Wildfires

We have been busy here. If you read this, or this, you'll see why.

(Updates here)

Some of those quoted in the first article are my parishioners.

We've organized a community prayer service tonight in Absarokee. I'm headed over there this afternoon, taking the back ways in the hope I can get back into town. This is not guaranteed; the roads from the north (including the expressway) were closed most of the night.

The sky to the west looks, to my midwestern eyes, like a tornado sky-- almost apocalyptic.

Pray for us, please.

Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

Proper 16B
Joshua 24:1-2a,14-25
Ephesians 5:21-33
John 6:60-69
Psalm 16 or 34:15-22

Seminaries are small schools. Add up all the classes that were on campus in any given term at Seabury-Western, and you still wouldn’t get a total of 100 students. In my graduating class, there were about two dozen of us who were there for the whole three years. Because we were such a small group, and spending most of our waking hours together-- in class, in worship, at meals and in social activities-- we got to know one another very well. Almost too well, sometimes! In many ways, it was like an extended family. You knew who was dependable, and who was flighty. Who you could turn to for support, and where to go for a laugh. Who would get on your nerves just by opening their mouths, and who to count on when you needed to know something.

Everyone knew, for example, that Susie was the person to ask about music. She can not only sing like an angel, but she’s the first non-church-musician I ever met who knew hymns by number, and even the name of the tune! Dave was the Prayer Book guy. Ask him a question about the liturgies of the church, and he could not only answer immediately, but likely tell you the page number on which the rubric could be found, from memory.

Me? Well, it seems that I developed something of a reputation for being the class “Bible geek.” No, I would not proclaim myself an expert, not by any stretch. There are far too many people out there who have a whole lot more scripture memorized than I do, and who have studied it longer and more in depth. But it is true that I love scripture, and the ways the books of the Bible speak to us across the spans of time and space, culture and circumstance. Part of my ordination vows required publicly testifying that “I believe the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments to be the Word of God, and to contain all things necessary to salvation.” And I do, wholeheartedly. What this means, among other things, is that I tend to be particular about how the Word is handled.

This is the long explanation for why the reading inserts look a little different this morning. I did not distribute the regular sheet, because I wanted to extend the Epistle reading beyond what was printed in the standard insert.

In the original selection, the reading ends after the instructions to husbands and wives are read. I feel that stopping at the point does a disservice to the text, and to the understanding of the passage.

Leaving that section to stand alone gives rise to objections in some quarters, as you might expect. It often seems, to modern ears, to be reinforcing some patriarchal notion of husband as boss-in-charge, with the wife as obedient subordinate. I know that there are those who credit and support that as the intent. This is one of those passages that regularly gets held up as a standard for “good wives” in a women’s Bible study (while the far more extensive instruction to husbands is conveniently overlooked!)

So, let’s look at it again. There are instructions to husbands and wives, yes-- but if you keep going, there are also directions for parents and children, and masters and slaves. In reading the whole section, I notice a couple of significant things here. First, the nature of all these relationships had some commonalities in that time and place. The prerogatives of the husband/father/master of the house were very similar: almost total control. Women and children and slaves were all essentially owned-- legal property, or at least under so much authority that they might as well have been. Given that reality, the notion of mutual submission was a radical teaching. A challenge. And yet, that is what the scripture says. The opening verse this morning is one which summarizes everything after it: “Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ.” What follows is simply a series of examples of both sides of what that might look like, in the culture of the day.

Which brings me to the second thing I notice in reading this passage: what was understood as accepted and appropriate behavior for God’s followers there and then is not necessarily the same thing as here and now.

Slavery, for example, was obviously tolerated in the early church-- and not only tolerated, but accepted as reasonable, normal practice. This is not the only bit of scripture that conveys that impression. You can even find in the Old Testament instructions from God as to which people the Israelites were permitted to buy as slaves!

As time has gone on, however, this has ceased to be acceptable. We have come to understand that ownership of one human being by another is wrong-- that it is in fact contrary to God’s will to treat men and women, beloved children of God and created in God’s image, as chattel to be bought and sold.

Does this mean that God changed his mind? I don’t think so. Rather, I believe that the way we understand God, and God’s work in this world, has shifted and changed as time and generations have passed.

Here’s another example of what I mean: In today’s Old Testament reading, Joshua is urging the Israelites to turn away from foreign gods and idols, and to serve only the Lord. He warns them about what will happen if they backslide:

"You cannot serve the LORD; for he is a holy God. He is a jealous God; he will not forgive your transgressions or your sins. If you forsake the LORD and serve foreign gods, then he will turn and do you harm, and consume you, after having done you good."

Now, compare that with what we know of God’s behavior throughout other portions of scripture, and you’ll see why we have come to comprehend our Creator far differently than Joshua and the Israelites did. We have seen, over and over again, the mercy of God as he has welcomed back and forgiven and cared for his followers. In the New Testament, we hear the radical forgiveness in Jesus’ teachings. We see in the life and death of Jesus the lengths to which God will go to restore relationship. We know the covenant promise that whenever we fall into sin, we can “repent and return to the Lord.” We can turn back and know that we will be forgiven. God is a god of infinite second chances!

So, it seems reasonable to expect that “being subject to one another” may also look very different than the culture of Paul's day. It seems reasonable to believe that the point of this passage is not a specific, cultural imperative about how men and women are to interact; but rather to emphasize that we are responsible to and for each another. Wives and husbands are to be mutually committed, each to the welfare of the other. Children and parents are both sacred responsibilities, to be cared for and nurtured. Those who perform work, and those who direct that work, are to treat one another with respect, and to give their best effort. It’s not about “knowing your place.” It’s about loving one another, and about godly discipleship-- and this, my friends, is what discipleship is. For in “being subject to one another out of reverence for Christ," we can truly show the face of Jesus to the world around us.

Amen.

Are you sure you called the right number?

There are a few phone conversation phrases that are just inherently unnerving. They are not obviously good ("It's a boy/girl!") or bad ("There's been an accident."), but could go either way, depending on what follows.

• "This is your child's principal (or school nurse)."
• "Your test results are in."
• "The Bishop and I have been discussing you."

Then you hold your breath, and wait for the other shoe to drop.

I heard the latter yesterday, and I'm still a bit... nonplussed. As the conversation went on, I learned that our bishop does not care to have his candidates for ordination take the GOE's, but prefers instead to have them take canonical exams, administered locally. I learned that those who do the testing here include both lay and ordained persons, each with overlapping areas of responsibility. I learned the exams include both oral and written portions.

I learned these things, because it seems that I am now the newest member of our diocesan Board of Examining Chaplains, specifically responsible for designing and evaluating examinations in the areas of Scripture (especially New Testament) and Church History.

AKMA, you are so going to be hearing from me!

And now, for something completely different...

. . . but do they come in flannel?

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

Proper 15
Proverbs 9:1-6
Ephesians 5:15-20
John 6:53-59
Psalm 147 or 34:9-14

“Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood...”

Outside of the context of church, that would sound quite different, wouldn’t it? Shades of the Donner Party, indeed! This bit of theology is one of the things that got early Christians into trouble: they really were accused of cannibalism upon occasion. Now, we need to understand that believing one’s neighbors were involved in such a thing was a bit more credible back then. In our day, we are used to this understanding of the Lord’s Supper, and we are surrounded by a culture accustomed to the reference. No one is going to walk in here wondering if we are actually consuming human flesh and blood.

The early church, however, was birthed into a very different environment. They were formed out of Jewish tradition; but the Jews, as you may recall, were an oppressed minority in the Greco-Roman world. They were surrounded by an awful lot of belief systems, and people who believed in a lot of different gods, and offered worship to those gods in a lot of different ways. Honestly, compared to some of the more extreme cults, cannibalism would not have sounded outside the realm of possibility. So, when nonbelievers heard talk about the early disciples consuming the body and blood of the Lord, they took what they were hearing at face value. This was at times given as a reason for persecuting early Christians.

However, as I noted earlier, we know better now, don’t we? We know that the substances on the table set before us are not flesh and blood, but bread and wine, food made by human hands from the fruit and grain of God’s good earth. Our belief in the presence of the Lord within them is a spiritual understanding, commended to us by Jesus as a way of remembering the life he offered for us.

Or is it?

When our daughter Carolyn was very small-- just past 3, I think-- I took her with me to an early morning Ash Wednesday service at what was then our parish. There were only a few people present (and she was the only child) as we gathered that morning in the tiny side chapel. Our priest asked her to come up and help him. She was delighted, and served as a very earnest little acolyte. She was especially pleased to be given Communion (a first, for her!), before he served the rest of us.

On the way home, we talked about the service and the “special bread” she had experienced that morning. “Do you know why it’s special?” I asked her.

She rolled her eyes at me, as only a child can do when an adult asks a particularly inane question.

“Yes, Mom. When Fr. Randy blesses the bread, it means that Jesus is in there; and when I eat it, then Jesus is in me.”

Out of the mouths of babes, as they say, oft comes wisdom.

Let’s look again at today’s Gospel reading. It sounds kind of repetitive, doesn’t it? In the Greek, however, the phrases are more distinctive. The words translated as “eat” in the first two sentences are actually different verbs. The first time, the word is a more polite form: “to take in through the mouth.” To dine upon, if you will.

In the second sentence, however, the intent is much earthier. The word there literally translates as “to bite or chew.” My lexicon adds, “to eat audibly, as animals.” No polite euphemisms there! John’s Gospel is emphasizing the importance of spiritual indwelling of the Spirit of God; but he is doing so in a very solid, tangible way.

We are physical creatures, you and I. We make sense of the world in a sensual ways-- by touch, and taste, sight and smell and sound. It is the way we are created from the very beginning, in the earthy, messy realities of conception and birth.

I think that’s at least one reason why God chose to come to us in human form. Think about it-- Jesus came among us, and lived with us, and died for us, and confirmed his bodily resurrection to us. His physical presence fostered the connection between God and humanity, bringing us closer to God in ways that we could grasp.

So, doesn’t it make sense for God to continue to come to us in tangible ways? To allow that this gospel passage means what it says: that in the physical act of eating and drinking the consecrated bread and wine, we are in some way taking the corporeal presence of God into ourselves?

Now, exactly how it happens, I do not pretend to understand. Far more learned theologians than I have been debating for hundreds of years, and there is still no universal agreement. But then, perhaps understanding is not the issue. Knowledge and understanding are also gifts from God; but they are different from wisdom. As Proverbs reminds us, it is Wisdom who has built this house, and set the table. One does not have to understand a gift in order to be wise enough to accept it. It is a gift we cannot possibly hope to earn or deserve; but one we are given freely, over and over again.

“Wisdom has set her table.” So whenever we are able, we join her. We eat and drink-- and in doing so, we are changed, in ways only God can know.

Thanks be to God.

Things I've learned in Montana (so far)

After a month here, I'm beginning to pick up a few things...

• When someone comments on your "outfit," it likely refers to what you're driving, not what you're wearing.

• When a parishioner tells you they've just seen a cutting, don't panic. This is a riding competition-- they're on horses, and no knives are involved.

• "Up" is south and "down" is north, here. They refer to elevation, and not compass directions.

• Along the same vein, "left" and "right" are never used in giving directions. Landmarks (some more clear than others) are used instead. On the other hand, distances are often used, and are startlingly accurate. "You turn at the mafia house, and drive 8/10ths of a mile..." (yes, that's a quote)
  

• Storing last year's leftover Ash Wednesday ashes in an an open container, in the same drawer as the communion linens, is not a good idea-- especially when the drawer sticks.

• Lunch at the senior center is the best $3 you can spend. Those ladies can cook.

• Road construction is still no fun; but the folks on the crews smile and wave here.
  

• So do cops.

• Driving 40 miles each way to get to a church is a whole lot less painful when you've got open roads and ever-changing mountain views.

Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

Proper 14B
Deuteronomy 8:1-10
Ephesians 4:(25-29)30-5:2
John 6:37-51
Psalm 34 or 34:1-8

Among the adventures my family and I are having as we adjust to life in Montana, one of the most interesting is shopping for food. Now, you might think that doesn't sound like much of an adventure; after all, I've been making trips to the grocery store and the farmer's market and such places for an awfully long time. However, I've discovered since moving here that the rules have changed. There are items here that I suppose you all take for granted, that I've never seen before. Choke cherries, for example. Until this week, I had never even seen a choke cherry before, let alone known what they were used for. One kind woman gave me a huge bowlful of them, and we're going to try making jelly this afternoon. I'll let you know how it goes.

On the other hand, items I considered staples are unknown here. You can't find italian beef anywhere here (except for one restaurant in Billings that lists it on the menu, and trust me, it's just not right). This is a real lack, I assure you!

Even items that are common in both parts of the world are different. I see new brand names everywhere I go, even for staples like bread. The kind of bread I bought back in Indiana is not carried here, so far as I can find, so we've been experimenting with different brands here, to see what we like.

Of course, even if the brands are different, I didn't have any problem finding bread here. Everyone eats bread. Actually, that's true worldwide, even if the bread does take different forms. Think of pita bread for example, or tortillas. It doesn't matter where you go in the world; someone will have figured out how to grind grains to make flour, and add liquid, and make bread. Bread is a foundational ingredient in the human diet. They call it "the staff of life" for good reason.

in today's gospel, Jesus talks about bread. And the universal nature of that image makes it a little easier to grasp. When Jesus talks about shepherds... well, not everyone knows about shepherds and sheepherding-- I certainly don't! But when he talks about being bread, that's an image everyone can grasp, in one way or another.

And that is as it should be. Because Jesus, like bread, is foundational.

The other day I had a conversation with someone who asked me what the definition of a Christian was. I will admit that I was surprised by the question, so I asked him what he thought it meant. Christians, as he understood it, are by definition people who care for their neighbors, who are generous, kind, honest... in other words, good people.

Now, that's a lovely example of someone living by Christian principles; but that does not define a Christian. There are plenty of other traditions that also espouse those principles, and people of many faiths, or none at all, who try to live in that manner. Likewise, there are any number of Christians who fail to measure up to those standards, all too often. "All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God," scripture reminds us.

No, actually the definition of a Christian is simpler than that. A Christian, my friends, is one who believes in Jesus as God, and the son of God; and who tries to follow him as Lord and Savior. That is our foundational truth. All the behaviors that are listed in the reading from Ephesians this morning-- speaking truth, not allowing anger to lead to sin, not stealing-- are based on that. Those are the things that we stack on the bread, if you will. They make a tasty sandwich, and are healthy and life-giving-- but it's not a sandwich at all if the bread isn't there to begin with.

Similarly, we can do all of those good things and more with our lives; but it is our recognition of Jesus-- our willingness to "confess the faith of Christ crucified," as it says in our baptismal liturgy-- that makes us Christian. It is our willingness to acknowledge the God we know in Jesus Christ that forms us into the body of Christ. Trying to live that truth, every day, is what will bring us closer to God-- and what will bring others closer-- and what will allow the inbreaking of God's kingdom into a world that sorely needs more of it.

Tired

My, there's a lot to love about these places and people. And a lot of challenges, as we begin to know one another well enough for me to begin hearing what my Pastoral Care professor used to call "kitchen stories." These are not the the tales one tells when putting one's best foot forward, rosy images cleaned up for company. Those are "parlor stories." No, these are the Let Your Hair Down, Tell It Like It Is tales. They are good and bad, joyful and heart-rending stories of saints who are sinners, and sinners who are saints-- and even More Complicated Than That, because of the inherent nature of human relationships.

My reflex, of course, is to want to "fix" stuff: right the wrongs, heal the relationships, and tidy up the kitchen, all before suppertime. Yes, I know I can't do that. And though I do believe that God can, I also know that it won't happen overnight.

And so I listen, and learn, and pray. And that is exhausting work, sometimes as much as any physical labor.

Of course, other demands on my time continue:

• Visiting shut-ins and hospital patients (thus far, a uniformly delightful lot!).
• Meeting other local clergy of various stripes and traditions.
• Digging through closets and cupboards and files, finding parish records and supplies.
• Pushing around the piles of paperwork required to sate the powers and principalities of this world, all of whom want their pound of flesh Filed In A Timely Manner.
• Phone calls, phone calls, phone calls. . . 'nough said.

Additionally, the sermon for Sunday is proving to be stubbornly elusive this week. Ephesians, swirling around with John, and nothing speaking clearly. Tomorrow is supposed to be my day off, but I think that part of it will be spent seeking some focus.

But not tonight. Tonight, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is approaching catatonic.

All done now.

Feast of the Transfiguration

Exodus 34:29-352 Peter 1:13-21
Psalm 99
Luke 9:28-36


You gotta love Peter. At least, I do. He is so very human, isn’t he? Impetuous, impulsive, headstrong... eager and well-intentioned, but consistently about half clueless.

This morning’s Gospel is a prime example of that. Here he is confronted with an amazing sight-- his beloved teacher, one he has just a short time ago recognized as the messiah, frist transfigured into a glorious figure as he prayed, and then standing in conversation with two of the holiest figures in Jewish history.

His reaction, of course, is understandable. He is overwhelmed, and thrilled, and (being Peter) eager to act-- to honor these godly men, and to preserve the moment. “So how do we do that?” You can almost hear him thinking. “ I know-- we build booths!” Shelters, a holy edifice for each one, monuments to their righteousness and to the significance of the moment. It would also be recognition of a sort for him, too, of course. A commemorative structure, would also be something he can point to on his own behalf. “We were there! See that? I helped to build it! Isn't that cool?”

Of course, that sort of honor was not what Jesus wanted or needed. But Peter didn’t understand that just then. He didn’t have the whole picture, didn’t understand. As the gospel says, “He did not know what he was saying.”

How often might that be said of us? Seems to me we as human beings are very prone to acting without thinking it through, often with disastrous results. Even when we do-- even when we consider all that we know, all the pros and cons, and come to the most thoughtful conclusion we can-- our choices and actions often have unintended consequences that reach far beyond what we could possibly have imagined.

This is a very good day to remember that. In addition to this being the Feast of the Transfiguration, it is also the anniversary of the day, 61 years ago, when the first atomic bomb was dropped on Japan. Another moment with clouds and blinding light that changed the course of history.

I have no doubt that the wisdom of that decision was discussed at length, by those responsible. I have no doubt that a lot of thought and care went into making that choice. And the action did have the desired effect-- after the decimation of Hiroshima, and the followup at Nagasaki three days later, Japan quickly and completely capitulated and the war was over.

But that decision has also reverberated through history, in ways that no one anticipated, or could have anticipated. For years-- indeed, generations-- the consequences have become more and more apparent. People suffered the painful, lingering aftereffects of radiation poisoning. The best estimates are that 70,000 people died in the initial attack, but more than three times that many died in the next five years as a result of the radiation exposure. Countless more lived on for years after that, suffering lingering, irreparable harm-- debilitating wounds that would not heal, various cancers, birth defects and stillbirths... the list goes on.

When the bombs were dropped, of course, no one knew the extent of the damage they could do. Even the scientists who developed and tested them were not fully cognizant of the ramifications of their discovery. They were eager to test their new discovery, of course; but they were not sure how powerful the explosion would be, nor how far it would reach, nor what the damage would be. At the first tests in the desert, scientist Enrico Fermi is said to have been placing odds on whether or not the very air would ignite-- and if even those who were the observers would survive the explosion!

They didn’t know. And so, in their partial ignorance, they accomplished great things-- and perpetrated great horror, all at the same time.

Now, Peter’s eagerness was a different sort, of course. He was not in the middle of a war, for starters! But his desires also would have had unintended ramifications that we can see with the advantage of 2,000 years of hindsight. Think about it: he was placing Jesus on a par with Elijah and Moses. Now, he likely saw as honoring Jesus; after all, these patriarchs were giants of faith and history. In reality, however... as great as these men were, and as powerful as they were in their faith, they were, in fact, only men. They were not the Son of God-- they were not God, as Jesus in fact was. Even though Peter had recognized Jesus as the Messiah, he was evidently not clear on what that meant.

And so, in his well-intentioned ignorance, his attempt to honor would instead have been an effort to limit, to confine, to contain what Jesus was and would be.

Golly, I don’t know about you, but I can be just as ignorant, just as clueless, as Peter ever was. So how do we avoid doing that? Well, here’s the good news: in this reading, God gives us an answer.

Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!"

That’s what we do. We are not perfect, anymore than Peter was. And left to our own devices, history shows that we can, with the best of intentions, make some horrific choices. But here’s the Good News: we are not alone. We have the guidance we need, if we only reach for it, and listen to the Son.

No, we don’t have Jesus standing bodily on the mountainside next to us, as Peter did; but we do have the next best thing. As the book of Acts puts it, we have “the apostles teaching and fellowship, the breaking of bread and the prayers.” We can study the canon of scripture, the Word of God which “contains all things necessary to salvation.” We can continue in the fellowship of the Body of Christ, working together and learning with and from one another. We can come to the Table, reaching for the healing and renewal that we find in the body and blood of our Lord. And we can pray, conversing with God, reaching for hope and understanding. That’s what we do, as Christian disciples. That's how we open ourselves to godly transfiguration.

That’s what the gift of discipleship is all about.

Good news, indeed.

"... So Help Me God."

Congratulations go out to dear friend Mark! On Thursday, the US Air Force officially became a richer place for the ministry of its newest chaplain.

New arrival

You may remember that before we left, a young cat wandered into our yard and attached herself to the boy-- and thereby to our family. It looked like we would be transporting an extra passenger with us to Big Sky Country.

That plan proved short-lived, however, because Phoebe turned out to have had an active social life before she arrived on our doorstep. She was quite pregnant, far enough along that her delivering before we got into our house was a real possibility. If that happened, we'd have no way to care for her, let alone God only knows how many kittens. So with much reluctance, we turned her over to a no-kill shelter in the area, and headed west.

Today we visited a shelter again-- only this time we added to our household, rather than subtracting. This little girl was part of an abandoned litter, and she was far and away the smallest of the lot.

So of course her name is Talitha.

What's wrong with this picture?

No, I am not making this up.

Lord, have mercy.

Thanks... I think.

With four parishes to serve, I'm not able to be at every altar, every Sunday. So we take turns on a rotation. Each week I celebrate Holy Eucharist at two churches, while licensed Lay Readers in the other two congregations read Morning Prayer.

It has apparently been the habit of the Morning Prayer officiants to read a prewritten sermon, taken from a couple of approved sources, as part of the service. The favorite seems to be a collection of sermons provided on our national church's website.

With the coming of The New Priest, however, a couple of the Lay Readers had asked if I could provide them with copies of my sermons in advance. I told them that I'm not accustomed anymore to writing out my sermons, (and even if I write my ideas out, I don't read them verbatim); but I eventually agreed to try to provide them with something coherent. (This was the first effort in that regard.)

So, I was chatting today with another one of these intrepid souls, who likes the idea. "I'm tired of Sermons That Work," he declared. "I'm just as happy to use yours."

Okay, then...

Habits

We've now been in Montana for just about a month. I realize that my blogging has been sparse in that time, and I'm sorry. Life here has been so upside down, unpacking and learning our way, and it just hasn't happened. Not that there hasn't been anything to blog-- far from it! Rather the reverse: so much has been going on here that I keep feeling I need hours to sit down and write about it. But that's time I just haven't had, with everything seeming to happen all at once.

Unfortunately, that's been true of so many of my routines. Daily set-aside time for prayer and study has turned into "catch as catch can," falling anywhere between sunrise and bedtime-- and sometimes, I am ashamed to admit, getting short shrift in the process. Morning walks have been nearly nonexistant. Days off have blended with work days, so one was indistinguishable from another. I

Now, anyone who knows me, knows that I am by preference a creature of habit. I can be flexible, certainly; but lists and schedules are my friends, part of my sanity preservation system. I tend to function better with at least a modicum of predictability in my life. And that modicum has been notably absent of late.

Fortunately, I'm beginning to see some daylight here. Unpacking is still ongoing, but more is done than not done. The basics of establishing a new residence-- new bank accounts, license plates, insurance transfers and myriad other details-- are largely complete. Faces and names are becoming connected, and my congregations and I are beginning the shift away from that "brand-new" feeling, and starting to build working relationships as priest and parish.

And some habits are becoming possible again. Morning prayer really can happen in the morning; work days can frequently contain events planned in advance; and balanced meals can happen without daily recourse to the local "Convenient But Pricey" grocery store. Likewise, I hope to be back here on a more regular basis, nattering on about Life, the Universe and Everything.