Eight Years Later...A Prayer

O God, I do not know where to turn in a time of terrorism.

I have no easy answers or solutions to acts of terror against the innocent.

When buildings explode without warning,

when the defenseless are murdered without reason,

I am tempted to retaliate with vengeance.

I am tempted to place the flag above the cross and put my faith in the state rather than the Sermon on the Mount.

I am afraid to face my deepest fears of suffering and death, both for myself and those I love.

O God, be merciful to me a sinner...

I lift my heart to a God of forgiveness, of compassion, of peace.

I believe that You are not present in any act of violence.

I believe that every human being is a child of God and that all nations

and religions are embraced by You.

I believe that violence ignites greater violence and that in the long line

of history our only lasting legacy is love...

I recommit myself to nonviolence as a witness of Your love.

I will embrace the suffering of others and wipe every tear from their eyes.

I will devote my days to works of mercy and justice, not to deeds of

death and destruction.

I will give my passion to kindness and beauty and imagination.

I commit to hope and the children of tomorrow. Amen.

by Mary Lou Kownacki, OSB (on a card by Pax Christi USA)

The Rev. Alexander Crummell, 1819-1898: "A Man of Suffering..."

"...In his famous book The Souls of Black Folk, W.E. Dubois wrote of Crummell in eulogy: “I can see his face still,dark and heavy-lined beneath his snowy hair; lighting and shading, now with inspiration for the future, now in innocent pain at some human wickedness, now with sorrow at some hard memory from the past. 'The more I met Alexander Crummell, the more I felt how much the world was losing which knew so little of him. He did his work—he did it nobly and well; and yet I sorrow that here he worked alone, with so little human sympathy. His name today, in this broad land, means little, and comes to fifty million ears laden with no incense of memory or emulation…

'He sat one morning gazing toward the sea. He smiled and said, ‘The gate is rusty on the hinges.’ That night at star-rise a wind came moaning out of the west to blow that gate ajar, and then the soul I loved fled like a flame across the Seas, and in its seat sat Death.

'I wonder where he is today? I wonder if in that dim world beyond, as he came gliding in, there rose on some wan throne a King—a dark and pierced Jew, who knows the writhings of the earthly damned, saying, as he laid those heart-wrung talents down, ‘Well done!’ while round about the morning stars sat singing.'”

(From Stars In a Dark World, Fr. John Julian, OJN)

The "Martyrs of Memphis", 1878

We give you thanks and praise, O God of compassion, for

the heroic witness of Constance and her companions, who,

in a time of plague and pestilence, were steadfast in their care

for the sick and dying, and loved not their own lives, even

unto death: Inspire in us a like love and commitment to those

in need, following the example of our Savior Jesus Christ;

who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God,

now and for ever. Amen.

Episcopal nuns and priests who died from the epidemic:

* Sister Constance (neé Caroline Louise Darling, b. Medway, Mass., 1846), superior of the work at Memphis, headmistress of St. Mary’s School for Girls.

* Sister Thecla, sacristan of St. Mary’s Cathedral and its school chapel, Memphis, instructor in music and grammar (English and Latin)

* Sister Ruth, nurse at Trinity Infirmary, New York

* Sister Frances, a newly professed nun given charge of the Church Home orphanage, Memphis

* The Rev. Charles Carroll Parsons, rector of Grace Episcopal Church, Memphis; former U.S. Army artillery commander, West Point alumnus and professor; served with classmate, Lt. Col. George Armstrong Custer, in Kansas, defense counsel in Custer's 1867 court-martial trial.

* The Rev. Louis S. Schuyler, newly ordained assistant rector at Parsons' prior parish, Holy Innocents Episcopal Church, Hoboken, New Jersey

"Be Strong...Fear Not!"

Fred Borsch, retired Bishop of Los Angeles, wrote the following piece, some twenty years ago, in his book, Power in Weakness:

"I know a man who began to appear from time to time at public functions of the theological seminary whre I once taught. In part he seemed attracted to the school because of the newspapers and the library. Maybe he came because other people were there, although for many months he showed no interest in them. He often behaved strangely...People would actually back away from him. Some wanted to have him arrested.

He would not speak to me even when I spoke to him. Once or twice I caught him sitting down and sat opposite him and asked a few questions. He would not or could not respond...

Although he seemed from time to time to mumble to himself, I never saw him talk to anyone. I was not able, in my sporadic efforts, even to hold his glance. I began to realize that he was very frightened, though he also had the cunning and daring of a beggar.

I thought once or twice about trying to touch him. For a sick, troubled, or despondent person, a touching hand from a pastor or friend can often be a great gift...evn life-saving in a sense...it may have been a very long time since they were touched by anyone in care and love...Physical contact establishes a relationship...through which the power of caring can flow. But I was not able to reach out my hand to him.

Some of the students called him 'Shovel-Mouth'...because of his propensity for showing up at almost every school function where free food was involved...On those occasions he ate with great intensity -- huge amounts of food -- never speaking or looking at anyone...

...[O]ne of the students, by a great effort, had gradually established a form of relationship with him. Eventually she was able to learn his name and something of his background and circumstances. She helped me and others to begin to see the one we know only as 'Shovel-Mouth' as a person...

...I tried again. He was shuffling up the street as I was unpacking the back of my car after the Christmas holidays. I do not think he saw me until he was almost even with the car. 'Happy New Year, Tom!" I called out. He looked up, surprised. 'Yes,' he mumbled, 'thank you.' For a flickering moment I also read some form of genuine communication in his eyes. I cannot even tell for sure what it was, only that it was something I had never seen in him before.

The story of Tom does not have any clear denouement. He still does not easily maintain a conversation, and he continues to have his problems. But he learned to talk again, with me and others. Several students try to see that he receives some decent meals. On good days he can sit and share pleasantly with them. He obviously enjoys talking with children. They come to greet him. No one is afraid..."

This story speaks of fear: a fear which led this man to shut down in communicating. For whatever reason that it occurred, it’d been a long time since anyone had touched him, inwardly or outwardly, with any kind of care and love.

J. Barrie Shepherd writes:

When all

is said and done

there’s not much wrong

with fear.

The problem lies instead with

what we fear

and why.

Have you ever asked yourself: how much of my life is spent in fear??
- fear of the unknown or unfamiliar
- fear that I need to change
- fear of saying what I really think or mean, perhaps to my spouse or son/daughter; fear that they’ll reject me for it
- fear of burdening my family or friends, fear of “imposing” on them
- fear of sharing a problem with someone else who could probably help
- fear of people who differ from me: have ideas/beliefs/values/opinions which aren’t like mine; or whose approach to faith or spirituality bears no similarity to my practice.

At one time or another, most all of us have had that kind of fear. And we know that it locks us up inside, makes us as deaf and mute as the man who was brought to Jesus. You could say that we become inwardly blind/deaf/lame/dumb, and find ourselves impoverished, sterile, “dead”. The tragedy is that a person can go on living that way for years, out of fear, adapting as best as one can. Some folks, unfortunately, endure that way for a lifetime, cheated of so much richness, blessedness and joy.

Only when we can learn to be open enough to allow ourselves to be touched by God’s and/or another’s care and love, like “Shovel-Mouth” or Mark’s deaf-mute, and also to reach out to touch others who are in a situation like our own, do the words of Isaiah in the first reading begin to make any sense: “Say to those whose hearts are frightened, ‘Be strong, fear not! Here is your God, He comes...With divine recompense he comes to save you.”

For Isaiah God is the One who touches us in love. The people of Israel were, indeed, a chosen people, but chosen simply because God chose to love them, despite their fears and inadequacies. So any hope which Israel had, as she did through long centuries and much fearfulness, is grounded in God.

The idea that God is the only reason for the people’s hope has powerful implications, for it makes clear that our hope isn’t dependent on our “performance”, or power, or knowledge, or wealth, or anything for lack of which we might fear being rejected by others. It’s the caring, loving touch of God, experienced primarily through the loving touch of another, which can set us free. Blind eyes open; deaf ears become unstopped; lame people can leap and jump again; and dumb tongues joyously break out into words and song. Isaiah uses the image of a cloudburst, flooding the wilderness. Or it’s like arid, dry ground suddenly bubbling up with springs and pools.

The deaf-mute of the Gospel experienced that in his body and soul, through Jesus’ reaching out to him. Mark doesn’t tell us how long the man had had his impediments, but imagine his feelings as people push him forward towards Jesus, this healer, and as Jesus takes him aside. It was common for healers of that day to use rituals such as Jesus used:

putting fingers in the ears, using saliva to touch the tongue. As Jesus does this he raises his eyes and sighs: a sort of outward, audible symbol of the inner release about to follow, then says, “Ephphata”, “Be opened”.

And the man’s ears were opened and his tongue released. The fear left him. His whole body and, indeed, his life had been unlocked. The people recognize Jesus as the Holy One, the One who, as Isaiah had predicted, makes deaf persons hear and dumb ones speak. God, through Jesus, is again the ground and reason for hope and release of God’s chosen ones.

Realistically, as with Bishop Borsch’s experience in trying to reach out to “Shovel-Mouth” who struggled with his fears, we too may not find, in our reaching out to others, any clear resolution. In fact we ourselves may be the ones who continue to struggle with our own fears and with allowing ourselves to be ministered to. But we may also, and, by God’s grace, probably will, have those “flickering moment[s]” when some connection is made, when, even though we don’t know what it is, we experience something which we’d never seen in others or ourselves before, when our inner ears are opened and our tongue is released.

“Be strong, fear not!...He will come and save you.”



"Bishop To the Universe": Paul Jones (1880-1941)

If this entry seems to have a bit of a cranky tone to it, it's because for the past few days I've been reading a new book by the Rev. Rita Nakashima Brock & the Rev. Rebecca Ann Parker, Saving Paradise: How Christianity Traded Love of This World for Crucifixion and Empire.

Dr. Brock is founding co-director of Faith Voices for the Common Good, an organization dedicated to educating the public about the values and concerns of religious leaders and organizations. She is an active member of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). Dr. Parker has been President of Starr King School for the Ministry, the Unitarian Universalist school at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, CA since 1990 and Professor of Theology since 2001. She is the first woman to serve as permanent head of an accredited theological school. An ordained United Methodist minister, Dr. Parker has dual fellowship with the United Methodist Church and the Unitarian Universalist Association. There's a lot more information on both these womens' CV's, which you can access at the book website:

http://savingparadise.net/. You get the idea, though: these are some pretty heavy-duty contemporary theologians, not just some fly-by-nights with a theory!

I was most gratified to see a glowing endorsement of the book by one of my old professors from a summer session at Catholic University of America, Dan Maguire -- no mean theologian himself! He and Charlie Curran were blazing new theological trails, particularly in moral theology, back in the '60's, and for their efforts got no better treatment from the Catholic Church than Paul Jones got from the bishops of the Episcopal Church.

To quickly summarize the theme of Saving Paradise: The good Drs. Brock and Parker travelled extensively in the Mediterranean world looking for art depicting the dead, crucified Jesus. To their amazement, they discovered that no such images existed in Christian communities for roughly the first millenium. Rather, Christians filled their sanctuaries during that time with wondrous images of a living Christ in a vibrant world. Crucifix-type pictures, when they did appear at this time, show a serene, resurrected Christ, surrounded by a world of beauty and color and life. In other words, paradise: paradise in this world. Always a message of hope, despite what might be going on around them.

The books traces how these representations gradually evolved into images of torture and "redemptive" violence, of the crucified Christ, and how they transformed European, and eventually, American, societal and theological thinking, with the assistance of imperial and ecclesiastical backing, into horrible substitutionary suffering theologies, theologies of sinful unworthiness, especially as applied to women, and eventually, the acceptance of a justifiable "holy war" mentality, remnants of which exist down to the present. Read the book. If nothing else, it will offer some hint as to how much of what we're seeing currently -- the ranting of right-wing opponents of health care reform, immigration, etc. -- has been influenced by a long history of embedded violence and intolerance. It will probably make you as cranky as me!

Here is a portion of an article published July 22, 1929 in Time magazine,"Religion: Again, Paul Jones":

"A bishop without a diocese or a missionary district is Bishop Paul Jones.

It was in 1906 Utah's late rugged Bishop Frank Spaulding spoke one day to students at the Episcopal Theological School in Cambridge, Mass. The Bishop spoke of Episcopal difficulties in Utah, of the Mormon University at Logan, of Mormon proselytizing. The Bishop was asking for help. "Whom shall we send and who will go?" Student Paul Jones echoed Isaiah: "Here I am, send me."

In 1914 Paul Jones* was appointed Episcopal archdeacon of all Utah. That same year Bishop Spaulding died and all were pleased that the young missionary was chosen to succeed him.

In 1917 the Bishop of Utah and a specially appointed Commission of the House of Bishops [of the Episcopal Church] met in a house in Vandeventer Place, St. Louis. Outside moaned the wind, snow flurried in the streets. The

Commission sat alone. Bishop Jones was in another room but the Commission knew they might speak to him "whenever occasion demanded." [He was left sitting for hours!] They wrote answers to a series of questions which
Bishop Jones, silent in the other room, had submitted to them.

Q. Does the Commission find ... that I have been affiliated with seditious organizations?
A. The Commission does not charge seditious organizations, but does say questionable organizations in respect of loyalty to the Government.
Q.... that I have persistently promulgated unpatriotic doctrines?
A. The Commission is not satisfied that you have persistently promulgated unpatriotic doctrines; but... that on occasions you have promulgated such doctrines.
Q.... that I have injured the life of the Church in Utah and elsewhere?
A. Yes. . . .
Q.... that I have exceeded my prerogatives in coming to the conclusions I have in regard to war and Christianity?
A.... in our free country you are not to be officially restrained in your maintenance of opinions which you hold as an individual; but... that weighty responsibility attaches to pronouncements by a bishop... that thoughtfulness and reticence on his part are exceedingly desirable.
Q.... that I should accede to the request of the Council of Advice and resign?
A. Yes....

Last week in the Churchman was launched a drive, by no means the first, to reinstate Bishop Jones, socialist, pacifist, hater of war as unchristian, the man during the late War, accused of being pro-German, said: 'I believe most sincerely that German brutality and aggression must be stopped and I am willing, if need be, to give my life and what I possess to bring that about.' He questioned that war was the right method, and, therefore, since he was in conflict with his government and his Church, lost his diocese. Today the Protestant churches are pacifistic. No longer, therefore, does the onetime Bishop of Utah seem dangerous to Episcopalians, Queried the Churchman: "Is there no place in the ministry of the Episcopal Church for Paul Jones?"

Since his resignation Bishop Jones has been secretary of the pacifist interdenominational Fellowship of Reconciliation (Manhattan). Last March he tendered his resignation, to take place Jan. 1, 1930 be cause 'there is a very real danger of having one man continue too long in such a position.'

Three Episcopal missionary districts are now without bishops: the Hawaiian Islands, Wyoming,
Nevada. To any of these three might Bishop Jones be sent — though his friends say he no longer
wants so executive a position since Bishops must now be businessmen and he would miss 'the
human touch' of his early work."

Bishop Jones did resign as Bishop of Utah. For ten years he served as executive secretary of the Fellowship of Reconciliation. In 1929 he took up a position at Antioch College, Yellow Springs, OH, as college pastor, teacher and spiritual adviser to students. During his time there, he referred to himself as "Bishop to the Universe". In 1939 he was instrumental in founding the Episcopal Pacifist Fellowship, later the Episcopal Peace Fellowship. His untimely death at age 61 was due to multiple myeloma which claimed him very suddenly.

Paul Jones was vindicated, forty years after his shameful treatment by the House of Bishops, when the Lambeth Conference of all the Bishops of the Anglican Communion proclaimed: “…war as a method of settling international disputes is incompatible with the teaching and example of our Lord Jesus Christ…” and “…it is the concern of the Church…to uphold and extend the right of conscientious objection”. In 1962, the House of Bishops of the Episcopal Church, the same body which earlier had demanded his resignation, passed a resolution: “We recognize the validity of the calling of the conscientious objector and the pacifist and the duty of the Church fully to minister to him, and its obligation to see that we live in a society in which the dictates of his conscience are respected.”

A Modern Lesson in the Cost of Discipleship

"The Good Shepherd giveth his life for the sheep." Martyrs, like the Good Shepherd, laid down their lives for the sheep because, like him, they cared and loved and were imbued with the spirit of sacrifice which springs out of an unconquerable love, a love which witnesses to God's great attributes of beauty, truth and goodness, even if they have to be attained through much tribulation...They knowing full well the risk, elected to stay with their flock."

(The Most Reverend Sir Philip Strong, Bishop of New Guinea, 1936-1962

in a sermon on September 2, 1981)

Anglican missionaries first arrived on the north coast of eastern New Guinea, at a place near Dogura, on August 10, 1891. Teaching and medical missions were gradually established along the north coast and in the inland mountain villages.

When the Japanese Imperial Army invaded the north coast of Papua in March, 1942, Bishop Philip Strong, Bishop of New Guinea, 1936 to 1962, advised his mission staff to leave for their own safety before the Japanese arrived. Many elected to stay with their people. It is estimated that some 333 church workers of all denominations died for their faith in Papua New Guinea during World War II. Of these, twelve were associated with the Anglican Missions, coming mostly from around Popondetta — at the villages of Gona, Sangara and Isivita. The village of Sangara is slightly to the north of Kokoda, another New Guinea village that features prominently in the Australian history of the war because of the sacrifices made by both Australians and Papuans on the track between Port Moresby and Kokoda — their opposition to the Japanese advance at that time probably averted the direct invasion of Northern Australia.

Among the Anglican Martyrs of New Guinea are:

The Rev. Henry Matthews, priest
Leslie Gariadi, his Papuan assistant

The Rev. Henry Holland, priest from Isivita
John Duffill, builder/carpenter from Isivita

The Rev. Vivian Redlich, priest from Sangara
Sister Margery Brenchley, nurse from Sangara
Lilla Lashmar, teacher from Sangara
Lucian Tapiedi, Papuan teacher/evangelist from Sangara

Sister May Hayman, nurse from Gona and fiancée of Fr. Vivian Redlich
Mavis Parkinson, teacher from Gona

The Rev. John Barge, priest
The Rev. Bernard Moore, priest

The latter two, who were killed in the New Guinea Islands, were added to the list of Anglican Martyrs from New Guinea in 1949 and 1992, respectively.

Fr. Matthews and his assistant Leslie Gariadi were killed when the boat they were on was sunk between Port Moresby and Daru and the survivors machine-gunned.

Lucian Tapiedi was axed to death by a collaborator from his own people when he stood up for the missionaries from Sangara and Isivita whom he was accompanying.

The five people who accompanied Lucian were beheaded shortly afterwards on Buna Beach.

The two Gona missionary sisters were bayonetted to death at Jegarata, near Popondetta.

All these deaths occurred around or during August, 1942. Four years later Bishop Strong proclaimed September 2 as the official feast for the Commemoration of the New Guinea Martyrs.

Deacon David Pendleton Oakerhater (1847-1931): Christ's Warrior

A sermon for Pentecost 14 - Year A

by The Rt. Rev. Steven Charleston

(Steven Charleston was born in Oklahoma. He is a citizen of the Choctaw Nation, one of the original Five Tribes that were removed to Oklahoma by the Federal Government on the "Trail of Tears" in the early 1830's. Bishop Charleston has served the Episcopal Church in a variety of ministries. He was the staff officer for Native American ministries in the church at "815" under Presiding Bishop John Allin. He was director of the Dakota Leadership Program, a training ministry with the Lakota People of North and South Dakota. Bishop Charleston was a tenured professor in Systematic Theology at Luther Seminary in Saint Paul, Minnesota, just prior to being elected the sixth bishop of Alaska. He is currently an assistant bishop in the Diocese of California.)

Do you believe in miracles?

Well, that's what we have come to celebrate today: the miracles of Saint David Pendleton Oakerhater, the only Native American on our calendar of saints. Like all good saints, Saint David Oakerhater has miraculous events attached to his name: wonderful acts God performed through him that really do defy our attempts at explanation, and that leave us standing in a place of awe and acceptance based solely on our depth of faith. These miracles are testified to by scores of people. Even to this day most Native American people in the church, including myself, would witness to the truth of the miracles Saint David lived.

I say the miracles he "lived" rather than "did" because unlike other saints, this Native American saint never "did" a miracles. He never chased away snakes or walked through fire or made it snow in the summer. Rather, he lived his miracles, just as his people, the Cheyenne, lived the miracles; just as I, and every other Native person in this church, live the miracle.

Saint David, you see, embodies the miracles of God for our people because he lived them just as we live them now. And that's why he is a saint for us: not because he is set so far apart from us, but precisely because he is so much a part of us. What he lived, we live. His miracles are our miracles. We testify to the truth of Saint David because we live that truth each and every day.

The first great miracle of Saint David is this: he survived.

That's it: he survived. And while that may not seem like much of a miracle to you, believe me, from the Native American perspective of his time, this fact alone was a miracle.

Think of the chances of a Cheyenne warrior surviving constant battles with the United States army. Imagine what it must have been like to go up against that kind of firepower. Consider just how fragile life was for the Cheyenne as they were slowly encircled and even exterminated by the superior force of the Federal government.

Survival against odds like that is a miracle. It was a miracle for Saint David and for the Cheyenne. It was a miracle for all of the Tribes who came through the dark years of colonization. It remains a miracle for Native Americans today who continue to struggle to keep their way of life secure against the pressures of assimilation or cultural extermination.

Sometimes, just being alive is a miracle. It is a sign of God's constant care and protection for the dispossessed and the abused. It shows that there is a champion for the poor and the persecuted. Just being alive to tell the story is a miracle of survival for so many of the Earth's indigenous people. And the miracle continues. The miracle of a people's survival continues all across this hemisphere, each and every day. As long as there is a free and living Native community in the rain forests of South America or in the tundra of North America: the miracle of Saint David will continue. We survive against all odds because God is with us.

The second great miracle of Saint David is this: he believed in Jesus.

If you think of all that David had lived through, of all that he had seen and experienced that would have urged him to deny the religion of his persecutors: then the fact that David embraced the Christian faith is something of a miracle.

There are few communities in the United States today who would have a better excuse for denying the Christian message more than Native Americans. After all, the church and the military usually travelled together in our history. The government agents who stole Indian land were Christians. And certainly, the educators who broke the will of young Native men and women were Christians. All around him, David Oakerhater would have had ample evidence that the "white man's religion" maintained a clear double standard between Europeans and the darker step-children of the church.

So why did he join the Church? Why did he not only become a Christian, but live out his Christian faith to such a degree that he can truly be called a saint?

The miracle of faith is Saint David's miracle, just as it is the miracle of all Native American people. In spite of all evidence to the contrary, Native people like David Oakerhater were able to see beyond the sin of colonialism to the truth of the gospel. Even in their pain, they could look through racism and injustice to find the clear light of Christ.

There are few people as faithful as Native people. Their miracle is a commitment to Jesus that transcends even the most tragic history. In fact, the suffering of the Native American community has made it stronger in its dedication to the Jesus of the poor, the Jesus who preached justice and mercy. The words of this Jesus spoke to David Oakerhater in Cheyenne. The Scriptures spoke his language and bore witness to the truth of the suffering of his people. Like so many other Native Americans, when Saint David accepted the Christian gospel, he did not put it on as something foreign, given to him by the hand of his tormentors, but rather he entered into it as a living part of his own experience. The gospel was Native American. It is Native American. And the miracle is that so many Native people have upheld it through generations of faith: the witness of the poor to the truth that Jesus is one of their own.

Finally, the third great miracle of Saint David: he enjoyed his life.

Surely, in this day and age, that qualifies as a miracle. How few of us there are that can make that same claim.

We live in a way that makes the simple enjoyment of life almost impossible. For one thing: there isn't enough time. For another: we're too busy being alive to enjoy living. And ultimately: enjoyment for us is a business, a multi-million dollar business, and therefore something you have to treat seriously. We are grim about have fun.

The irony of this is that most of us in modern America who run through our lives as fast as we can worship a God who told us to be at peace and to savor life as though it were the most enjoyable thing we could ever experience. David Oakerhater is a saint for us, a symbol of Christian life to be admired and copied, because David was a man who never ran away from his life, but embraced it as any person embraces the object of love. He was not consumed by the bitterness of his experiences in life. He was not busy finding someone to blame or accuse. He did not see life as a career or a struggle to the top. He was not competitive, concerned about looking eternally youthful, or worried about making more money. Instead, he loved his family. He loved his people. He loved his church.

The beautiful miracle of Saint David is the miracle of Indian life. It is the miracle of all Native Americans who continue to walk gently on the Earth, as the Creator intended. It is the miraculous endurance of a culture that still values human contact over the Internet and still proclaims the family as the most important way to share that love with others. The miracle of abundant life, of seeing the world as a Garden, of feeling in balance with all of nature, of being intimately connected in the fabric of community life: all of these are parts of the miracle. They are the pieces of a hope that will not die for Native America. They are the promises of a peaceful world for any others who will join Native Americans in treasuring life than spending life.

These are the three miracles of Saint David that we celebrate today. As I say, they are not the stuff of legend or myth, but the very earthy miracles of a very natural saint. They represent the pragmatic, but profound wisdom of Native America. They symbolize the best of our faith and of our teachings.

Saint David lived these miracles, just as countless other Native Christians go on living them today. We survive. We are blessed by God to be the first people of this land. We believe. We remain faithful to the truth of God's liberating Word through all generations. We live. We are the stewards of a joy given to us as grace because we have suffered so much, just as we are the heralds of a truth for all others who would receive the Good News of Christ Jesus and be free.

These are the miracle of a saint and of his people. These are the miracles of God and of the church. They are the reason we remember a man like David Oakerhater, and, the reason we rejoice that he is one of us.