Immortal Tree

"Immortal tree, it extends from heaven to earth.

It is the fixed pivot of the universe, the fulcrum of all things,

the foundation of the world, the cardinal point of the cosmos.

It binds together all the multiplicity of human nature.

It is held together by invisible nails of the spirit in order to retain

its bond with the Godhead. It touches the highest summits

of heaven and with its feet holds fast the earth,

and it encompasses the vast middle atmosphere in between

with its immeasurable arms."

(Pseudo Chrysostom, 3rd century)

"The Quality of Mercy"

"The quality of mercy is not strain'd,

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven

Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest;

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:

'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes

The throned monarch better than his crown;

His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,

The attribute to awe and majesty,

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;

But mercy is above this sceptred sway;

It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,

It is an attribute to God himself;

And earthly power doth then show likest God's

When mercy seasons justice...

Though justice be thy plea, consider this,

That, in the course of justice, none of us

Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;

And that same prayer doth teach us all to render

The deeds of mercy..."
( Portia, in Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, 1596)

It can't be by accident that the liturgy's readings referring to forgiveness, both last week and this week, bookend today's 10th anniversary of 9/11. "Forgive your neighbor the wrong he has done...then your sins will be pardoned when you pray..." (Sirach 28:2)  "...how often should I forgive?...Jesus said...'Not seven times, but seven times seventy times..." (Matthew 18:21-22)

Those messages of peace, forbearance, and forgiveness are a description of our mission as the Church. A valid theology of mission, of being "sent" out, simultaneously affirms both that the riches brought to the human family in Jesus are meant to be shared by all, and that religious traditions which know nothing of Jesus, but have brought so many people to spiritual maturity and fulfillment, are genuine paths to salvation, not meant for eradication.

It's been drummed into most of us that the Church's mission is expressed in Matthew and Mark in the so-called Great Commission, a term not coined by by or used by Jesus. Unfortunately, it expresses a mission of conquest, not unsimilar to the political agendas being pushed forward today by Republican presidential candidates. 

The Gospel of John, on the other hand, speaks of the Church's mission and ministry in much different terms. The basis of John's Gospel isn't power and authority invested in the disciples by Jesus, but rather Jesus' peace, breathed into them, even as God breathed life into us humans in the beginning. The Church's mission isn't, in the words of Sister Sandra Schneiders, IHM of Santa Clara University, "to succeed Jesus by making disciples, baptizing in the name of the Trinity, and teaching Jesus' message, but to carry on Jesus' own mission as the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world...by forgiving sins and holding fast in communion those who are thus reconciled with God..."


In John's Gospel Jesus shows how this mission is to be translated into ministry by washing his disciples' feet, ministering to his disciples as friends and urging them to do the same to one another, thus demonstrating a love which is truly that of Godself. Jesus prays, not only for his disciples, but also for all who will believe in him through their word. In that way, they will all be one "as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they also may be in us, that the world may believe that you sent me." (John 17:20-21) The Church is "sent" to live, in Sister Sandra's words, "...the community life of friends in equality and mutual service, which will draw others to seek the source of that life and to desire to share in it..." Clearly, you and I are "sent", not to conquer, but to share Jesus the Word of Life and to offer one another the forgiveness, mercy and reconciliation which Jesus himself offers us, thus drawing us into a communal way of living which, John says, is the very life Jesus shares with his Father and with us through the Spirit of Love.


The Church's commission, according to St. John, doesn't speak of going out to overwhelm and strong-arm nonbelievers for Christ or for any other cause. It emphasiszes, to quote Sister Sandra, "...a ministry of presence rooted in the kind of community that can only derive from the inner life of the Trinity itself. It is a preaching by being, being together..." -- reaching out in forgiveness, mercy and friendship, accepting the other as other. "...There is, or should be," Sister Sandra continues, "no moral or religious price tag..." on our ministry. Our task is simply to extend to others the love that binds the community of the Church itself, the love of the Crucified and Risen Jesus, the Wisdom of God.


Forgive is a rich word. It means that the God of mercy "fore-gifts" us, that God is way out ahead of us even at our worst, even in our moments of selfishness and sinfulness. God in Christ is always the One who takes the initiative, is already present in and through our weakness, preparing us for the time when, if we choose it, we'll again be able to rise above our selfishness. At the heart of understanding what it is to forgive is realizing that I do so not because I'm expected or told to do so, or because it's somebody's "nice idea", but because I myself have experienced and am aware of the gracious forgiving presence of Jesus. Because of that I now wish to share that with someone else, whether another person, a group, an ethnic entity, or a nation who's offended me.


Ask yourself this question: how many times in a day, a week, a month, a year, do I say the Lord's Prayer? Before ever saying that prayer again, it might be well for you and me to consult a lawyer! Do you and I have even an inkling of the terrifying commitment and responsibility which we're taking on ourselves in praying that prayer? You and I ask to be forgiven by Godself in exactly the measure that you and I DO forgive another, and AS we forgive another! Perhaps we need only think back just over the past week: to our thoughts and words about other people, other groups, other races, other nations -- them. In praying the Lord's Prayer are we calling down a blessing upon ourselves, or a curse?


Revenge is often said to be "sweet". But if you and I are honest, we know that of all the fruits revenge is ultimately the most bitter, the most poisonous, the most deadly, of all. "Vengeance is mine, says the Lord; I will repay...", the author of Deuteronomy reminds us. Sirach says "...The vengeful will face the Lord's vengeance..." 


That people or groups of people have faults and sins, or that they often perpetrate ugliness and evil beyond any of our expectations can never become a reason to stop loving them or to begin hating them. It should, rather, be the occasion for us to offer forgiveness, mercy and love even more, difficult as that will be. Corita Kent writes: "...we must be more careful about stamping out evil or hating anything because we know that in the past and in the present many people and things have been tragically destroyed in the name of good. We are reminded of Rilke's words to the young poet, 'Evil may be not seeing well enough', so perhaps to become less evil we need only to see more, see what we didn't see before...things look different to different people depending on where they stand, and if we can share views, not convert others to our views, we would get a larger vision. No single group can do it alone; the job is too big and we can only make it if we work it out together, and this is true on a worldwide scale, that if we're not going to find a way to work it out together, the whole thing is going to come apart..."

"We only know of God what we have allowed [God] to work within us.

We only know forgiveness when we have learned to forgive.

We only know the love we have received when we have given ours in exchange."

(Louis Evely) 

Nativity Of Mary, The Theotokos

"The hoped-for day of the blessed and venerable Mary ever a Virgin has now come; therefore let our earth rejoice with great gladness, illuminated by the birth of so great a Virgin. For she is the flower of the field from which came forth the priceless lily of the valley; by her child-bearing the nature inherited from our first parents is changed, their fault wiped out. In her that sentence passed on Eve was remitted which said, 'In sorrow shall you bring forth children,' for Mary brought forth the Lord in joy.


Eve sorrowed, but Mary exulted; Eve carried weeping in her womb, but Mary carried joy, for Eve brought forth a sinner, but Mary innocence itself. The mother of our race brought punishment into the world, but the Mother of our Lord brought salvation into the world. Eve was the source of sin, Mary the source of merit. Eve by killing was a hindrance, Mary by giving life was a help. Eve wounded, Mary healed. Obedience takes the place of disobedience, faith makes up for faithlessness.


Mary may now play on her instruments, the Mother strike the cymbals with swift fingers. The joyful choruses may sound out and songs alternate with sweet harmonies. Hear, then, how she sings, she who leads our chorus. For she say, 'My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior; because He has regarded the lowliness of His handmaid; for, behold, henceforth all generations shall call me blessed; because He who is mighty has done great things for me.' And so the miraculous new birth takes away the cause of our increasing burden of sin, and Mary's song puts an end to the weeping of Eve."  (St. Augustine of Hippo, Sermon 18, On the Saints)

Ezekiel's Call & Ours

Twenty-seven years ago I preached on these same Scriptures at the missions of Good Shepherd, Susanville, and Holy Spirit, Lake Almanor, CA.  Just before that I had been off sick, and I told the parishioners that during that time I had read all of the prophet Ezekiel.  Interesting reading if you’re sick, with all the weird images and visions occurring throughout Ezekiel’s book: burning coals of fire; creatures’ faces; wings moving in unison; lightning, to name but a few!  It’s a fascinating account, in symbolic language, of a caring but demanding God, calling a young 30-year-old priest to take on an impossible challenge and to prepare God’s people for a future and restoration beyond anything they could imagine.

Ezekiel spoke his prophecies in the historical context of the 6th cent. B. C. exile of the Jewish people to Babylon. Nebuchadrezzar II had captured the city of Jerusalem in 597 and sent the king, Jehoiakim, most of the ruling class, and many others, including Ezekiel, to Babylon.  Ezekiel lived for five years in a town along the Chebar River, called Til Abubi (Tel Aviv--not the modern city).  Four years after being exiled, on July 31, 593, as Ezekiel pinpoints it, “the heavens opened, and I saw visions of God...and the hand of the Lord was on him there...”  This would go on until Ezekiel’s death around 571 -- almost 27 years since he’d been exiled.  

The book of Ezekiel is divided into three parts:  Chapters 1-24: before Jerusalem’s fall, consisting of Ezekiel’s prophecies of doom against the city and Judah; Chapters 25-32: with prophecies against foreign nations, and serving as a bridge between Ezekiel’s initial message of doom and his eventual message of hope; and Chapters 33-48: dating from the time after Jerusalem’s fall, the section where our reading today occurs.  God’s commissioning of Ezekiel is recounted both in Chapters 1-3 as well as in Chapter 33, today’s reading. 

Ezekiel, a younger contemporary of the prophet Jeremiah, was the son of Buzi and was a priest.  He was married, and the recounting of his wife’s death just as Jerusalem was being destroyed, is very touching:  “The word of the Lord came to me:  ‘Mortal, with one blow I am about to take away from you the delight of your eyes; yet you shall not mourn or weep, nor shall your tears run down.  Sigh, but not aloud; make no mourning for the dead...’  So I spoke to the people in the morning, and at evening my wife died.  And on the next morning I did as I was commanded...” (24:15-18)

God’s commission to Ezekiel is very clear (Ezekiel 33:7-11): “Mortal, I have made you a sentinel for the house of Israel; whenever you hear a word from my mouth, you shall give them warning from me.”  He’s to be God’s watchman, pushing an unwilling people to take personal responsibility for their actions by communicating to them what God expects of them.  But Ezekiel is a bridge-prophet.  Like prophets before the Exile he insists that religion must be a true inner commitment to God, lived out in daily life.  He’s clear about the reality of sin, and about the certainty of the people’s accountability before God’s judgment.  But like the later prophets Ezekiel is also deeply aware of the people’s need to faithfully honor God in their worship, based on his deep sense of God’s utter holiness and otherness.   He struggles with the issue of Israel’s repeated infidelity and guilt, with the reality that they’ve constantly met God’s acts of mercy with rebelliousness and disregard, to the point that now the logical consequence of their irresponsibility is the destruction of  Jerusalem, the very center of their life and worship.  Israel’s sin lies in questioning the reality of God’s nearness and openness to them, of asserting that God is, in effect, different from God’s revelation of Godself, that God is something other than what God really is.  And Ezekiel’s call is to be God’s sentinel, God’s watchman: informing the people of the deserved punishment which is not only coming, but is already upon them, as well as teaching them about God’s unrelenting forgiveness despite all this, and preparing them for God’s coming restoration of the nation and God’s inner renewal of each of their hearts.

In the Epistle (Romans 13:8-14), St. Paul reminds us that “...we owe no one anything except to love one another...”, and that each is to “Love your neighbor as yourself...” for “love is the fulfilling of the law.”  In the life of the every community of faith, where two or three are gathered together, there’s bound to be disagreements, arguments, conflicts! By our baptism God commissions you and me to be sentinels, watchpersons, over our lives: individually and as a community, the Church.  God asks for a true inner commitment on our part to live holy and loving lives every day, to recognize the reality of selfish sinful actions, and to hold both ourselves and others, as is appropriate, accountable.  The guiding principle in all this is love: love of God and love of each other, even as Jesus, the Father’s Word to us, teaches us.  One of the early 4th century desert fathers, John Colobos, used to say to his followers:  “A house is not built by beginning at the top and working down.  You must begin with the foundation in order to reach the top.  The foundation is our neighbor, whom we must win and this is the place to begin.  For all the commandments of Christ depend on this one.”

Inevitably, in every community of faith there will arise differences of opinion and conviction, in varying degrees of intensity.  In many, and probably, most cases such differences are worked out amicably because most folks tend to be generous and mutually understanding.  In the Gospel (Matthew 18:15-20) Matthew depicts Jesus offering one way, though certainly not the only way, of dealing with these situations.  1) Going to the person alone to be reconciled.  2) If there’s no immediate reconciliation, taking one or two others along.  3) If, again, there’s no resolution, taking the matter before the whole community of sisters and brothers. The Gospel’s advice, in case no solution can be reached, to “let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector...” seems harsh, and presents an obvious problem.  Perhaps we need to look at this with new eyes.

Another example from the early desert fathers may give us a clue.  A story is told of Abba Bitimius who goes to Abba Poemen with this dilemma:  “If someone has a grievance against me and I ask his pardon but cannot convince him, what is to be done?”  Abba Poemen answered: “Take two other brothers with you and ask his pardon.  If he is not satisfied, take five others.  If he is still not satisfied by them, take a priest.  If even so he is not satisfied, then pray to God without anxiety, that God may satisfy him, and do not worry about it.”

You see Poemen’s unique strategy: transforming the situation from one in which I have an issue with my sister or brother into one in which my sister or brother has an issue with me that I must find a way to satisfy.  Should the question arise, “If my sister or brother sins against me...”, he suggests, we should rather ask, “How does this work if I’m the sinner against my sister or brother?”  In other words,  if in our conflicts with others we simply shun them, there’s likely no further possibility of resolution.  Abba Poemen believes that if I’ve done all that I can do and still reconciliation has failed, then the work should still continue, but in a diffferent way.  One should pray to God without anxiety that God who alone knows what’s in each of us may help the other person work it out. 

God speaks some sobering words to Ezekiel, and to us, at the end of Chapter 33: “As for you, mortal, your people who talk together about you by the walls, and at the doors of the houses, say to one another, each to a neighbor, ‘Come and hear what the word is that comes from the Lord.’ They come to you as people come, and they sit before you as my people, and they hear your words, but they will not obey them.  For flattery is on their lips, but their heart is set on their gain.  To them you are like a singer of love songs, one who has a beautiful voice and plays well on an instrument; they hear what you say, but they will not do it.  When this comes -- and come it will! -- then they shall know that a prophet has been among them...” 

Perhaps that can give us, as God’s sentinels and watchpersons, a new slant on the Collect which the Book of Common Prayer assigns to this Sunday: “Grant us, O Lord, to trust in you with all our hearts; for, as you always resist the proud who confide in their own strength, so you never forsake those who make their boast of your mercy...”

R.I.P. - Susanne Shoemaker (1927-2011)

s

My grandparents, Clara and Harry Fries, had a family of six daughters. Actually eight, but two died in childbirth. The eldest was my godmother, Florence; then came my mother, Grace, both born between 1913-1915. Then there was a ten year hiatus until the "second family" came in rapid succession, each roughly two years apart: Mary Jane, Susanne, Rita, and Joan, between 1925-1930.


A lot was going on during those years: Henry Ford opened his first automobile assembly line; the Panama Canal opened; and Archduke Ferdinand and his wife were assassinated in 1913. World War I began in 1914, and the Lusitania was sunk by a German U-boat. In 1915 the first transatlantic radiotelephone communication took place. In 1925 there was the Scopes trial on evolution. In 1926 NBC became the first major broadcast network. Charles Lindbergh made the first transatlantic flight in 1927. Amelia Earhart became the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic in 1928. In 1929 Wall Street crashed and thus began the Great Depression. Twinkies were invented in 1930; Betty Boop premiered in Dizzy Dishes; and Turkish women were given the right to vote. 


Depression times were hard times. My grandparents and aunts settled into a red-brick, two-story 6-room duplex at the corner of High and McClain Streets in Dayton, OH, and the family remained there until after my grandfather died in 1964. My aunts, only 7-12 years older than me, were like sisters, since my mom and I lived with them and my grandparents from 1948-1951. 


My Aunt Susanne, whom everyone called Sue, was definitely the feisty one of the girls: outspoken, independent, always on-the-go. She was the taller, lanky one all her life, although none of my family was all that tall. Mom told me that as a young girl she luckily survived, having been hit by a hearse or ambulance on the way to school, and having her head cracked by the headlight. She married c. 1946 and had a girl and a boy. After she later divorced John, she married my Uncle Earl, who lived to be 89, and she bore another boy and girl. After Earl died, Sue continued to live in their home of some 50 years by herself. A number of years back, she underwent major surgery for lung cancer and survived rather well. In the years since then, especially more recently, the family began to notice that her mind was slipping a bit.


Last Sunday she was taken to the hospital, and it didn't take long to discover that cancer had metastasized in her other lung, far too advanced for the doctors to do anything for her. Though heavily sedated for several days, she was aware of what was going on. She was able to pray along with the priest who gave her the Last Rites, and to briefly communicate with her daughters. Her one wish was that they stay with her so she wouldn't die alone. Her wish was granted and Aunt Sue died peacefully this morning.


Not surprising to me, Sue chose to be the first in our family to be cremated, a preference which I happen to share with her. Though I have to admit that, early on at least, Sue's unabashed directness often intimidated me a bit, I appreciate now how much of a gift that really was. It helped her make her way through life with purpose, and to raise four beautiful children, not to mention ten grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. And of her three sisters who've gone before her, she'll be the first in our family to be buried from our family parish, Holy Trinity, where I was baptized, served as an acolyte, and later offered the Eucharist after I was ordained.

Depart, O Christian soul, out of this world;

In the name of God the Father Almighty who created you;

In the name of Jesus Christ who redeemed you;

In the name of the Holy spirit who sanctifies you.

May your rest be this day in peace,

and your dwelling place in the Paradise of God.

   

  

The Martyrs of New Guinea

The New Guinea Martyrs stained glass window in St. Peter's East Hill,


 by Napier Waller

The Memorial Window is located in the northern transept of St. Peter's Eastern Hill, above the Lady Chapel. Archbishop Philip Strong was in no doubt that the inspiration for this window came from Canon Farnham E. Maynard who, as one of Bishop Strong's Commissaries, had represented St Peter's Church and the Church in Australia at the consecration of the Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul in Dogura in October 1939. Maynard found an able collaborator for this work in the local artist, Napier Waller, who had specialized in stained glass and mosaics since the 1930s, and had already completed several major works before the commission for this window in 1945.

The first news of deaths of missionaries after the Japanese invasion at Buna Beach arrived at St. Peter's by October, 1942, and Father Maynard preached a significant sermon about these events at Evensong on October 11.

Father Maynard also preached a number of sermons on the window in the weeks before it was dedicated. The text which he chose for his sermons on the window was "This is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith." (I John, 5:4). In the Parish Paper of October 1946, Maynard writes:–

“This sums up the message of the window. I suggested that the window might be read both vertically and horizontally. The vertical message is clear. It begins at the left-hand top corner, where attention is called to the beauty of nature, which rightly understood tells of God. The story then passes on through school and hospital, through building and pastoral care, through tragedy and martyrdom, through desolation and restoration, up to the right-hand corner, where the priest is seen offering the Sacrifice of Praise as he gazes beyond the earthly Altar to the glory of the eternal City of God. Earth is redeemed and sin overcome by the faith which lays hold of the beauty, the truth and the goodness of God. 

The horizontal message, it seems to me, to speak rather differently of the revelation of these same great Values perceived by faith—beauty, truth and goodness. Reading across, the top panels tell of natural beauty, ecclesiastical beauty and supernatural beauty. A little lower, reading horizontally, we are introduced into spheres of work, schools, hospitals, cathedral-building, and reconstruction. But work must be based upon truth, or it will not stand. The teacher must know the truth, so must the doctor, the priest, and the architect, each in their own department of knowledge. He who said: ‘I am the Truth,’ said also, ‘My Father worketh hitherto and I work.’ Then, on the lowest level, the three panels speak of Goodness. In no way can goodness be so arrestingly shown as in sacrifice. What more need be said? ‘The Good Shepherd giveth His life for the sheep.’ And, ‘They, knowing full well the risk, elected to stay with their flock.’”...

In summarizing his feelings about the window and its dedication at High Mass on October 27, 1946, Father Maynard writes the following:

“It seemed at least to the writer of this letter that here we had for once everything in its right place. The emphasis right, upon the forward essential spiritual work of the Church, which includes social and personal redemption. This was proclaimed in a setting of worship from which nothing was wanting through ignorance or prejudice. All was there of beauty and art which we knew how to offer. All was in place, great music, under the hand of a master musician,—God bless him; a glorious window, just dedicated, created by a great artist in glass; incense and holy water, vestments and lights, colours and concerted movement, all expressive, however imperfectly, of the unimaginable beauty of the courts of the All Holy One. And all this was in balance and proportion, was unobtrusive, as the best art is, seemingly inevitable.”

Transfigured

Yes, heaven has come down to meet us;

It hangs in our atmosphere;

Its beautiful open secret

Is whispered in every ear.

And everywhere, here and always,

If we would but open our eyes,

We should find, through these beaten footpaths,

Our way into Paradise.

We should walk there with one another;

Nor halting, disheartened, wait

To enter a dreamed of City

By a faroff,

shadowy Gate.

Dull earth would be dull no longer;

The clod would sparkle a gem;

And our hands, at their commonest labor,

Would be building Jerusalem.

For the clear, cool river of Eden

Flows fresh through our dusty streets;

We may feel its spray on our foreheads

Amid wearisome noontide heats.

We may share the joy of God’s angels,

On the errands that He has given;

We may live in a world transfigured,

And sweet with the air of heaven.

Lucy Larcom (1824–1893)

God's Warrior

“God’s Warrior” is an epithet by which David Pendleton Oakerhater (b. 1847; the date on the picture above appears to be inaccurate) is known among the Cheyenne Indians of Oklahoma. The title is an apt one, for this apostle of Christ to the Cheyenne was originally a soldier who fought against the United States government with warriors of other tribes in the disputes over Indian land rights.

Having gone through many sufferings and indignities as a Native American, after being imprisoned by the U.S. Army, David became an Episcopalian in 1878, and was ordained a deacon in June, 1881. Sent to minister in Oklahoma among the Cheyenne, Oakerhater was instrumental in founding and operating schools and missions. Again, he endured great personal sacrifice, inconvenience, and suffering because of the apathy of Church leaders, and because of resistance from the U.S. government. He continued as a deacon, educator, and pastor among his people until his death on August 31, 1931. Many years before, the young deacon had told his people: “You all know me. You remember when I led you out to war I went first, and what I told you was true. Now I have been away to the East and I have learned about another captain, the Lord Jesus Christ, and he is my leader. He goes first, and all he tells me is true. I come back to my people to tell you to go with me now in this new road, a war that makes all for peace.”

O God of unsearchable wisdom and infinite mercy, you chose a captive warrior, 

David Oakerhater, to be your servant, and sent him to be a missionary to his own people, 

and to exercise the office of a deacon among them: Liberate us, who commemorate him today, 

from bondage to self, and empower us for service to you and to the neighbors 

you have given us; through Jesus Christ, the captain of our salvation; 

who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.