’s group, one parishioner raised the question for all to discuss: “What does the Eucharist Mean to Me?  How is it that God Comes to Me in the Bread and Wine?”  The discussion was very personal, with no one taking notes or judging anyone else, just as our discussions in Church ought to be always.   Some said they believed in the real presence of Christ in Eucharistic elements, the consecrated bread and wine.   Others said they sensed the real presence of Jesus in the Eucharistic celebration, in the sharing of this memorial meal ordained by our Lord before his death. Some said they sensed Jesus’ presence in the gathering of the faithful itself, the body of Christ in the world. 

I myself see Christ in all of these and do not see them as mutually exclusive.  I see real wisdom in the words of the young Elizabeth I, who affirmed her faith in the Real Presence in the elements while ambiguously declining to over-define the matter.  When queried under threat of possible torture or death as a Protestant heretic by Queen Mary’s inquisitors about her belief regarding the Eucharistic elements, Elizabeth is said to have replied with an affirmation that was later memorialized by John Donne in this quatrain: 

Christ was the word that spake it.
He took the bread and break it;
And what his words did make it
That I believe and take it.

“What his words did make it,” of course, refers to Jesus’ words of institution at the Last Supper, “This is my body, this is my blood.”   Elizabeth affirmed the real presence while implicitly rejecting receptionism, the belief that the bread and wine remain merely bread and wine but with added symbolism and meaning attributed to them by those consuming them.   But she also declined to endorse either  transubstantiation, the Roman doctrine of the miraculous substitution of the elements’ character as bread and wine with that of the Body and Blood of our Lord, despite visible appearances, or the more Lutheran doctrine of consubstantiation, or the adding of Christ’s Body and Blood to the elements’ character as bread and wine.  We Anglicans, like the Elizabeth and the Eastern Orthodox, have been content to leave the matter undefined, and simply trust Jesus’ words, that the Bread and Wine of Eucharist are indeed somehow the Body and Blood of Christ. 

An early Christian hymn by Ephrem of Edessa, writing in a late form of Aramaic in the fourth century expresses wonder and reverence before the consecrated elements of the Eucharist this way:

 

Lord, your robe’s the well from which our healing flows.
Just behind this outer layer hides your power.
Spittle from your mouth creates a miracle of light within its clay.

In your bread there blows what no mouth can devour.
In your wine there smoulders what no lips can drink.
Gale and Blaze in bread and wine: unparalleled the miracle we taste.

Coming down to earth, where human beings die,
God created these anew, like Wide-eyed Ones,
mingling Blaze and Gale and making these the mystic content of their dust.

Did the Seraph’s fingers touch the white-hot coal?
Did the Prophet’s mouth do more than touch the same?
No, they grasped it not and he consumed it not. To us are granted both.

Abram offered body-food to spirit-guests.
Angels swallowed meat. The newest proof of power
is that bodies eat and drink the Fire and Wind provided by our Lord.
                                          (tr. Geoffrey Rowell) 

A hymn we sing from time to time speaks of how our worship in the sacrament of the Eucharist must fit into a larger sacrament of life for us:  

Draw us in the Spirit’s tether;
For when humbly, in thy name,
Two or three are met together,
Thou art in the midst of them:
Alleluya! Alleluya! Touch we now thy garment’s hem.

As the faithful used to gather
In the name of Christ to sup,
Then with thanks to God the Father
Break the bread and bless the cup,
Alleluya! Alleluya! So knit thou our friendship up.

All our meals and all our living
Make as sacraments of thee,
That by caring, helping, giving,
We may true disciples be.
Alleluya! Alleluya! We will serve thee faithfully.

And simply, in the hymn, “Lord you give the great commission”:  “Lord, you make the common holy, this my body, this my blood.  Let us all, for earth’s true glory, daily lift life heavenward.” 

When we pray the Lord’s Prayer, we ask “give us this day our daily bread.”  But this is not simply a prayer for basic physical sustenance.   The words translated by “our daily bread” actually mean something more like “our bread for the morrow,” the bread of the great feast on the Day of the Lord, or “the bread beyond what you meant when you said, ‘man shall not live by bread alone.’”  It is for this reason that the Lord’s Prayer has always been recited as part of the Great Thanksgiving, just before the breaking of the bread. 

But there is perhaps a larger issue at stake when we talk about Real Presence.  Franciscan friar Richard Rohr writes the following: 

“The Eucharistic body and blood of Christ is a place we must come to again and again to find our own face, to find our deepest name, and our absolute identity in God. It takes years for this to sink in. It is too big a truth for any one moment, too grand and wonderful for our small hearts and minds.  So we keep eating this mystery that is simultaneously the joy of God and the suffering of God packed into one meal. (Some have seen the body/bread as eating the joy and the blood/wine as drinking the suffering.) All we can really do is to be present ourselves, because we cannot ever rationally understand this. Presence cannot really be explained.  When the two presences meet, Jesus and the soul, then we have what Catholics brilliantly call “the Real Presence.” We did maintain the objective end of the presence from God’s side rather well, but we seldom taught people the subjective way of how to be present themselves! Presence is a relational concept, and both sides must be there, or there is no real presence.” 

That is what St. Paul is talking about when he warns us about taking the eucharist unworthily, without “discerning the body.”  Real presence in the Eucharist requires our real presence, otherwise, we risk missing what it going on, missing the saving act of God in the Eucharistic sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving. 

May we all be present, truly present, when we come each to the altar rail to partake the Body and Blood of our Lord. 

Splendor Burning in the Heart of Things (Midweek Message)

Splendor Burning in the Heart of Things

Fr. Tony’s Midweek Message

June 19, 2019

Tomorrow, the Thursday after Trinity Sunday, is in the Church of England Calendar, the Feast of Thanksgiving for the Holy Eucharist (Corpus Christi).  Here at Trinity, we will be using the prayers for the day at our noon Healing Eucharist and at 5 p.m., as part of a worldwide thanksgiving celebration by my religious order (the [Anglican/Episcopal] Society of Catholic Priests) for 25 years since our founding, we will observe an ancient devotion of the Church: Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament.  In this devotional practice, we pray before and meditate upon the Real Presence of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament, and then receive the priest’s blessing with it.  All are welcome. 

  

Last Saturday (June 15) was the feast day of English Mystic and Spiritual Director, Evelyn Underhill.  Here is a poem of hers honoring tomorrow’s feast:    

Corpus Christi 

Come, dear Heart!
The fields are white to harvest: come and see
As in a glass the timeless mystery
Of love, whereby we feed
On God, our bread indeed.
Torn by the sickles, see him share the smart
Of travailing Creation: maimed, despised,
Yet by his lovers the more dearly prized
Because for us he lays his beauty down—
Last toll paid by Perfection for our loss!
Trace on these fields his everlasting Cross,
And o’er the stricken sheaves the Immortal Victim’s crown.

From far horizons came a Voice that said,
‘Lo! from the hand of Death take thou thy daily bread.’
Then I, awakening, saw
A splendour burning in the heart of things:
The flame of living love which lights the law
Of mystic death that works the mystic birth.
I knew the patient passion of the earth,
Maternal, everlasting, whence there springs
The Bread of Angels and the life of man.

Now in each blade
I, blind no longer, see
The glory of God’s growth: know it to be
An earnest of the Immemorial Plan.
Yea, I have understood
How all things are one great oblation made:
He on our altars, we on the world’s rood.
Even as this corn,
Earth-born,
We are snatched from the sod;
Reaped, ground to grist,
Crushed and tormented in the Mills of God,
And offered at Life’s hands, a living Eucharist. 

Grace and Peace,

Tony+ 

#Adorate!  #SCP2019

Lover, Beloved, and Love Itself (Trinity Sunday)

Lover, Beloved, and Love Itself
Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity

Sunday after Pentecost, 16 June 2019  
Homily preached at 8:00 a.m. said, 10:00 a.m. sung Eucharist 
Parish Church of Trinity, Ashland

The Very Rev. Fr. Anthony Hutchinson, SCP, Ph.D., Rector

In the name of the Holy and Triune God:

Lover, Beloved, and Love Itself. Amen.

Today is Trinity Sunday, a celebration of that most theological of all doctrines.   For many of us here in Ashland, both those words—theology and doctrine—tend to be trigger words.  They have an intimidating, threatening ring to them.  For many of us, they are redolent of dry and dusty intellectualism that at best kills love and the spirit, and, at worst, hurls authoritarian anathemas, excommunicating and burning witches, scientists,  and adherents of (gasp!) heresy.  That’s another trigger word:  even mentioning it summons images of Grand Inquisitors violently forcing confessions and renunciations out of people whose freedom of conscience and religion should have been respected.   

It seems to us, especially here in the West of the United States, where "none of the above" is the largest religious grouping, that freedom of religion and freedom of belief implies that all religious opinions are equally valid, and have an equal shot of arriving at Truth.  Here in woo-woo Southern Oregon, however, where Iawasca Vine Spirit Quests and magic mushrooms and peyote buttons, or just plain Everclear grain alcohol are used by some instead of Communion wafers and wine, and have won Supreme Court protection as expressions of religious freedom, our general inclination to think that all religion is good religion is shown to be problematic.  Not all faith is created equal, though we must act as if this is so if we are to live in a society free of inquisitors and theocrats.  Quirky, irrational, and downright crack-pot ideas and practice, though you are entitled under our constitution to practice them, simply cannot be on par with more mature and nuanced faith.  For those of us who flinch to hear this, just think of bad religion from the other direction: fundamentalism, racism, homophobia and patriarchy tarted up in religious robes, now demanding under the banner of “religious freedom” special protections to enforce their kind of religion on others. 

This last Thursday, our church calendar commemorated English social and literary critic and Christian apologist, Gilbert Keith Chesterton.  100 years ago, he defended the idea of orthodoxy versus heresy, fully aware of the disrepute the idea had fallen into in a pluralistic society.  For Chesterton, orthodoxy was truth, well-balanced, fully rounded, growing irresistibly from the ground of comprehensive reason and faith, and always leaning toward greater, broader truth.  Heresy, however, was in a sense truth gone mad.  One part of the truth was seized upon in a monomania and focused on to the exclusion of all other truth.   For him, heresy was to be rejected not because it was too broad and open, but rather, because it was too narrow and restricted in its view. 

“But how can dusty doctrine compare with the reality of experience?” C.S. Lewis in Mere Christianity mentions a friend who says he prefers the spirituality of going out and experiencing the beauty of God’s creation, to the unreality of the dry and deadly musings of theologians any day.  Lewis writes:

“[One who] look[s] at the Atlantic from the beach, and then goes and looks at a map of the Atlantic, … will be turning [in some way] from something real to something less real… The map is admittedly only colored paper, but there are two things you have to remember about it. In the first place, it is based upon what … thousands of people have found out by sailing the real Atlantic. In that way it has behind it masses of experience just as real as the one you could have from the beach; only, while yours would be a single glimpse, the map fits all those different experiences together. In the second place, if you want to go anywhere, the map is absolutely necessary. As long as you are content with walks on the beach your own glimpses are far more fun than looking at a map” (p. 154).

Trinity Sunday is not just a celebration of doctrine.  It is also our patronal feast, the commemoration of the Saint or Doctrine for which a Church is named.  That’s why we here at Trinity Ashland try to make this day just a little special. 

Liberation theologian Leonardo Boff summarizes the Holy Trinity this way: 

“We believe that God is communion rather than solitude.  Believing in the Trinity means that at the root of everything that exists and subsists there is movement; there is an eternal process of life, of outward movement, of love.  Believing in the Trinity means that truth is on the side of communion rather than exclusion; consensus translates truth better than imposition; the participation of many is better than the dictate of a single one” (Leonardo Boff, Holy Trinity, Perfect Community).    

Here is the core of the doctrine of the Holy Trinity, as well as the core of our community life here.  It expresses why it was so right to name this special gathering of seekers and sinners “Trinity.”  Community, consensus, free give and take and mutual service—this is what makes us who we are.

  

The heart of Christianity is not in theology or doctrine.  It is in the experience of the living God in our lives and our loving service to and compassion with others.  “The first commandment is love God.  The second is on par with this: love your neighbor.”   This is the life-giving heart of the Church.  The early Church leaders got into the business of theologizing and defining orthodox doctrine only when they realized that some ways of thinking about God and ourselves were not life-giving.

How you think impacts on how you experience life and the world.  How you believe colors how you live.  If you believe that God is a hate-filled, violent, and bloodthirsty deity, you probably will emulate some of these traits.   If you believe that God is a complete mystery, unrevealed and unrevealing, that kind of takes away any ability for God to actually touch you or change your life.   If you believe you are at heart a depraved wretch, you may from time to time actually act like one.

 “Heresy” in Greek simply means a choice, or alternative.  The Church over the centuries has identified many such “choices” as something to be avoided.  A history of these controversies make a very sorry story, one where Christians have not been their best at following Jesus.  But the Church first began to be concerned about such things only when it saw the harm that some “choices” wrought on a comprehensive and healthy Christian life.  

Judging even by today’s inclusive standards, many of these condemned ideas are problematic.  Believing that the Son was created or begotten in time, and that Jesus thus became the Son, technically called Arianism or subordinationism, suggests that the only relationship possible with God is simple submission to higher authority.  This works all sorts of mischief in the life of the Church. 

Believing that the father, son, and holy spirit are simply three separate masks of, three separate ways we experience, or three different functions of, the one person God, technically called modalism or patripassionism, also robs us of community at the heart of all things and leads to submission to domination as the sole way of relating to God and to each other. 

I know how beloved some of the newer more gender inclusive three-fold ways of talking about God are for many of us here.  “Earth maker, Pain bearer, Life Giver” touches us because it is grounded in things we touch and feel.  But I fear it obscures the inter-relationships at the heart of God: it is modalist.  “Father, Son, and Holy Spirit” may seem too androcentric.  But when Jesus taught us to call God our father, our abba, he was not emphasizing gender, but parental intimacy.  Perhaps the Order of St. Helena’s use, “Source of Being, Incarnate Word, and Sacred Breath” might work.   I think, though, St. Augustine of Hippo, in his great classic de Trinitate, said it best:  Lover, Beloved, and Love Itself.   This preserves the relationships in the Trinity rather than giving us different functions and reducing each of the persons to one of these.   It is important to be inclusive, and to keep a clear mind on the social nature of God. 

Beloved family members here at Trinity:  We are blessed to be here in a loving and serving, and welcoming community.  We are blessed to be gathered here seeking further guidance in our sail out on the ocean, in our walk in the beautiful wood around us, in our contemplative mysticism.  God is love, and where love is, there is God.   Elena and I thank you for welcoming us here 7 years ago and for including us in this glorious celebration of the social nature in the heart of God.   

As we all welcome our new congregants today with open heart and hands, let us pray that we all may continue in this fellowship of love and service. 

Thanks be to God. Amen.

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A Reason for Eating Japanese Food this Week (midweek message)

A Reason for Eating Japanese Food this Week

Fr. Tony’s Midweek Message

June 12, 2019

Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday this week are in the liturgical calendar called “Ember Days.” These days of fasting or abstaining from eating flesh took place four times a year to allow, like Rogation Days, for special prayers for a good agricultural cycle.   They traditionally take place on the Wednesday, Friday and Saturday of a week during Spring planting (after the First Sunday of Lent), Summer growth (after Pentecost), Autumn harvest (after the feast of the Holy Cross on September 14), and Winter fallowing and early plantings (near the third Sunday of Advent, close to the Feast of St. Lucy, December 13, which was the Winter solstice under the Julian Calendar). A late Medieval couplet served as an aide-memoire for when these fasts took place:

“Fasting days and Emberings be
Lent, Whitsun, Holyrood, and Lucie.” 

(Rood is Middle English for a crucifix; Whitsunday (“White Sunday”) is Pentecost, when baptisms took place, the candidates all arrayed in white.)

“Ember” here doesn’t have anything to do with coals or campfires.  It comes from Anglo-Saxon ymb-ren, “a run around [the sun].”  These agricultural fasts were called in Latin Quatuor Tempora, “the four times,” a phrase that gave rise to a Japanese term for a special way of preparing seafood and vegetables.  Jesuits from Portugal set up their mission to Japan in Nagasaki in the 1500s.  They asked local cooks to prepare meatless meals suitable for fasts by deep-frying shrimp and vegetables, very much in the style of Portuguese peixinhos da horta, hearty deep-fried vegetables, and the dish’s avatar in Goa, the Portuguese colony in India, pakora.  The Japanese cooks made the dish their own, creating a lighter, less starchy crust.  Mistaking the Portuguese missionaries' name for the occasion for this food for the food itself, they called their new dish tempura.  Yum. 

Fifth century Western Church fathers like Leo the Great and Jerome speak of Ember Days as special seasonal fasts for agriculture.  By the end of that century, they had become associated with ministers, those sent out to work in “the Lord’s vineyard and harvest”: Pope Gelasius (d. 496 CE) says that Ember Days are appropriate times for ordinations.   In modern times, they serve as occasions for reflection, reporting, and prayer for those preparing for Holy Orders, who write on Ember Days reports to their Bishops on their progress.  

We all in baptism are called as ministers of the Gospel, regardless of our status as clergy or lay.  Ember Days give us an occasion to reflect on our ministries. 

How are you doing in fulfilling the charge you received in baptism?  The baptismal covenant in the Prayer Book tells us what the calling of all Christians is: be faithful to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers; whenever you fall into sin repent and return to the Lord; proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Jesus Christ; seek and serve Christ in all persons; work for justice and peace and treat every person with dignity.

Making this our own starts always in a process of discernment, by which we come to understand what our own particular vocation is, what it is that God is calling us specifically to.  Presbyterian theologian Frederick Beuchner defined vocation as where our deepest joy meets the world’s deepest need.  Finding out where we are energized, “in the flow,” and in sober deep pleasure, and matching this to the needs and hunger of those about us is the principal task of discernment.  Attentiveness is key, paying close attention to where our joy lies.  

Your efforts in the ministry you are called to individually—are they sufficient?  Do they have enough focus?  Could they be broader, wider, or deeper?    How might you better equip yourself for more effective ministry? 

I encourage all of us this week of Ember Days to reflect on our ministry and find ways to better fulfill our vocation.   And maybe we should at some point go out for Japanese food. 

Grace and Peace,    Fr. Tony+ 

Rules for the Road, Rules for Home

Rules for the Road, Rules for Home

Fr. Tony’s Midweek Message

June 5, 2019

One of our morning prayer readings this week is about when Jesus sent 70 disciples out to complement and expand the ministry of the Twelve.  I have known the story since my youth, but only recently realized what the passage is talking about: 

“Go on your way; behold, I am sending you like lambs among wolves. Carry no money bag, no sack, no sandals; and greet no one along the way. Into whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this household.’ If a peaceful person lives there, your peace will rest on them; but if not, it will return to you. Stay in the same house and eat and drink what is offered to you, for the laborer deserves payment. Do not move about from one house to another. Whatever town you enter and they welcome you, eat what is set before you, cure the sick in it and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to  you.’  Whatever town you enter and they do not receive you, go out into the streets and say, ‘The dust of your town that clings to our feet, even that we shake off against you.’ Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near. I tell you, it will be more tolerable for Sodom on that day than for that town” (Luke 10:3-12).  

Jesus here is giving practical guides to the spirituality of healthy ministry and serene life: acceptance and surrender.  Rather than packing up all that you need to be comfortable and conduct your life “just so” as you prefer, he says, don’t even take an overnight bag, a change of underwear or extra shoes.  On the road, don’t always be approaching people to get what you think you want out of them: no caging for extra change or trying to arrange your destination details and an overnight set-up.  Once you have arrived, go in the first place that will host you.  Accept it—don’t go about looking for a better gig.  Stay where you land.  Don’t be picky even about what you eat:  accept whatever they give you.  (That must have been a shocking bit of advice to people who wanted to “follow the commandments” and keep strict kosher: imagine—your happy relationship with your hosts was more important than proper religious observance!)   Part of learning to accept hospitality gracefully and without pickiness, is learning to not feel guilty about depending on others (“the laborer deserves payment”).  Heal and help those who are willing to accept your help, but don’t resent those who decline and turn you away.  Tell them all that God has come near.  Let rejection go; leave people who turn you aside to God (“we shake off the dust of our feet”).  I think Jesus must have had an ironic smile on his face when he threw in that detail about the dire fate of those who decline our help:  if you simply must resent them, he says, you might be comforted with the thought that God will send FIRE AND BRIMSTONE down on them!

Last week on Ascension Day, we read of Jesus’ advice to the disciples just before he ascended to heaven:  “You will receive power from the Holy Spirit, and you will be my witnesses to the end of the earth.  But stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high” (Luke 24:49).  This too is spiritual guidance:  gracefully wait.  Wait for what you cannot fully imagine.  Wait for something new, something unprecedented.  And while you wait, stay put.  Don’t go wandering about trying to cage something better, to make something good happen.   Stay still however long it takes for God’s clarity to come:  again, acceptance and surrender.  This does not mean detachment, withdrawal, or isolating.  It means allowing God to work in God’s time. 

Former Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams calls this core element of Christian spirituality “passionate patience.”  It means staying grounded where we are, but ready to accept the newness from God.  The Bishop of Washington DC, Marianne Edgar Budde, calls it “poised readiness.”  This is close to my favorite definition of reverence: “relaxed attentiveness.” 

As we prepare for Pentecost this coming Sunday, let us remember to keep open to God’s work in us and the world about us. 

Grace and Peace, 
Fr. Tony+ 

TEC's Teaching on Abortion and Reproductive Rights (Trinitarian article, June 2019)

What Does the Episcopal Church Teach about Abortion and Reproductive Rights? 

In recent weeks the states of Alabama, Georgia, and Ohio have passed laws making abortion (and perhaps even a miscarriage) a felony, hoping to challenge Roe v. Wade in the Supreme Court with its new conservative majority.  Many have asked, “Does The Episcopal Church have an official position on abortion?”  Yes we do.  This is from our General Convention in 1994:

“Resolved, That this 71st General Convention of the Episcopal Church reaffirms resolution C047 from the 69th General Convention, which states:

“All human life is sacred from its inception until death. The Church takes seriously its obligation to help form the consciences of its members concerning this sacredness. Human life, therefore, should be initiated only advisedly and in full accord with this understanding of the power to conceive and give birth which is bestowed by God. It is the responsibility of our congregations to assist their members in becoming informed concerning the spiritual and physiological aspects of sex and sexuality.

“The Book of Common Prayer affirms that ‘the birth of a child is a joyous and solemn occasion in the life of a family. It is also an occasion for rejoicing in the Christian community’ (p. 440). As Christians we also affirm responsible family planning.

“We regard all abortion as having a tragic dimension, calling for the concern and compassion of all the Christian community.

“While we acknowledge that in this country it is the legal right of every woman to have a medically safe abortion, as Christians we believe strongly that if this right is exercised, it should be used only in extreme situations. We emphatically oppose abortion as a means of birth control, family planning, sex selection, or any reason of mere convenience.

“In those cases where an abortion is being considered, members of this Church are urged to seek the dictates of their conscience in prayer, to seek the advice and counsel of members of the Christian community and where appropriate, the sacramental life of this Church.

“Whenever members of this Church are consulted with regard to a problem pregnancy, they are to explore, with grave seriousness, with the person or persons seeking advice and counsel, as alternatives to abortion, other positive courses of action, including, but not limited to, the following possibilities: the parents raising the child; another family member raising the child; making the child available for adoption.

“It is the responsibility of members of this Church, especially the clergy, to become aware of local agencies and resources which will assist those faced with problem pregnancies.

“We believe that legislation concerning abortions will not address the root of the problem. We therefore express our deep conviction that any proposed legislation on the part of national or state governments regarding abortions must take special care to see that the individual conscience is respected, and that the responsibility of individuals to reach informed decisions in this matter is acknowledged and honored as the position of this Church; and be it further

“Resolved, That this 71st General Convention of the Episcopal Church express its unequivocal opposition to any legislative, executive or judicial action on the part of local, state or national governments that abridges the right of a woman to reach an informed decision about the termination of pregnancy or that would limit the access of a woman to safe means of acting on her decision.”

We here at Trinity have tried to live into this teaching in a number of ways.  As part of Ashland’s ecumenical ministry for youth, the Ashland Youth Collective, we have participated with the UCC in offering our young people “Our Whole Lives,” a curriculum on responsible sexuality and relationships.  As part of Ashland’s Evolving Congregations gathering, we have sponsored speakers such as the Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber, whose most recent book Shameless: A Sexual Revolution plumbs the issue.    In preaching and pastoral counseling, we encourage our people to find their own faithful approach to these matters, and listen to their consciences.  We have contributed several times over the years to sex and reproductive health education efforts by Planned Parenthood, a major provider in the Rogue Valley of reproductive health and family planning services.    

Grace and Peace.