Bytes of Reflection

A Name

2012-01-02T16:26:00.001-06:00

This past Saturday evening, I heard a sermon preached by my friend and colleague, Fr. Mark McGuire, Rector of St. Paul's Parish in Lee's Summit. For the first time in nearly 3.5 decades, I was able to "get underneath" a Sunday feast day and actually be part of what is called a Vigil Mass. In the Church, feast days follow the lunar calendar tradition. The feast day begins with sundown and ends the following sundown.   Also, I didn't have to think ahead to the next day's work. I could be present to the moment....a luxury not always given to active parish priests. Fr. McGuire's words were timely, accurate and well crafted.

He reminded us that names traditionally reflected the vocation and character of the individual to whom it was given. As I thought about that (later), I began with the discovery of the history and meaning of our family surname: Mann. We came from Scotland in 1747 and for a specific reason. We were being chased and "on the run" from British soldiers...a lot of them.

Our name then was "Man" (the second "n" was added after the Revolutionary War in this country). We were a sept....a special subgroup...of the Clan Gunn. Our surname reflected our craft. When not tending our farms or merchantile shops, we were militia for the chief of the clan....the "Laird's Man." If one is familiar with the story "Rob Roy," they were militia men. If there was a threat to peace, a brigand on the loose or a security mission required, the Laird (Lord, Chief) would call up his "Men" to carry out the armed mission. There were no standing armies in the Highlands of Scotland.

When Bonnie Prince Charlie (Charles Edward Stewart) tried to take back the throne by force of revolution in 1745, it failed. Prince Charlie retreated to his native Scotland and to the northwest corner...the Caithness...which is where Clan Gunn and part of Clan Stewart dwelled. My ancestors, militia, gathered to protect the Prince and to try to get him out of the country safely. Ultimately, it didn't work. The British landed two ships of troops, and one troop marched north from the border. Prince Charlie was captured and only a few of the subclan of Man escaped. My grandfather five times removed was one of them (John Man).

When searching the National Achives in Washington, DC in 1994, I found my family lineage materials. As the Revolutionary War began, John Man's son, William, volunteered in the North Carolina Standing Regiment. I found his military enlistment card on microfiche. I was stunned and moved to tears. Here it was....my grandfather four times removed. In the "Home of Family" line of the card, was printed, "Berne in North Carolina & Lately of Scotland." So my heritage was a people of the land trained to be fighters and defenders of their clan's people.

But what about the given name? Fr. McGuire had spoken of the names given to children at the time of circumcision at the time of Jesus.   It described the deep sense of what the parents hoped or discerned of their offspring. Mary already knew what her child's name would be. It was given to her by Gabriel at the time of the Annunciation, "and his name will be Jesus." This name did not reflect anything of the family character. It literally means, "God is Salvation." In Hebrew it is "Yeshua" (Joshua). It most assuredly described what would become Jesus' ultimate vocation and identity.

I thought of my own given name: Frederick. It comes from my maternal grandmother's family. It literally means, "Peaceful Ruler." Since it is a longtime family surname in that family, one might gather that the vocation included some level of leadership or vested authority. I have not been able to research this part of my family beyond their arrival from the lowlands of Scotland in 1742. The Scots-English placed an "e" between the "d" and "r". The Germans tended not to (Friedrich, in German).   I was given the name to represent that lineage of our families coming together in my mom and dad. While some parishioners would tell me it was the perfect name for a priest, I might take issue with them from the origins.

My point in sharing this is to add one more layer to the profound sense that name and heritage provide. All of us who are called Christian bear that name by virtue of the sacrament of Baptism. A sacrament is an act that alters the core character of an individual or object. It is an outward sign of an indward act of Grace....God does someting permanent. After the water of Baptism, the priest annoints the newly baptised with the words, "you are marked as Christ's own forever."

This is a great deal deeper than a vocation. It is a profound statement that one's entire being is being directed and shifted to a new way of being. The question to ask here is one that can only be answered in the heart of the individual who ponders it: How do we live into this fundamental shift in our character? What does "Christian" mean to us?   I have spent most of my adult lifetime coming to grips with that. It's a kneeding and shaping process.

Thirty-three years ago on 29 December, I was ordained a priest by Bishop Arthur Anton Vogel at Christ Church, Sprinfield, MO. It is a sacrament and, thus, indelible. We call it an "ontological shift," a fundamental shift in our character....who we are at the core of our being. It makes those , who are ordained, vessels and channels of divine gifts and stewards of the Church's sacred life. I have also spent those 33 years coming to terms with the depth and profundity of that vocation. Far, far deeper than being the "Laird's Man" of my heritage, the name nevertheless reflects the unique place in community. "Christian Priest." "Christ's Priest." Fundamentally, each of us Baptized persons is "Christ's Man" or "Christ's Woman." However, this is not just when needed or convenient. It marks us in service forever!

It's a humble way to begin the new year. Whatever your tradition, or your heritage, ask yourself if you are living fully into what it means to be that person in community. It is a good way to create "resolutions" for a truly New Year.

Blessings in this Season of Blessings!

Fr. Fred
Sat Nam

"I Was So Much Older Then......"

2011-12-14T16:33:00.002-06:00

My thanks to the song, "My Back Pages," originally written and recorded by Bob Dylan and later done by The Byrds (I have both on iTunes). This song provided inspiration for a meditation I did earlier this morning, and I recommend either version for some thoughtful reflection....especially for us Boomers.

There are some questions that just need not be asked.   The reason for this is that there are no true, definitive answers. This was brought home to me in a recent conversation with my friend and confidant, Rainbow Mooon (her actual name...no misspellings...a story not mine to tell). There are five valid types of questions to ask in any given situation: Who, What, When, Where & How.   Any question framed in those five categories will provide concrete data. The missing question type is, Why.

To ask a "why" question seems fundamental to our nature from the time we are old enough to speak and gather information around us. We who are parents well remember the incessant, "But why mommy/daddy?" to any of our directions or instructions. We often ended it in frustration by stating, "because I am your mom/dad and said so, that's why."   So, the nature of command and authority begin to be ingrained in our inquisitive child.

What's wrong with a "why" question anyway?   Simply put: There is no true data to support an answer. The ultimate "why" of anything is a mystery. In parish ministry, the most common question to come to a priest is in the form of "why." Most of the time, it is a misuse of language. What the asker means is one of the other five types of questions. Example: "Why do we have to do premarital counseling?" Really, it is a "what" question. "What rules or authority guides your requirement that we have premarital counseling?"

So, you think I am parsing the language too thinly here? Not so fast. Using the example above. If one followed the string created by the "why" question of premarital counseling, one would have to take in the entire history of canon law; the data that supports the experiences of countless marriages and pastoral preparations; the moral and ethical standards of couples actually lying in order to facilitate their marriage in the Church (happens all the time folks...especially these days); and a host of other factors that may be lost to us. This does not even take into consideration the non-spatial reality of the Holy Spirit's engagement in the process of Christian Marriage. The answer, "Because I am the Rector and the Church says so," doesn't cut it in truth. In fact, the "what" of this example is the very fact that the Canons of the Church require it, and I, as the Rector, am charged by my bishop to enforce said Canons. That's what guides the decision.

Applying a geometric approach: Our use of "why" questions is precipitated by linear thinking, which is "cause and effect." In asking "why," one expects to have a "because" answer that follows a logical, linear path. If one cannot answer definitively, then one is not doing his/her job or is incompetent in that job. Church Vestries (or boards) are masters at demanding answers to why something isn't working, or why numbers aren't up. I have never, in 33 years found the real answer to that question to be satisfying to any Vestry member. In fact, I stopped answering "why" questions altogether some years ago. That really pissed people off.   However, the answer, "because it seemed right to the Holy Spirit to not go in that direction..." (or some equally biblically sound but seemingly nebulous answer) created a room full of glazed over eyes. The true agnosticism of the modern Church comes out in those moments. Not pretty. So, I would simply remain quiet or say, "I have no response to that at this time." Better for leadership to be seething with anger rather than risking the exposure of a shallow spirituality. I gave them the former "out."

To complete the geometric approach, the five authentic types of questions have a constellation of approaches in achieving an answer. They are questions that create and sustain community ownership and challenge relational integrity. Parishes often go through priests almost as fast as the NFL and NCAA go through head football coaches. The "why" blames a person, whereas the other five types of questions call the entire system to accountability. We are a scapegoat people.

While recently at Mayo Clinic for a consult and tests on my right shoulder, I picked up the most recent "Spirituality and Health" magazine. One of the regular contributors is Thomas Moore. Moore is a theologian, former Roman Catholic monk, therapist and writer. He is most widely known for his ground breaking work, "Care of the Soul."   He has just published a new book, "Care of the Soul in Medicine." I had noted some material of his in one of the Mayo departments during my moving around for tests.

Moore's article was entitled, "Natural Mysticism." His premise is that institutional religion is diminishing. He cites a number of factors but summarizes by stating, "I believe and hope that the objectifying, mechanistic, materialistic, disenchanting, fully secular philosophy that has dominated much of modern life is ending." He had already stated that the Church (as a total tradition) had bought into this, and the world is passing it by.

What replaces this? According to Moore, a mystical approach the likes of which has not yet been seen (not a return to a past experience). He acknowledges, in another article, that a profound shift has already taken place in created order. This shift in energy is much like going from digital to HD. It is subtle, but powerful.

When I was a young adult student of theology and a new priest, I believed I did have all the answers...neatly bundled and based on all I had learned up to the point of my ordination. I lived in that heady fog of assurance for quite some time. Just ask me "why," and I could give you assured reasons and the books to prove my points.

Along the way, I have come to realize that the mystical way, described by Thomas Moore as being the causal and sacred spaces behind and just underneath our spatial based reality. We might think of mysticism as some kind of easy, fluffy, puffy kind of spirituality. In fact, the natural mystical experience is "the most grounded, intelligent and challenging kind" of spirituality (quote is Thomas Moore the the above cited article).

I was seemingly so much older and wiser at the beginning of this journey. I am younger than that now. The freshness of seeing the world as sacred space holding our reality ever so tenderly and surrounding it lovingly has given me a broader perspective and a deeper appreciation for the life I have been given. To ask "why" is to enter this mystery and to create a balance with it and the daily world in which we live. It is the tradition of Meister Ekhart, Julian of Norwich, Thomas Merton, Henry David Thoreau, and many more who could see where we were heading and dared to give us a peek.

Now is the time of our awakening!

In the Joy of the Nativity of Christ Jesus,

Fr. Fred
Sat Nam

The Coming

2011-12-03T10:06:00.000-06:00

The Christian season of Advent really does seem to sneak up on us. I think it has something to do with the activities of the late summer/fall seasonal cycle of school, work, sports and the many preoccupations that make the days seem to pass all too quickly. I just celebrated my 61st birthday and awoke to the reality that, just yesterday, I was thinking I still had three months until the event. The "yesterday" was three months ago. Now, here I was, driving to meet a dear friend for a birthday lunch and caught with the realization that it was now. It also meant that we had crossed into that season called "Advent"... the Coming.

Since my retirement, at the end of June, from active parish ministry, I have operated outside the intimacy of the liturgical year. As a parish priest, my life was driven by the engine of liturgical planning and the liturgical year....the inexorable cycle of moving through the calendar year in a sacred manner. Even with retirement, I have noticed that the "liturgical clock" keeps working somewhere deep inside. I just no longer have to plan and structure the environment in which that will be expressed. Now, I simply walk with it. As I step into the parish at which I happen to be worshipping (either Saturday evening or Sunday morning), I am now a passenger and sojourner in the environment created by others. For a guy like me, it took some getting used to .... turning my mind from planning, design, teaching, preaching to opening my heart for the experience into which I step.

Entering this Advent season, I carry some burdens that drive my daily schedule. There is the sale of our home and keeping everything at prime readiness for the next potential buyer's visit with an agent. There is always tweeking, touching up and cleaning up to keep everything as close to readiness as possible.

There is the purchase of our townhome in Sarasota, FL. It is in the process of being built as part of the development's final stage of completion. Not as much is required of us at this point. The major work was accomplished between the end of July and the first part of October. We are now in something of a waiting stage...being kept informed at every stage of building by the really good staff of folks who have guided us through the process. This is an anticipatory experience. It is the coordination of the sale of this house with the closing on the townhome that creates the minor anxiety.

Then, there is the change in my "new" shoulder joint. Even though the surgery was almost fourteen months ago, I really felt that I was only beginning to know this new titanium friend connecting my arm to my torso. Something began to change in the latter part of July, and mobility decreased from about 95% to probably about 40% in the space of a month. Pain began to replace the relative calm of post healing life with a replaced joint. At first, it was thought to be scar tissue forming (which happens). Renewed therapeutic exercises did nothing to help. Then, with xrays, it seemed as though I might have torn part of the rotator cuff system...much of which has to be cut during surgery to get to the bones that make the joint. A CT scan and other tests showed no tears but a lot of inflammation and fluid build up. Infection? Two aspirations and cultures showed no infection. Now, I am heading to Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN for an evaluation and consult with the orthopedist considered the best in the country for this kind of thing. My surgeon here set this up.

Three words move through my mind as I experience life in this season: Now, Should, Ought. One might rightly ask what these words can possibly have in common. My experience of them come after years of living sacred cycles and now exercising the contemplative practices.

Let's start with the future tense words. Should suggests that there may be some directive to accomplish an act or a task in a specific manner or time frame. How often have we said to ourselves, "I should go to the grocery store tomorrow." Or, "You should rethink your decision about that job." It implies that self or the one speaking has the correct end result in mind and/or there is some kind of law "out there" that demands our movement in that particular direction.

Ought suggests that there is an obligation to function in a specific manner. It is a stronger word than "should." It implies that the one using the word knows exactly what must be done and lays the obligation upon the receiver to do it. The speaker is also suggesting that he/she knows what is best for the other, and the other risks rejection if it is not done. Examples: "You ought to take that job offer." "As a good Christian, you ought to believe this way (name it)." Of course, we can "ought" ourselves...as if there is an internal policeman or judge enforcing a law.

It is my earnest opinion that the words "should" and "ought" need to be removed from our active language. Someone recently told me that, in my retirement, I should engage in a specific program of activity for my future. While still in parish ministry, a parishioner sat in my office and told me, "You should never have been a parish priest." This, after 31 years of doing that work. What omniscience do these folks possess that they know the direction of the Holy Spirit. Should and ought border on blasphemous language.

What about "now?" The suggestion is obvious. It is the moment. It is the time, space, and action that is taking place as we engage life in "real time." It is an unfolding. And, now is eternal.

That last statement above may catch us out a bit. Now is eternal? Yes, because it is always now. Now never leaves us. It call us to be present to ourselves, to our environment and to one another in the moment. That moment is always here. How much time is spent bemoaning what we "should have done" or "ought to have done." It's wasted energy and time. It calls us to realize that we are not perfect or omniscient. If so, we would have known and done what we now regret. Instead, why not simply affirm the thoughts and actions of the past and determine what needs to be done now to adjust the actions of this moment. The past becomes a resource for being now.

We do have some obligation to plan and prepare for the future, but cannot write the script. Life -- both spatial and eternal -- is fluid. I could not have anticipated that the work ahead of me would include probably having my "new" shoulder replaced and undergoing whatever procedure and process will lead to healing the mess in that joint. We had no idea that we would be moving to Florida until literally 10 days before I retired. Even then, it didn't become a more solid reality until late July. The future of life is always fluid. All that we have that is concrete are the actions, thoughts and engagement of now.

While Advent literally means "Coming." It is what we do now that makes us ready to receive the Grace of God in Christ Jesus. It is now that opens us to the full experience of God's Love. It is now that awakens us to the presence of the Kingdom and the insight into our purpose for being.

As I write this, I look out the window at the barren maple tree in our front yard and the pin oak, whose bronze leaves hold tenaciously to the branches until spring buds or strong winds push them away. In the moment, they look dead. But they simply sleep for a time. They are in the moment of their reality.

Can we be so present to our moment that we respond with the fullness of life and light? Every moment is a now to be embraced and celebrated. Only if the lamps remain lighted will we be present for the bridegroom's arrival. Our destiny is always......now!

In Christ's Love,

Fr. Fred+
Sat Nam

Sit In It

2011-11-16T20:32:00.002-06:00

In the 1991 movie, Fisher King, Robin Williams plays the part of a once successful married man whose wife was one of a number of persons killed by a rampant gunman in a restaurant. Williams' character loses himself after a period of catatonia and lives as a homeless guy. Jeff Bridges plays the radio personality who believes himself the cause of the psychotic gunman going on the rampage. It is a movie worth seeing for a lot of reasons.

Occasionally, in the movie, Robin Williams' character is confronted by the vision of a fiery red knight on horseback charging him. Williams' character is terrified and flees for his life each time. As my wife and I watched this movie in a theater, she finally had to punch me, because, each time the red knight appeared I would audibly exclaim, "turn and face him dammit!" My advanced psychology training is a combination of Jungian analysis and Bowen Theory.

Writer, Ursula Leguin, created a series in the late 1970s that has come to be known as The Earthsea Trilogy. The books are about a wizard named Ged and his journey through life. The first book centers on his development. His mentor sends him to the special school for those gifted as wizards. In the cockiness of his youth, he conjures a deeply dark figure that kills one of his teachers and begins pursuing Ged all over Earthsea. Finally, exhausted and near death, Ged finds himself at the home of his childhood mentor. After nursing him to health, the mentor tells Ged that he must cease running and turn to face this hideous dark creature. When Ged and his conjured dark monster finally meet and grapple, Ged's eyes are opened to the reality that the creature is his own dark side and ultimate death...the two aspects of being we are most afraid to encounter.

We recently celebrated All Saints' in the Christian calendar of festivals. We have done serious injustice to the saints by placing them on pedestals and pronouncing them as perfect...as if they had no shadow side or capacity for error, anger, fear or maliciousness.   Thomas Merton called our common view of saints as "plaster casts that only represent a false reality." For many years, I was one of those that Merton was speaking to.

Shortly after the death of my mother in late 1987, I felt myself stuck in what seemed like a thick, sucking mud. I went to see a psychotherapist friend for insight. Her first question to me was, "what do you most want to be when you finish here?" Without blinking or hesitating, I blurted, "...A Saint!" I found myself in gales of tears. Her measured response to my stunning revelation was, "Well, my friend, you have set yourself a rather impossible goal don't you know..."

My father had died suddenly of a heart attack just a few weeks prior to graduation from high school in 1968. It was a huge loss for a 17 year old, who actually treasured his dad (though we did have our disagreements). It took me 19 years to realize that I had been running from his death...and...thereby...from my own. He was only 54 years old. Mom was 64 when she died. The monster was stalking me, and I was next in line!

This may not be an admission for a theologian to make, but it was my "red knight" and conjured dark monster. I didn't really know it for a long time, but fear is the beginning of wisdom..if one is willing to make the journey.   And, the journey begins with confronting the spectre and asking, "who are you and what do you want?"

I won't rehearse the full details of what amounts to a 43 year journey. However, I will tell you what I learned. Like Jacob wrestling with the angelic being, I have ultimately turned on my pursuers, asked the questions above, grabbed them and wrestled them to the ground of my being. There I sat with them until they would speak.   A conversation then could ensue. Fear dissipated.

Now I face a new challenge. In retirement, the road upon which I journey makes a curve. The vista shifts and becomes unfamiliar. It isn't quite the same horizon. The shoulder that was expertly replaced a year ago with a titanium joint has a "spectre" within it....yet to be definitively diagnosed.   When I shared my fear with a wise friend last week, she gave me gracious counsel and insight.   The shoulder is a symbol of carrying weight or a load. What are the aspects of your inner reality (she asked) that would create a joint failure and possible infection of this magnitude? She did not answer the question for me, when I couldn't (I stood looking, I think, like a deer in the headlights....very unusual for me). Instead, she smiled, rested a caring hand on mine and said, "Go sit in it."

I knew exactly what she meant. Enter the contemplative place, face the shadowy figures and ask for direction. What part of me am I avoiding? The answer is, as yet, only partial. The initial emerging "red knight" in my second contemplative period this past Friday (11/11) was my own mantra as a young priest: "Nothing dies on my shift!" The second "red knight" appeared later that day...out of the blue while working around the house: "We do not raise quitters."

Well, when did this new problem begin with a shoulder that was healing so nicely? About a month after my retirement. Obviously, I have some things that need to be wrestled down and engaged. I am now "sitting in" this morass of renewed and resurrected monsters.

Grace is a good weapon. Of equal importance is the capacity to integrate one's life experiences...see them all as part of a continuum that is all loved and necessary. There is no failure. Nothing dies. One doesn't quit, because there is nothing to quit. It is a constant evolution and growth. This current frontier is nothing less than the integration of soul with mind and body.

Oh, but you say, you are a priest. Didn't you do that long time ago? I've done a lot of things and traveled a long road. Now the fullness of it confronts me. I am my only measure of meaning at this juncture. Oneness is the capacity to be an authentic self in concert with all other authentic selves. It's the definition of the Kingdom of Heaven. Jesus said that the "Kingdom is at hand." Meaning: It can happen among us now. The unfolding begins!   Digital to HD for techies.....

My love in Christ,

Fred+
Sat Nam

The Seventy/Fifty-Five Rule of Life

2011-10-30T07:45:00.001-05:00

Our mother lived on Anna Maria Island (just off Bradenton, FL...south end of Tampa Bay) from 1980 until her unexpected death near the end of 1987. Her favorite restaurant on the island was a place called "Fast Eddie's." It was known for great seafood with an enjoyable family atmosphere. At some point in almost every visit to mom's house, we found ourselves at that restaurant. It is no longer there, but I have great memories.

At "Fast Eddie's" there was a sign posted over the pass-through from the kitchen area to where the wait-staff would pick up orders for customers that read: "If you are not proud of it, don't serve it."

Think about that. The folks waiting tables did not buy the seafood, vegetables, etc. They were not involved in either cooking it or arranging the plates for presentation. The only thing the servers did was to deliver the product of that process from the kitchen to the customer. Yet, the sign suggests that the servers had a stake in those dishes being served. They needed to be proud of what they delivered. It meant that they had to know what it needed to look and taste like. That's a pretty big responsibility. Plus, how did they know what their customer would experience with the delivered product? What my experience of foods, spices and cooking methods calls forth from me on a particular menu item may not be at all like that of the person sitting at the next table with the exact same menu item. If I tell my server that the dish is wonderful, and my next table neighbor sends his/her dish back, because its not suitable, who is right?   Is it the buyer, distributor, fisherman or farmer? Ah, the conundrum of ethics and diversity.

Let me provide one more example. On 6 October 2010, an orthopedic surgeon replaced the joint in my right shoulder with a titanium prosthetic joint....a procedure that took a bit more than 4 hours due to the level of joint deterioration and collateral muscle/tendon damage. The surgeon is considered to be one of the best in his field for this kind of surgery in the KC area.

In early summer, I began to experience pain and reduced mobility in that shoulder.  The surgeon's office examination shows a shift in the prosthetic joint indicative of a muscle/tendon breech. Lab tests and a CT scan (can't do MRIs with a metal system) will indicate if there is an infection or if one of the four muscles that make up the rotator cuff has torn.   Fact is, it is quite likely that I will face a second surgery on the same shoulder to correct whatever went wrong and the damage that it may have caused the overall system.

The questions here include: Did I do something wrong in my overall rehab process to create this new problem? Did the surgeon do something in the first surgery that caused a muscle/tendon not to heal properly? Did the maker of the prosthesis system miss a flaw in the titanium product that caused this new problem?   Do I blame one or both of my parents -- or ancestors -- for the degenerative arthritis that destroyed the joint? How about the places I did weight training and the two accidents I had in doing military presses that damaged my shoulders years ago? Ah, an ethical and diversity conundrum of a different nature!

These two examples may seem very different. However, close examination points to a number of similarities. The first is in a social dimension (restaurant and consumer communities). The second is more internal or personal (me, my surgeon, the product and family of origin). Otherwise, the process and resulting questions are identical. That means there is a "rule" involved. Here, the term "rule" means "measure." Ethics involves the rule or measure by which standards are created. Within those standards, there is the flexibility of individual experience and the evaluation of that experience. It sounds somewhat complicated...and it is. That's why being human and living in human community can often be a messy business.

The recent clashes between police and the Occupy folks reflects such messiness. If we understand the function of our democracy and the system framed in the Constitution for the culture we call the United States of America, it guarantees the freedom of expression and assembly. Even though each of us enjoys the benefits of this system, it often happens that our neighbor has an entirely different experience of that system and its interpretation than we do personally. The Tea Party folks call Occupy folks "Socialists." The Occupy folks could call the Tea Party folks "Neo-Nazis" (I have not heard this, but socialism is considered to be the extreme "left" of the spectrum and neo-nazism is considered extreme right on that scale in political theory). Name calling is a nasty and un-called-for business. It presumes we know exactly what the other person is thinking and what motivates his/her actions. It implies the danger that one person is more correct than the other. Did my enjoyment of my restaurant meal mean that the customer at the next table, with the same meal, is wrong for not appreciating the same dish? Or, vice-versa?   Is my experience of facing another surgery making me a better or worse patient than the person who has had the exact same surgery with the same surgeon and equipment and had no problems whatever since the first surgery?

One way to approach a workable platform in this apparent knot is in the marriage of Christian theology and Family Emotional Process (aka Bowen Theory). Without a dissertation on either, I will summarize this way: We can only really experience and engage the world through healthy self-definition (personal experience and expression). Each person has to know where he/she ends and the other person begins (boundaries). We can only be responsible for our own actions. We need to have a common ground for what are appropriate limits (ethics). The healthy community is one that stays connected...even when expression of self has diverse manifestations (as many as there are persons much of the time). Spirituality is the experience of God in a person's life, and theology is the articulation of that experience. So that we can tell the difference between a true experience of God and simply a behavioral projection of a person's mental content (dysfunction), the community uses the combined experiences to create a "system" to objectify and find common ground in the expression of what we call Christianity. We embrace diversity within that system.

My mentor in Family Emotional Process -- Dr. Edwin Friedman -- provided me with a socio-theological way of dealing with all this. This is what I call the "70/55 Rule of Life."
     1. On a scale of 100, no one gets better than 70% in this life. It means that 30% of the time we are in a willful modality (stuggling to have things our way on our terms).
     2. Those who function at 70% consistently are considered to be "saints." That means that even those we hallow, have been willful 30% of the time.
     3. The average, healthy person functions at a 55% level. Astounding as it may seem, this means that most of us are in a willful mode 45% of the time.
     4. Below an average of 55%, dysfunction begins to occur (neuroses, psychoses, spiritual and psychological disorders). Going too low can lead to severe mental/spiritual dysfunction and institutionalization (to prevent danger to self or others).
     5. To maintain a healthy spiritual and relational life, one needs to speak in clear "I" statements (self-definition); set limits (healthy boundaries); remain as emotionally neutral as possible in normal relationships (avoiding visceral responses/keeping healthy emotional distance); stay connected with others in healthy ways (staying in conversation, even with disagreement, and avoid cutting-off from others because they are different); practice a disciplined connection between one's mental and spiritual internal realities.

The last part of item #5 above is probably the hardest. It is called by several names: contemplative prayer, mindfulness, transparency, self-actualization -- to name a few. As a priest in the Episcopal tradition, my vows include holding as valued the life of every person as well as holding before them the reconciling/healing Grace of God. In a parish, that meant (I'm retired...reason for past tense) seeing each person who entered the church building on a Sunday morning as equally loved and embraced by God....regardless of socio-economic, cultural, political, theological, gender, orientation.   While not suspending my own orientations (political party, doctrinal parity, personal issues), I needed to create a space for everyone to feel both welcomed and safe. No personal "axes" or agendas from the pulpit. No "holding hostages" emotionally (eg., 'if you are a good Christian, you will do ___). In large measure, I was able to achieve that.

Now that I am retired, I am freer to express my own "take" on the issues of the moment. I still find myself defending the right of Tea Party and Occupy folks to be vocal in the same system. It is our system...called a democracy. I find myself embracing those of different experiences of spirituality and exploring what that means to them...and ultimately to me.   It is quite a journey.

Okay, so who am I in all this?   A political progressive who is conservative on some issues and liberal on others. I don't have a strict "party line" (though I am registered with a political party). A theological centrist. Most of my clergy colleagues might call me a tad conservative. A social liberal. It is a big tent and everyone is invited to be part of it. I am an advocate for the social minorities and those who feel disenfranchised or marginalized. I am commited to speaking my truth in love and to embracing those, whose positions/points of view, are different.   I defend their right to that opinion...even if it bothers the hell out of me. I am committed to constant research and review so that my opinions and stances can shift and change to be more accountably accurate. That is, to me, both the Gospel and my take on democracy...trying to live in the tension of both.

In Christ's Love,

Fr. Fred
Retired
At Large and Running Amok
Lee's Summit, MO

"First Law of Lethargy"*

2011-10-13T10:42:00.000-05:00

*The title of this article is taken from the CREDO Eclectic article title by Herb Gunn. His article in that newsletter (on Facebook) inspired my thinking along similar lines.

Background: Sir Isaac Newton's first law of motion: An object at rest will remain at rest unless acted on by an unbalanced force. An object in motion continues in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force.

Retirement is an interesting endeavor. Since I have never done it before, the only references as to the experience comes from those who have and are retired. I am quickly learning that retirement is like fingerprints -- no two are alike. For those not yet retired: it is okay to listen to the experiences of others, or to watch those experiences emerge in others; but don't believe it will be the same for you. It won't.

The first two months (July & August) were spent at a near frantic pace as we changed our entire plan for being settled in our Lee's Summit, MO home and community and shifted to the purchase of a not-yet-built townhome in Sarasota, FL. This was not on our familial radar until literally days prior to my date of retirement.

By the end of July, we had had made two trips to Sarasota -- the first at the very beginning of the month to look at opportunities and existing condos, villas and townhomes -- the second at the end of the month to finalize the contract on a townhome, which is part of a final phase of a condominium development. In between, we completed enough paperwork to reforest the Amazon basin; spent countless time on telephones and emails; got to know the FedEx office folks on a first name basis (overnighting parts of contracts and mortgage initiating docs); had work done and did work ourselves on our current home to prepare it for the real estate market; divested ourselves -- room by room -- of thirty plus years of accumulated materials that did not meet our mutually agreed criteria: do we absolutely love it; have we used it in the past two years; when we move, do we want to take it with us to the new home?   In the end, we are probably a good 2,500 lbs lighter in our earthly load. I have to readily admit. I don't miss anything and the house feels much larger and more peaceful.

The work of July continued into August. Work on our current home moved outside. While we have kept the house and yard in very good shape over the past eight years, fine-tuning, reworking and replacing schedules suddenly became compacted into these first two months. While it placed a fair strain on the budget, we managed to complete about 95% of what we planned. The other 5%?   They comprise our two basement storerooms. We have a finished basement that is multi-use. Off of it, there is the mechanical room with a lot of storage space and another room that could be made into almost any kind of space, but is used to store things that belong to our two daughters and items which have been categorized "undecided" in our sweeping simplification of life and belongings project of July/August. We figure three days work max to complete the entire project.

We are now approaching mid-October. Folks are looking at our current home, but no offers yet. They have poured the foundation for the building of which our townhome will be a part in Sarasota (they send pictures almost weekly of the progress). I have done Sunday supply occasionally, and we have worshipped in parishes in Lee's Summit and Independence. We made a trip to South Bend, IN to co-host an engagement party for our younger daughter and her fiance. I spent nine days in the Black Hills doing interviews that will, hopefully, lay the platform for a book I want to write (part of my original retirement plan). I was accompanied on this trip by my dear friend, Don Palmer. It was sacred time and space to be sure, as I showed him parts of the Hills not seen by tourists...but known to current Native Americans (Lakota, Cheyenne, and others) and indigenous peoples for at least the past thousand years. Denise and I just finished a four-day trip to St. Louis for time together and sightseeing in celebration of our 30th wedding anniversary. Oh, and I went to our diocesan priests' conference in between the Black Hills trip and our St. Louis trip.

So, my experience thus far of retirement has not included anything like "puttering about," or quiet days of reading, or even sleeping late for that matter. Lethargy has not been a word to be applied to my experience to this point. HOWEVER, there is something unsettling about this particular manner of sustained motion. It wobbles!

I never experienced a consistent routine in 33 years of parish ministry. Parochial life has a certain rhythm, but it is regularly broken by the unexpected, the crisis, the emergency, or the issue that mark most days. One really has to be a priest to know what a priest enounters. Regardless of the jokes about "working only one day a week," a parish priest's life is not really his/her own. After three months of not being in parish work, I look out the back door of our home, while sitting at our breakfast nook table and see the same scenes I have seen countless times in our eight years here. BUT, it looks very different. I realize that, for the first time, I am REALLY seeing the details, hearing the sounds of life, smelling the fragrances coming to me on the breeze wafting through the screen door. I am engaging my environment. I am becoming mindful.

I actually realized I was spiritually lethargic while on sabbatical in 2008. My mentors, Ben Rhodd (Leading Eagle), Lyle Noisy Hawk and Martin Brokenleg patiently opened my eyes, ears, nose and heart to the vastness of and engagement with creation...as the Creator wants us to experience it. I lived those three months of June-August 2008 in what the Celtic Christians called the "thin place" -- where heaven and earth touch. It is vastly transformative. It is also easily lost.

The expectations of daily life in the current culture do not recognize nor much permit walking in this thin place...even in the Church. It is considered non-productive. However, deeper exploration of scriptures and tradition show us that it is exactly the place God would have us live. It is the place of transformative growth. I thought I had lost that place after sabbatical. I suddenly realize it has always been here. It was I who was lost to it!

My forward movement is being impacted by forces that are actually balancing in nature -- contrary to Newton's first law of motion. My lethargy has not been one of lack of motion but lack of mindfulness -- non-attention to the deeper realities around me.

Folks I regularly engage tell me that my eyes are brighter, my walk is more relaxed, I laugh more easily, and I have a more laid-back attitude. My friends who work at the local Starbuck's have started calling me "The Dude." My hairstyle and demeanor remind them of the Jeff Bridges character in "The Big Lebowski" (a Cohen Brothers movie that has re-emerged as a cult classic for young adults). I have promised to wear my bathrobe over my clothing on Halloween...and I will do it. My hair is now touching my shoulders, I've dropped a few pounds of weight. Mostly, I am becoming the real me...the one God knows, and I am getting to know again.   Welcome home Fred!

My love in Christ,

"The Dude"
At Large and Running Amok
Lee's Summit, MO

Remembering: Reflections on 9/11/01

2011-08-30T12:13:00.001-05:00

Like everyone else, I can remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when I learned that airline jets had struck the Twin Towers in NYC. I was Dean of St. James Cathedral, South Bend, IN. It was one of those bright September mornings that had just a hint of the approaching fall. I had just finished a breakfast meeting with my Bishop....planning activities for the coming months that would involve the cathedral's leadership and resources. Our business and meal completed, I was heading to the cathedral office, when I got a call from one of our parishioners. He was nearly breathless, and I first thought he was in a personal crisis. Finally, he was able to ask me, "Are you the only person in the United States who doesn't know that we are under attack?!!!."

He told me what he knew as I raced to the cathedral office. Once in my office, I booted my laptop and turned on the television we had connected to local cable. The images were graphic, and I stood motionless for a long time watching what I could only describe as a surreal unfolding of events. Then, the unthinkable began to happen. First, an airliner entered one side of the Pentagon at almost ground level...like a bullet fired from a gun. Then, one tower collapsed. Then, the other tower collapsed. Then, the news of the airliner diving into a field in rural southeast Pennsylvania. My thought at that time: 'life as we know it has just changed dramatically.'

For us at St. James Cathedral, the day very quickly shifted out of its relative normalcy (nothing is really ever "normal" in parish ministry), into a modality of response. Within eight hours, we had developed a full liturgy for gathering the community, notified television and radio stations of the time of worship that evening, gathered our personnel resources and prepped them for what we were about to do and designed the high altar and chapel altar to reflect what we seemed to be experiencing (beyond the numbness). As soon as I had gathered enough clarity of the implications, I had called our Bishop (whose office is directly upstairs from the Dean's office) and told him what I thought needed ot be done. He readily agreed, and we began marshalling the resources. To this day, I do not know how we did all that we accomplished between 10am and 7pm that day.

That evening, the cathedral was full...not just with our parishioners but with people from all over the South Bend metro. The next 90 minutes embraced sacred time that seemed to cement our diversity into a single cry for peace, understanding and the souls of all those lost. I only remember the opening words of my homily: "My sisters and brothers, this day we have entered the surreal..."

In the days that followed, the cathedral joined with our Christian, Jewish and Muslim urban communities in daily prayer...each day in a different house of worship. The Cathedral Chapel remained open 24 hours with persons in prayer around the clock -- martyr lights burning on the Altar (large, red glass candles that burn for 8 days) -- one candle for each tower, one for the Pentagon and one for the crashed airliner in Shanksville, PA.

On Saturday morning, 15 September, I was part of a representative clergy group that gathered on the south parking lot of Notre Dame to pray for a team of EMTs and fire department personnel from South Bend and four other area communities that were heading to Ground Zero to provide assistance. The University of Notre Dame had a number of programs linked to businesses with offices in the NYC Twin Towers. Friends and family were among those whose lives were lost that day. We realized that it was really close to home; and that this was probably true for hundreds of communities around the country.

For months following that fateful Tuesday in September, we engaged in pastoral counseling, reflective teaching and preaching, special times of prayer -- all while trying to find that place of normalcy that seemed so elusive. It did slowly come, but the toll on our individual and common psyches was larger than we perhaps realized.

Just four months prior to 9/11/2001 the North American Conference of Cathedral Deans had convened in Oklahoma City, OK -- hosted by the Cathedral for the Episcopal Diocese of Oklahoma that year. Our focus was on the terrorist bombing that destroyed the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building on 19 April 1995. The explosion lifted and moved the entire roof system of the cathedral, which was five blocks away! People who were injured or lost loved ones in that tragic event spent the weekend with us -- sharing their experiences and the work of healing in their lives and in Oklahoma City itself. Without knowing it, we were experiencing a preparation for what would soon take place and would rock our entire country to its core.

Remembering is not simply thinking back and touching on points of pain. Think about the word: re-member. In the New Testament, this word is anamnesis and means "to make present again." Why would we want to do this? To engage again on a seminal level is to incorporate and learn in the experience. The National Geographic Channel is running a week long series leading up to 9/11 that engages the tragedies of the day itself; the experiences of NYC and national leaders; the stories of those who were involved on many levels of the events and recovery; and the story of those who promulgated the acts of terror and subsequent attempts.

Remembering isn't just the day and those hours but all that surrounded it and followed from it. It continues to unfold. It is part of who we are -- both individually and as a culture. We can only be whole as we sit in the moment. It is the experience of Christian Eucharist and contemplative prayer. It is also the experience of Buddhist meditation, Oneness Deeksha, and other spiritual disciplines. In the Lakota tradition, the opening and closing of prayer with Mitakuye Oyasin ("All My Relations" or "We are all connected") embraces making all things present. It is a common thread of prayer that binds humanity and all creation.

To remember is to bring healing and to burn away the anger, pain and fear. Once all that is is gone, what is left are the acts of love and selflessness that define true human nature...that created in God's image. In Christian Eucharist, Christ Jesus becomes present to us in the act of re-membering. That presence heals, restores and sharpens our focus on what it means to be truly human.

I sit in the midst of the flames, destruction and cries of the suffering and dying. I connect with all that is in that moment...embracing it with love, seeking forgiveness and restoration of peace, remembering so I might be renewed.

Blessings,

Fr. Fred+

Billy the Chameleon

2011-08-03T17:42:00.001-05:00

In the process of weeding out my files and moving my remaining office materials home at retirement, I ran across the file that contained all the liturgical materials for my ordination to the Priesthood on 29 December 1978. One document stood out in that file: the text of the sermon preached by Fr. C. Lee Gilbertson at my ordination. Lee was the Rector of St. Paul's, Winter Haven, FL (where I grew up) during my teen years and most of my college years. He was my mentor during the early stages of my vocational journey...mainly the years prior to seminary.

In that ordination sermon was a story about a rather unusual chameleon named "Billy." His owner -- an English farmer -- was very proud of Billy, because he had a rather special gift. No matter what color upon which the farmer placed Billy, the chameleon would quickly change to match that exact color....not just the greens, browns or grays; but any color.

The farmer delighted in taking Billy to pubs in the evening. He would place Billy on the bar and invite anyone to place any color cloth on the bar. Billy would scoot over to the cloth, settle in the midst of it and -- in the time it took to blink twice -- he would shift to that exact color. The brightest blues, reds, purples; it didn't matter. There was no color Billy could not acquire.   Tourists and visitors would make bets, and the farmer always won.

Until one fateful night. The farmer entered his favorite pub with Billy riding in his shirt pocket -- head poked out and taking in the view. The farmer ordered a pint of his favorite bitters and settled down. Very soon, a group of his buddies came up with a stranger in tow. Would he be willing to show this stranger Billy's rare gift? The farmer readily agreed and placed Billy on the bar. The chameleon puffed out and made himself ready. A line of brightly colored cloths were laid out in a line along the bar. Sure enough, as Billy settled on each piece of fabric, he would change to that color. Things were going swimmingly well, and there were hoots of joy and clapping as Billy moved along the bar.

The stranger looked awed and, toward the end of Billy's act, asked if he might put his own cloth down for the chameleon to walk on.   The farmer allowed as to how that would only be fair. The stranger had a thick, Highland Scottish brogue.   From his jacket pocket, he pulled a brightly colored neckerchief -- in the tartan of his clan. It had five different colors in an elaborate pattern typical of ceremonial tartans. He laid his neckerchief on the bar for Billy.

True to form, Billy walked onto the neckerchief and settled near the center. Then something very strange happened. Billy began to breathe heavily and rapidly. He puffed up and then let go. He raised himself on his legs and twisted -- first one way and then another. His actions became wilder and more erratic. Finally, Billy heaved in a spasmodic convulsion the likes of which completely startled the farmer. Then, in an instant, poor Billy simply burst and died.

There was an erie silence in the bar. The Scottish visitor as aghast and tried to utter apologies through stutters of shock and dismay. He had meant no harm. He had fully expected to see Billy become the most beautiful blend of tartan colors imaginable. But this?! There were no words possible.

As his astonishment abated, the farmer took on an unusual visage of circumspection and calm. After many moments, he finally spoke in the otherwise silent pub. "Billy was the most special and admirable of his species," he reflected. "I know what has happened here. Billy always did his best with his rare gift of changing to any color of the rainbow. One by one, he could become what was needed at that moment. However, when he settled down on that lovely tartan, poor Billy couldn't become all those colors at once. Try as he might, his body just couldn't respond appropriately. Finally, in a valiant effort, he tried to make all those colors appear -- and, as you see, it just caused him literally to come apart."   With that, he reverently gathered up the remains of his beloved chameleon, wrapped him in his handkerchief and left the pub to bury him in the garden of his cottage.

While I knew at the time what the moral of this story was all about, it took me a number of years to really embrace and own it for myself. In my vocation, the parish priest is the last of the true "generalists" in our culture. At given moments, we are theologians, psychologists, educators, preachers, liturgists, contemplatives, business persons, managers, historians and several other roles. We take these on in succession -- sometimes rapid succession. We can meet the unique needs of individuals in a variety of pastoral circumstances. None of us are good at all of those things, and we may have great gifts in one or several of them.

However, none of us -- aboslutely none of us -- can be all of those things at the same time. Absolutely none of us are able to meet everyone's expectations for what priest "should" or "ought" to be doing. There is no benchmark, I learned the hard way.   There was a time -- a number of years ago -- when, like Billy, I almost burst in a metaphorical manner. Trying to meet all the needs and expectations at once led me to the very edge of an ugly abyss. It was a place God had never intended me -- or anyone -- to be.

The final decade of parish ministry for me was one of doing each job in succession and "majoring" in the areas I was best suited with my particular vocational gifts. Anger often ensues in folks who demand a veritable tartan of actions -- all at the same time.

I speak from the perspective of my own life and work.   Needless to say, almost any vocation has a tartan of expectations. In our increasingly mobile and information driven society, we are expected to be more present, more informed, provide more answers, cover more ground with greater speed and alacrity than anytime in history. Is it surprising that we consume more pyschotropic medications and suffer from more stress related illnesses than any other time in human history?

One of the "graces" of retirement -- even after a month -- has been simplifying my life and taking on only one project at a time.   And, I have been quite busy.   My goal is to be a voice for the responsible simplification of vocational life...no matter what vocation is may be.

Next: Simplification

In Christ's Love,

Fr. Fred
Retired -- At Large and Running Amok
Lee's Summit, MO

Are the Ideal and the Practical Mutually Exclusive?

2011-07-30T14:15:00.001-05:00

In the struggle that raged within me about the possibility of becoming an Episcopal Priest, I most often had a romanticized picture in my head of what life in that vocation might be like. For a guy like me...immersed in the life sciences and heading for medicine or some kind of research...my initial fear was the relevence of being a priest in a culture that had, at that time, declared that "God is dead." In my own heart and head, I knew that to be a great falsehood. However, I did not know then how to square that with the world around me.

I remember a trip just after graduation from the University of Florida (1972), when I drove my mom to Miami to see her Aunt Esther (my great aunt). Mom's family comes from a long line of Anglicans...going back as far as they had traced...and Aunt Esther had done a great deal of geneology. It was one reason for the visit. Aunt Esther and Aunt Clarise (my grandfather's two sisters) both lived in Miami and were wonderful people to visit...even for a 21 year old recent college graduate.
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Aunt Esther was very involved in her little Episcopal Church not far from her home. On our second afternoon with her, she took me with her to the church to deliver some material for a program they were having that evening. When I arrived, the place was a beehive of activity. The priest was in the courtyard preparing to climb a ladder to the roof with some shingles for the three parishioners who were doing repairs. When he came down, he introduced himself and proceeded to show me around the small but well maintained complex. He was what I had idealized as the quintessential parish vicar...doing ministry but having time to "putter about" the church, study, pray, write and effectively engage his particular niche in the surrounding environment. That visit helped "sell" me on life as an Episcopal Priest.

Three years and three months later, I was in seminary. The time between the Miami visit with Aunt Esther and my being in on the threshold of graduate studies in a seminary had been filled with an intense and rewarding life in the U.S. Navy Submarine Corps. I had been engaging the world in a rather unique way. I had emerged a good bit wiser for sure, but I was still embracing a totally romanticized image regarding the life of a priest. Seminary would not help that framed ideal. I loved academics and the seminary routine of study, prayer, writing and living daily with my fellow students.   In fact, even though professors (most of whom were priests themselves) warned that seminary was a "laboratory environment," my image of working in the larger Church simply grew more idealistic. I would have this same routine "out there!"

Of course it didn't happen. First, the invitation to continue my studies, earn a Ph.D. and teach Sacramental Theology, was met with me saying I needed to have at least three years of parish experience before doing that. I never left parish ministry...for the 33 years that completed that cycle fo my life just a month ago today.

Second, parish ministry was nothing like I had convinced myself it would be. It didn't even match my observations. Was I wrong? No, but I was only seeing the parts that were presented at the various times I engaged the professional elements of that life. AND, it continued to change during the years I was actively engaged in that work.

My first six or seven years somewhat floated my ideal of the parochial life of a priest. I did a lot of pastoral work; taught classes in the parish and for the diocese; ran a diocesan institute for advanced studies (and preparing men and women for ordination to vocational Diaconate); celebrated liturgies; studied on seveal levels and preached -- often. There was a rhythm, though I found the capacity to pray at the depth and to the extent I had experienced in seminary limited by daily expectations. This troubled me ... and would for all the years leading to retirement.

As our culture devalued sabbath time and stores began being open on Sundays for shopping, the shift began to widen to include organized community activities that competed for the time that a faith community normally came together to deepen their common life through worship, prayer and formation. A reality emerged very different form the ideal held by a 21 year old freshly minted college graduate who had struggled with vocation.

This story is only a snapshot testimony of what has become normal for our culture. We see it happening momentarily in our federal legislative system. What allowed me to survive, thrive and adapt to the rapid changes of a culture in parish ministry was the ability to be flexible enough to find places to compromise and engage my parishioners on ground that could be called "mutual" rather than rigidly insisting on things being what they "should" be. Sure, I had moments of railing about it (still do); but the daily operational life of the parish adapted to meet the largest possible needs of an increasingly secular society.

Now, in Congress and the White House, we have folks who see society and legislative process as having a single ideal...which must be attained regardless of the collateral damage it might create or the well-being of the largest breadth of the balance of the nation. In this statement, I am not defending a particular political party or ideology.   The entire system is stuck in a place of all factions wanting only their particular needs met without regard to the needs of any other group. The system certainly isn't taking in the concerns and needs of the average, "broad middle" section of our population.

Now that I am retired, I take more time to have simple, "what gives with you" kinds of conversations with folks in the grocery store, the bank, Starbuck's, the hardware store...anywhere there are a few moments to chat with good, average working folks. Very few of these folks occupy radical ends of the political spectrum (either end). They are working to pay their bills, take care of their families, raise their children, make ends meet on social security and medicare and have a decent sense of security in life.

Are the ideal and the practical mutually exclusive? No, not at all! They come together in a place called compromise. It happens in a parish when the vocational ideals that define a faith community engage the practical elements of life in the world in which people now live. We find ways to celebrate and honor both.

It comes together in our political/legislative system with ideals of the various elected groups engage each other to find the ground that serves the largest measure of the common good of the people the system serves. There is no waiting until the next election. It will simply be the same thing with a different set of faces and rhetoric. We need to learn how to find the middle and celebrate our common measure of life. If not, we risk losing what we have spent 235 years building.

Blessings!

Fr. Fred
Retired -- At Large and Running Amok
Lee's Summit, MO

The Surreal Becomes Reality in Norway

2011-07-24T17:23:00.004-05:00

Norway is not a newcomer to international tragedy. In World War II, the Nazi's used Norway as a major hub for launching their submarine warfare. While trying to maintain neutrality, they were pushed directly into the path of Nazi Germany's juggernaut of European domination.

However, for the past sixty-five years, Norwegians have known both peace and a kind of internal stability that keeps them well out of world news. Norwegians tend to be happy, healthy and friendly people. No act of internal terrorism has occured in over sixty-five years. Until Saturday, 23 July.

AndresBehring Breivik, 32, a native Norwegian, detonated a high yield explosive in front of the government offices in Osolo; then proceeded to an island youth camp, where he indescriminately killed and wounded a number of teenagers...most of them children of government workers attending a special week-long camp.

In a statement written before the attacks, Breivik reflects on the growing threat of Islam and the liberal European political systems that tolerate Islamic religion in established Christian cultures. One assumes that he sees his own government as being part of the problem -- and the teenagers as the future permissive group that will allow it to continue and spread. This is truly sick thinking and heinous action!

While not new to our culture, such moments come as a complete shock when they happen in cultures where the norm is debate or, at worse, a pie in the face. I was, frankly, shocked at the number of death threats Casey Anthony received when the sworn jury acquitted her of murder in the death of her daughter. Do I think she is guilty? I have absolutely no idea. Evidence presented by the talking heads of television had led me to believe she might be. Obviously a jury of her peers weighed the evidence and found it wanting in terms of her culpability. There simply was not the kind of irrefutable evidence needed to convict.

Now, in all the civics and political science books I have read, our system of government and justice rests on one being innocent until found (with substantiating evidence) guilty by a seated and sworn jury of fellow citizens. Yet, the media and many citizens had her tried, convicted and executed months before the real trial ever convened.

Spreading this out over history, group dynamics have played a powerful role in fostering reactivity of the kind that creates lynch mobs, character assassinations, death threats, and various manifestations of judgementalism. Even in the Church, these things happen with far greater regularity than one would be comfortable admitting. Recently, for example, a colleague was put through a terrible ordeal, when a member of his congregation accused him of malfeasance. He was almost forced to resign before an auditor was engaged to check the books. As it turns out, there was absolutely no evidence of malfeasance. Still, there are parishioners who remain convinced that my colleague is "guilty of something neferious." This is character assassination and, in moral theology, a grave sin.

Because I am both a son of the Church and a retired priest with 33 years of experience in these things, I long since accepted as a very sad commentary that the "Church shoots its wounded." I heard that indictment long before I was ordained and have, myself, experienced its truth on a few occasions. It is not the place one would expect to find such behavior, yet, I bring it up to show that the Church is a human community, and human nature seems to thrive on the pain and mistakes of others. Why else would Nancy Grace spend three years villifying Casey Anthony...without due process? While Casey and the whole Anthony family can be diagnosed as a "toxic mess," I think folks like Nancy Grace only reflect their own toxicity in the way she hounded that family.

In this latest and sickening tragedy in Norway, we see this dynamic played out in a way that reflects the actions of Timothy McVeigh in Okalahoma City (1995). Because one sees, experiences or hears about an injustice, it justifies the jumping to the conclusion that institutions and folks not even attached to those injustices are to blame and must be punished. Or, they clearly are not to blame, but the person passing judgement sees that group as a platform for setting an example for addressing the injustice. "At least it will get their attention," goes the thinking.

It is truly tragic and sad that we live in a world made unsafe more by seemingly regular people jumping to conclusions than by those who are actually equipped and bent on harm. Gossip, judgementalism and their attendant actions of jumping to conclusions and making threats (that often enough become a reality) have, throughout history, cost the lives of promising and talented adults and young people. They have ended or shortened the active careers of people whose gifts could have accomplished major good for many. I only point to Jesus for a truly tragic scenario that was made right only by the act of God -- who knew what human nature would do -- and entered into our moment of reality anyway in the person of Jesus.

While the work of salvation opens our hearts and minds to new possibilities, it does not change willful human nature determined to have its own way and exert its own control. Obviously, it is still happening on way too many levels.

Anybody want to take bets on a debt ceiling crisis?

Blessings,

Fr. Fred

Retired -- At Large and Running Amok

Lee's Summit, MO

Last Ride

2011-07-17T07:58:00.002-05:00

I left my empty office at St. Andrew's for the last time on Thursday, 30 June at 4:30pm. All I had with me was my briefcase containing my laptop and the materials with which I normally travel on a daily basis. All my office belongings had been boxed and taken to our home in Lee's Summit the day before by Two Men and a Truck. They were fast and efficient.

Retirement days are bittersweet (I learned). There is a strong feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction of stepping away after 33 years of parish work. There is a certain pleasure in knowing that certain parts of that work can now be left behind for others.

The other part is a feeling of sadness and disconnection. For a parish priest, the days, weeks and years have been defined by a routine of prayer, worship, pastoral care, teaching, preaching and program that becomes ingrained -- no matter what parish one is part of. It is a continuum that has consistent rhythm and cycles. I knew, as a walked from the church building to my car, that I would deeply miss this part of my life. I was ordained at age 27 and went immediately into parish work. At age 60, at one day longer than the day I was ordained in 1978 (29 June), I was stepping out of that rhythm and cycle.

When we came to St. Andrew's on 1 January 2004, we had purchased a home in nearby Lee's Summit -- in the southeast section of the greater metro of Kansas City. There were two primary reasons for the choice. First, we had a daughter still in high school. We were advised to live in one of the surrounding communities to get the best school experience for her. Then, there was the matter of housing. Close-in area costs for homes were inflated and beyond our comfort level of both what we could afford and what we needed. After an intense search in October 2003, we found what met an agreed, three-point criteria: a) Our daughter would like the school; b) all three of us would like the community; c) all three of us would like the house (style, size and cost). After making a "horseshoe" search that began in Olathe, KS and moved around the north of Kansas City, we found all three criteria met in the home we now own in Lee's Summit. Our elder daughter was in her first year of college and was not part of this journey.

There were folks who were concerned about the distance from the church. Truth is, the drive averaged 25 minutes from my driveway to the parking lot of St. Andrew's. If I timed my drives well, I was not part of the rush hour traffic. But, still, the occasional raised eyebrow, when I mentioned the commute, let me know that folks generally thought that was something of a long ride.

Two things happened on those drives. One was just the time to "gear up" or "unwind" -- depending on the direction. By the time I arrived at the office, the structured part of my day was already set and active in my mind. By the time I arrived home, I would have made internal closure, set some notes (I use a memory stick recorder or, now, my smartphone) and be ready to spend quality time with my wife.

The other thing that happened was prayer...informed prayer. I would habitually listen to either "Morning Edition" or "All Things Considered" on NPR. I would take in the news on the hour/half-hour, turn off the radio and spend time in reflective prayer...for the concerns of the world and those of my parish. This quickly became a much loved and anticipated routine. Over the 7.5 years as Rector I made this trip on the average of six days each week (excluding vacations or times away on business).

On this warm Thursday afternoon, on the last day of June, I began the last ride. I spent it giving thanks for parishioners, opportunities, experiences and all that had shaped the years here. I did not turn on the radio but made the trip in silence (which I had done many times) -- allowing my mind and heart to absorb the experience completely. This was a transition ride. It marked a distinct and dramatic shift in both my life and the life of the parish. I was moving into uncharted territory. The parish would make a transition to new leadership. This last ride was both a making and a breaking. Both are essential for spiritual growth. Change is good, and this change had been so carefully planned and competently executed that the ride seemed natural -- unfettered by doubt or negativity.

I write this from a perspective of having now been retired 17 days. Folks in the parish who have chatted with me have asked if I am enjoying sleeping late and relaxing. In general, my patterns have not changed. I have always risen early. I am a morning person. Not being a night person, I have enjoyed the absence of evening meetings and the ability to ease into a reasonable hour of going to bed. The days have been filled with many projects. I have a "Benedictine" personality. Building a daily routine that has prayer, study, work, exercise and quality family time has always been a goal. But, more on that another time.

Suffice it to say, life continues to be full. I still miss the commute/prayer time. I miss the liturgical and parish daily work cycle. Nope, sorry, I don't miss meetings -- especially the ones in the evening. It is time for a new balance and a new mantra, which I have adopted as part of my email signature line. I close with it.

In Christ's Love,

Fr Fred

Retired - At Large and Running Amok

Lee's Summit, MO

Wisdom and the Pe Sla

2011-06-03T16:06:00.005-05:00

As I write, I am sitting in my cabin on the campus of Borderlands Ranch and Spiritual Education Center. Borderlands is 253 acres of rolling prairie hills in the very center of the Black Hills in South Dakota. It is the highest elevation of the Hills at nearly 5200 feet. It is now completely ranchland or land owned by the National Forestry Service. It is covered with prairie grass and dotted with various trees…usually alongside the numerous streams that flow through the hills and down to the rivers at lower altitude.

This prairie area can be seen from satellite photos as a bare area in the central part of the Black Hills. The Lakota call this area the “Pe Sla.” It means “Peace in the Bare Spot.” As with all the Black Hills, this is an historically (and current) sacred area. The Pe Sla may be the most sacred, because, for centuries it has been a place where Lakota, Cheyenne, Arapaho and other high plains First Nations groups came to worship, pray and “cry for a vision.” The latter is one of the Pe Sla’s central purposes. “Hanblecheya” means to “Cry for a Vision” or simply to make a “Vision Quest.” The Borderlands property has two places where Vision Quest has been made…archeologists say for at least 500 years. They are still used by Lakota leaders.

The Rev. Linda Kramer is the owner of Borderlands. She is a “Hunka” of the Lakota…one who is not Lakota but adopted into the Oyate (family). Her Lakota father is Fr. Robert Brokenleg (now deceased) who was an Episcopal Priest and council leader of the Sicangu Lakota Council Fire (tribe)…one of seven Council Fires that make up the Lakota Nation. (btw, Euro-Americans may know the Lakota by the name given by the French in the early 1700s….”Sioux”.) Non-First Nations persons can be adopted into a Nation and be part of life and culture. Mother Linda (an Episcopal Priest) spent several years working in parishes on both the Pine Ridge and Rosebud Reservations of the Lakota.

I am not adopted into the Lakota Oyate (Oh-yah-teh). However, since 2007, I have been welcomed and accepted as both a friend and trusted sojourner among these gracious, generous and good humored people. I currently have four Lakota mentors. One is an archeologist and former professor of field archeology. One is an Episcopal Priest and psychotherapist living and working as co-director at the mental health facility in Kyle, a town on the Pine Ridge Reservation. One is an Episcopal Priest and Rector of the Lakota Parish (St. Matthew’s) in Rapid City. One is an Episcopal Priest & retired professor of developmental psychology and education and, until his retirement two years ago, was the Dean of Indigenous Studies and Vancouver School of Theology at the University of British Columbia, Vancouver, BC. He still lives there.

How did I get here? It’s a long story. The key points: I was introduced to Mother Linda Kramer by reference. I shared my vision with her for a project, and she graciously invited me to make a retreat at Borderlands in August 2007. She spent five days of her schedule taking me to meet three of the four persons noted above, who would become mentors. The fourth (Fr. Martin Brokenleg in Vancouver, BC) I met via email and phone conversation that week. The archeologist, Ben Rhodd, became my chief mentor and spiritual advisor. He is an acknowledged leader within the Lakota community. In hearing my personal story…along with my project vision…he strongly suggested I make an Hanblecheya (Vision Quest) before any decision could be made. This suggests the depth of his own spirituality.

I made the Vision Quest in early October 2007…a three-day intense time of prayer, fasting and spending a day and a night “crying for a vision” on one of the spots where this has been done for centuries…at the far east end of Borderlands. In the end, the elders gathered in the sweat lodge (at the end of my time of fasting and being “on the hill”) spoke to the visions I had and the visions seen in their own prayers and welcomed me to engage in this journey. After further preparation, I spent most of three months in the summer of 2008 (sabbatical) either in the Black Hills or Vancouver, BC.

I was invited to experience the Sun Dance and have returned each year…until this year. I am at Borderlands for 6 days to accomplish a pre-retirement retreat (suggested by my advisor from Church Pension Group) and to spend time with two of my mentors. This time will form the vision for the next phase of what this journey becomes. It is a full three weeks before Sun Dance…and that week is my last week prior to retirement. These last 21 days before retirement will be critical.

Sitting here today, an Episcopal Priest, husband, father, friend and seeker of knowledge, 60 years and 6 months old, I have been slowed by a rather awesome wind storm. The sky is bright, deep blue with no clouds. The wind howls at gusts of at least 50 miles an hour. This has been going on for several hours. Down below, in Hill City (still in the Black Hills but about 2000 feet below us and 16 miles away), the wind may be only light with occasional gusts. This is part of life in the Pe Sla. The horses across the road are gathered in a bunch on the leeward side of a barn. They don’t like the wind either. It has been like an aviary here since my arrival Monday evening. I have counted 17 different species of birds that are very active. They are quiet and hidden this day.

The very deep, centuries-old spirituality of this place draws me into a contemplative space, and that is what I have mostly done over the past four days. I have taken breaks to walk the hills, drive to two other Pe Sla locations of Vision Quest and travel to Hill City to do email/phone business. There is no cell or internet connection here. Mother Linda has a phone and satellite dish internet connection (with television) in the “big house” (her house). I like the challenge of silence and its requirement that I listen, observe and experience myself and life on a very basic level. I cook my own meals in this cabin. It is a “complete” home in the sense I have all I need to have a daily life routine….kitchen, bathroom, living/sleeping room and a porch with a rocking chair.

Today, I experience and reflect on the wind. I cannot see it. It is invisible. However, I can certainly observe the emerging prairie grasses bending and shifting; the trees bending and branches moving wildly; dust from the gravel road; the manes and tails of the horses blowing briskly. I feel the wind in my face and hear it whistling through the eves of the cabin roof.
Wisdom is the same. It is not seen and cannot be contained or created. It moves, and we experience its impact in our lives. Knowledge comes by learning the elements of our craft, reading a book, hearing a lecture watching someone accomplish a task. Wisdom comes from engaging what we know and by experiencing both successes and failures; by conversation and experiences of others and taking those into our own experiences…thus expanding our horizons. Wisdom comes with time…age and embracing all aspects of life’s joys, sorrows and encounters. How we manage those moments, what we learn, how we incorporate past, present and future into our journey…all of these make for wisdom.

In Lakota culture, there is no word for “authority” or “war.” In strict, pre-reservation Lakota culture, there was a Council of Elders…older men who had experienced all life could offer and were of an age to give advice. They would meet to discuss and pray about issues and problems. At the end, they would share their combined opinions and advice on action. However, it was never as authority but as counsel. Because of their combined experiences (hundreds of years combined ages), the advice was usually taken.

Because of our revisionist history, we think of Native Americans as warlike people. War is not in any of the plains nations languages. One goes into battle to settle issues or fight over territory (land ownership was not known among Native Americans before reservations were forced upon them). A battle wasn’t won or lost. It was ended when the redress was made. “Warpath” is something Euro-Americans made up for our books and movies. No Indian ever went on a warpath. There were occasional renegades…just as there were/are among Euro-Americans (whites). They were dealt with handily by their Oyate.

I am here, because I am on the doorstep of being an elder by most standards. In general American culture, being an elder most often means being pushed aside for “younger folks.” Interesting to think, when one defines wisdom, just why our culture is in the mess it finds itself. We fracture wisdom rather than drawing upon it for the current moment and future of our culture. I am here, because I look for the next road of my journey and how the Holy One will use what I have learned, experienced and observed over these 60.5 years of life. Like the wind, I don’t see it, but I feel it. Such is the onset of Wisdom and encounter with the Spirit.

Blessings,

Fr. Fred+

Is This the End....or Just a New Beginning?

2011-05-19T11:32:00.003-05:00

Holy Apocalypse! It has made the CBS, NBC and CNN news networks. It is all over the internet and radio. I have now heard or seen eight separate stories on the impending Judgement Day. Sure enough! This morning at 7:00am I was driving my wife to the airport for a trip to see one of our daughters for a few days. On I-435, just before the Missouri River bridge, there was a billboard emblazend with the words, "Judgment Day....May 21, 2011....Are You Ready?"

The billboard work is part of a "ministry" of Harold Camping, who owns and directs Family Radio (headquartered in Oakland, CA). It is an international broadcasting system. Camping -- a retired engineer -- claims to have done the math, after fifty years of study, and determined that the Rapture (a term used by evangelical Christians to denote the moment when the chosen will be taken into heaven) will take place on the above date. Further, his calculations indicate that there will be five months of torment following this event until the end of the world as we know it on October 21, 2011.

Speaking of the end times, there is also a claim that an important transition for humankind will happen on 11-11-11 (November 11, 2011). Then, there is the Mayan calendar research and event that is locked in for 12-21-12 (December 21, 2012). This creates an abundance of confusion.

Already, thousands of people (not exaggerating according to a CNN report) in the United States alone have sold their property, liquidated retirement and life savings, and taken themselves to places either to assist in getting the word out or to prepare themselves for this Saturday's apocalyptic event --scheduled for 5:58pm. This is a potentially dangerous and disasterous situation. Where is the Church and its leadership in all this?

Let's clear up some terms first:

Apocalypse - Literally means to "unveil" or "reveal." In both Old and New Testaments, apocalyptic literature was written to unveil the mysteries surrounding the actions of God in creation. The Book of Daniel (OT) and the Book of Revelation (NT) are two such writings.

Rapture - Literally means "moment of pure joy" or "jubilation." This is neither a biblical nor a theological term. It does not even appear until the late 19th century among strongly evangelical groups presenting a uniquely literalistic approach to biblical writings. Adherents to the Rapture say that a select group of chosen people will be taken into heaven before the end of the world.

Eschatology - Literally means "last discourse." It is a biblical term and connotes the part of systematic theology dealing with the final destiny of both the individual soul and of mankind in general. Albert Schweitzer and Karl Barth were primary architects in the modern theological investigation into eschatological events. In orthodox (eastern and western Christian systematic theology) terms, the Church has taught about the "four last things: death, judgment, heaven and hell." Modern biblical theology has continued to fine tune what this means in light of further language and cultural discoveries from the time of original biblical texts.

Judgment Day - Literally the day where humans will be "sifted" into the "saved" and the "damned." There is no biblical material to support this and, again, the term only appears in the latter 19th century.

Jesus makes a strong reference to a place, which in Aramaic (the Hebrew of the New Testament) is call "Gehenna." Dante later translated that into "Hell" in his book Inferno. Truth is, Gehenna was a valley about three miles outside Jerusalem...kind of cut in the rocky earth that went on about two miles. It was where refuse was taken after being removed from the city. One end of Gehenna was marked off as a leper colony. It was a place forbidden by those who were "clean." The garbage end of Gehenna was (it seems) always smoldering. Thus is had an acrid and putrid stench. It was a place of disease.

In describing sin as separation from God's abiding love, Jesus used Gehenna as a picture symbol for what that might seem like. His manner of teaching almost always used pictographic elements and metaphors to aid the hearer in remembering the parable or teaching.

Does hell exist? Separation from God's Love can happen...but only at our instigation and choice. We consign ourselves to that state of loneliness and isolation. The torment of the Evil One (Satan) is two-pronged: our tireless, egocentric willfullness at work with the fractured element of creation that rebels against God's love. It can be and is easily enough defeated with a proper sense of who we are in relationship to God -- and the humility to be reconciled.

Now, is the end of life as we know it upon us? My absolute true answer is: I have no idea whether it is or not. Truthfully, I do not bother myself or my folks with such speculation. Why? Jesus is pretty clear: It's not our business to know the time or season of the eschatological events. I think it will happen, and I have sound theological and deep internal senses to support my thinking and believing.

What God expects (and I am utterly convinced of this), is that we should live faithful, loving, honest and productive lives -- using our gifts and talents in such ways that foster both community and goodwill. To the extent that we do that, we are honoring who we are as people created in the image of God.

Pray: Daily time of true prayer (not a mouthful of words spewed forth as we hasten into our self-important busy-ness) that invites a strong time of listening for the soft words of God's love and purpose in our lives and the world around us is vital. It reduces anxiety and gives us appropriate perspective. I do find myself spending more time in quiet, contemplative prayer daily of late...as if I am being drawn into a deeper relationship.

This leads me to say that I believe a shift and changes are underway. We, as humanity, are moving into a new place of community, oneness and enlightenment. I see strong signs of this in a number of venues. It is comforting. BUT, it is not anything like Judgment Day or Rapture.

While I practice a Benedictine style Rule of prayer, study and work; I am Franciscan in my attitude about the eschatological events. St. Francis was weeding a vegetable garden, when one of the monks asked what he would do, if he knew that Christ Jesus' coming was imminent. Without missing a stroke, Francis responded, "I would hope to be able to finish this row of weeds."

God loves creation with all capacity. God brought us forth and will take us back into that place of enlarged being. It will be on God's terms and in God's time. Maybe this Saturday and maybe a thousand years from now. If I am alive, I want to be found faithfully doing what most pleases God...which is what I have been equipped to do.

Blessings in the Risen Christ,

Fr. Fred+

Pray?!

2011-05-10T13:32:00.003-05:00

Since my last blog posting, I have had a few questions about praying for situations and people...especially for people who have lived "notoriously evil lives" (to quote one questioner). These are excellent questions, because we throw that word "pray" around a lot -- so much in fact that it may have lost its real meaning and impact.

My guess is that, when an image of prayer is conjured, any number of folks will visualize Albrecht Drurer's "Praying Hands" as a universal symbol. Others might produce the image of a person kneeling with hands clasped before them. Still others might see the image of Jesus kneeling at a rock in Gethsemane with hands clasped and resting on the rock in front of him. There is nothing wrong with any of these images. They are part of our western cultural history...but all of them are post-Reformation works of art conceived with a certain cultural and theological perspective.

My liturgics and sacramental theology professor and graduate studies mentor, Fr. Louis Weil, strongly suggested that our disposition and conditioning often limit the capacity to engage in the full power of what it means to pray. The result of that is that, in turn, we fail to be fully empowered for both enlightenment and action. Enlightenment, here, means the encounter with the Holy in such ways that show us more of our true nature and capacities. All prayer leads to some kind of action. We are moved/motivated to engage the environment around us or, many times, within us in ways that create positive shift and change.

This last week was difficult for many people. The death of a terrorist and criminal released all kinds of emotions around the globe. After the initial impact, people began asking questions about whether bin Laden was even dead; the efficacy of the decision to send the SEAL team in; political fallout with Pakistan; new reactions from al-Qaeda; factional rhetoric in our own Congress. And this is just that event. We are still dealing with financial recovery issues; soaring fuel prices; unemployment; and a host of domestic concerns that can create stress and deep concern.

Then, we begin to get close to home. For me -- with only 51 days until retirement -- I face the uncertainty of what that will mean to me vocationally and within the context of having been 33 years in a particular aspect of ordained life. The financial shift in our household and the preparations in completing the pre-retirement process. Yesterday (Monday), I began "collapsing" my office. I did so by throwing away materials in my desk, filing cabinets and closet that no longer serve a purpose and/or won't be useful at home. I sat and looked at several things that have journeyed with me since seminary. I then began the daunting task of thinning out my professional library -- reducing the nearly 800 volumes of books that have defined my vocation for more than three decades. Books are dear friends to me, and saying goodbye is a rough experience.

Yet, in all this shift and change, I kept hearing my own voice advising me as I advise others: Pray! In the foxholes of life, prayer can take on the images I cited early on in this posting. Those images indicate supplication: me beseeching God to make something better; change a situation; or provide something I believe I need (strength, guidance, etc.). So, if that isn't it, what do I do, when I hear the counsel to pray?

First, I closed my office door -- a sign for those around my office that I "need a minute." I am not disturbed when the door gets shut all the way. Next, I sat upright in a chair...straight but comfortable and placed my hands out on my lap and turned my palms up. This is called the modified "orans" position. It is the most ancient form of prayer. It is also the kind that Jesus would have used in his culture. It is the classic pre-medieval/reform style in Christianity. It signifies a conversation and an openness to receive as well as to offer. I'm here for a conversation....which is the definition of prayer....conversation with the Holy One.

Since I was up to my nose in concerns of my own and in response to events that shape our world (and, subsequently, my life as a priest and citizen), I simply sat in silence for quite some time. Silence is also an essential characteristic of prayer. What?! Say nothing?!! One might think that a waste.

NO, to pray well is to empty one's head of all the noise, bright ideas, critiques and busy-ness that occupy it. Shut down the machinery and find placidness. Once that has been achieved as much as possible (and it takes a lot of practice), simply lay out what the problems seem to be. I took whatever time it was to simply say, "this is where I find myself right now...scared, worried, overwhelmed, unsure...(name what those things are that go with those feelings)." I then simply stated, "I need order and direction." Then, I SHUT UP.

In the ensuing quiet, I let myself drift using a mantra to distract the thinking elements of mind. A mantra is simply a word or phrase that keeps me focused on why I am here in this time. I use several, depending upon what is going on. Yesterday, it was simply, "Jeshua" (the Hebrew name for Jesus). This I said quietly and rhythmically with my breathing...slowing things down as much as possible. I didn't focus on the mantra, and it gradually became a background repitition. Images, and moments of insight began flashing. I simply let that happen. Take no notes. Just be still and stay with the silence. At some point, your heart knows when it is time to be done. I utter a prayer of thanks for whatever gift of God's Love I have received and the ability to do what has been purposed in this time.

THERE, I have actually had a conversation. The truth is, I felt compelled to shut my office down for the afternoon, go home, take a short nap and make dinner for my wife...who was arriving home late from her work. As this day (Tuesday) unfolded, I began having some insights into what I need to do with my books. My hands seem more purposeful in choosing what stays and what goes. I have been rather creative in working with the staff and doing some long-range planningn with them for the time after I retire. I feel calm, happy and peaceful within. Stuff around me hasn't changed much, but I seem to have changed in relationship to them.

Prayer is conversation. When I suggest that we pray for something or someone, I am not suggesting that we squeeze out some kind of dissertation to God about what to do or what we need. After all God already knows what is needed. Take Osama bin Laden. None of us know what torment and torture he was dealing with in his psyche that produced what we witnessed over the years. Yet, in simply giving him over to God for what God knows needs to happen to bring balance to the world and to deal with a broken human being, we have shown compassion -- solidarity with God. I note that, as soon as I did that last week, I suddenly realized that bin Laden isn't our problem any longer. Let go of him -- the anger -- the fear -- all of it. God has all that and knows exactly what comes next in the context of creator-creature relationship. That's not my paygrade. Move on to what lies ahead.

Blessings in the Risen Christ,

Fr. Fred+

Altered Space and Osama bin Laden's Death

2011-05-04T12:07:00.007-05:00

I was just completing a unique weekend experience when, at a hotel near Chicago, I learned that Osama bin Laden had been killed. The details were sketchy and I was in what might best be termed an "altered space." It was a very unusual moment.

I had just completed a special conference over the weekend. It brought together women and men from all over the United States. We were Christians, Buddhists, Hindus, Muslims and Jews -- and maybe others. The nearly 230 of us had gathered at invitation to experience a second level of teaching, prayer and meditation using various points of departure into experiencing contemplative states within our own expression of faith. I had done the first of these weekends in late February and found it to be transformational. This particular weekend (29 April - 1 May) found me in a new depth of experiencing God's Presence, the power of Christ's healing and the transformational indwelling of the Holy Spirit. This is what we are all about. And it does produce an altered space, when one emerges into the regular human stream of life. It was in this space that I watched and listened and read the emerging news of the raid on a compound in Abbottabad, Pakistan by two dozen SEAL special operations personnel, and their final confrontation with Osama bin Laden.

It was interesting that the only word that would come forth from me at the moment of this revelation was, "Damn!" This says a lot, probably, about me and where I was in that moment. First, the expletive itself revealed the state I believed bin Laden found himself at the point of his death: damned. The expletive expressed my profound respect for the US Navy SEALS...being a veteran of the Navy and very familiar with special operations during my time in service (1972-75 active on station). The expletive also expressed the delicacy of my moral and ethical concerns for death and the disposition of that which is conceived as evil. This latter is where, perhaps, any number of us might find ourselves.

For me, the response of a Christian Priest and practitioner of contemplative/mystical spirituality is to go deep inside, find that place of true silence and peace and explore what emerges from my external experience. Since I was still very near that altered space after a weekend of right brain, contemplative practice, this was was not a difficult journey inward.

What I heard and learned: Yes, this death needed to happen. The explosion of a person into acts that can only be described as evil in their intent and destructive in their result can often only be healed in the death of that person. When a psyche confuses his/her own twisted and chaotic self with the voice of God, it is the definition of sin -- at the least -- and destructive evil -- at the worst. It is why I have always been very concerned when anyone speaks of "me and my God..."

Yes, God does love Osama bin Laden -- for who he is as one created in the image of God -- NOT for what he had become in the twisted expression of self and the actions that led to thousands of deaths and the creation of an organization that only understands religious practice through the thoughts and feelings of anger, hate and the striving for personal supremacy. I also am very aware that each of us must say, "there, but by the Grace of God, go I..."

Justice has been served in truth. It will give pause to those who follow in this life of terrorizing world societies and otherwise peaceful people. It will not stop them. As scripture reminds us, we must "be sober and vigilant; for our Adversary skulks about seeking those to devour..." I do not spend any time looking over my shoulder or around the corner. I am inwardly resolved to walk placidly amid the noise and haste with my heart in Christ and my mind on what I must do in this moment of a life that is precious...for it is a gift.

We, who are People of the Risen Christ, do pray for the soul of Osama bin Laden....praying that he will, in death, be healed of the severe brokenness that plagued his life. We pray for the thousands of lives lost around the world at the hands and instigation of such a man. We pray for the healing of those left with the loss of dear loved ones and dear friends. We pray for the men and women serving in harm's way and for their families. We pray that those who continue to follow a false god of terror and selfish procurement will have their hearts turned to the God of Grace and Peace, who is our Creator.

Mostly, after my own recent experiences, I pray that we, the global community, can be tolerant of each other's faith journey and its particular expression: Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist and others. All seek to know the true God and to have hearts that know sincere peace and acceptance. May this moment be a place where Oneness can really begin anew. Let not the death of so many innocents be for naught.

In Christ's Love,

Fr. Fred+

Mindfulness and the Holy Three Days

2011-04-21T11:19:00.004-05:00

During Lent, I have been been exploring and deepening my engagement in what is known as "mindfulness meditation." I actually started this practice in the mid-1980s when I read Gerald May's book, Will and Spirit: A Contemplative Psychology. Dr. May is a psychiatrist and theologian -- a combination one does not often hear about. Not only did he attempt to explain the dynamics of contemplative practice; he taught the reader how to disengage from momentary preoccupations and experience the deeper reality of what we call "spirit" (aka, soul, true self, ontological ground). I reread this book so many times that it began falling apart, and I had to buy another copy. It is still in print with updates.

While also studying the works of Thomas Keating, Basil Pennington and John Main (all excellent teachers and practitioners of contemplative prayer), I began branching out a bit and reading the works of John Kabat-Zinn (Full Catastrophe Living. Wherever You Go, There You Are & Mindfulness for Beginners are excellent) and Thich Nhat Hanh (You Are Here: Discovering the Magic of the Present Moment). There are a number of other notable teachers and writers in both the Christian and Buddhist traditions that help foster a state of mindfulness in daily life.

Learning this technique was not always necessary. It is very much in our genetic makeup and was part of our normal routine in ages past. If we read Scripture from the standpoint of the experience of the Patriarchs, Matriarchs, Prophets and Apostles, we can easily see that they were living very much in the moment of their lives. Thus, they were quite capable of experiencing transcendence as well as the nuances of their surroundings.

This is not the only aspect of mindfulness. It includes the capacity to experience self without either affirmation or judgement -- simply observing self for "what is" at the moment. It includes being able to see self not as separated from the rest of creation but being integrally invested in its expression.

This last element of mindfulness had always escaped me. It was not until my sabbatical in 2008 that it finally became real in my practice. I was given the honor of participating in a variety of rituals at the invitation of my Lakota mentors. Their historic traditions remain part of their daily experiences of life. I was able to see, for the first time in practice, what it means to be connected in the current moment to all that is around me and to allow creation in the present to embrace me fully. It opened a new dimension to the experience of true prayer and the practice of contemplative meditation.

When I was in the fifth grade (ca. 1960/61), we were each given a Gideon pocket-sized New Testament. It was when such things could still be done in public schools. It was an emerging tradition in our home for my Dad to wake me up early on Good Friday morning -- before sunrise -- and take me with him to St. Paul's Episcopal Church (where I grew up in Winter Haven, FL). The church was dark except for the chapel whose windows glowed with soft light from the outside. Inside, there were several parishioners quietly reading devotional material or praying quietly. My Dad and I would find a seat, and I would take into full vision the Chapel Altar -- filled with flowers, plants and candles. In the center of the Altar was a veiled Ciborium containing consecrated bread. Behind it was a flagon of consecrated wine. This was Christ Present in the Eucharistic Sacrament. These things I came to learn very early from parents and teachers who were deeply committed to both their faith and their parish.

I had received the above mentioned pocket-sized New Testament just before Holy Week from our fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Dixon. I took it to the Chapel that Good Friday morning, and my Dad showed me where the story about the last days of Jesus appeared in each of the Gospels. I marked those spots with slips of paper. Beginning with Matthew, I read each story...starting with the entry into Jerusalem (our Palm Sunday) and finishing with the Resurrection. We spent an hour in the Chapel for the Watch with Jesus (called variously the "Watch Before the Altar of Repose" or the "Gethsemene Vigil"). At the end of the hour, I had only read three of the Gospel narratives. We went to breakfast, and Dad dropped me at home on his way to work. I finished the narrative from the Gospel of John (which is now my favorite) sitting cross-legged on the floor at the foot of my bed. I was totally in awe and mystified by those readings. From that time forward, every Holy Week has been a unique experience of journey from the gates of Jerusalem, to Gabbatha, to Golgotha and to the tomb. At the empty tomb, I had to "wait" until I was about 15 years old before I suddenly "got" what Resurrection was all about. It was while serving as an acolyte at a Sunday Eucharist that I encountered Jesus in a way totally unexpected, unanticipated and undeserved. I came away knowing I was in a different place in life from that moment forward (no, it was not when I knew I would be a priest... that didn't happen until I was in college...another story).

In reality, I was practicing a type of mindfulness when, in the environment of our parish chapel, I was caught within both past and present reality. The Jesus of biblical narrative was the Jesus with whom I sat in vigil. The Jesus I experienced in the Eucharist as an acolyte was the Jesus in the Sacrament and community of that moment. The Jesus I experienced in the love and faith of my parents was the Jesus that embraced me in a never ending relationship.

Forty-seven years later, on top of a tall hill in the center of the Black Hills -- while on Vision Quest -- I experienced a oneness with all that was around me unlike anything I had known before. While engaging in that night of vigil and prayer with an ancient Lakota ritual, I touched heaven and earth simultaneously and caught a glimpse -- just a glimpse -- of what Transfiguration is all about. It was all I needed. The next summer, during sabbatical, everything seemed alive in the moment. I made the effort to be present to everything I did...no matter how mundane. Drinking a cup of coffee -- smelling, tasting, feeling and savoring -- became a matter of moment. In being mindful, I observed/heard/smelled/tasted/felt things that were always around me but never experienced in those ways.

After getting back into my daily work routine, I all too quickly lost what I had learned. It happens when we begin to over-focus on the past and future -- always trying to stay ahead of the game in order not to get "caught out" when the impatience of others rule the business of the parish church. It may (just may, mind you) be a chief reason for early retirement. If there is anyone in a parish who needs to be regularly and completely mindful, it is the priest. It is he/she who models that life to the congregation and leads/teaches them the path to that place.

The Holy Three Days (the Triduum Sacrum) of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Vigil tell a continuous story of community, servanthood, obedience, judgement, condemnation, abuse, death and the glory of Resurrection. Easter is not able to be truly experienced without true mindfulness of the story that leads to that new life. Mindfulness isn't truly possible without being "in the moment." That is why the Church engages in the most ancient of its ritual practices during these times of worship and gathering community. Those moments put us in step with Jesus and refines our experience of the relationship we have with God by virtue of our own creation and journey.

More later.

In Christ's Love,

Fr. Fred+

The Hopes and Fears

2011-03-07T09:38:00.002-06:00

The Diocese of West Missouri has just ordained and consecrated its eighth Bishop in Apostolic Succession. On Saturday, 5 March, Bishop Barry Howe handed the diocesan crozier (symbol of diocesan authority) to the newly consecrated Bishop Martin Scott Field. In that moment, the authority was transfered, and Bishop Field became our Ordinary (this is a term which designates the Bishop of a Diocese). I was there -- as were all the clergy of the diocese -- except those who were ill or away on assignment. Several hundred laypersons from around the diocese, Bishops from a number of dioceses and honored guests from other faith traditions filled out our numbers at the Grand Ballroom of the Marriott-Muehlbach Hotel in downtown Kansas City.

In the nearly 33 years of ordained life, I have been canonically resident in three dioceses -- which includes my current residency in West Missouri. In 1989, we elected and consecrated a bishop in Central Florida. I was on the Standing Committee and liturgical planning committee for that moment of diocesan history, when John Howe became the Ordinary. In 2000, I was a runner-up in the election in Northern Indiana and was President of the Standing Committee and Dean of the Cathedral (St. James) when we consecrated Edward Little as our new Ordinary. Since the Cathedral was host, I was involved in that planning (though the actual consecration took place in the Basilica on the Notre Dame University campus).

This time, I got to bear witness without much involvement in making the event happen. My role was as an occasional, very background advisor -- when called upon. This suited me well. This change of Bishops comes at a time when I am in my own transition of authority. It was good to be present, to pray and to listen intently to the words of Presiding Bishop Katherine Jefferts Shori as she, the Co-Consecrators and other Bishops laid hands upon Martin to make him a Bishop.

During the moments leading to the actual Prayer of Consecration and the exhange of the crozier, I reflected deeply on the Gospel upon which I would be preaching at St. Andrew's the next day. Yesterday was the Last Sunday after the Epiphany. The Gospel assigned for this Sunday is always the Transfiguration of Jesus from the Gospel for the Lectionary Year. Jesus took Peter, James and John to the top of a small mountain, where those disciples witnessed the true nature of Jesus as he was flanked by Moses and Elijah (representing the Law and the Prophets). In larger scope, this would set the stage for a journey that would lead the Disciples of Jesus to become the Apostles at the Day of Pentecost. Much had to happen in between these events that would prepare these folks to become what we now call the Apostolic Community. As the Apostles were coming to the end of their times, they laid hands upon those who would replace them as the bearers of the Gospel and carriers of an emerging faith tradition. Thus began the Apostolic Succession. In the sacramental traditions of Anglicanism, Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy, this succession has come to us unbroken.

So, my reflection on our particular moment of history engaged the reality that I was seeing the hands of the Apostles on the head of Martin; and the hand of one Apostolic Leader give over authority to a new Apostolic Leader. Transfiguration of a true nature was happening in our midst on that Saturday at about noon.

Everyone has hopes and fears when leadership changes. I have lost count of the number of times the questions have been posed to me: What kind Bishop will Martin be? Is Martin liberal or conservative? Does he side with larger parishes or small parishes and missions? And that's just three of the many questions. They are all, in essence, well-meaning and reflect serious concerns or anxieties on the part of Episcopalians and those who may, in some way, be affected by the work of the Episcopal Church in our diocese. I offer some thoughts by way of general response.

I have been the Rector of the smallest parish in a diocese and am currently the Rector of a parish that, on any given day, is the largest in a diocese (our Cathedral and St. Andrew's seem to run neck-in-neck in this regard...only the current parochial report will reflect who edges forward). I have been the Rector of two parishes somewhere in between in size (called "Program Parishes" in our work). Each parish system is different in its needs, concerns and development of both mission and ministry. One is not better than the other. My experience with each has been both valuable and a blessing. Each congregation worked hard to live into its fullest expression of the Gospel of Jesus Christ in its community and in the larger diocese.

Bishop Field has had a lot of experience. While much of that experience has been with smaller churches, he has been at this long enough to know that a diocese needs all its congregations -- large and small -- to create and maintain a dynamic faith community. I trust the Holy Spirit to work through Marty to make that balance a reality.

I have long ago become weary of the political nomenclature used in the Church. I truly don't care whether Bishop Field is liberal or conservative. That spectrum slides around like crazy anyway and is a slippery slope at best. Those terms raise fear and anxiety in folks, which is unfortunate. My sense is that Marty will be a "big tent" Bishop. Diversity creates a balanced community and one that is both honest and accountable for the well-being of all its people. Every Christian who is Episcopalian needs to feel safe in the diocese and in his/her parish. Anything less is not the truth of the Gospel. Further, constant dialogue and speaking our truth in love allows us to grow and develop the Truth that is the fullness of life in Christ.

Will I disagree with Bishop Field? At some point, I probably will. Such is only a natural part of human community. The truth here is that, for me, I will never cast judgment upon him, nor will I function in any way that is disloyal to his rightful authority as my bishop. One can critique without casting judgment. Jesus had harsh words for those who judge others. If one disagrees with another, integrity demands that one goes to that person and works through the disagreement in an atmosphere of love and trust. My hope and sense is that Marty is a man of integrity.

Someone said to me last week that I am probably not so much invested in what will happen with our new Bishop, since I am on the threshold of retiring from parochial ministry. Not true in the least!! Retirement does not remove a priest from life or activity in his/her diocese. In retirement, Bishop Field will be my Bishop, and I will respond to his call for action or input as needed or requested. Even in retirement, a priest is one under authority to his/her bishop. Perhaps I will have even broader voice, since I will be speaking for only myself and not on behalf of a congregation. That remains to be seen, since I have never been retired before.

I had a wonderful time of bidding farewell to Bishop Barry Howe three weeks ago over a long lunch. We have been friends for 30 years, and we have had an easy, open dialogue throughout those years...and especially in my years in this diocese. I look forward to what is ahead and in developing both a personal and professional relationship with Bishop Field. Right now, I am working on the transition to retirement on 30 June, and he is very busy getting to know the daily life and needs of his new diocese. All will happen in God's good time. Personally, I am content in the moment.

Love in Christ,

Fr. Fred+

The Duchess: Life in the Moment

2011-02-17T12:58:00.007-06:00

It is Thursday late morning. Following my years-long pattern, the bed is made, kitchen clean and another cup of coffee made. It is my "day off" (yet to be really defined in parish ministry). After some thought, I decide to settle into the chair in our master bedroom, computer comfortably placed on a pad and resting on my lap, and the chair swiveled to face the large window that looks into the southeast portion of our backyard.

My ears catch the faint sound of a "tinkle" and soft padding. Our 13 year old Schnoodle (Schnauzer/Poodle mix), Duchess is easing into the room. We have had her as part of our family since she was about six weeks old...born on 6 November 1997. She was a Christmas gift for our girls....especially our, then, ten year old daughter, Madeline. Madeline, therefore, got the honor of naming our newest family member. Thus Duchess Magnolia Mann was grafted into our household. Very quickly, due to her personality and wonderful character, she became known to us as "The Duchess." "Anybody seen where The Duchess is hiding out this morning?" would be a good example of how any dialogue about her would begin. "Did The Duchess do this?" as a tipped trash can would be found with contents strewn about. Chances were better than 95% that she had, in fact, committed the crime.

At thirteen years old, The Duchess still commands the domestic scene. She has energy, presence and a hugely engaging kind of personality...eyes bright, tail constantly wagging, and body always poised for whatever action may take place. The only notice we have of her being a "senior dog" (as our Vet calls her) is that she takes a few more naps during the day. She has always been able to sleep the instant she lies down (a trait I envy in her). However, she is never so asleep that she can't rise to a moment of human movement, an outdoor sound or some change in the environment imperceivable to the rest of us. In fact, she has been known to emit a low, gutteral growl even before she opens her eyes and lifts her ears. Make no mistake: with an almost blurring speed, she can go from dead sleep in our master bedroom suite to the front door, at the other end of the house... full run and husky bark (for her size)...completely on the job.

Back to the moment. I am settled in my chair in our master bedroom...laptop keys quietly tapping...and I catch the tinkling of her collar "bling" (two tags) and the padding of her paws on the carpet...as she makes her way into the room. Her goal is always to be where either Denise or I have come to rest. After some sniffing about, she springs lightly up on our bed and begins a methodical searching about. There is The One spot that will be perfect for settling down. It turns out to be the corner nearest to where I am sitting in the chair.

This is not quite enough. Remember, I have long since made the bed. Some of my military training remains with me (actually more than some I think). A bed is not simply "made." A bed is "triced up." It's a Navy term for a very tightly made bed that will defy coming apart in rough seas. It's not that bad now, but there are no wrinkles in a bed that I have made. Just trust me on this.

This effort is of no matter to The Duchess. Finding her spot for a nap, she begins a methodical pawing at the comforter until she has created what amounts to a nesting area. After one final inspection of the wad of material now assembled at the corner of the bed, she literally plops the 21 pounds of her royal pulchritude into the midst of this crafted area of our bed. She looks at me non-chalantly but with a glimmer in her eye; yawns widely; tucks up her legs; puts down her head; and, within the space of two of my breaths, she is breathing the deep breaths of a dog asleep.

I continue my quiet typing. I am never quite still. For most of my adult life, I have had a benign form of myositis. It is simply a neurological state of muscles getting restless due to unnecessary nerve activity. Simply, I change positions often. As I shift my body, while continuing to type, the chair makes a slight creaking sound. True to form, The Duchess opens the one eye that can look directly at me. Observing my continued presence, she is almost instantly back in sleep mode. This probably happens about every five minutes. She doesn't miss a cue. Then, for no reason I have perceived, she raises her head suddenly, ears up and forward, eyes wide and focused. She stairs out the window or toward the door for up to a minute. Satisfied that all is as it should be, she yawns, makes several mouth sounds, puts her head down and is instantly asleep. In some of those "come alert" moments, I will speak to her. "Everything okay old girl?" I will softly question. She gives me a reassuring look and a quick wag of her tail and moves back toward an effortless sleep.

For The Duchess, life is lived not observed. She is usually in the bedroom while I make our bed before leaving for work. Observation has been made. But it is also a comfortable place for Herself to take a nap. Naps mean creating comfortable accomodations. For The Duchess, a tight, wrinkless comforter is not accomodating. She wants ridges.

She does not reflect the attitude we often take as we grow older: I've done my bit, I am retired. There is no complaining or blaming or justifying. When the need is there, she responds with all the gusto she has. She is a creature of community. When Denise and I are in separate parts of our home (there are three finished levels of our house), The Duchess believes her job is to insure we get back together. She is a born hunter and herder. She will make all kinds of very obvious and persistent attempts to get us to go with her to where the other of us happens to be.

The Duchess does not take herself too seriously. In fact, she doesn't take herself seriously at all. One great example happened this past summer. Denise and I were taking Duchess on one of our early evening, long walks. We have a pleasant 2 mile circuit that goes through our fairly large neighborhood (Canterbury Estates...fitting for an Episcopal Priest, eh?) and includes a large park and two ponds. The Duchess is in dog heaven...sights, smells and sounds engage every moment of her steady, energetic jaunt as she keeps her retractable lead line at its full extension ahead of us. She gives regular, over-the-shoulder glances to make sure we are still connected and responds readily to one of us saying "this way," when we are making a turn down another street. As I mentioned, her breed is hunting stock. Her nose is always near the ground and piloting her is like flying a kite at zero altitude....constant back and forth movements, as her olfactory radar analyzes the ever-changing spaces around her.

We were about a block from our house this summer evening mentioned above. It was near the end of our long amble. One of our neighbors on the street behind us had moved a Mexican clay oven from his back patio to the front of his house. It stood on its short iron stand in front of the support column that separates his two car garage bay doors. In the gathering dusk, it did look a bit like a short, pot-bellied human. Our neighbor had placed what looked like a pan on top of the chimney, which could have resembled a hat I suspect.

Duchess was busy analyzing the ground ahead of her. As we were navigating the sidewalk in front of that driveway, The Duchess suddenly looked up and directly at the Mexican clay oven. Immediately, she tensed and let out several sharp barks...communicating surprise, alert and something like, "I've got you covered mom and dad." Just as suddenly as she had gone into fight mode, she realized that it was not a person and, in fact, it was not alive at all. There was a split second of what we might call embarassment at making such an error. That disappeared immediately, and The Duchess simply ambled on, with her nose back to the business of taking in her environment. It was what it was. Nothing more.

Our pets do, indeed, reflect God's Love and Grace. They can also be true "sacramental moments," if we are but willing participants. What traits have been reinforced for me by The Duchess? Life is to be lived, not observed. Don't be afraid to get comfortable in your space. Rest well, but have a sense of your surroundings. Be present to your environment, because so much more is going on than meets the eye or ear. Never, never take yourself too seriously. If possible, don't take yourself seriously at all. When a mistake happens, a simple "oops" or apology will suffice, then move on without taking it with you. Live life fully...doing what you do best...and doing it with passion and gusto. Retirement? We don't need no stinkin' retirement. For us, it is a change in life and, hopefully, earned retirement income. But much more life needs to be lived. Get to it. Play hard and often. Above all, be your true self. It is, after all, who God created you to be. Sleep is good. Sleep unfettered by pre-occupation is even better.

Oops, The Duchess just jumped off her nesting area on the bed and has headed out of our bedroom. I know this signal. Time to go outside. After all, a girl dog has to do what a girl dog has to do. Gotta run.....

Love in Christ Jesus,

Fr. Fred+

Remember

2011-02-12T20:04:00.003-06:00

I truly love history. Different periods of human history attract me at different times. Currently, it is Native American and American westward expansion that holds my attention. History is a type of remembering. On more than one occasion, I have been asked if such an avocation is but a waste of energy...because it keeps one from living in the present or being focused on the future.

The answer to that inquiry could be a resounding "yes," if that is what one was inclined to do. However, such remembering quickly becomes either maudlin or, at best, emotionally stunting to one's growth. One does not study history for history's sake. Here is where an exploration of definition is important.

Our current definition of "remember" generally means something like, "to think back on" or "to reflect." It is a worthy definition, if the intention is to do just that. I like to think back on moments of raising our two daughters; or a vacation experience; or a conversation with a dear friend. It helps to keep a repertoire of mental images that connect the dots of our growth and change. Our daughters are now adults, and it is a joy to behold what they have become in light of those early images of them as infants, toddlers, etc. Those vacations inspired and shaped new ways of experiencing the world. Conversations have created new knowledge and deeper understanding of the world around me. But, wouldn't you know it, there is more (always).

The ancient Greek word "anamnesis" (an-nahm-nee-sis) appears in a variety of places, but most often in the New Testament (original language was Koine Greek...a common version of classical Greek). The word is translated "remember," but its literal meaning is "to make present again." In essence it is a present perfect tense signifying a coming together again of that event or moment. This introduces a mystery.

In considering a past event or an historic person, how might such a coming together again take place? Part of the answer can be found in the study of history itself. My experience of Gettysburg Battlefield (Civil War, June 30 - July 3, 1863) is perhaps unique. Not only have I read accounts from both sides of the battle, but I have read biographies and autobiographies of those who fought there. I have made five visits to the battlefield and walked its entire massive range from early in the morning until after sunset. But, it isn't the facts or data that affect me the most. It is the sense of what happened to the thousands of lives forever lost and changed in that place. Something forever changed about who we are now as a result of those four days. Abraham Lincoln captured it magnificently in his short, but never to be forgotten address a few months later. To go there is to have something come together again.

I have had similar experiences while walking portions of the Oregon/California Trail and while doing Vision Quest in the center of the Black Hills. I have "bumped" into presence while climbing Bear Butte or hiking around ancient ruins in Scotland, Wales and Ireland. I have come away changed. My perspective is altered, and I have a deeper sense of direction and purpose. It's an amazing experience.

On Sunday mornings, I generally can be found at the Altar of my parish church. I am either presiding directly (the priest "making" Eucharist via the prayer of consecration) or am near one of my Associates who is presiding. The part of the Eucharistic Prayer known as the "Institution Narrative" is a summary of what we call the Last Supper of Jesus and begins, "....On the night in which he was betrayed, Jesus took bread...." In taking both the bread and the cup, Jesus tells his disciples, "Do this in remembrance of me." It is that word "anamnesis" that is used in the biblical narrative. Jesus is telling those gathered that, when they do this action, he will be present to them again. Do we get it? Not if we are looking for a biological entity.

Soldiers don't return to the battlefield. Monks do not return to the abbey ruins. Settlers do not reappear on the westward wagon trails. And the thousands of those who "cried for a vision" in the Black Hills do not corporally return. But there IS a presence of character, struggle, prayer and the lasting effects of those moments that somehow linger....to speak if we can listen and teach if we are open. It is a presence that shapes our understanding of the present and potential for the future.

With as much theology as I have learned and used (and continue to learn), I cannot tell you how; but I know that the promise of Jesus is accomplished when we respond to, "...whenever you do this, do so in remembrance of me..." Following these Words of Institution is a portion of the prayer known in Greek as the "epiclesis" (epi-clee-sis). It literally means "to call down." It is also known as the invocation of the Holy Spirit. At those words, we become intensely aware that the promise has been fulfilled and that Jesus is present to us in this sacrament. I have never not had that sensation of something transforming and engaging in that prayer. I am awed by the intensity of that mystery.

Next time you are in the act of remembering, ask yourself: Are you connecting dots as you assemble elements of life or experience; or are you re-assembling so as to encounter transformative experience? These are not just questions of theology or mystical prayer. It is seminal to the psychodynamics of our being and the shape of our character.

Blessings!

Fr. Fred+

Love's Inner Eye

2011-01-29T09:08:00.004-06:00

[I am grateful to William Johnston, SJ for the inspiration for this blog post. I have read most all of his works over the years, but The Inner Eye of Love: Mysticism and Religion caught and held my imagination from the time I first read it in 1978. It was revised in 1997. The image used for this posting is the Helix Nebula taken by the Hubbel Telescope. It is also known colloquially as "God's Eye."]

We may tend to think of mysticism as being in the realm of monastic communities or the rare -- and rather eccentrically spiritual - individual. It would certainly not be a state of being normal to the regular, everyday individual...regardless of our passion for healthy spirituality or disposition toward being part of any religious body (here, specifically Christian). To set this straight, mysticism and the mystical path is not, a) foreign to anyone's capacity to experience; b) something to which one attains; and, c) a state that detaches one from current reality (i.e. not "out there" somewhere).

Let's take these in order. The capacity and capability to have mystical experiences is normative to any human being. In fact (borrowing from Thomas Aquinas), all creation can reflect the mystical element of reality. What is called "mysticism" is the direct intuition of the Holy (God). Carl Jung's typology is helpful here. The four spectra of human typology are Introvert/Extrovert; Sensate/Intuitive; Thinking/Feeling; Judging/Perceiving. Each of us are somewhere on the continuum of each of those four spectra. The complete set is called one's "Personality Type." For instance, I am an INFP (Introvert, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceiving). On the four scales, I am very introverted, very intuitive, moderately feeling and somewhat perceiving. How does this express itself?

For me (as an example), my natural state is to be inwardly directed, comfortable with ideas and abstractions, processing incoming data through emotional systems first and comfortable with rapid change and spontaneity. This is valuable information in knowing what is necessary to have a mystical experience -- or, more appropriately, what tools one uses in responding to the mystical "nudge."

Christian mysticism, specifically, begins and ends in the experience of being loved....loved by the Divine. It is an experience of intimacy. It is intuitive, as described above. Very important: The mystical is not something one attains or manufactures. It is strictly an invitation. It is God's call to us for intimacy and the resulting experience of that intimacy.

I used to think that one became a mystic by studying biblical literature, ritual and reading books and guides about prayer. Sure, all of that is helpful. In the end, however, I realized that folks like Moses, Elijah, Isaiah, Jeremiah, Peter, Paul and all such persons in our tradition were responding to some kind of invitation. Sometimes the invitation had to be rather abrupt (Paul's being struck blind on the road to Damascus is such a moment). One of the reasons Jesus compared us to sheep (which actually isn't a flattering metaphor) is that we are wilfull, hard headed and easily enough distracted to get regularly lost (thus, requiring us to be "fetched back").

The call of Samuel (1 Samuel 3), is a great story to get how the mystical moment happens. Samuel (as a boy) hears his name called in the night. He arises, goes to his mentor, Eli, and... thinking Eli has called him...says "Here I am." Eli (a mystic) doesn't get it and tells Samuel to go back to bed, because he did not call him. Finally, when Samuel hears the voice the third time, Eli gets it and tell's Samuel to answer the voice directly, should he hear it again. Samuel does and so begins his particular vocation as a prophet that will eventually raise up David as the unifying King of Israel.

Mysticism is not generally a world changing way of being. It is, however, a life changing experience, because responding to the invitation from God opens us to the deeper realization of who we really are and to the vocation that each of us has by nature. I used to think and function with the conviction that, to be fully human and a good priest, I had to be able to love others. I did everything possible to accomplish that and found myself always frustrated and exhausted. It was during my first truly mystical invitation that I cried out, "I am loving folks as hard as I can, and it isn't working!" The quiet voice that vibrated within said firmly, "that's the problem, you cannot simply love others....let go and let me love you and others through you..."

This was an astounding revelation to me. God was working from within me...not from "out there" somewhere. The secret of the fire and energy of every person I cited above as biblical examples was their experience and conviction of being loved by God. Another example of this is Thomas Aquinas.

We celebrated his feast in the Church yesterday (28 January). Aquinas is considered the greatest theologian in the history of the Western Church (perhaps Karl Rahner, who died just a few years ago, comes very close). Thomas Aquinas wrote the Summa Theologica and the Summa Contra Gentiles in the mid 1200s. There is much mystical expression in the theological works themselves. However, the real story is what happened just prior to his untimely death (at age 49).

Thomas -- a Dominican -- was celebrating Eucharist and entered a "frozen" state that lasted long enough for those gathered in community to have real concerns. Emerging from that experience, he became quite agitated and wanted to immediately have all his written works burned (this amounted to what is currenly more than 54 volumes). While his monks dissuaded him from such a hasty action, Thomas continued to insist that, "all this work amounts to nothing but dross..." (straw). He insisted that he had seen the glory and love of God in a way that changed everything about what he had previously experienced and expressed. Unfortunately, we will never know the contents of that mystical moment. He died a few days later rather suddenly.

The reason we read so much of mystical experiences from men and women in vocation is that prayer is at the center of our discipline. I know a number of lay persons who have similar experiences regularly...and are quite involved in their "day jobs" in secular society. In my work among the Lakota, I have found a number of folks for whom encounters and experiences of the Holy are daily occurances. Their work is as varied as that of archeologist, professor, psychotherapist, engineer, medical doctor and many other occupations.

There is no secret to this. It is about openness and being mindful of the deeper parts of our nature. There is something to be said for "taking time to smell the roses." To sit and experience the expanse of a prairie (here in the midwest) or a forest or quietly watching the antics of wildlife are a few ways. We surround ourselves with noise and electronic visualizations. We effectively block any opportunity to hear the invitation of the Holy to experience the awesome power of Divine Love. Do we fear what that will do to us or where it will lead us? Most often, the experience only deepens and nurtures our current circumstances and occupations. It both answers questions and raises new and important ones.

Jesus spoke what seemed rough words to Martha, who was consumed with self important doing of things (and was criticizing Mary for attending to what Jesus was saying and doing). Jesus, as the full expression of God's Love in the world, told Martha to take a break, for Mary had chosen the better part of human nature in that moment. [Note that, later, Mary would be somewhat angry with Jesus for not showing up in time to be a healing presence to her brother Lazarus, who was dead. None of us are always "in the moment."]

Next time, I will reflect more on this key element of human nature.

In Christ's Love,

Fred+

Truth and Love

2011-01-06T13:06:00.005-06:00

For a number of years now, I have not made New Year resolutions. First, I have found it difficult to stare a new year in the face from a hungover composure. It seems antithetical to what making a resoluton means...."as soon as I get over the affects of this party, I will get serious about this new day." A good number of folks can't even drag themselves up until after noon...and then with hangover meds, coffee and their melons feeling like they need a size 12 hat.

This is not an indictment as much as it is simply an observation of what might be considered typical. So, why a set of resolutions? Such promises for renewal of life and commitment would indicate we that we want to leave some not-so-helpful behaviors behind in favor of behaviors that are healthy, renewing and invigorating to body, mind and spirit. None of this is why I gave up resolutions, however.

I began to realize that, if resolving to launch (or in most cases relaunch) a set of programs for improvement would have permanence, they would change each year. We would accomplish the goals set forth, find ourselves in a new place, celebrate THAT on New Year's Eve, go to bed happy and wake up with a fresh set of goals for the coming year. Yet, every year, the number one resolution (this is according to marketers) is diet. It is followed by exercise programs. Personal health is the big ticket for every new year. And we start that as we are praying to our adopted god O'Rourke while hovering over a hotel, friend's or home toilet. Is there something about this picture that doesn't seem quite right?

So, shortly after college -- while stationed in Scotland with the Navy -- I made my last new year resolution: Never make another resolution and never enter the new year in worse physical shape than I was the morning before (New Year's Eve morning). Instead, I decided to follow something that I started calling the Benjamin Franklin Method. Here is how it works.

Make the last days of the current year be ones of enjoying family and getting done what is necessary for one's work life. This is simply being diligent to what composes our life.

Enjoy whatever might be planned for New Year's Eve festivities. Change it up so that it includes different folks and different venues. Some years, stay home and enjoy alone time with one's partner.

If drinking is involved, stay completely sober. Here is a subtext of the Franklin Method. It is called the Dirty Harry corollary: "Some people just don't know their own limitations." To know the limits of one's capacities and attendant boundaries of civility is an essential element of character. (An aside: I do drink alcoholic beverages -- enjoying good wine, well crafted beer and good single malt Scots Whisky. I do not find it helpful having it turn into an internal toxic soup and thus lose control of my faculties and motor accuity).

Start the new year with ONE (yep, just one) area of life that needs attention. Now (and this is important) this is not a resolution. This area of attention is much deeper than that. This is about character....the substance of Self. What needs to shift in such ways that who I am more completely reflects the image and being in which I have been created.

This last bullet point is the heart of the matter. If one's blood chemisty (for instance) is out of whack and causing problems, this one area of attention might begin with a trip to the doctor for advice and resources for getting one's body back in balance. I had such a situation, and it has taken nearly three years to find the formulary that has finally worked. In this journey, the annual ONE thing was to continue making progress. I was never quiting and starting over during the three years. Instead, it was a 'what next, because I am not there yet' continuation. Shortly after shoulder replacement surgery this past fall, I hit that balance mark. Hit it on the head!! So, 2011emerges with a new ONE area of life needing attention. By the way: Just because one "nails" that ONE area needing attention, it doesn't mean walking away from it. Learning what is necessary and continuing its employment is a hallmark of the Benjamin Franklin Method....mastery of one's being.

Being a priest, much of what I find inside myself comes from extended times of meditation and prayer. I use those tools to look at my own character and how I function in the environment around me (which is a lot more than just relationships with other folks). As I spent time on surgical leave this fall, I journaled a question one morning: "Is Truth an external, isolated entity to which I must accede or measure up; or is it an expression of the best sense of Self as it touches the external environment?" This is a tough question by itself, but there is more. Is truth raw and painful, or, is it loving and transformational? St. Paul put these two together in Ephesians 4:15 (bless his heart):

Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ.

Jumping to the conclusion of my exegetical work on that passage, I learned that "the truth" is intrinsic. It lives inside us, and, if we can touch that place, external reality can be seen in light of the internal character of Truth so that that external experience can be measured as truth. Another way to see it: If a statement, event or experience external to us is called "truth" by others, it is only Truth if our internal character can see and embrace that reality.

In pastoral ministry, I have often found that another person is adamant about what constitutes the truth of a situation. Others walk away in frustration or confusion, because they are not experiencing truth in that situation. What's wrong with the picture? The adamant person is not a pathological liar (another issue entirely) and makes a good case. Something inside me...or others...doesn't make sense. It is here that St. Paul's point becomes fundamental. I must be able to experience the Truth of Self in order to see the truth in my environment. In speaking that Truth, since it is intrinsic, it must be vesseled by love...a positive, tranformational desire for the good of all in my external environment.

We are not taught this way. In general, truth is seen as an external reality that must be weighed, measured and lived up to. It must be defended at all costs; and further, if you do not see the truth as I see it (as an example), then you are faulty. This can lead to all kinds of bad and unpleasant things (including war, fratricide, ethnic cleansing, and, perhaps the most insidious, branding another as a less than normal human). After all this, I found what my ONE area of life needing attention this coming year is: Speaking the Truth in Love.

This is going to take some work. While I always work to be truthful, I don't think I represent myself in a way that speaks truth. I am the "me" that God has created, and I have not always represented that "me" with integrity. I have often "bent" it so that others might be pleased or accepting. Ultimately, this is not very loving -- first to God and then to those folks in my relational environment. As a ready example, I would not have dared write this blog article for (potentially) the world to see even a year ago. But, this is my truth. It is who I am. It is, also, essential that the Truth of Self be delivered NOT as a weapon but as a loving gesture of transformation. Again, the opening lines of Desiderata become meaningful:

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story. (from the first stanza)

This is where I start -- not where I end. It is the mandate of my coming year and will be the work of my spirit, mind and body as I press forward. I'll keep you posted as I learn more.

Blessings in this new year!

Fr. Fred+

Neuro-Spirituality

2010-12-13T14:22:00.000-06:00

Last evening (12 December) the National Geographic Channel televised "The Real Caligula" as part of its series, When Rome Ruled. I got caught up in this, because Caligula (who ruled from 37 to 41C.E.) was known for his erratic and nearly mad behavior. After an inexplicable illness, he became psychotic and claimed to hear voices of the gods...in fact, spending much time in the temple of Jupiter conversing with that god's statue. He would then often dress as Jupiter at public gatherings of the Senate. His behavior led to a long series of murders, debauchery and expenditures of wealth on ego driven projects (e.g. a nearly mile long causeway bridge between the emporer's palace and the temple of Jupiter for his singularly private use).

I cite this historical period for two reasons. First, researchers believe that, like other Roman emperors, Caligula suffered from epilepsy. In the history of ancient Rome, this was also known as the "sacred sickness" because of the kinds of experiences cited with Caligula above. Also, it is believed that a particularly violent epileptic seizure early in Caligula's reign triggered a psychotic break and the onset of manic depressive behavior. Second, modern study of the brain (primarily work being done through NIH) has led to associating certain spiritual experiences with areas of the brain associated with epilepsy (temporal lobe), delusions (brain stem) and reality detachment (frontal and parietal lobes). NPR recently reported on this research; the summary of which can be reviewed at http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=110997741&sc=emaf .

Neurotheology is a growing science that engages research on the function of the brain and the experience of God. Much of what I have shared above would suggest that spirituality resides in the realm of psychoses and other neurological disorders. No doubt, this would please atheists, agnostics and other skeptics of God and spirituality. In truth, I wondered early on if some of my more profound experiences of the Holy were onsets of a break with reality. After all, I am a trained scientist as well as a theologian. Isn't science the search for hard data and concrete evidence?

Over the years, I have become as familiar with moments of deep spiritual awakening and insights as with other aspects of larger reality. Having now spent hundreds of hours in various modes of psycho-therapy (self initiated) exploring the possibility that such experiences and resultant changes in life patterns, I have come to accept the consistent diagnosis of "normal with the usual levels of neuroses." (as an aside, every person who has a personality has some number of neuroses as a part of life...we deal with them or learn to compensate in some way. BTW, denying having neurotic behaviors can indicate a kind of delusion....a more serious behavioral issue). "Normal" in psychotherapy denotes an acceptable range of behavior characteristics given to the general population. It's nothing special.

What we are learning is that brain function can reflect two avenues of experience. One can lead to a deepening of reality and human character. The other can lead to one of several forms of psychoses or be the affect of a genetic disorder (as in epilepsy). The parts of the brain responsible for these functions also connect with deeper functions. It is here that theology (especially ascetical theology -- exploration of prayer and spiritual discipline) can intersect with physiology and psychology.

Folks generally pray as if God is "out there" somewhere. The more typical view is that heaven exists as a place separate and away -- a place to which we will "go someday." Since we are spatially oriented, we have denoted "up" as a good place and "down" as a bad place. We have Dante largely to thank for that orientation.

Jesus spoke of heaven in a very different way by saying that "the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand." He was not talking about the end of the world (as many suggest). The grammar of the New Testament (Koine Greek language) used in that quote means literally, 'the Kingdom of Heaven is able to be palpated -- touched -- and experienced in the moment of time and space.' Greek allows for a mouthful of meaning in a few short words. The New Testament also spoke of God within us. In fact the first order of creation includes humankind being created "in the image of God."

The theology of Imago Dei (image of God) does in no way indicate that we look like or function like God (Caligula's delusion...a dysfunction associated with the brain stem and temporal lobe). It means that our foundational character, which defines us as uniquely human is of God....God "breathed into the being, and the being became human" (transliterating the Hebrew text). Our essence, then, is of God. How then do we access this center of our nature (theologians call this nature our ontological core)?

Prayer does not go out unless it first goes in....deep within. It is the discipline of contemplation and deep meditation. Both of those are associated with the frontal lobe. It is like a computer. The programs we must have are all in binary code (ones and zeros). The operating system must be capable of "reaching in" and transcribing that code into usable language and symbols. The brain is the operating system that reaches into the core of our being to connect us with not only our True Self but with the God whose image is reflected in that True Self. The brain translates the experience into forms that we use in daily life...to define our complete reality.

This is not a fond hope, but the cutting edge of theology and science...working in tandem...and now often working in harmony. For some very interesting reading, I suggest Dr. Francis Collins (MD, PhD), who is now head of NIH and formerly led the team that mapped the human genome. His books, The Language of God and The Language of Life are both outstanding reading in both science and spirtuality. When the completion of the genome mapping project was announced by then President Clinton in 1993, Dr. Collins began his short presentation with the words, "We now have seen the fingerprint of God."

In Christ's Love,

Fred+

See What I Mean? A Timely Example of Moral Distortion

2010-11-17T13:23:00.000-06:00

     Within hours of writing yesterday's blog posting ("The Juice is Worth the Squeeze"), I learned of a manipulative, legal trick play used by a middle school football team to score a touchdown. First, watch the Youtube.com playback. It will be necessary to view it a few times. First, pay attention to the lower middle of the picture. The coach is standing next to an official and calls out a foul for five yards against his own team. The official ignores the call. Then watch it again and see what happens on the team. You will see the center hand the ball over his shoulder to the quarterback, who nonchalantly walks into the opposing line as if to step off his own five yard penalty. The other team is stunned, obviously. The quarterback then breaks into a sprint to score a touchdown.   Please watch. See you on the other side.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0UIdI8khMkw

On first look, this is a hoot! Imagine, a) this being legal (it is); b) pulling it off; c) actually having the other team believe it.   Now for the question that will bring us all down to earth? Is this a morally sound value that has created this behavior?    Darn! Testy priest!

So happens that I have heard two persons speak of this. One is a psychologist and the other an NPR sports analyst. Amazingly enough, both have nearly identical "takes" on the event.   If this were attempted by a group of adult, professional players, much of what is observed here would not have happened. The choices would have been framed with fully formed moral consciences. The quarterback would have made the decision to act or not on the coach's call. Guaranteed: the opposing team would not have been taken off-guard. The quarterback would have been flattened by either a lineman or the nearest backfield hulk....not pretty.

In terms of moral development and the formation of conscience, young people do not have completely developed capacity for making such choices independently until near adulthood (ca. 20 years of age). One can see the change in most young people, as they engage their environment more responsibly and make sounder, wiser decisions.

Both commentators noted above cite that the Driscoll Middle School coach makes this decision to manipulate the playing field and directs his team to engage the play. This eighth grader is doing what young people do on teams: exactly what the allegedly responsible adult tells him/her to do. The other team hears a foul call, sees the official and does what young people are taught to do....obey....in this case stand still and wait.

My point here is that both the psychologist and NPR sports analyst agree that this is a form of child abuse. It is teaching children to deceive and, in reality, cheat the other team in irresponsible and unsportsmanlike actions. What has happened here is that a filter has been put in place for these kids by two seemingly responsible adults through which the actions of moral conscience will have to pass to create ethical behavior. They have been behaviorially modified by their mentors.

A glass is filled with water and a straw placed in the glass. Seen from the side, the straw looks fractured as it goes from air to water. That is not a true picture but a distortion created by density and specific gravity. It is similar between the conscience and the events of life that become filters.

This is serious stuff and will create the kinds of dysfunction we currently see in government, business and on Wall Street. It's part of our mess.

In Christ's Love,

Fr. Fred+

"The Juice is Worth the Squeeze"

2010-11-16T18:44:00.001-06:00

This article is originally published under the title "Rector's Reflections" in our parish weekly newsletter. It is rendered in its entirety here.

    Recently, I was watching a movie in which the title phrase was used to describe what a person’s experience of living a moral life might be like. I decided immediately that it would be a good epitaph for a tombstone….AND a great way to define moral integrity.
     Our current Sunday Night Dialogue is a three-part series of reflections on our understanding of Church and State. Can it, or should it, be separate? I began the series on 7 November with a presentation on “Christ and Culture.” This is the title of a book written by H. Richard Niebuhr in 1956 and still in print. It remains required reading in the Ethics and Moral Theology classes of most of our seminaries.
     In the above noted presentation, I shared a working definition of ethics and morals. These two terms are much confused in our common parlance and representation of relational integrity. Most all of our contemporary culture has relegated “morals” to the behaviors surround sexual conduct, marital relationships, various addictions, etc. “Ethics” has been determined as being largely those actions and behaviors that reflect business and social interactions. This last definition is probably a bit closer to accurate. However, our definition of “morals” is astoundingly far from its original meaning.

     The classic definition of moral – both in Aristotelian philosophy and Judeo-Christian Tradition – is “the fundamental, ontological character within an individual which reflects both created and assimilated values.” Some explanation is in order. The term “ontological” is a theological base word that describes the essence of one’s being. It is more comprehensive than the terms, “spirit” or “soul.” It is life-force that drives what is termed “conscience” – our ability to know right from wrong/good from evil. In most infants, this is an innate quality. It often is either shadowed or lost by life factors that include experiences, trauma, neuro-pathological episodes or social conditioning (e.g. if a child grows up in a highly bigoted home, the nature of good in others is very diminished over time).
     Being moral, therefore incorporates all aspects of one’s character…only a small portion of which is human sexuality or other patterns of behavior normally given to that name. Another way to describe moral character is “passion.” Again, this has nothing to do with our current usage of the word. “Passion” is the energy that drives our character to accomplish the highest possible good and is a reflection of our character. Passion is what creates the conscience….that sometimes small voice that will indicate what we really need to believe about our environment or our relationships. Conscience is how moral character emerges into conscious levels of our lives.

     The classic definition of ethic – again in both the Aristotelian Nicomacean system and Judeo-Christian Tradition – is “the doing of our morals…values.” Once we have a conscience that is informed by our moral character, we need to apply the elements of that character to our interaction with our outside world and relationships. The behaviors that emerge are described as our ethics. Unlike our current, and very limited definition, ethics incorporates all behaviors that define us in the world. Yes, this can make us truly sit back and take stock of what we are all about.
     Ethics can be either well-informed or ill-informed. If our moral character is sound and largely undistorted by life events cited above, our behaviors will be well-informed and bring stability and harmony to our external environment. To the extent that distortion bends our character or skews it, our behaviors will bring instability or disharmony to the external environment. Another way to determine ethical behaviors is by their relative altruism. If behaviors are largely couched in self-serving, ego-driven motivations, there is a good chance that we have some distortion (or “baggage” in the current linguistics) at work as filters through which our conscience must travel.

     I have mentioned Aristotle a couple of times in this presentation. He is considered the “father” of systematic thought regarding morals and ethics. Aristotle’s writings in this area were titled (by him) as “Ethica Nicomacea.” Another writer that developed a systematic philosophical approach to moral and ethical life was Plato. These two Greek philosophers were the platforms used by Christians from the first century onward to develop our theological framework that we call Moral and Ethical Theology.
Oddly enough, seminaries most often teach Ethical Theology first. Reason: It is the easiest to identify and “dissect.” While doing that, professors are teaching basic biblical principles and basic theological language to apply to our spiritual essence. Once that process is underway, the task of exploring Moral Theology begins. These studies really never end. I have been constantly investing time of prayer, reflection and reading in these areas over the decades. We are constantly learning more about ourselves, our environment, our relationships and the global implications of both our character and our actions. The Zen master says, “A butterfly flaps its wings on one side of the world, and that creates a windstorm on the other side of the world.” More appropriate within our Christian Tradition, “An action done by me today will have an affect far, far beyond my capacity to realize.” This is not an exaggeration in the least. Ponder it.

     This is obviously an oversimplified presentation of ethical and moral theology. It is a truly fundamental part of who we are and must have reflective study and prayer. It is the foundation of prayer, in fact. Back to the title of this article. God requires of us to constantly make the choice of either listening to and tapping into our moral essence or simply going on our “gut” and tapping our emotional and ego-driven motivations. It is a hard choice we must make. I regularly find myself rebounding from distorted and filtered values (a moment of anger, judgment, rage, anxiety or fear). However, when I take the time and effort to let go of my pre-conceptions and dig into my place of essential character, I can squeeze out the good juice of God’s Love that defines me as a human person and recasts my behavior as I engage my surroundings. Thus: The juice is worth the squeeze!

     Advent is a good time to slow down enough to see Divine Love at work. God wants so much for our characters to inform our actions that God gave us the ultimate expression of that desire: Jesus. That birth and His life provide us with a completely open and deep view of what it means to express God’s Love and engage the world with the power of that Love. If it is anything less, we need to make serious adjustments. I am not a Christian soldier marching as if there is war. I am a disciple of Jesus Christ seeking the fullest expression of God’s Love in all that is around me….friend and foe alike. That is the actual Gospel Imperative. Advent defines the journey!

In the Love of Christ Jesus,

Fr. Fred+

Is There Always an Angle?

2010-10-15T16:07:00.002-05:00

It has been a while since I last posted a blog entry. Much has been happening, both in my parish and in my personal life. All of it is exciting in its own way. St. Andrew's has begun a Restoration Campaign that I have been praying would take place since shortly after my arrival. It is a massive undertaking, and we have incredibly gifted and passionate parishioners leading and working to make it possible for us Restore, Rebuild and Renew our internal and external fabric as well as our faith community's spiritual focus. As we prepare for the next one hundred years of ministry in our part of metro Kansas City, we are doing so with a truly renewed sense of being an integral part of life beyond our walls.

As part of the above work, we began a strategic planning process about eighteen months ago that set us on a journey of answering the question, "What is God calling us to major in as both a unique faith community and part of the diocesan family of West Missouri?" Again, we had been praying about the timing of doing this work since my arrival in 2004. Again, there were a number of energetic, bright and forward looking parishioners who worked hard to produce the final strategic plan that has just been published. We "rolled it out" in mid-September and will embark officially at our Annual Parish Meeting on 24 January 2011.

Then, along came this unexpected journey. I am growing accustomed to "paying for" the rough and tumble aspects of my youth and young adulthood. Injuries and damage add up. I was not expecting, however, to be advised by my orthopedic surgeon that I would have to have an entire joint replaced....soon. We knew it was a fait de'accompli in the next few years. But, in mid-August -- just before Denise and I embarked on vacation -- I found that the deterioration in my right shoulder joint was moving faster than anticipated. So, as I write this, I am nine days out from the surgery that replaced the joint and did additional work to bring future tightness and added stability to the supporting musculature. Upside: pain management is way better than anticipated. Downside: recovery will be longer due to the extra work -- and, I have to be at home for two weeks. That means at home...inside....going nowhere. Infection is a big deal with these things.

There is something of an upside to mandatory "confinement." I have time to think more about what I am doing and what lies ahead. I am realizing in my own life that there are twists and turns that are totally unplanned and often short-notice. I have also become more sensitive of late to angles. There is a theology behind the angles, but that will wait a bit. The angle I am most intrigued with at the moment is that which precipitates action or creates points of views and ideologies that aren't supported by anything resembling Real Truth. Let me explain.

A few weeks ago, I was reading an article in a new journal about the state of the current electoral process. You know, the one that will lead to voting on 2 November. One has to have almost no means of public information not to know just how political ads have taken shape. It is bad enough that I mute whatever I am listening to or watching when they invade my air-space. Yes, I am very interested in who gets elected. Yes, I will indeed vote. But the rhetoric, smearing of character, and misrepresentation of facts become almost insidious at times.

All of this reminds me of the insurance salesmen that would invade college dormitories, when I was a student (38 years ago). The promise was a secure, firm and worry-free future by investing in various insurance instruments now -- payments beginning after we graduated and found jobs. Fortunately, I had learned from my dad about some of this before he died, and I just said 'no.' In doing so, I was guaranteed at least a five minute haranguing about how I was severely jeopardizing my future and family/loved ones I may have at my demise. No! Unfortunately, one of my friends purchased one of these policies. Just to report: it was a disaster, and it took him some legal counsel to get free of the obligations.

It leaves us with the conclusion that there is always an angle. It creates an environment of mistrust and doubt.

There is another kind of moral/ethical dilemma among us. In that article, I mentioned above, the author made a statement to which I have given much thought: "There is what we believe; then, there is what we hear; then, there is some other stuff; then there is the real truth."

To follow the logic: we develop a series of beliefs about ourselves, others, ideologies, our outer environment, our inner environment and larger truths that are informed my cultural folkways, family members, teachers, peers and other places we are convinced we can trust. Our actions and interactions will be grounded in these beliefs.

As we engage life, we will hear stories and vignettes of experiences in favorite places (at the club, on the golf course, in the locker room, at the spa, in the grocery store, etc.). The dialogue seems convincing and the information being shared is compelling. Has to be right. Soon, an emotional frenzy is whipping up faster than an Oklahoma tornado out of a late spring thunderstorm. Unlike the tornado, we don't have chasers to check the origin and potential direction this storm might take. Like the aircraft carrier commander said, "things will get out of hand and people will get hurt....badly hurt."

There is other stuff that enter our sphere of influence that can momentarily take charge of our moral and ethical guidance gear. A family crisis, a death, an accident, a difficult error of judgment. The list goes on.

I am not endorsing a political party or ideology in what I am about to say. I do see, however, in the recent emergence of the Tea Party, just such a frenzy -- cultural tornado -- that seems grounded in various places by misinformation, anger, and even prejudice toward particular groups of people. When all of this began, I took a more than my usual casual interest in the politics of the moment. How factual are all of these points of view that represent what is known as "political platform?" How can one group of people claim that we need to "take our country back?" I wasn't aware of an invasion. My constitutional freedoms seem well intact. I may not agree with elements of policy currently in play with our administration. Nothing seems any more hijacked than any other administration known to me in my lifetime and study of history. Yet, we have a mightily whipped up and frenzied group of people out and about.

No, I am not making light of anything. If I have a cause at all, it is one that seeks to answer the question, "What is the deepest moral good -- the embracing of which will allow me to know the design of God, the integrity of self and the action that will best meet the needs of the largest number of people?" The second question, "What actions must I take to insure that I am living with both integrity and character in the human community...all of whom are created in the image of God and who are from the same origin as me? (another time about spiritual oneness and genetic identity...the reality of Eden)

There are angles in most things. What I believe isn't always the truth. It may be an expression of part of a truth...but not the truth as it really exists. Nothing near all that I hear constitutes fact. There is a whole bunch of trash in print and on the audio/video airwaves. I'm not talking about pulp fiction. I am talking about standard stuff. There is sensationalism everywhere. How do I get to the best truth?

For me? I pray a lot. Not with words regarding "the best man/woman" or "this issue..." kind of stuff. I pray in silence. What is emerging as a sense of grounding from which to act? Then, I do research...not in my own comfort zone but from every angle I can get...right into the midst of what I might find most disagreeable. I make myself available to being wrong in my current pattern of belief. I listen for shallow thinking or overly emotional rhetoric or "deal making." I don't jump to conclusions. I wait to be sure I am centered and balanced. I don't shut others down or dismiss them out-of-hand or call them crazy if they are in a vastly different place from me. I ask questions...sincere questions...and I listen...really listen without trying to form a response while the other is sharing his/her point of view.

Now, I blow it with some regularity. My Myers-Briggs shows me as being hard-wired toward responding viscerally. I play out of my gut with information coming in. I have to watch this constantly. Frankly, I get caught out occasionally. That's when I fire dumb emails or slam folks with my own brand of rhetorical firestorm. It is nothing for which one should be proud. It doesn't answer the moral imperative that I shared above. If anything, it totally distorts it. Then, when my wits are again about me, I have some work to do to reshape the environment I have left in shambles.

In a bit more than two weeks, we will be asked to elect men and women to public office at various levels of responsibility. None of them are bad people. Each of them, like each of us, belongs to God and, in their own way, are passionate to serve their constituencies. Look upon them as God's folks. If the faith community has anything to offer, it is to love the other as we would want to be loved. Disagree but don't seek to destroy. Vote your conscience, but be very careful to inform your conscience with data that is as close as possible to Real Truth. Do your homework.

The world will be a better place, if we all took the moral high road.

Blessings,

Fr. Fred+

"Hamlet's Blackberry" and Other Contraptions

2010-07-23T12:41:00.002-05:00

For the past couple of weeks I have been trying to read through William Powers' book, "Hamlet's Blackberry: A Practical Philosophy for Building a Good Life in the Digital Age." It is a fairly recent release, and I found it in our local library on the new books shelf. As luck would have it, William Powers was interviewed on NPR early this week about the subject of his book. I was fascinated. My problem with reading the book isn't the content. It is the fact that our work at St. Andrew's has become so dense in the past few weeks, that any reading outside the technical material needed for my craft has been darn near impossible.

I didn't buy my first computer until the spring of 1989. I owned a word processor for my office, and it sufficed...until our parish church (Holy Cross, Sanford, FL at the time) was robbed...my word processor unit being one of the heisted items. I decided to replace it with a bona fide computer. I shopped my purchase through one of the technical gurus in my parish. I purchased a tower unit with 40 mb of hard drive and 1 mb of ram. According to the folks at the computer store, I was on the leading edge of the computing power curve at that moment. Oh, and it included an amber screen. Hot stuff!

Three years later, in the fall of 1992, I was preparing to move family, household and my office to St. James Cathedral, South Bend, IN, where I was to become the Dean on 1 January 1993. Things were becoming difficult for my once fancy computer. So, I had a friend in Orlando custom build a tower unit with a 486 processor, 256mb hard drive and 4 mb ram. Once again, I was in front of the technology curve. I would be the most technically advanced cathedral dean in the Episcopal Church....for about 10 months.

Let me back up a moment and reflect on a comment I made to my parish in Sanford, FL at the Annual Meeting in January 1990. My first computer was about 8 months old, and we had just purchased a full computing system for the parish office. I had done some casual statistics and reported to our parish that, with the two computers, we could reduce administrative production time by almost 60%. The savings in time would provide us with a large number of weekly hours for pastoral, program and other functional ministry opportunities. Huzzah!

It is now 2010. It is two parishes and almost 21 years since the purchase of my first computer. I am writing this on my laptop, which is just passed two months old. It has a ridiculous number of gbs of hard drive and enough ram to run the world on the screen. The whole system weighs about 6 lbs. My office at St. Andrew's is in a pretty good technical place. We have an internal network with our own internet domain and website. Our internal servers are two in number and hum at high speed 24 hrs/day. Each office has either a laptop or a desk top machine. Most all of them are current state of the art. Our network handles all 12 of us on staff using the email and internet features at the same time. We process a huge amount of information and data on a weekly basis (it's a parish of about 1800 folks). We also have wi-fi throughout our complex -- except for the church itself. I can run my office from either my office or my home (25 minutes away).

At home, my wife also has a personal laptop, and we have a "dinosauer" (five year old) desk top system in the study that we use as a main server for our wi-fi system, our wireless printer, scanner, copier, fax machine and music storage.

I have a smartphone that allows me to access my office email at will wherever I am. I could access my home email account as well...should I desire to do so. I Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, text message, phone chat and listen to music via my computers, smartphone and iPod Nano. My phone calendar syncs automatically with my office calendar...all of which syncs with my administrative assistant's version of my calendar. Any time either of us generates an event on my calendar, that event is logged on two computers, a server and my phone. All my computer data is automatically backed up to server when I shut down. Damn! I just keep moving.

BUT, there is a problem, I now have less discretionary, program, pastoral and prep time for my craft than I had 20 years ago. What gives!!

I find this hard to admit (for reasons I will reveal below), but I did a hard data analysis last year on what had happened to my statistical predictions in January 1990. I front-loaded the average weekly hours of work. I then determined what time is spent in administrative, pastoral, program, liturgical and other necessary work in the average week. I did this over a three week period. The results surprised me.

First, my 1990 predications were not wrong. I had saved about 60% of my admin time...time which it took to do set activities. HOWEVER, the total amount of current administrative time had increased by more than 65%! I was spending more time with administration because more administration was being demanded/expected/required. Adding to this was the expected availability. Whether in the office or in the "field" or at home or on a vacation, the expectation had become that availability would be constant and as immediate as possible. I was getting text messages asking why I hadn't responded to an email that was only sent 20 minutes prior to the text message! Absurd? Nope.

All of this led me to proclaim earlier this year (to a group of colleague priests) that we have entered a place of information overload. There is hardly a space left for absorbing what it means to be alive and in the world. This, it turns out, is very much the same tune being played by William Powers in his book.

Now I get back to why data collection would be a surprise to some. I am fast becoming "death" on data. Information, facts and details are important; and I use all of that on a fairly regular basis. We have, however, become data junkies. Whenever something doesn't go the way we want it, there must be measurable means by which to analyze it. Numbers in the pews going down? Give us data...we may be failing. Forget the long view of parish life-cycles that have been normal and natural for the life of the Church. We have lost sight of what information is necessary what is obfuscatory. My little analysis last year found that our staff spends nearly 35% of its time collecting, collating and publishing data. Another survey anyone?

I love technology. I enjoy having information stored in portable and easily retrievable packets of binary bytes. I love my Kindle, which now has 25 full-length books stored within it...and room for probably 150 more.

I love Facebook. I am having a blast connecting with high school and college classmates I never thought I would see or hear from again. What a change 40 years of life makes, when we look at each other's pictures. Still, the energy and enthusiasm of youth returns in sharing stories and current events with those who shared formative years of life.

I love blogging and handling routine communication via email. Such electronic communications allows me to stay up with actions that are in process and needing rapid communication. I can think fast and do so on-screen when the journalistic insight strikes. Now, let's make email what it was designed to be...guaranteed communication that can be easily responded to....in the recipient's own time!

Denise and I have pledged "smartphone free zones" in our life together. No emailing, Tweeting or Facebooking in the master bedroom. My phone is there only when I am on call...and just on phone reception. No email or other communication beeps.

Whenever we have a day off together and plan an outing, the above rule applies in that setting. Last summer, I created a special area for contemplative prayer in our finished basement. It's a great little corner. Phones and laptops are not allowed when the work of that space is engaged.

The bottom line here is BALANCE. When I am working, all my systems are up and engaged. That's the way it should be. In that space, we still have the problem of what constitutes appropriate use of time, data and expertise. My colleagues share my concern that priests are not able to do priestly work at the level commensurate with our craft. The mantra is becoming more universal "Give us an MBA rather than a Master's in Theology." I doubt it will change before I retire next June, but it will need to change before too long...if the Church is to remain the true Body of Christ. One thing my leadership detractors forget: God makes the rules in this place!

Blessings,

Fr. Fred+

On The Track

2010-06-29T11:21:00.004-05:00

It was 29 June 1978, and I was still 27 years old (I am a November baby born in 1950). 26 days earlier, I had received my Master's Degree at Nashotah House and moved my then relatively meager belongings and collection of professional books to my new job at Christ Church, Springfield, MO. I then drove to Orlando, FL, which was the See City of my home diocese (Central Florida).

On 22 June all of us who had just graduated from seminaries from Central Florida gathered with Bishop Folwell and a staff of clergy and lay specialists in the canonical areas of proficiency at Camp Wingman. A four day series of oral exams followed. At that time, our diocese required the Master's Degree, the successful completion of the General Ordination Exams (on the same level of law or med boards...given to all senior seminarians in the Episcopal Church in January....seven grueling days of in-class examination and writing of essays in all seven canonical essays) and the successful completion of the diocesan oral examination. These exams were anything but objective, but examiners could tell how well we functioned under pressure and how our knowledge could be flexed with convoluted questions.

Now, on the Feast of Saints Peter and Paul -- 29 June -- I stood at the Altar Rail of St. Luke's Cathedral, Orlando with six other candidates. We were about to be ordained to the Transitional Diaconate. With assignments in various places, we would work as Deacons for a period of six months. If all went well, we would then be ordained to the Priesthood. The vocational journey was now almost underway!

There were seven of us ordained to the Transitional Diaconate that evening in Orlando. Three of us had graduated from Nashotah House. The other four from one of the other ten seminaries in the Episcopal Church USA. I no longer remember which ones. We were about to be scattered to almost the four corners of the United States. Central Florida was turning out a lot of priests in those years. I was the average age of seminary graduates, and jobs were not plentiful at that time. Central Florida had one postion for an Assistant open. My dear friend, Paul Wolfe, got that position by actually doing a summer internship in the parish that hired him. West Missouri had no one emerging from seminary, and I got "loaned" to Christ Church, Springfield. Therein lies a story fit only for memoirs...not a blog.

Of the seven of us ordained on 29 June 1978, four of us are still active in parochial ministry. One left the Episcopal Church for a breakaway entity. One retired due to health issues. My friend and "co-conspirator" in both serious endeavors and occasional hijinks, Paul Wolfe, died from cancer in March 2009.

My "pay entry date" for retirement purposes was 1 July 1978. It is when I technically started at Christ Church. I drove back to Missouri two days after ordination and began actual work on 5 July. June 1978 was a whirlwind month of proportion that astounds me upon reflection as an older person. I was known for high energy, quick response, dogged determination and theological acumen. I ran 10 miles a day, ate sparingly and practiced Hatha Yoga faithfully...at 5:00am every morning but Sunday. My long runs were five days a week and worked into either lunch hours or after my workday....rain, shine, snow, heat and cold -- sometimes at 10:00pm through the Southwest Missouri State University campus that was less than five blocks from my apartment. Stamina was the name of the game. My ordination picture from those days appears on my Facebook photo page.

I was ordained a Priest six months -- to the day -- later. Bishop Arthur Vogel ordained me on 29 December 1978 at Christ Church....on a cold, icy Friday morning. Even with the weather, the church was full. I will never forget either of those ordination days! Powerful and unusual things happen during those sacramental rites. Something inside changed. For me, it was a palpable and rather radical shift in character...state of being.

I began my vocational struggle (it's like a caterpillar trying to emerge from a cocoon...those years of preparation for ordination) with a plan NOT to be a parish priest. My plan was to finish a Ph.D. and teach in a seminary or university setting. God is much bigger than we are, and, as my journey unfolded, one parish experience led to another and yet another. I developed specialties for which I never believed I had gifts. I learned to compensate for areas where it was clear I was not gifted. There is an "economy" of spirituality that creates balance -- if the individual and community are patient and willing to seek complementary functions in community. I found this to be the hardest lesson for both priest and people.

Today, I sit in my office at St. Andrew's, Kansas City, MO -- Diocese of West Missouri. I have come full circle in my travels, without ever meaning or intending to do so. When I went back to Central Florida in 1980, I thought that was it in terms of general place. Today is the 32nd anniversary of my ordination to the Transitional Diaconate, and I have been down a long road.

I no longer run...having shattered miniscus cartilidge in both knees (requiring surgery). I'm on borrowed time for a prosthetic right shoulder joint. My power lifting days are over. I still stretch and use yoga techniques. I now get aerobic with bicycles and elliptical machines. I deal with the kinds of limitations that age creates -- though I still have a lot of energy and stamina. Stamina can now be also measured by how much crisis I can absorb and maintain both objectivity and balance. That comes only with experience.

My office now has a library of almost 800 books....35 years of reading, research and shifting interests in the theological disciplines. I love these books. They are extensions of experience and define a good portion of my universe. I have written extensively; been published a few times; taught thousands of hours; preached hundreds of sermons; faithfully followed my Benedictine Rule of contemplative prayer and in-depth study. I have been been married almost 30 years, and we have raised two wonderful, bright and engaging daughters. They are launched into life apart from us. We have lost parents, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles. We have gained second and third cousins, nieces, nephews and countless dear friends.

My hair is now silvered, slightly thinner and not quite (but almost) as long as when I was ordained. I carry some extra weight and struggle with the issues of genetics....heart, vascular and joint conditions. Medco pharmaceuticals, providing our clergy insurance with long-term prescriptions, knows me well. I hate this part. I have always loved my self-sufficiency. It is now more restricted. I am dependent on others for my well-being. An important lesson is being learned here.

Parish Priesthood has hugely opened my vistas. I have no patience for prejudice, bigotry and closed minds. I have almost no patience with passive-aggressive and passive-dependent behaviors. I am barely tolerant of those caught up with self-importance. My love for persons in general has expanded exponentially...regardless of culture, creed, orientation or socio-economic place. I soak up their wisdom and reflections like a sponge. Constantly confronting pain, grief, brokenness, and transformation has made me more progressive, tolerant and accepting. Like Desiderata suggests, I do walk more placidly amidst the noise and haste.

When I knelt before the Altar at St. Luke's Cathedral, Orlando and awaited Bishop Folwell's hands to rest on my head and his prayer of ordination...calling down the Holy Spirit...I wondered what others might think. Now, I am blessed with not worrying about that much at all. I am God's person. Period.

Thirty-two years, six parishes, thousands of people, weddings, funerals, Eucharists...teaching, proclaiming, caring, counseling, directing, praying, laughing, crying and walking in places most others might not care to tread both in the world and deep within souls. It is the ordained life. One gift given: I am rarely frozen in fear. I keep moving. My spiritual feet still seem quite agile. It is truly a gift!

Blessings,

Fr. Fred+

Paying the Price

2010-06-02T12:46:00.005-05:00

Today's edition of the "Kansas City Star" has an article that begins at the bottom right of the front page. Its author, Amy Sherman is a licensed mental health counselor and has a website at http://www.bummedoutboomer.com/ . We Baby Boomers may not consider ourselves "bummed out," but her article certainly makes a point worthy of reflection: "Come on Baby Boomers, Get Happy!"

Sherman shares that a Pew Research on Demographic Trends has found that, of all generations, Baby Boomers are the unhappiest and most discontent. I checked into this research and found that the data is overwhelming in this regard. It also reveals that Boomers are the biggest consumers of prescription antidepressants and have the largest number of stress and anxiety related physical illnesses. Reading this study made me both somewhat depressed and anxious....but, hey, I am a Baby Boomer.

Amy Sherman provides several ways to "get happy." To see these, one can go to http://www.kansascity.com/ and type "Baby Boomers get happy" in the search box. Her suggestions are good and reflect practical therapeutic approaches. As I thought about the article (while driving from home to the office), it occurred to me that something more profound has been happening over the past three decades of my vocation as a parish priest.

First, we boomers are those born from immediately after World War II (1945) through 1964. Our parents' generation had experienced the Great Depression, a massive war and stress/anxiety of proportions larger than anything since the Civil War, and nothing since has equaled their experiences as a culture. Yet, that generation seemed to have a resilience and capacity to deal with adversity that, frankly, staggers the imagination if considered for a moment.

Second, boomer parents tended to be more emotionally reserved and possessed a work ethic that was balanced with a reliance upon both societal and faith communities. As we grew, boomers tended to find our parents' style to be too restricting and emotionally constricting. The decade of the 1960s was both a psychological and cultural backlash to those and other perceived problems with the "establishment."

Third, boomers tend to think that our "rebellion" established new norms for culture. Actually, while we were altuistic, it was our parents' generation that enacted most of the culture-shift laws. It was also that generation that provided most of the sources of what would be considered "wealth" that we boomers tended to reject in those heady days of the late 60s and early 70s.

Fourth, inheriting that wealth from our parents, experimenting with communes and a society of love turned into a kind of driven, hedonistic quest for individualism the likes of which America had not known until its emergence in the mid/late 1970s. I may be overstating it a bit here, but research would bear out my observations I am sure.

The truth is, our (boomer) quest for a society of beauty, love and peace was very shallow. As we pressed for new freedoms, we also tended to reject the balance that our parents knew to be essential for healthy culture.....spiritual depth. For sure, we thought we were taking that next step into "deep awareness" and "communing with the cosmos." But that was actually only drug induced...a little help from LSD and other "mind blowing" and reality altering concoctions. I'm not making this up. I was there.

As we boomers were forced to take our place as the adults of society, and as our parents' generation began to phase out, our kneejerk reaction was to replace the quest for an altruistic society with a quest for individual authentication. Spiritual depth (now left behind in the flotsam and jetsam of our youthful rebellion) was replaced with possessions as the statement of ultimate worth and meaning. Remember the bumper sticker? "He Who Dies with the Most Toys Wins." Well, who's winning?

We boomers tended to raise our children (again, tending toward some generalization here) with our values...with a venere of expectation for making more, building more, achieving more and expecting more. Our parents left us a legacy, and we turned that legacy into an empire dedicated to "Me." Adult boomers with teenage children expect those children to be baptised, confirmed and married in churches that they, themselves, do not attend. After all, "Sunday is My only free day." Who's fault is that? We created the ethic that now powers our culture to be a 24/7 super mall of consumer choices.

While a vast majority of our parents worked hard to make it possible for the highest percentage of its offspring to attend institutions of higher learning at any time in history up until then; we boomers believe that such gifts were owed to us. Our offspring tend largely to be spoiled into believing that they need do nothing to attain what previous generations considered luxuries. My brother and I had parents who worked hard; and we enjoyed vacations, good food, good educations and relative security. I still had to earn the money for my first car and pay for my graduate studies. Our generation of children have expected (and most often received) their first cars, "full boat" educations at top ranked schools and high paying jobs right out of college.

We boomers have done so much...and all on a value system that is deprived of depth and spiritual empowerment. Some are opening eyes to that error, as the end of life draws closer. We wake up feeling as though we have gone to hell already. Well, if we have, it is our own fault. God, like an ever-loving parent, continues to wait for us to realize just how far astray we have gone. .

I realize that I wax somewhat cynical. It is generally not my way of doing things. The cup, for me, tends to be always half-full. As Memorial Day came upon us this year, I watched several movies that reflected a level of values and character that opened to me the reality of what we have squandered and the shallow legacy we are leaving our children. I tend to note that our children are seeing that shallowness.

One of my parishioners called my office this past fall and berated my administrative assistant about my refusal to allow his son to be confirmed at the same age he was. He bemoaned the fact that his son was now exploring Buddhism and blamed me for making this happen. Good try! The truth is, his son probably looks at his parents' generation (mine) as being shallow with expectations that do not fit with their reality. To wit: this son's parents never exhibit a depth of spirituality commensurate with their expectations for their children. This shallowness is transparent. Our children want more. If the Church of their parents can't do it, another faith tradition just might. We are not post-Christian my friends. We are post-boomer. It's our own fault.

I am passionate in my love for the Living, Transcendent God...revealed in Jesus. I have not always shown that to my own children, and I am a priest. Somewhere in the early 1970s, I awoke to the reality that where my generation was going tended toward a kind of nosedive. Did I escape? Not really. Enough rejection existed in me to expect more of my own children than was healthy. There is a cost to that.

As I approach age 60, I'm working toward a shift. Perhaps Alvin Toffler was right. I hope not totally. Now, I am working to create spaces of spiritual depth and creative exploration of Reality that is balanced...making folks whole. There is a price to pay for that as well. I am beginning to pay my share of the cost for living and teaching the Truth. It is not God who is exacting the price. Guess who?

Blessings,

Fr. Fred+

"You Are the Best of Both..."

2010-05-14T13:14:00.003-05:00

Recently, getting a day off has been as difficult as finding hen's teeth. I have always found that analogy interesting...from my childhood days...but, when it comes to days off since Easter, it fits perfectly. Our parish has been through a series of critical, transformational events that would be fairly normal for a parish over a two year period. We have done it in five weeks! All of my clergy staff are feeling the emotional, spiritual and physical elements of fatigue. I carefully monitor how "my team" is working and how I am interacting with our daily work.

Yesterday, I struck "gold." I found that I could take a fair chunk of the day for personal, domestic and family care. Being by myself for most of the day, I decided to take in a movie. A perfect distraction! Denise generally does not care for action movies with violence involved. So, I found myself only one of two persons in a theatre showing Clash of the Titans. Anyone with some background reading in Greek mythology will know this movie...the story of Perseus, who finds himself in a triangle of confrontation between Zeus and Hades (Zeus's brother). As I teenager, I loved reading the Greek myths and read countless books and articles over a several year period.

As a college student, I began to take a second look at Greco-Roman mythology in the study of psychiatrist Carl Jung's research. I have now spent almost all my adult life exploring the psychological and spiritual implications of the psyche's role in forming and shaping our reality.

The truth is that the Greeks had a profoundly simple way of dealing with their internal, psycho-spiritual warfare. They projected the components of their psyche into the outer world and created the pantheon of gods, goddesses and demigods. The contemporary works of theologians like Thomas Moore, Morton Kelsey, John Sanford and a host of researchers like Isabelle Briggs-Myers, David Kiersey, Marilyn Bates, and Edward Edinger give us an ever deepening array of gateways into exploring the fullness of being human....using Jung's methodology.

But I digress a bit. On this Thursday afternoon, I simply wanted to see a good action flick and escape for a small time from the intensity of what the previous days had given us. It was working. Then I realized that this movie, Clash of the Titans, wasn't like all the previous epic screen renditions of gods, goddesses, monsters and dark caverns. I suddenly realized why a number of movie critics had panned it at release. This movie jumped square into the struggle of internal human balance between self as simply human and Self as integrated whole. Perseus was angry with the gods, but he was really angry at his own limitations. I was back at work...being a theologian, psychologist and professional journeyer of the soul-scape.

There is one line in the movie that I think summarizes the human condition. Perseus has just emerged from a portion of the underworld inhabited by Medusa (the beautiful woman with hair of snakes and a look that literally turned men to stone). He has successfully relieved Medusa of her head and emerged from the cave with only minor wounds. He used a sword given him by Zeus for the mission and, upon emerging, thrusts it into the ground in a moment of seeming rejection. At that moment, his demigod guide, Io is dealt a lethal blow (as such can be to one who is eternal), and she lays dying on the ground. Perseus is crushed and angry. Io grabs his arm and says, "You are not a god, and you are not a man....you are the best of both. Embrace it and fulfill your destiny." That's Jungian psychology in a sentence right there.

Perseus is the Greek counterpart of the Apostle Peter. Trust me on this. Peter had moments of profound insight and wisdom. Jesus commended him for this by saying, "This is not from mankind but from God..." Then, a very short time later, Peter will utter an entirely willful statement like, "You can't go to Jerusalem, because you will be killed....however, if you must, we will go with you and die as well..." Jesus response: "Get behind me Satan; for what you say is not from God but from mankind." Schizophrenic? Hardly! Peter wanted to control his own behavior; master his own destiny (and that of Jesus); but he also occasionally stepped into the place of allowing the depth of his psyche to function in its created order and reflect the truth of Self in God. In the end, Jesus confronts Peter with the three-part question, "Peter, do you love me?" Shortly after the Ascension, Peter found that place of being the best of both and is recognized as the functional icon of faith.

How is it best to understand and embrace Jesus? The post Reformation rhetoric has called forth phrases like, "having a personal relationship with Jesus." I do not, for a moment, condemn the real meaning of that phrase. But a personal relationship means something very different in the context I provide above. Listen to the words of Peter: "He did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped; but he emptied himself and became obedient...even to the point of death..." Point One: The Transcendent God is not "out there" somewhere but very immanent...touchable. Point Two: The Transcendent God is not separate from humankind...but is a participant with humankind. Point Three: Jesus is the fullest possible expression of what it means to be The Best of Both. Jesus, as Paul would say later, is the "pioneer and perfecter of our faith..." In Jungian terms, Jesus is fully integrated Self.

I am willing to take the heat for what I am about to say, but it can be backed up. Most psycho-therapeutic modalities and most parochial pastoral/theological engagement is on the level of applying band-aids to human integration. I am a student of human systems psychology and, while it explains a great deal about relational dynamics in families, businesses and churches, it doesn't begin to challenge the deep level of engaging and embracing integration of the psyche. Most pastoral care and theology is the application of biblical verses and superficial prayer to the presenting problems of parishioners. These are not bad things, but they are ways we choose to deal with our deepest levels of pain, fear and dis-integration. Like Perseus, we find it more compelling to deny the sacred and trust only what is deemed human. Hebrew theology called it the "sin of Adam." Christians call it Original Sin. It is a profound act of willfulness that separates our self from our Self.

The character of sacramental life provides us outward signs of inward Grace. Like Greek mythology, these outward signs convey power, authority, transformation and nurture. Unlike Greek mythology, sacramental signs only tell a story. The real work (in theology, we call it "operation") is what the Spirit of God is doing within us or within the community. The sacramental principle is most accurately described as making us the best of both.

An afternoon away from the responsibilities and concerns of parish ministry became a time of insight and new struggle with images, character and integration. Maybe this vocation and its disciplines is God's way of saying, 'you are never really off...just taking a break from one reality to explore another for a little while.' So be it.

Blessings,

Fr. Fred+

What Goes Around Comes Around (Maybe)

2010-04-14T10:53:00.004-05:00

Off and on, for a number of years, I have uttered the word "huzzah!" as an expression of excitement or approbation. I never really gave it much thought, because my Dad had used the word on occasion in my youth. In the meantime, there were words like, "yeeha!" or "Yeeess!" or (in the Navy), "Hooyah!" Yesterday, I was caught up short in a Facebook conversation with a parishioner, when I used the word in one of my posts.

The parishioner expressed surprise saying, "It's funny to see you say that, because it's a word that 20s age folks use....not someone in their 50s.." "Not so!" I responded. Then I began to think about language. Later language led to thinking about the Church. Theology, as a discipline, tends to do that sort of thing.

The word "huzzah" actually has its origins in Shakespeare's era. It ducks in and out of English speaking culture and makes a big appearance in America during the Revolution. The word stays present and gets really popular again in the Civil War and western expansion era of the middle late 19th century. It then disappears, except in various regions and among individuals (or in period movies). Now, it seems, it is gaining new popularity among young adults.

In 1988, I read a book that provoked thinking in this area of cyclical popularity. John Snow, the retired Dean of the Episcopal Divinity School in Cambridge, MA, published a study in vocation entitled, The Impossible Vocation: Ministry in the Mean Time. It is a study of the nature of modern pastoral theology and how the church has adapted to cultural trends.

In one of Dr. Snow's pivotal conclusions he states, "The central social function of all religions is to build a culture which mitigates the fear of death, freeing its members from suspicion and fear of one another so that compromise, cooperation and consensus can result in a moral and peaceful world." (Snow, pg 145). How the Church goes about this task has taken many identities. The book rehearses these and concludes that the clinical counseling methodology that began to be used in the late 1950s and through the early 1980s simply did not work as a comprehensive modality for pastoral care. Being trained largely in that model (and owning an undergraduate degree in psychology myself), I wondered immediately where that conclusion might leave me in the professional work of a parish priest.

Reading on, I learned that the ultimate goal would be a return to the parish priest as spiritual director and "shaman" (holy person) in community. This reflects another pivotal book of a few years earlier by the late Urban Holmes (Dean of St. Luke's School of Theology, University of the South, TN) entitled, The Priest in Community: Exploring the Roots of Ministry (1979). Fr. Holmes takes the entire scope of human disciplines to reflect on the role of priest in community. Like John Snow later, Holmes shows that holding a particular discipline as definitive for priestly ministry limits the reality of the sacramental character of priesthood.

Even though these two books functioned to shape a large measure of my 3+ decades of parish ministry, I nearly forgot all about that in the more recent struggles of understanding the contemporary function of priest in community. For the past decade or so, the Church has been sliding into a role of "religious business enterprise." That is not a personal assessment but one noted by several theologians in the larger Church. The successful business model of the "roaring 90s and early 2000s" has become the measure by which many local parochial agencies judge success. A colleague told me several years ago that, "all we need is to turn our graduate degrees in theology in and pick up an MBA...that would qualify us to be parish leaders." Reluctantly, I must agree.

Back to the "shaman." This is a scary term for most folks. It raises images of witchdoctor types dancing around with rattles and incantations...or using strange potions and powders to work some kind of weird magic. That's a pretty limiting view. It's a product of too much of the wrong kind of television. Of course, most modern education is at the level of what one sees or hears in the mass media...but I digress.

The shaman in history is one who creates vision; is steeped in the prayer of his/her tradition; is a steward of the mysteries that shape the inner life; and has been gifted with the power to affect change...as a channel or vessel...never as the source. But, in the Episcopal Church, does that define a priest?

There could be no better authority for answering this question than Archbishop Arthur Michael Ramsey -- the 100th Archbishop of Canterbury (retired 1975, deceased 1984). In his powerful little book, The Christian Priest Today, Archbishop Ramsey sums up priesthood: "Man of theology, man of reconciliation, man of prayer, man of the Eucharist -- displaying, enabling and involving the life of the Church -- such is the ordained priest." Look familiar? It almost mirrors the textbook definition of the shaman.

If one wants to wax skeptical regarding the Anglican theological perspective, one just needs to open The Priesthood by Fr. Karl Rahner. Rahner is considered one of the greatest theological minds of the 20th century...and a Roman Catholic Priest. In this short but dense book, Rahner creates a litany of the character of priesthood. At once the guardian of mystery; the journeyer into the life of the Spirit; the vessel of Grace in community; the shape changer of culture. Again, this is looking very familiar. Rahner published this work under the title Einubung Priesterlicher Existenz in 1970.

What has happened to us? Largely, I conjecture, we have become fearful of falling into the hands of the Living God and, thereby, have created a more convenient means by which we can measure the Church's relative worth and success. A person recently told me, "Today’s businessperson / vestryperson believes that if they can measure it, they can influence it. And they are willing to measure the success of your parish. So what is today’s rector to do? Fight? Fold? Follow? Fret? "

This is an important statement and series of questions. Given the definitions I have shared above, I want to suggest some things: 1) Today's Rector remains a priest, regardless of the intentions of non-ordained leaders. 2) If regression analysis is necessary, consider that the reasons for the Church's being may have been compromised by a kind of rationalism that works to avoid mystery. 3) The future of the Church depends on the ontological transformation of its people. That means plunging deeply into the mystery of human nature as it is defined in the image of God. 4) We need to pray like crazy that the current pre-occupations with secular models gives way to the definitions that visionaries like Ramsey, Holmes, Rahner and Snow placed before us decades ago. These were men of prayer....shape changers in the relationship between Christ and culture.

Finally, Katherine Tyler Scott, noted business consultant and deeply rooted Episcopalian published an article in the 9 April edition of The Washington Post. It can best be summarized in her own words: "Sheer intellectual ability and objectivity are insufficient to determine the moral good and responsible action. They must be accompanied by the adaptive capacity to hold the tension of the opposites together long enough to understand the problems and the appropriate response....At its core, the Episcopal Church believes in the compatibility of tradition and reform, the partnership of faith and reason. If the church can remember and reclaim this charism, it will help those who follow to navigate the present currents of complexity, chaos and change with reasoned and mature judgment and action. It will enable the church, and all of us, to exhibit the courage to move from the margin, to stand in the gap, to hold the tension of the opposites together, and to take the risk to tell our truths in the world--a world that desperately needs to shed itself of the tendency to demonize differences....Leaders cannot sequester congregants in beautiful spaces of worship with glorious music and liturgy without also engaging them in deeper reflection about what it means to live one's faith responsibly in the world."

Huzzah! Perhaps Katherine Tyler Scott is a prophet of our times. If so, maybe what has gone around will once again come around....just maybe.

Blessings,

Fr. Fred+

The Flight of Fear

2010-04-06T13:31:00.004-05:00

One of the most powerful reflective words in the English language is "fear." It strikes a discordant note in the hearts of the most stalwart persons. Accusing another of being afraid has caused wars and untold pain. The emotion that is described as "fear" can paralyze entire groups of people and obscure/distort the images and events directly in front of them.

On the other side of this coin, "fear" is the most misunderstood and misused word in the English language. It is adequate to describe one type of emotional response to a circumstance, but the word is used to describe a whole range of emotions that really aren't fearful. It is a word used to provoke others into actions that may have absolutely no grounding in the reality of the moment. Human emotions are the most shallow and least trustworthy bases for action known in creation. The law describes certain types of murder as "crimes of passion" (read: emotion).

In his first inaugural address in 1933, Franklin D. Roosevelt stated, "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself..." Those words were spoken at a time considered to be the worst of the Great Depression. Fear was rampant, and the American spirit at one of its lowest in history. Yet, Roosevelt -- himself suffering the slow but steady ravages of polio -- stood tall and spoke those words with a kind of authority that began to transform society and move it to a place of confidence and security.

Theologians and psychologists have been trying to get at the roots of human fear for generations. Both Carl Jung and Murray Bowen (MD, Psychiatrist who began his research at Menninger Clinic and later founded the Center For Family Process at Georgetown University Medical School) have been modern pioneers in placing fear appropriately within the frame of human character and sequential actions. It was Murray Bowen who isolated the "lineage" of fear, which is: anxiety leads to fear; fear leads to anger; anger leads to hatred; hatred leads to destruction. (Star Wars fans will remember Yoda quoting an abridged version of this).

To state this in a more practical way: We get worried, which raises a lot of fearful responses regarding the outcome of events about which we are worried. Fear festers like an inflammatory infection and finally bursts. This bursting forth is recognized as anger, which can take a variety of ugly forms. Anger can also fester and, like bone cancer, strike at the very heart of our character. The product of that process is hatred. Hatred can be expressed from benign neglect or prejudice to an outright hostile bigotry, judgmentalism and targeted aggression. Hatred, once released, is always destructive....to persons, property, environment, civilizations. Pure hatred knows no bounds in its destructive rampage.

The next time you get anxious, think of the experience as being the embryo of what could become a murderous debacle. Remember, also, murder includes actions which have nothing whatever to do with ending a physical life.

As I cast my thoughts and prayers toward Easter last week (I was preparing the sermon I preached on Easter Day), a little bit of sociology emerged. In the last three decades I have noticed that the generation represented by my parents ("The Greatest Generation" as termed by Tom Brokaw), were very invested in the totality of what we call the Triduum of Holy Week. These are the Holy Three Days of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and The Great Vigil of Easter. As a child, the church would be nearly filled on these days...and then again for the Sunday Easter liturgies.

Now that The Greatest Generation is thinning out, we still see a number of folks at the Maundy Thursday Liturgy. It is bright and has a ring of confidence as we reflect upon and respond symbolically to the three commands of Jesus (servanthood, remembrance, watch/pray). Good Friday has become a truly lightly attended day of rites. Our subsequent generations are anxious and fearful people, when it comes to dealing with death, emptiness and desolation. There is a question to this that I will post out later.

Realizing the above is an over generalization, it reflects the reality that we are Easter people who don't have any idea what makes Easter happen. When I was a cathedral dean, we were having Easter Vigil after sunset on Saturday evening. The lights would be out, and ushers helped folks find seats in the darkened cathedral nave. One year, a newcomer who had never been to an Easter Vigil, entered the dimmed Narthex and looked into the dark, cavernous space. With wide eyes, he looked at us and exclaimed, "Wow, it's like a tomb in there!" Without missing a beat, my Honorary Canon (Leonel Mitchell, retired professor of sacramental theology at Seabury-Western Seminary) smiled broadly and said, "Yes, isn't it?" That was the idea.

We fear the dark, because we often fear what we cannot see. That's why agnosticism, cynicism and complacency about things spiritual gains a foothold in our lives. St. Paul said it well, "It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the Living God." Try this line of logic: compassion leads to healing; healing leads to threat to the control of others; threat to control leads to conspiracy; conspiracy leads to uprising; uprising leads to false accusation; false accusation leads to death; death leads to resurrection. THAT is the Easter logic. It continues to often be the way of humanity and, unfortunately, the Church (take this on faith).

The compassion of Jesus created the circumstances around which many were healed. It was an outward sign of spiritual wholeness. This infuriated the Sanhedrin, because it threatened the control they had over the general population in Israel. The Sanhedrin conspired to have Jesus brought up on trumped charges (sedition). That conspiracy stoked the fires of doubt and judgment. Jesus was condemned, crucified and laid to rest, by his friends, in a tomb. There it is, the bloody tomb! Can't get around it folks.

The gateway to healing was opened by an act of God's very deep love for every person. Consider how small we are in the scope of the universe...possibly smaller than the size of the smallest bacteria on our planet. We cannot fathom that we are microscopic in the larger scheme of things. YET, we are not lost to God, who infuses us with love so intense that God invested Self among us in Jesus and opened the gate to experience the expanse of Kingdom. Ponder this for a time. It is transformational.

I close with part of a blessing attributed to St. Clare. Clare with the dear friend of St. Francis. She founded the Order of the Poor Ladies as a companion order for Francis's Order of Poor Friars. Both were later known as the Order of St. Clare and the Order of St. Francis. The quote below was part of a reflection by Clare, completed around 1249.

"Live without fear: your Creator has made you holy, has always protected you, and loves you as a mother. Go in peace to follow the good road, and may God's blessing be with you always."

Easter Blessings!

Fr. Fred+

Three Days

2010-04-01T16:34:00.002-05:00

Some events stand out in life as if they happened just yesterday. One can remember the sights, sounds, smells, people, places and feelings as if they were coursing through the senses at this very moment. Such was my experience on 30 March, when I prayed for my Dad, who died on that date in 1968. I was 17 years old, a senior in high school, at our senior prom. Just a shade more than two months before my graduation from Winter Haven High School (Central Florida). In a moment, that whole evening and following day flooded into the present.

My Dad turned 54 just four days prior to his untimely death (26 March). He was in the hospital, after having a heart attack on 22 March. It was a second major heart attack that struck him down in the hospital that Saturday night 42 years ago. Had he lived, he would be 96 years old now.

Last night, Denise and I went to one of our favorite pizza parlors to celebrate her Dad's birthday. He was born on 31 March 1919 (Frank Dama was a first generation Italian-American and made the best pizza I have ever had). Somewhat like my Dad, "Dad Frank" died two weeks after we announced Denise's pregnancy with our first child. Somewhat like my Dad, he and Denise's Mom were on a trip and in a hotel room in Richmond, VA -- where he quietly and suddenly succumbed to a heart attack. That was on the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend 1984. Frank would be 91 had he lived to this moment.

These are not macabre stories but life events that have shaped members of my family and framed my own journey as a son, friend, brother, husband and father. As I experienced the "re-membering" of my Dad's death on 30 March 1968, it wasn't me going back to that moment and those times. I have done that (years ago) and found myself only wallowing in the sentiment of a 17 year old who had no experiences of life by which to compare the tragedy that seemed to overpower me at that time. Instead, the event came to me as a "presence of moment" -- and I was placing myself, the 59 year old son who did graduate from high school, graduated from college, served in the armed forces, completed graduate school and engaged the world as a parish priest for better than three decades. Now, having wrestled with death and witnessed the deaths of colleagues, friends, parishioners and patients too numerous to count, my perspective is different.

I am not immune to the pain of death. If anything, I have become much more sensitive to it. I know it by sight, sound, smell and touch. I've journeyed with those who have grieved their losses. I have grieved with them in my own heart...privately in order to be fully present to them in their moment.

In the early morning hours of 3 March 2009, I received a call I had dreaded for several weeks. It was the younger brother of one of my very dearest friends and colleagues, Fr. Paul Wolfe. Paul had died shortly before...after nearly four years of struggle with cancer. This was really close to home. Paul and I were only four months apart in age. Both of us grew up in Central Florida. We were classmates during our graduate studies at Nashotah House Seminary. We partnered in the operation of a consulting organization for the Church until I left to be Dean of the Cathedral in South Bend, IN in 1993. We talked and emailed regularly over the years...and almost daily over the four years of his illness. When one looks into the coffin of a friend like that, it is much like looking into a mirror.

I was a patient at St. Luke's Hospital the two days prior to the first anniversary of Paul's death. Chest pain and vascular issues had created concern for my cardiologists, and they determined that I would have a cardiac catheterization....immediately. It would be my third such procedure, since the discovery of the genetic condition that laid me out in the cathedral, January 1995. The results showed nothing new...in fact, remarkably clear coronary arteries and very good heart pressures. The problem? A change in medication that led to coronary artery spasms....chest pain. Back on the original med and no more chest pain.

The morning after my release from the hospital, I was engaged in contemplative prayer and giving thanks for renewed health. Paul "came to me" without my specifically thinking of this being the anniversary date. Again, this moment was not going back to the feelings and experiences of that week a year ago (I preached at his Requiem liturgy). Instead, the event came to me as an invitation into the present. What have I learned about myself and my life since that week? What have I learned about others and the capacity to be open to the painful moments of their journeys? Have I grown and changed? Or, have I simply wallowed in the mire of self-pity, fear and attendant anxieties surrounding the inevitabilities of this life journey?

From that, I took the mantra that I put forth in my last blog. I am aging --- NOT getting old.

Now that we have entered the holiest three days of the Christian Year (known historically as the Triduum Sacrum), the temptation is to engage the liturgies of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and the Great Vigil of Easter as us looking back at the historical moments of those three days of Jesus' life. Nothing could be farther from the truth!

Nothing has changed in history about the human condition. We may be more sophisticated intellectually. We may have become a more compassionate and just people (MAYBE, but that is for the next blog). We still, however, must answer questions about who we are; why we are here; and what is our ultimate purpose.

If we are to do this in a manner that points us forward, we must place ourselves in these liturgies as a participant in the event as it is being made present to us right now...in the moment. "Love one another, as I have loved you." "Do this in remembrance of me." "Watch and pray with me." We must do that this Maundy Thursday night. "Why have you forsaken me." "I thirst." "Into your hands I commend my spirit." We must engage this struggle and pain on Good Friday. "He is not here, he has risen." "Why do you seek the living among the dead." "Touch me and know the truth." We must embrace what it means to be healed, restored and incorporated into the Body (salvation).

These Three Holy Days are our days. It is the "Presence of Moment" that brings all that has transpired into the experiences we are now having in this moment of our history. It is what we will take away from this that will determine how we grow forward....grow forward.

Blessings,

Fr. Fred+

Latitude

2010-03-24T12:20:00.003-05:00

Denise and I recently returned from a five day trip to San Diego, CA, where we had a wonderful visit with our elder daughter, Mary, who is currently living and working there. We also had a wonderful visit with dear friends, Fr. Jim and Laneta Carroll. Jim retired as Dean of St. Paul's Cathedral, San Diego in the mid 1990s and was a mentor for me in my early days as a cathedral dean. He is now becoming a mentor for my own approaching retirement. Besides all that, the weather cooperated wonderfully to make for a very satisfying week.

San Diego is also home for a big chunk of the United States Navy. That may not mean much to most folks, but, I was in the Navy from 1972-78 and served in the Submarine Force Atlantic Fleet (SUBLANT) as part of Submarine Squadron 14 in Holy Loch, Scotland. At that time, SUBRON 14 was home for ten fleet ballistic missile submarines -- lovingly known as "Boomers." As I was completing that tour of duty and preparing to enter graduate studies, the Navy offered me an opportunity for a career the likes of which almost dissuaded me from my vocational path toward priesthood. There is still a part of me that is connected to all things Navy -- especially submarines. Being in San Diego was something akin to a wide-eyed kid at Christmas.

San Diego is home to the Naval 3rd Fleet...a large number of surface war ships and support vessels. North Island Naval Air Station is home for a number of helicopter squadrons and fixed wing attack and support squadrons -- as well as the port for three of the Navy's latest aircraft carriers (all of which are now powered by nuclear reactors). Also on Coronado Island is the Naval Amphibious Base, which is also home to the Navy SEALS training center. Across the harbor, on Point Loma, is a Submarine Fast Attack Squadron. Fast Attack submarines do not carry missiles. They are built for speed and at-sea warfare. The Los Angeles and Seawolf class subs are part of the San Diego squadron (
Boomers are located in other ports). About 95,000 Navy personnel make up the crews and shore support for these vessels and bases...as well as communications and research facilities. San Diego is a Navy town!

I share all of this because it is the environment in which I had a revelation. In the midst of all these vessels...surface, air and sub-surface...I became aware that NOT A SINGLE ONE of these vessels were in use at the time I was in the Navy. All of the submarines (and I mean every single one) of both missile and fast-attack class have either been dismantled or decommissioned and used for training or museum purposes. The USS Midway, as well as all more advanced Essex class aircraft carriers, are decommissioned. The Midway is at San Diego and is now a museum (an extremely good one). As I became transfixed with nostalgia, I did so amidst a technology that did not exist 35 years ago. The technology with which I was familiar and trained to engage is the stuff of Clancy's book, Hunt for Red October. Yes, that technology existed -- and has been almost totally superseded.

None of this stopped me from being excited about watching the return and deployment of three submarines; the deployment of the USS Carl Vinson -- one of the two aircraft carriers in port; the coming and going of several destroyer frigates; the training of amphibious boat crews; a glimpse of SEALS in the midst of BUD/S training (a rare sight, since they work in a secluded part of the pacific beach coast of Coronado); and the constant coming and going of Sea Hawk, Sea Knight and Cobra helicopters (the Sea Hawks are the Navy version of the Army's Black Hawks). I think Denise grew weary of my rather regular chatter describing what I was seeing.

There was a temptation in all of this to say to myself, "I wish it could be like it was when I was on active duty." This occurred especially while I was touring aboard the USS Midway. Her last deployment was Desert Storm in 1991. She was decommissioned in 1992. It was the technology at work when I was active. Two compartments aboard the Midway caught me up short. The communications compartment was huge and contained several rows with stacked receivers and transponders. The tactical warfare station was large and contained desk-sized screens for fixing aircraft and surface craft positions in deployment. In a modern aircraft carrier, all of this equipment is located in a few systems no larger than a standard computer network tower (a little larger than a good-sized briefcase) and screens are mobile with laptop-style equipment. Everything is digital and high definition. Engines are streamlined turbines running on clean fuels or nuclear power.

Now for the revelation. Having been ordained in the Episcopal Church for nearly thirty-two years, I have exceeded a generation of church history. We have grown in our understanding of the technologies of human behavior and relational dynamics. We have been able to grasp more of the capacity and capability of the human body, mind and spirit in the past 30 years than has been able to be understood in almost all of human history prior to our time. Any of us ordained over 25 years ago has
experienced a huge shift in how ecclesial life is both lived and led. Priesthood, while still the bastion of the "last of the generalist" vocations, requires more skill in each of the areas included in that "generalist" category. Everyone wants a priest who can be a business leader, spiritual master, brilliant teacher, competent psychologist, capable sociologist, investment capitalist, engaging conversationalist and skilled politician. Yet, I do not know a priest who has all (or even most) of those skills.

I love being a generalist. It fits my personality and range of interests and capabilities. Yet, there are still times I think of what it might have been like to be a Naval officer specializing in surface intelligence...having only one discipline. Nostalgia does that to a person. I chose not to do that. Later, as a priest, I was, once again, offered a commission to be a Chaplain in the Navy. Again, I turned it down. I had a new wife, and we were planning a family. Deployment for long periods did not suit our relationship. Long hours were enough.

Real growth means change. Change is the only constant in human life and community. Sorry, folks, but that is the absolute, unavoidable truth. Yet, in the Episcopal Church especially, the slogan seems to be "Forward to the 1950s" (or 60s...pick your decade or century). We want new, young people filing our parishes, but we want to do so with technologies and environments that have no meaning to them. Many folks of my age and older eagerly grab up the latest cell phones, televisions, DVR and Blue Ray players, and the host of programs constantly emerging.

While doing all that, we doggedly hold onto a black & white, medieval, analog-style spirituality. One might say that spirituality is the one thing that never changes. WRONG. God is dynamic. The human spirit has limitless potential and capacity. In all the centuries of Judaism and Christianity, we have only scratched the surface of the dynamics of the human connectivity to God and all things spiritual. It never ceases to amaze me just how much there is to learn about this thing we call "spirituality" and its expression in worship and relationships. My sadness comes from not having the time to engage it all in what is left of my lifetime (at age 59, limitation is becoming part of my thinking).

I have determined that "being old" is not a condition of relationship with God. Age is non sequitur to being old. Old has to do with disconnection and loss of vision -- and as such might be termed a sin (that's a moral theology leap). It has to do with black and white/analog thinking in an HD color/digital reality. Being old has to do with looking backward for the Living God, rather than forward for the emerging Kingdom -- where the Living God beckons us. Age is a reality, and with it comes wisdom. Old is a self-imposed refusal to continue growth. I have aged, but I refuse to be old -- ever.

At what latitude do we dwell in life? As I sat on the beaches, rocks and in the parks of San Diego and watched the modern Navy at work, I felt proud to have been part of that community. While the technology has progressed beyond my time of training and engagement, I deeply appreciate what the men and women now "at the helms" can accomplish in providing protection and security. The only way I can be a spiritual mentor to these folks is to be an intrepid explorer of spiritual landscape...alive in this moment of God's revelation. Living in another time and place is simply being old.

Blessings,

Fr. Fred+

Temporal Manifestation of an Eternal Quality

2010-02-17T09:05:00.002-06:00

I have a fairly new friend in The Rev. Dr. Rob Voyle. Rob is originally from New Zealand and makes his home in the Portland, Oregon area with his wife Kim. Rob is an Episcopal Priest and holds a doctorate in Psychology...as does his wife. Together, they own and direct the Clergy Leadership Institute. Rob has taken the best of industrial and business psychology and applied it to the Church through a methodoloy known as Appreciative Inquiry.

While I had been introduced to the Appreciative Inquiry (henceforth called AI in this blog) a few years ago at General Convention (via Rob's exhibit booth), it was not until January 2009 that three of us from the Diocese of West Missouri attended the foundation AI course taught by Rob and Kim. In May, we attended the second level AI course. Our training is to help resource congregations in our diocese with leadership and development tools for future ministry. AI is a powerful set of tools and resources that I am coming to increasingly utilize.

One of the benefits of being part of the diocesan AI team is that we have a monthly conference call practicum with Rob. In the hour long conference, we present case studies and situations that reflect either our own work or the work of an anonymous diocesan entity and are coached by Rob on the application of AI technology and methodology. It is in the latest of these coaching sessions that Rob reflected what I have used as a title for this blog. "What is the temporal manifestation of an eternal quality...?

For the theologian and sacramental Christian, the answer to that question is "sacrament." The classic definition of a sacrament: "The outward and visible sign of and inward and spiritual Grace, given to us by Christ as a sure and certain means by which we receive that Grace." The ancient Celtic Christian would say: "The place at which heaven touches earth...a thin place." The First Nations (Native American) people would say: "Any time and place where Wakan-Tanka (God) erupts through creation..." In any definition, it is an incarnational moment. One of my confirmation students many years ago said it best: "It's when God puts on clothes.."

We are a spatial people. Our brains are geared to time and space orientation. Reality is measured by our place and by the moment of that placement. We rely upon what is around us to both locate us and direct us as we move about. It's automatic and instantaneous. No secret here. It simply happens. To further lock us into this definition of reality, we provide a deeper definition to the object of spatial relationship. E.g.: a tree is a tree. It is defined by shape, size, species and qualities (bark, leaves, wood, etc). However, a tree surgeon -- using special equipment -- can detect the movement of life-giving liquids through special vessels within the wood. Other life sounds can be detected as well. The tree has "voice." It's a spatial quality, but one not observable.

More striking is the nature of fauna...creature...reality. We can identify spatially an animal of a certain type and even describe its characteristics. What is not so readily apparent is the behavior it may exhibit or the motivations behind the behavior. For instance, on Sunday evening, I was sitting at a table in our parish hall, leading a class in a gifts of ministry exercise. I felt something move up my right leg rapidly. Thinking it was just the effects of my light myopathy, I simply rubbed the area below my knee. About 30 minutes later, I felt a burning/itching sensation on the inside of my knee. Later examination in my office showed a nasty welt that looked like a giant mosquito bite. At home, my wife identified it as a spider bite.

It just happened that my annual physical was scheduled for Monday morning. I showed my doc, who confirmed it. As he examined it, he reflected, "She was a cranky little booger." It is usually the female who bites, and she did leave a nice gift...one that put me on antibiotics and topical anti-coagulant. I never saw the spider, so my ability to identify species is impossible. The fang marks were unmistakable for those (like my doctor) who immediately identified it. The effects were also obvious. Whatever this angry Ichtomi (Lakota for spider...a trickster in myth) had as venom, my body was not dealing with especially well.

Thus, without seeing the creature, we can identify it by behavior. We can only guess what provoked a bite. It could well be that, when I brushed my leg, I hit the creature and literally made it mad. Does a spider have the capacity for anger? Or, is it just reflex to what appears to be a life-threatening gesture? That's the unseen quality.

Rabbi Edwin Friedman (Family Systems specialist and mentor, who died in 1996) once told a group of us: "Say your best friend, who is also one of your clergy colleagues, is elected bishop and suddenly changes his way of relating to you; what quality within him or you has shifted so that he/she no longer seems like your best friend?" The obvious outward manifestation is a change of professional position and physical location. The person, however, should be (by all measurable qualities) the same person you have known for all those years. Is there a new eternal quality...inward disposition....Grace...at work?

Thomas 'a Becket, before he became the Archbishop of Canterbury in 1162, was King Henry II's Chancellor. They were very close personal friends as well. Upon accession to the See of Canterbury, Thomas undertook a more austere and ascetical lifestyle...becoming a strong advocate for the work of the Church. The relationship between Becket and Henry II took a very different course. In the end, responding to a frustrated gesture from Henry, four knights entered Canterbury Cathedral and killed Thomas 'a Becket at the foot of one of the chapel altars.

It would seem that Becket's encounter with what is holy in his life shifted his perception of reality. He suddenly began to see God at work in places not before noticed. In like manner, we have expectations of persons who occupy certain roles in our cultural environments. Our perception of reality...wherever it is formed...creates our inner landscape of identification. When someone or something functions outside those expectations, our reality is set askew. We can be almost literally thrown off-balance. (I have done this both in frustration and as a "shift technique" in my work as a priest...my goal being to have folks "expect the unexpected").

As I have spent time with the Lakota community, I have learned a great deal about incarnational reality....temporal manifestations of an eternal quality. It is the art of actually seeing instead of just looking and really listening instead of just hearing. In the practice of this art, a different frame of reality emerges. It's the same spatial material but now reflecting an eternal quality. Critics call this "panentheism." Such critique is not accurate. Panentheism expresses that all things are in God. Pantheism expresses that all things contain God. In Celtic and First Nations theology, God is immanent and can be reflected in any element of creation chosen for a temporal manifestation (outward sign).

The first principle of Biblical theology is that humans are created "Imago Dei"...in the image of God. In Hebrew, the breath (ruach) of God is breathed into this creature and we are filled with God's nature (nephesh). Without getting into the complexities of language, if our nature is allowed to be a complete part of our reality, we reflect Grace (God's abiding love). If we walk with this understanding, it is not a leap to see that, if creation emanates from the work of God, God can utilize what has been created to manifest Presence into spatial reality. Thus, I could see "cloud sign" as a response to prayer. A birch tree can reflect the connectedness between God and our moment of reality (in the Sundance). A spring can reflect healing Grace (Colman's well in the Burren of west Ireland). It can happen only once...or as many times as God choses to utilize the stuff of creation. THE place it is guaranteed to happen regularly is through us humans. We have been called forth for that purpose.

The season of Lent begins today. A good, practical way to address the above meanderings is: Does your heart follow your head? Or, does your head follow your heart? Or, do head and heart arrive at the same place together? The real loss is if the heart never shows up. A good discipline is to discover your heart (true self) and allow it to inform your head. Try it. Seriously, amazing things happen!

Blessings,

Fr. Fred+

Signs and Wonders: Part II -- Light/Dark/Cloud

2010-01-31T11:50:00.012-06:00

The clearest and truest things are the darkest and most dubious to us, and consequently we flee from what most suits us. We embrace what fills our eyes with the most light and satisfaction and run after what is the very worst thing for us, and we fall at every step. In how much danger and fear do humans live, since the very light of their natural eyes, which ought to be their guide, is the first to deceive them in their journey to God, and since they must keep their eyes shut and tread the path in darkness if they want to be sure of where they are going and be safeguarded against the enemies of their house, their senses and faculties.” -- St. John of the Cross (Dark Night, Book 2, Chapter 16, para. 12)

St. John of the Cross was a Spanish Carmelite mystic whose life spans the second half of the 16th Century. His prose and poems are part of a mystic tradition that includes Teresa of Avila and follows such luminaries as St. Julian of Norwich. In the midst of what has come to be known as the "Dark Ages," these writers found much for which to be excited and profoundly thankful. It is St. John of the Cross I think most about when it comes to understanding signs and wonders that surround us.

A distinct void has emerged between what we are created to "see" and what we actually see in the world about us. In part, our modern dichotomy between the two types of reality is due to the philosophical work of Rene Descartes and the continental rationalist movement of the 17th Century. To be sure, the problem of duality of nature was already with us humans, but the rendering of that problem into a system of thought gave ultimate proof of what deeply concerned St. John of the Cross in his mystical prayer experience.

In my time with the Lakota (known in American history as the Sioux) in 2008, I found something that I had only read about in the Celtic mystical tradition. It was that tradition in Scotland, Wales and Ireland that gave classic Anglicanism its uniqueness among Western Christian traditions. I had been given a grant by the Lilly Foundation in 1999 to undertake the overseas study. It was during that period (1999-2000) that I began to conjecture about similarities in the Celtic tradition and that of First Nations people in our country.

I was sitting with my new Lakota mentor on a stone wall in the city park of Hill City...in the Black Hills...after a picnic lunch organized by my host to meet Ben. Ben is an archaeologist by trade, but spends a great deal of time providing spiritual direction using the resources of his culture and tradition. As we talked, he asked me what I heard. After naming several things that, he said, everyone else could hear, he told me to listen to the sounds in the hills. Only when he finally pointed it out could I discern the call of an elk. Rutting season was underway.

Ben asked me what I saw around me. Again, I guessed things that, he said, everyone could see. He asked me to "really see." Finally, he pointed out the red borders on the leaves of the hedge plants along a stream. That red is the first sign of leaves turning. It was mid-August 2007. The particular call of the elk and the color on the leaves of this particular plant signalled an early fall...maybe six weeks early in the Black Hills. Ben concluded his object lesson: "We look, but we do not see; we hear, but we do not listen." By the way, fall was indeed six week early that year!

The Christian mystical tradition taps into a place within us that is part of every human construct. We are born with the facility to experience the larger reality that is not bound by the rules and laws of our physical senses. They are meant to work in tandem to provide us with the capability to physically experience the world about us in its most complete presentation. Things are going on all around us that beg to be noticed. They can't be measured, quantified or rationalized. These things are, nevertheless, profoundly real and present us with a huge amount of information.

Again, as part of my sabbatical experience, I had been instructed to meet a woman at the Crazy Horse Monument museum. I would find her in the crafts area of the museum at a particular table. I did as I was bid and found her. Her name is Lula Red Cloud. She is the great-great-granddaughter of Chief Red Cloud, who led the Oglala Lakota and was instrumental in both the Plains Wars and brokering the final peace. Lula was wonderfully gracious. In our conversation, she suddenly shifted her focus and spoke firmly, "You must stop to visit Chief Red Cloud's grave at the Red Cloud School near the village of Pine Ridge. Since I was going down to the Pine Ridge Reservation later in the week, I promised I would do as she bid me.

Four days later, I found myself walking to the back of the school campus and the hundred yard hike to the cemetery. The Jesuits had been invited by Chief Red Cloud to start a school in 1890 and still operate this rather large school to this day. It is the parish cemetery I now found myself entering. There were wooden and stone crosses and placards with Oglala names that dated back 120 years. After some searching, I found Red Cloud's sarcophagus near the back of the cemetery. His wife's grave was beside his. While it was a simple stone sarcophagus, there was something powerful and humbling about being there. I was strongly moved to speak, and what I uttered came from somewhere other than my rational thought processes. While most of that is deeply personal, I ended by praying that what I would accomplish in my work over the coming months would bring our two cultures together in new ways and benefit his people.

I sat on a stone bench at the foot of the grave site for some minutes. During that time, I heard someone say, "You must just do this thing." No one was around. I was alone and it was the middle of the day. I made my way back down the path to the school and spent some time in the museum -- ending with a conversation in the bookstore with a Jesuit teacher at the school. Since it was well past lunch time, I grabbed a bottle of water and a power bar from my car trunk, tucked myself into the front seat and settled back to eat and rest.

I looked up at the sky in front of me and, as I looked between two trees that bordered the path to the cemetery, I saw a cloud formation emerging from behind one tree. It was the perfect form of an eagle in flight...including a hole in the cloud where the eye of the eagle would be. It was unmistakable! I watched with amazement, and heard myself say, "no way!" As the cloud began to disappear behind the opposite tree, I tossed by powerbar and water bottle into the other seat, sprang from the car and sprinted down the path to see the cloud again. When I got to the place I could see, the eagle formation had come almost completely apart and no longer resembled anything like an eagle. I was stunned!

This image would not leave me. I even dreamed about it. Five days later, I was visiting with my mentor, Ben, over coffee. I told him nervously about what I had experienced at Red Cloud School. In an absolutely casual and nonchalant manner, Ben responded, "Oh, that is cloud sign. Happens all the time, if you have eyes to see it. You obviously did have those eyes open that day." He explained about how prayer is often answered and what might be experienced in their spirituality. I took this in.

The following week, I was once again on Pine Ridge Reservation, and in the village of Kyle. I was meeting another mentor for lunch. Fr. Lyle Noisy Hawk is an Episcopal Priest and psychotherapist. He works for the mental health division of the only hospital on the reservation and specializes in adolescent mental health. Lyle is in his mid 60s, quiet and very affable...laughing easily. We went to a small diner for lunch, and, after renewing our relationship (I have known Lyle for some time), I tell him my experience at Red Cloud School.

Here it gets spooky. With the same nonchalant manner as Ben, Lyle shrugged and simply said, "Oh, that's cloud sign. It happens all the time, if you are predisposed to be seeing instead of just looking." Okay, I'm done in at this point. Lyle is a theologian and psychologist. Ben is an archaeologist and professor. These are not "simple folks." I'm sitting with serious science and spiritual discipline in the person of Lyle.

Lyle is gracious and patient, as all Lakota are, in explaining a level of spirituality that incorporates how God gives signs to us using all forms of physical creation. "This isn't crackpot juju or whimsy," Lyle explained. "This is how Wakan-Tanka (God...the Spirit) works and has worked from the beginning." I asked specifically about the eagle. "The eagle is special to our people. It is the Messenger. What the eagle cloud formation was saying is that your prayer has been heard and honored as sincere." That's it. Nothing more or less. Lyle concluded by saying it is doubtful that anyone else would necessarily have seen that cloud formation. It was for me.

Signs and wonders. It is the theme of Epiphanytide. St. John of the Cross tells us that, in order not to be fooled by what we think we see...or what we want to see...we must close our eyes to that reality and trust what dwells in the darkness...beyond our sight. We must enter the "cloud of unknowing" (John of the Cross's metaphor). I have to admit, I look and hear very differently these days. It is truly amazing what is going on right in our midst. And, I am just getting started!

Blessings,

Fred+

Signs and Wonders: Part I -- The Magi

2010-01-11T18:28:00.005-06:00

At St. Andrew's, we celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany (6 January) on the Sunday closest to the day. It worked even better this year for us to do this on 3 January, since it was the only window we seemed to have in a long streak of really ugly winter weather. For some years now, our parish has had a tradition of having a visit from the Magi...the Three Wise Men.

Now, we are not talking about three guys dressed in robes and crowns; and each singing the appropriate verse of the hymn, "We Three Kings..." We have artists in our parish, and one in particular, who designed and built large puppets that are piloted by guys who are strapped inside. When mobile, they stand nearly 10 feet high. the construction is light enough for a healthy adult with good muscle tone to navigate the puppet with relative ease. They are magnificent!

They each come down the center aisle from the back of the Church as the particular verse pertaining to that wise man is sung (gold, frankincense, myrrh...you know the hymn/carol). They give reverence to Jesus and to one another and stand still during the proclamation of the Epiphany Gospel. Afterward, they amble back to the entry of the church as appropriate music is played (our organist/music director has a flair for making this an even more impressive treat).

That is, until this year. Something went quite wrong. The clergy and music director work on crafting liturgical worship on a schedule that begins months before the event. The final bulletin, that sets the liturgical format, is reviewed at least twice before going to press. Our communications director (staff person) is very careful in crafting our publications, which includes the bulletins. But, this time, something got out of sync. The music was not in the right place, and we didn't catch the glitch until after the first liturgy of 3 January had begun (we have two liturgies: 8am and 10:15am on Sunday mornings). The Three Kings hymn came and went...in the wrong place. No giant magi appeared. The Gospel hymn (which should have been the Three Kings hymn) came and went. Still no giant magi puppets. Then, suddenly, as the acolytes and Deacon were starting to return to the Chancel, after the Gospel, the first of the three magi puppets comes in and heads resolutely up the aisle....followed by the other two in pretty fast succession.

Not to be undone by this, one of my Associates comes over to me (I was presiding and preaching at this 8am liturgy) with a querie. After a lightning fast consult, Mother Anne dashes to the organist with the plan. Within seconds...literally...we are singing (again), "We Three Kings."

Now, I have a quandry. I have prepared a sermon that is appropriate for the day but does not have three ten foot puppets standing about. I have been doing worship as a priest for 31 years. For almost 30 of those, I have not used a text for sermons. I do all the work of preparation, design the presentation and then preach extemporaneously (without notes). It's just a gift. This time, being free of text really paid off. I had no idea how to recraft what was already in motion in my head/heart. I stared at the Altar feeling a rather stark blankness. Then, it happened. It was like fast moving doors opening and closing in my head...moving things about. In what seemed like a long time (but folks around me said I was only motionless about 15 seconds), I knew exactly how to make this thing work.

As the first magi puppet began his exit march, I raised a hand and shouted, "A moment sir!" The puppet master inside spun professionally and faced me. I bid him return, for I had some things to address to him and his two fellow travelers. This began a 10 minute discourse on the meaning of signs and wonders. Whatever God did in those moments, it all came together in an almost seamless fashion. I finished, the magi bowed to me, and I to them, music started, and they headed home by another way (as tradition has it), and I...more spent than usual...returned to my prayer desk to continue the balance of our Eucharistic liturgy. Needless to say, a quick and focused meeting after 8am made it work at 10:15am without the panic. In fact, I had the magi there with the kids for a special time during the sermon...nothing like the original plan.

Signs and wonders happen all around us. They are happening all the time. What seems like chaos one minute can become a transformational opportunity the very next moment. It does require us to be unfettered by convention, routine or hard-wired expectations. Above all, for God to break into our moment requires flexibility. What passed for convention and expectation at the time of Jesus' birth was shattered as three foreigners...each from a different country...saw something that stirred them from the relative safety of their environments, put them on the road to an unknown destination, caused them to meet along the way and join forces to continue the journey...bearing a kind of physical wealth that would have made travel hazardous at best.

The distance from the back of St. Andrew's parish church to the chancel steps is about 100 feet. This is a very short journey by comparison to the first century journey in faith. It took each magi puppet, piloted by its puppet master, about two minutes to get from back to front. In the space of about five minutes, everything about what I had planned to do as a homiletic reflection shifted radically. This is the work of God's Grace....God "showing up." The ability of the moment to say, "what now?" in a way that allowed ultimate flexibility and openness created a means by which connections could be made for those gathered to experience Grace in sacramental worship. This was both a sign and wonder. It's moments like these that make this vocation truly exciting!

Blessings,

Fred+

Be It Resolved

2009-12-31T12:39:00.002-06:00

While I don't think it a pastoral matter, I do often get the question, "What are your New Year's resolutions?" There was a time that I would get rather elaborate in my response -- laying out a game plan for the coming year that seemed impressive and genuinely transformational. I don't do that anymore.

A couple of years back, I went to the local gym, where I work out, right after the new year. The place was packed (when usually it was not). Since I had been a member only a few months, I asked one of the trainers what had happened. His response was in three words: "New Year's Resolutions." For the next three or so weeks, the place continued to be crowded at the times I could work into my schedule. By the middle of February, however, the numbers had dwindled to the point that I could move about with my earlier accustomed ease. What changed?

While opening the subject of resolutions, it is also a good place to mention the close relative of the New Year's Resolution. It is the Lenten Discipline. What!? Hey, it is only 1.5 months away. It will be here before you know it. Folks do the same thing with Lent. A complicated and robust plan for the keeping of a Holy Lent is set forth by the well-meaning Christian. When the question is asked by equally well-meaning clergy, "How's your Lenten Rule going?" The answer is often a mumbled something akin to "I blew it."

What is happening here? Simply put, the human will follows the same principles of physics as do other entitities: a body in motion tends to move toward a state of rest (inactivity). One can research this through the first two laws of thermodynamics and following the research that produced the Heisenberg Principle of Uncertainty. It takes energy to do work. The dissipation of that energy will render the object less and less effective in the function of that work. Other dynamics can produce forces that will also hinder the object's effective ability to perform work. This is a psychological (behavioral) truth as well as one of physics.

Why this "mumbojumbo?" As a pastoral statement: Any attempt to will one's self into a permanent resolve (resolution) will ultimately fail as the internal and external forces dissipate the energy to uphold the initial resolve. St. Paul said it a bit differently: "For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." (Romans 7:15 NIV). Does this not mean that, all things being equal, we end up a lump? Yes! We have a term for it: Couch Potato.

My point here is to suggest that, any resolution that we make as an act of will is going to be rendered ineffective over time. In fact, it will cease be be an action at all. That's why the resolve to exercise daily at the beginning of the year lasts only about six to eight weeks for most folks. That's why the Lenten Rule, so energetically embraced on Ash Wednesday, is toast by the third week of Lent. We want to do it, but we end up not doing it well or even at all. That was St. Paul's point exactly.

Now that I have produced the conundrum, how do we deal with the need to make positive, healthy and useful changes in our lives? We look at ourselves in the mirror and say, "I need to lose 20 lbs." or, "I need to quit smoking." The list goes on. The motivating question is, "For what reason do I need to do these things?" We may have great intentions. Our spouse is urging us. We don't like what we see or what we are doing. We have other feelings of angst or pain that might be motivating us. But, any effort to make any change in any part of our lives is, by definition, work. It requires us to think and act on a new and regular level. It requires energy. The dissipation of energy reduces our resolve by a mathematically measured amount. Over time, we quit doing or being that resolve and return to the former, "easier" state of being and doing.

UNLESS, something deeper motivates us. About three years ago, my blood chemistry went haywire. I have genes (it seems) that mitigate against a normal level of cholesterol and triglycerides. Somewhere between visits to my primary care physician, both of those jumped to an alarmingly high number....way above normal. Within the space of a year, I was pre-diabetic with cholesterol levels at 400 and triglycerides at 960. Blood sugar ratios were dangerously high. I resolved to do something about it. I exercised, ate sensibly and willed myself to avoid foods that would exacerbate the problem. It wasn't enough. Holidays would come. With them came the confections and homemade comfort foods that were high in fats and sugars. My will collapsed. Being a priest, the constant temptations from well-meaning parishioners simply could not be avoided (I used the rationale: 'I'll hurt their feelings.').

In late November 2008, my cardiologist connected me with one of his associates who specializes in vascular problems (blood stuff). He was very forthright and honest, as he carefully read my chart and drew on his dry erase board. "Fred, you are a man on a course that will lead to certain death unless you can pull out of this mess. You are on the verge of becoming a full-blown Type II diabetic. You are pumping sludge with the amount of cholesterol and triglycerides in your system. You are allergic to statin medications. There are a few things left, and we can help." Thereupon, he sent me to a vascular nutritionist. I have met the model for what all drill sargeants become in the military. I also met a deeper motivation for what I now work on earnestly.

Going deep means finding the place where energy and motion are generated. I do not mean physical energy and motion. I mean the kind that shapes the human will. Even with the background, training and experience of my vocation, I had failed to go to that place with this issue. After all, this is about physiology and genetics.

In the quiet of my centering and contemplative prayer practices, I laid forth this issue....simply laid it there. It is the way of this kind of prayer work. In a space of time (for me, about 6 weeks), I became acutely aware that the only one whose pleasure I care about is the One who created me. What really matters is what I do by extension of that createdness. Okay, here's another analogy (after all, Jesus taught exclusively with metaphors). In the reality of God, God is perpetually in motion and constantly creating. God is like the perpetual fuel atomic reactor. If we recognize our true nature as created with God at the center of our being, that energy is what motivates us and provides the kind of resolve that never quits.

This is not a longshot. This is as fundamental to spirituality as thermodynamic laws are to physics...even more so. St. Paul concluded that, in order to do ultimate good, he had to surrender to the Spirit of God desiring to work in him. We must be in partnership with our true Self in that created image.

I did the ultimate no-no. I played Gideon on this one. I was doing really well with all of this in the spring and summer. I was even doing really well with an untimely and rather disturbing stressor in my professional life that came along in late summer. Then, in November, I said (seriously), "Okay, I'm backing off a bit. I think I've got this. I can do it myself now."

Disaster! I just got my numbers today for the latest vascular workup. My blood chemistry is out of whack again. I've gained weight (which is what happens when triglycerides are running unchecked at high levels) and become tired a lot. My blood sugar jumped to the "pre..." level again. The Physician's Assistant who monitors me for the cardiologists scowled at me this morning in disturbed disbelief at what her computer showed her. I had to tell her, using the metaphor I've employed above, "I simply ran out of gas here...and out of resolve."

As I sipped a cup of coffee and ate a light breakfast (a totally legal breakfast mind you) after that session, I knew what my new year will entail. I will return to that place where I open myself to Grace and admit that I don't have a boundless will (I already knew this, but, remember, I played Gideon for six weeks). I know where true resolve is generated and the energy to sustain it. It is only meaningful if I am the vessel being launched .... without being dissuaded by temptations or promises of rest. I'm not ready for THAT kind of rest! Neither is God it appears. Neither am I willing to listen to other voices. Read how Paul interprets that in the latter part of Romans 7. I'm not going for a strike three.

Blessings this New Year of Grace!

Fred+

Prophets and Sages

2009-12-15T12:46:00.004-06:00

I just finished writing a Christmastide article for our parish newsletter, The Messenger, in which I shared a conversation I had with one of the employees at the local, Lee's Summit Starbuck's -- where I often get coffee in the morning on the way to the parish office (a drive of ca. 25 minutes from home). Jason is a young adult who is tall with long, dark hair that is neatly combed and in a ponytail. He always has a smile and a wave, whenever I come in. For some time, we have shared witicisms, comments on events of the moment and occasional short conversations around the global issues of the moment. He is relaxed and always has a perspective that stimulates further thought. He reminds me of a quiet philosopher-type. He obviously has solid roots. (to get information on the circumstances of this blog, please read my reflections at http://www.standrewkc.org/RectorsReflections.htm . It is entitled "Christmastide: "Living on the Edge" and will be online by Friday, 18 December).

Today I made a stop at "my" Starbuck's to grab a coffee, and Jason was at the counter. As he poured, I told him I had quoted him in my parish newsletter article. He seemed surprised and somewhat humbled. In reflection, I said to him, "It's not often one encounters a straight-forward prophet." He stood rigidly upright as he turned from the coffee urn. "I am not even close to being a prophet! I don't have those credentials," he stated firmly. At this response, I was not surprised nor offput. In fact, it is what I had hoped to hear.

A prophet is not self-proclaimed. It is a gift that happens and/or becomes entwined with a particular style of being in relationship that opens the doors to "insight possibilities." Prophecy is not fortune-telling, future-telling, or simple intellectual insight. It is a coming together of the current moment with spiritual, emotional and mental alertness to a vista that suddenly opens to how this moment can/will play out. It is at once multi-dimensional and all embracing. The door can shut as quickly as it opens -- leaving things much as they were. The prophet then moves on...maybe oblivious to how he/she has just been utilized by forces well beyond his/her control.

If someone proclaims him/her-self a prophet, go in the other direction. Self-proclamation is an act of hubris (spiritual pride) that can be both dangerous and deceptively manipulative. In true prophecy, one is a vessel or instrument and never the generator of what is being shared. Jason had no idea that our November conversation revealed something very important and precious to me -- and that the revelation from his words would set me on an internal journey of deeper theological truth. For him, what he shared was a moment of simple, insightful observation....nothing more.

Being a sage is much the same as being a prophet. The term "sage" renders the modern term "sagacious" and refers to wisdom. Wisdom is not intelligence or being smart or having an education. Like prophecy, wisdom can have those components; but wisdom is the capacity to see deeply into the larger field of reality and, from that observation, speak a deeper and more profound Truth about life and the world around us. It is the sense of "bedrock truth" one experiences in conversing with someone who is sharing wisdom. Like prophecy, wisdom is a gift of the moment. However, wisdom can often "walk with" a person for a long period of time.

One might think that a prophet or a wise person (one given to wisdom as defined above) possesses maturity or a kind of place in life where he or she is not prone to mistakes, frivolity, goofiness or simplicity. We might think of wisdom and prophecy as belonging to the serious, very mature and "stately" person. Nope. Think of the laughing monk, or the "buffoon" who is full of practical jokery and fun. Think of Yoda in Star Wars. Who would imagine such a goofy looking, impish little creature possessing extreme wisdom and the capacity for prophecy. Yoda captures it all in essence.

Prophets and Sages inhabit all levels of society and can be found in the most unlikely places. In fact, one doesn't necessarily find them at all. In my time with the Lakota, I have learned the power and simplicity of the "Medicine Man." Such a person, in Lakota culture, is not self-proclaimed. In fact, they will deny it if asked, "Are you a Medicine Man?" The term "medicine" in Lakota means spiritual depth and the recognition of God at work both in what is unseen as well as what is visible and useful in the world about us. The Medicine Man sees and can use these things as tools for teaching, healing and worship. They recognize and utilize the power of holy things in ways that benefit those in their community. It is the community, in seeing this, that bestows the title, "Medicine Man," on the individual. The Medicine Men that I have met are given to joking, laughing and behaving in a manner that may seem either frivilous or simple. Nothing could be farther from the truth. They possess depth, keen intelligence and insight that can be almost frightening when set loose. Then they simply go back to being themselves...genuine.

At this time of year, it is good to reflect on the prophets of the Hebrew Old Testament and Christian New Testament. John the Baptizer cried in the wilderness to prepare the way for one who would change the world. That tradition of momentary insight and proclamation still happens. This is the time of year to listen, look and slow down to encounter real moments of deeper Truth. Maybe the next conversation with someone in a coffee shop will create an opportunity to turn a corner in your life.

Blessings in this Holy Season,

Fred+

The Singer's Voice

2009-11-25T07:20:00.004-06:00

There is a person I have considered a good friend...at least from my place of relationship. She began her career as a singer -- and she had a quality voice that would have taken her possibly to the Met. But something happened. It doesn't seem to have been so much physical as it was other factors in her life. Whatever it was, she lost her voice. No, she did not lose the ability to speak, or even to sing, the qualities of her voice that produced the wonderful operatic tones did something like "lock up." I am not a physical or psychological diagnostician, so I cannot evaluate. I simply know that she is a wonderful person who lost the fullness of her singing voice.

I share this because life is fragile. What we have and value most is so easily lost. It is part of the human condition. I have a rare and privileged vocation that puts me fully in the place of the most fragile of human conditions. No amount of education, training or expertise ever prepares a person for the impact of the kinds of crises where loss of treasured resources of personhood are threatened or removed. God seems to have given me a gift to walk in those places with calmness and vision. There are no words to describe what I have experienced and the profound thankfulness I have for the privilege to be on such a life-journey.

As this Thanksgiving holiday approaches, I share both a reflection and an announcement. I awoke early this morning, made a cup of coffee and withdrew to my place of prayer with a heaviness of heart uncommon to my mornings. I began shedding tears of thanksgiving for those who have mentored me over the past 59 years (I'll be 59 on 30 Nov.). My parents -- both gone from this life. Bill Harben, my Scoutmaster in the Boy Scouts -- an ex-Marine from WWII, who was tough but loving and caring. He believed in me when it counted. Mrs. Sheffield, Mrs. Ting, Mrs. Ruth, Dr. Gordon, Dr. Kandzer and those teachers/professors who encouraged me to go far beyond what I thought possible in my growing years. Coach Bill Duncan, who I hated but came to love for teaching me athletic and personal stamina. Dr. Sidney Jourard, under whom I studied at the University of Florida in psychology for introducing me to and encouraging me in the farther reaches of the human mind and heart. Dr. William Maples who awakened a deep love for human life....past and present...in all its forms. Fathers/Drs. Louis Weil, Ignatius Hunt, James Griffis, William Peterson, Richard Greatwood, John Ruef, Robert Cooper and Dr. James Dunkly who opened the doors of theology, liturgy, biblical literature and pastoralia in shaping my vocation as a priest at Nashotah House. They saw vocation more clearly than I did. LCDR John McCarthy, MMC Frame, Adm. Albert Kelln, CDR Walter Hubbell, YNCS Hank Buermeyer, Vice Adm. Rickover, Adm. Lewis and those of my Navy experience for discipline, courage in the face of big odds, stamina and a striving for excellence that I will always carry with me. Bishop William Folwell, who brought me into this vocation, ordained me and never let me (and many others) feel alone in the field of parish ministry. Bishops Vogel (who ordained me a priest), Gray, Little, Barry Howe, and others who have been either my authorities or colleagues (or both) for wisdom, patience and perseverance in the stresses of parochial leadership.

Then there are colleagues, parishioners and friends outside the Church who are too numerous to mention: save these, Dr. Kern Trembath and Fr. Paul Wolfe (at whose funeral I preached in March...my brother whose voice I deeply miss). Both have almost literally saved my life and my voice when I despaired the most. Don and Ron, who are current dear friends not in the Church, who caught me when I fell and raised me up. Ed, my spiritual director who challenges and holds me up. Larry, who believed in me when others did not. There are parishioners in my current cure, who are more precious to me than they know. I especially give thanks to Fr. Richard ("Dad") Bowman. He was my spiritual director for 16 years and "adopted" me as a son he never had, and I as a dad to fill a wounded place. I grieve that I could not be with him when he died three years ago. Fr. Tom Schultz, a monk of OHC who started teaching me deeper truths of the Spirit in 1980, and still teaches me whenever we can get together.

The above litany moved through my head and heart in the pre-dawn hours. Each had a story that became vivid in my inner light. I weep thanksgiving for each of them -- and the many others who individually came to consciousness. Childhood and adult friends...known and lost in the jumble of life. They are all out there.

Each of those persons gave me voice. They encouraged me to "sing my song" -- which is a way of saying "speak my truth in love." They gave me voice, and I owe it to them to use it. But, there is a catch.

Something is stuck. I've suddenly found it very hard to speak...that is, to express my deeper thoughts and feelings. It is the priest's craft and responsibility to speak -- even the things that are probably too hard to hear (even for the one speaking). I have run aground on the shoals of current opinion and judgment. The singer has lost his voice.

My craft is my life -- at least the biggest part of it. A vocation is a gift from God that is nurtured through education, training and experience....lots of experience. My capacity for this is being tested. If I talk too much, I may lose my voice altogether. I cannot risk that.

So, at this point, in the early hours of this morning, I made the decision: I am suspending the sharing of my thoughts, opinions, theological reflections and commentary on life events for a period of time. I need to conserve what I have to practice my craft from the pulpit and podium of my parish. What I have momentarily is small enough that (as my friend Kern Trembath says) I risk "using my seed corn" to keep the voice I need to do my primary work.

Chances are, I'll be back with articles, blogs and daily reflections on Facebook and other places. But, not for a time. Not until I figure out if my voice carries anything of real value and what shape it will take.

May your Thanksgiving be one of remembrance, gratefulness and joy. Make the season of Advent one of expectation. Slow down and live the experience. It's worth it.

Much love,

Fred+

Unfriend

2009-11-17T18:12:00.002-06:00

The newest member of my staff at St. Andrew's is Ric Shewell. He began his work as our new Youth and Family Ministries Director on 1 September. Ric fits the image of a young, twenty-something guy who is up on technology and involved in life as a relatively newlywed. He reminds guys like me (getting extremely close to age 59) that we did, indeed, once possess that kind of energy, resilience and spunk. He is just a year older than our elder daughter. It's a scary thing!

Ric enthusiastically announced yesterday that the New Oxford American Dictionary had chosen as its Word of the Year for 2009 -- "unfriend." This word, he shared, was brought into contemporary useage by Facebook. It describes the action by which a person can disconnect from another person who has been designated a "friend" in the Facebook community. While I could not immediately find the said named item on my Facebook page or those of my list of friends, I decided there had to be something to this.

I did what my best scientific and theological training prepared me to do: research. Monday evening found me reading a variety of articles from places like "SFGate" and "The Week," etc. Sure enough, all those sites had articles reporting that the NOAD had, indeed, named "unfriend" the Word of the Year for 2009. And, yep, it was due to the community building Facebook system that this word found its origin. Or, I wonder, had it?

More research. This time I accessed tools that one still has to gather on the shelves of one's personal library or the library of a college or public library (yes, Ric, books can still be found that are not electronic...take it from a geezer like me who has hundreds of them). Lo, I found the term "unfriended" as a 19th century word that reflected what happens when one is berieved after losing a family to calamity. Example: One journal from an 1848 wagon train on the California Trail reads, "The sickness swept through our numbers so fast that men and women were unfriended in the loss of their entire families..." What goes around, comes around.

In this case, I sat for a long time in my special prayer place early this morning and pondered this word, "unfriend." It is a singularly cold word. It has such finality. It has such abruptness. In my reflection, I could see how, in the years of westward expansion on this continent, life could truly have abruptness and finality. It was a harsh, unforgiving and often downright hostile environment. The term "unfriend" would aptly describe the almost instant desolation of something like cholera or murder (attacks of various kinds) or drowning in a river crossing. Then the word seems to lose visibility. It is almost never used until the past three years -- with the advent of cyber-systems created to bring folks together. Without any kind of prelude or warning, a person can be "unfriended" by a whole host of those who had, until that moment, been listed as "friends." One young person describes being "unfriended" by his college roommate, because they had an argument over leftovers in the refrigerator. Not only did his roommate unfriend him; but he convinced most of his other friends to use the "delete button" on their cyber-relationships. Massively cold!

We live in a world where people can be unfriended in a heartbeat: a click of the mouse, a shot from a weapon triggered by someone a half a world away, a "word" put out that destroys an individual's character, family and career. We have become very impersonal in the manner of our relationships. If we can unfriend with the click of a mouse, why can't we just turn our relationship with another person on or off like a switch. The term, "I'm off you," is something like saying, "I hereby unfriend you." Relationships these days seem really cheap and extremely fragile at best.

Lest I spiral into a place of sounding cynical, I want to offer some hopeful thoughts. Words carry power, but we don't have to be enslaved to those words. It's our choice. For instance, getting out of cyberspace and into a regular book keeps one honest in terms of touching what we learn and come to know. Even my Kindle needs to be put away, so that I can grapple with the weight of a good book.

Every human being is like me. I want to be loved, appreciated, held, touched and enjoyed across the table with a cup of coffee or a meal. Every one of us essentially wants the same thing. We need those things in order to have a truly authentic self-concept.

When things aren't going well, try taking a pen and applying it to real paper in order to reflect thoughts. Better yet, sit down with a person who seems to have generated bad feelings and dare ask the question: "What has changed in our relationship that seems to be causing pain?" The hard work of coming face-to-face is essential to maintaining a sense of true Self and an appreciation of the reality and fragility of another.

Even on Facebook, wouldn't it be better to write the person a personal message letting them know you need to break off the cyber-relationship for a time and why. THEN, give them the opportunity to reply? Give it some thought. Better yet, give it a try.

Maybe this Word of the Year will be short-lived.

Blessings,

Fred+

Wrestling with Fear

2009-10-26T15:19:00.003-05:00

Our parish Sunday Morning Adult Forum yesterday was the third in a four-week exploration of our economic melt-down and the Christian community's response to the many facets and effects encountered over this past 18 months (entitled, "God, Power and Wealth"). It was a fascinating discussion in which most everyone of the 19 people in the room contributed. The one word that kept entering the arena of expression was "fear."

One principle upon which most folks agreed was that the media has played a very large role in both promulgating and sustaining a high level of fear and anxiety within our culture. Sensationalism reigns supreme among the pundits and "talking heads" of both news and talk shows -- regardless of idelogical platform. There remains little or no objectivity in reporting events or critical material to the public. There seems to almost always be an emotional spin-up with any news story. But, that isn't the whole reason.

We are fearful people. The unknown or the uncontrollable can almost instantly create a fight/flight response grounded in fear. Behind that fear is a rather constant anxiety about our well-being and safety. And, even though we live in a time in history of unprecedented safety, fear still drives many of our responses to life events. Example: Almost anyone who lived in the 1950s and 1960s was exposed to two swine flu epidemics. I had swine flu as a young teenager and remember being really, really sick for about four days. My mother, an RN, kept me in bed, hydrated and medicated. I got over it just fine. The fact of the virus was duly reported, and folks were given precautions to take. Ultimately, the epidemic ran its course. I do not recall much fearfulness. When flu vaccines came on the scene, I started getting an annual vaccination and have continued for the past nearly 20 years. No one suggested we should be afraid of these injections....no more than we were fearful of polio vaccinations that began in the mid-1950s. Now, the media spin hard on the "bad news about vaccinations." Please.

Author Ursula LaGuin wrote a trilogy that I read in the early 1980s. The series was called the "Earthsea Trilogy." The first volume introduces the hero, Ged, who is discovered to have unique capabilities that defined him as a "mage" -- a wizard. He went to a special school on an isolated island of Earthsea. Being a tad cocky in his youth, Ged takes the bait of a taunting fellow student and conjures something very dark and sinister, which kills his teacher and begins chasing him all over Earthsea. Ultimately, almost dead, he finds himself at the doorstep of the old wizard that raised him. After being nursed back to health and sharing his deep fear and dread at the ugly blackness pursuing him, the old wizard tells him, "you must turn and face this thing...encounter it, or it will kill you surely."

What ensues is a back and forth flight-pursuit between Ged and this monstrous black thing. Entering a dark valley, Ged is now the one in pursuit. Finally, near exhaustion, the black ugliness turns, and Ged encounters it full force. They embrace and struggle wildly. Ged then looks into the face of the shadowy blackness of the creature and, behold.....it is his own face he sees. This creature is his death!

In the end, the struggle becomes integration. It is then that Ged is fully alive and truly complete. It is only then that he can become what he was created to be...a Mage of Earthsea.

Ursula LaGuin utilizes Jungian psychology to create a story that is the description of the struggle that each of us must engage. It is a story of encountering those things that we most fear, embracing them, learning their true identity and incorporating them into our daily life. Death is the ultimate "boogeyman," and the approach of All Saints' and All Souls' Days is one time to ponder the true hero's journey. The saint is one who has wrestled hard and deeply with the things most feared in life...and has prevailed. They become more alive, more complete and more truly reflective of the Image of God in which we have all been created. These aren't special people. They are the beacons that tell us all what we can and must do in order to be fully alive.

There are times when some folks will say to me, "you don't seem to care about....." (name it...an issue, a crisis, etc), or "you are not very responsive to....." (name it, someone's expressed anxiety or stress or discomfort). What is actually being said is that I am not resonating with the fear they are experiencing and, thereby, sharing it. It's the truth. Part of my vocation is to wrestle with the deeper things of life and creation. It often means walking in the "valley and shadow" of trauma, pain, grief, crises, etc. It is a blessing not to experience fear as a first order response to those situations. It gives me the time necessary to assess, question and identify....and, if necessary, pursue. It does no good whatever to respond to anxiety or fear with my own anxiety or fear.

Do I become afraid? For sure! Do I get anxious? You bet! Do I let it take over and run me amok or drive me to irrationality? Not if I keep my wits, say my prayers, go deep within, give chase and embrace whatever it is. I most often discover the true identity and take it on as a part of my life. In October 2007, I accepted the advice of my Lakota mentor -- when I was seeking to spend my sabbatical doing research among those wonderful people. I made Hanblecheya -- a Vision Quest in the center of the Black Hills (SD). After preparing by way of fasting and gathering the necessary tools for this time, I was led to the top of an isolated hill at dusk and spent the next 14 hours in solitude -- with only my gym shorts, a blanket and seated in on a buffalo skin on a hallowed rectangle of earth. I was admonished not to leave that space, not to fall asleep and to offer prayer as was customary to my tradition. Afraid? Yes, I was in a totally unknown place 15 miles from anything like civilization. It was very dark. What I experienced remains largely between me and those who mentored me through that experience. I came away having stuggled with some very seminal fears. I was truly a different person, as I was helped down that hill after sunrise the next morning -- cold and stiff from being in a small space for so long.

The hero and heroine's quests are not for that "golden or bejewelled something out there" that will make life worthwhile. The quest is what is within that must be discovered and enlivened by the struggle -- the darkness within. If we embrace it, we discover that we are less fearful and more truly alive.

As the letter writer John says: "Perfect Love Casts out Fear." (I John 4:18)

Blessings,

Fred Mann

Speak Your Truth in Love

2009-10-02T16:14:00.003-05:00

Truth is a tremendously hard concept to grasp these days. As I ponder this, I consider how information is packaged that is passed along as "the truth" in our culture. The information highway has been reduced to packets of material that are about 10 minutes in length...about the average adult attention span these days. Television has helped to create this diminished capacity by presenting commercial breaks after about ten minutes of whatever show is playing. Even that is diminishing in most series to about seven minutes. The average one-hour television series has about 42 minutes of actual presentation. The rest is commercial material.

Each commercial is presented as the latest truth about a condition, product, or other commodity that is essential to our lives. Marketing and advertising is designed to convince us that we simply must have what is being offered -- and it is grounded in the truth of research or the word of experts, or famous persons in our culture (entertainers, actors, sports heroes, etc).

In the area of media information services (news and talk shows being the most notable), the commentators and guests are the passionate experts that work hard to convince us that their agendas, ideologies, points of view or observations are undisputed truths. Well, in some cases that may well be the case. However, with some truly intentional research, the vast majority of pundits can be found to have more emotional smoke than factual meat upon which to chew. As I said to one colleague recently, "I miss Cronkite!" He was truly an honest and objective reflector of the state of affairs being observed and reported.

I must admit, however, that the worst offenders of truth-based reality are those who represent religious materials via the mass media. The disciplines of theology and biblical exegetical method are demanding, exacting and complex. That is not to say that they can't be embraced by anyone willing to invest the time and energy; but one must do just that -- invest time and energy. One does not "do" these disciplines by osmosis. Remember the eunuch whom Philip came across in Acts of the Apostles? He was reading a scroll from Isaiah. Philip asked what he was doing. In response, he admitted that, while interesting, he could not possibly understand without a teacher. Philip climbed aboard the chariot and began teaching via exegetical means (i.e. interpretation based upon both research and revelation). Ultimately, the eunuch saw in himself the need for baptism. He made contact with his truth via revealed Truth.

The mass media moguls of rehashed religion are busy trying to sell a commodity, and they have done well to reduce the vast journey of faith into several very individualistic criteria that, with a gift of some dollars, can get you a book or DVD that will provide everything needful for salvation -- right now and neatly wrapped. It staggers the mind the extent to which folks will go to convince others that their lives are worthless and hell-bent. Along with the other things without which we cannot survive, we now need them to insure we have a ticket on heaven's train.

I am not sure that I have The Truth that I can share with folks. That would make me nearly perfect, and I shy away from that state of affairs rigorously. Sorry, no perfection behind these words or the face that fronts them. What, then, does one find when one comes to this place called St. Andrew's Episcopal Church. Hopefully, it is honesty that begins with the person in the pulpit and at the Altar.

I grew up in a garden variety family; in a post-World War II neighborhood; in a season of history that saw the first of the technology boom. I grew up getting into my fair share of trouble with my parents for actions that would irritate the stew out of my younger brother and cause consternation (and resulting punishment) from my parents. Lots of things happened growing up that would firmly plant me in the place of "normal kid."

As a young adult, things didn't change much. I loved (and still really enjoy) playing pranks and practical jokes on friends and those who seemed to be deserving of same. Few things please me more than long treks in the woods, swims in the Gulf of Mexico, or canoeing down a tree-canopied river. I love theology and the study of what makes us who we are and how we got to be where we are. I love science almost as much as theology. More than anything, I enjoy being a sojourner in the soul-scape of being.

One of the things I learned (and this was a hard lesson for me) is that I am first responsible to know my own soul-scape and interior being. Real exploration in this region of who we are reveals those things that are agendas, biases, prejudices, judgements or critiques based upon false or misleading information. Going deep is a painful process, but the rewards are so great that I fail to understand (now) why anyone would not want to take the risk.

Let's be really clear. This is not a set-up for sainthood. Each new revelation of the true self creates a new need to deal with yet another unpolished nugget of internal reality. This work is never done. No one is ever perfect! Not in this life.

The take away point here is that, if I am truly honest with myself and God, what I speak with be what is called "my truth." This isn't a selfish "my" but the "my" of internal honesty and transparency. The Native American culture and early Celtic Christian culture had phrases for "Speaking your truth." In the New Testament, St. Paul reflects Jesus' teaching in the exhoration to "Speak the Truth in Love." At the core of who we are is the Self created in God's image. It is the fundamental Truth of being. In touching that place, we reflect a passionate truth devoid of agenda, ego, prejudice, judgmentalism, etc.

It's not an all the time thing....but it is way better than nothing...or the smoke that often passes for the truth these days. A healthy faith community is the laboratory for this work. Believe me, it is work.

Blessings!

Fred+

Lucky Man

2009-09-09T14:39:00.002-05:00

Emerson, Lake and Palmer (ELP) created very successful progressive rock music between 1969 and 1978. So much of culture's identification is reflected in the music of that particular period. The era from 1965 to 1975 encompassed dramatic social change. The assassination of JFK in November 1963 ushered in what would be the teenage years for many of us called "Baby Boomers." The standoff with the Russians, civil rights legislation, assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, the entry into and escalation of conflict in Vietnam and Watergate are just some of the hightlights of those years.

While ELP represent only a small aspect of the flood of music, their material covers a fairly wide range of expression. I have to admit, my all-time favorite group of the period continues to be the Moody Blues. My range of musical enjoyment is quite wide...growing up in a home that appreciated the great classics as well as Big Band and "easy listening" of the post WWII years. My parents tolerated well my growing collection of singles and albums of the 1960s. Truth be told, more than once an interloper could have found our family of four dancing around the house to the latest Beatles tune. My mom later admitted that she listened to and enjoyed the guitar riffs of Jimi Hendrix while listening to some of my albums while I was overseas in the U.S. Navy.

I grew up in a home that had a high level of tolerance for a wide range of interests and expressions. We were by no means "wealthy" but we had a wealth of what was important...love, respect, self-expression, freedom to explore our dreams. We had great conversations at the dinner table. Things could get hot! My dad had pretty intense political and social views -- as did I. Not unusual to hear: "Now boys, temper it a bit..." from my mom, as dad and I hit a high note of exchange. My brother was three years younger but would also throw in with his opinions. Mom would hold forth as well. The dog would find someplace else to be. In the end, we would be watching football on television, going to a Red Sox exhibition game (they did spring training in my hometown of Winter Haven, Florida) or going for rootbeer at Andy's Igloo. Rejection was never an option.

If I had to put a title on those years of life, it might be: "Free to Be Me." Consider some of the phases. I was a Boy Scout, which, in those days, and in our troop, was something like Marine Corps training. Whining to mom and dad about "rough treatment" was not met with intervention from either of them. Empathy, yes. I was carefully taught to fight my own battles; work through my own impasses with other adults who had leadership responsibility over me (scout master, teachers, etc) and fight only when it was inevitable with a peer (I got into only one of those. It was bloody, intense and a draw by the measure of those gathered around). I was a tall, broad guy. Most folks seemed not to want to test what that meant. I only got the measure of its meaning years later -- while doing tactical training in the Navy. The one time my parents did mix into my troubles was when I refused to confront with strength a classmate who was confined to a wheelchair with polio. He was a brat, spoiled and mean. Yet, he was, in our view of the day, impaired. There were times, years later, that I wished I had delt a hefty blow to that ugly mouth of his (but, he died in a drug deal gone bad while in college).

In those halcyon years between 1963 and 1975 I canoed every river in Florida, hiked deep woods and swamps looking for (and finding) many species of snakes, turtles, frogs and lizards. A number of them found a home behind our garage -- to the extreme distress of my dad, who hated snakes -- but let me keep them. That is, until a Boy Scout friend and I brought home a 6.5 foot diamond back rattlesnake -- who was very upset with getting tossed in a canvas bag and toted six miles home in the basket of a bicycle. Dad and I had several very long discussions about this event. The rattlesnake found another home with Ross Allen's Reptile Institute...as did many of my other reptile friends. Mom did tolerate well the hatching of 14 Bluetail Skink lizard eggs in a terrarium in my bedroom: all of whom escaped through the wire mesh cover and made their way around the house. Like I said, tolerance was a treasured attribute in those years.

Not every day was a good day. In 2004, I learned that I had been suffering anxiety reaction since sometime in childhood. This may have been a mild form of ADHD, which I compensated for by becoming an internal perfectionist -- over-compensating to the point of purposefully failing at something in order to prove to myself that I needed to be perfect. Heck of a way to walk through life. I came away from that with a whole new sense of being okay. Not just okay but truly fine, thanks. Now the opening words of Desiderata mean something real: "Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit." Oddly enough, my mom gave me a copy of Ehrmann's poem when I went to the University of Florida, and it hung on my wall through graduation.

What did those years give me? Something I grieve for our young people now...balance. I was taught that I had a body, a mind and a spirit. That all three are essential and must be developed together. I was taught discipline in an environment of fairness. That anything worth doing is not only worth doing well but also reflects the true measure of a balanced life. Even as a priest, I still have well-meaning people trying to talk me out of this (you know what that sounds like: 'In my day, we did....' or, 'you should/ought to...'). God knows what they are now, and it isn't me.

For a long time of adulthood, I really did try to be what others wanted or expected me to be. Thankfully, those days seem to be diminishing in the rearview mirror that is my accumulating history. I am now resting more comfortably with what my parents gave me -- my life in balance. I am becoming mindful of the balance. Oh, what a lucky man I am!

Blessings

A Plan Comes Together

2009-08-31T10:47:00.002-05:00

In the movie, "Close Encounters of the Third Kind," the character, played by Richard Dreyfus, has an intense experience while stopped on a road one evening. From that moment onward, he becomes more and more obsessed with trying to create the image that looms greater in his mind. At one point, using mud, rocks, sticks and various other materials, he constructs a large scale model of the image that now has become an obsession...a mountain with surrounding terrain. Then, the obsession became a mad search for the real place.

We may think such things are from the realm of fantasy, but such could not be farther from the truth. St. Augustine of Hippo (fifth century) reflected, "Our souls are restless until they find their rest in you, O Lord." There is not a person who has not had something like a gnawing feeling deep inside that begins something like a quest. Because of the many layers of conditioning and expectations, these quests may lead to dead-ends, or, like Don Quixote, a chase for windmills. What we actually search for is inside...which can often have some sort of anchor externally.

Such happened to me recently. In the early spring of 2008, our home basement (which is finished & furnished) was damaged, when the sump pump malfunctioned. It required the carpet to be removed, the basement dried out thoroughly and furniture restored. The first order of business -- after damage control -- was to replace the sump pump. We did so with a "state of the art" system that has two fail-safe backups. Being an old Navy guy, water-tight integrity is almost an obsession with me.

After the baseboards were removed and the damaged portions of drywall repaired, Denise and I repainted the entire basement living area. We left the project for about nine months. My sabbatical leave arrived, and I was engaged in a special project for three months. Fall came, and the parish program (and Denise's work) took center stage. Finally, this past spring, we settled on the kind of carpet we wanted, and the basement got finished and back to normal.

But, something had been planted deep within me during my sabbatical. The east wall of the basement runs for about 10 feet from the north wall and then juts back about 3 feet before continuing to the south corner. The small corner created, where the wall juts back became a place of obsession for me. At first, I had no idea why. As the carpet guy was working (and I helping with stretching it) I kept staring at that corner -- to the point that the carpet guy once asked if there was something wrong with his work in that area. Nope, the space just spoke to me.

While on sabbatical, I had learned the importance of sacred space and holy ground. This is not new to me, but actually spending a great deal of time in such spaces that summer stirred my soul in ways that started to grow. An image was emerging, and I had no idea what it meant. Now, as I stared at that corner where the east wall jutted back three feet, the image and the space began to speak to each other. Nothing concrete was coming forth, and it began to drive me crazy! Until...one day, just before I left for General Convention, I was praying in the St. Andrew's Chapel (a place I go often during work days to gather thoughts and offer prayer for my parishioners). Eureka!!! I got an image! The basement space was supposed to become a contemplative prayer space. Okay, fine. Contemplative prayer is a big part of my discipline. It is how an introvert priest feeds the soul and mind. I had always wanted something I could call a uniquely holy spot.

This summer, while at General Convention and on vacation the two weeks following the convention, bits and pieces of what this space was to look like began to take serious shape. When Denise and I returned from California, I had one week of vacation time left and several yard and house projects to complete. I gave myself a deadline: I would spend enough time on the prayer space project to complete it by the final Friday of my vacation. No excuses. Thus began the "Richard Dreyfus Obsession."

I spent hours looking through Home Depot, Ace Hardware, Lowes and other such places for just what I thought I needed. Plans? I didn't need no stinkin' plans! The vision was internal, and when I saw what would work, it literally lept out at me. What I started with as a potential vision took some interesting turns (and I drove a Home Depot guy crazy running about the store with him tagging along trying to answer questions and keep up with my rapid changes of mind and opinion). Then it happened. I had all the tools in one place.

A three-tiered fountain in the corner, sitting in a larger round rubber container, which itself was filled with small, smooth river stones. Various kinds of vine and bamboo grass (necessarily artificial due to the darkness of the specific area) created a natural feel. Four three-foot pieces of 1"x8" red oak, which I stained and coated with polyurethane. These created two small tables built with one board on the carpet and two columns of four antique red bricks with the second board on the top. The one table on the three-foot section of wall supported a small, glass shade lamp that could be activated by touch (3 way with a 60 watt bulb). the identical small table on the east wall had a candle, incense burner and a couple of tokens that are precious to me. Above that table on the east wall are two icons...one of the Holy Trinity (by Rublev) and the other depicting Holy Wisdom by a fourth century Byzantine monk. Back from all this, facing east, sits a foldable back-jack chair (sits directly on the ground with support for the back). I'm done!

That final Friday afternoon of my vacation...at 4:00pm, I sat in the back-jack chair, legs folded, candle lighted and prayed a blessing for this space. It was complete. The image and the space had finally come together in a reality, which is the extension of my soul's need for holy ground in which to find Peace and Presence in a busy world.

It is to this place I go to begin my days. I have a Bible and Book of Common Prayer for the Daily Office. I have a journal to jot what may come from my time of prayer. I have the icons and symbols of other holy spaces that are dear to me...which connect me to space and time...a sacramental context. The soft sound of the water cascading from one basin to the other in the fountain creates a sensory distraction and calms the mind. I love this space deeply. It is home inside my home. It is holy ground.

Integrated Circuits

2009-08-27T14:33:00.004-05:00

I like the sound of this title. My first thought, when "integrated circuits" popped into my head, was of my time working in the Navy Submarine Corps (1973-75). Few systems are more complicated than a modern ballistic missle submarine; yet, even in the mid-1970s, technology supported a tightly integreted series of systems that could interact, produce "fail-safes," activate auxiliary components and provide immediate information to a variety of stations. This meant that, to be submarine qualified, every person on a boat had to know how to function in all areas.

We tend to think of the human body as a collection of systems. Classic anatomy used to teach based upon separate investigations of digestive, endocrinal, neurological, orthopaedic, etc. systems. While there are specialists in each of the "systems," We have long known that the whole human body is hardwired with a complex interdependency. But, that's not all.

The mind and body have other layers of reality besides those known as anatomical. There is the division of conscious and unconscious. Conscious data relies upon sensory data which creates unconscious memories and patterns for future recognition. The unconscious not only processes memories, it houses the components that create the unique characteristics that we know as uniquely human and define "self." Carl Jung subdivided the components of self into archetypes and subtypes that interact in a complex manner to manifest what others see through our actions, ideas, emotions and characterizations. It is all way too much for a blog, but one can see where I might be going.

Carl Jung, Thomas Moore, Morton Kelsey,Robert Bly and others (psychologists, theologians, and those whom we call "internal sojourners) speak of the Presenting Self and the Shadow Self. The novel, "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde" is a dramatization of these two components. The Presenting Self is what the world gets to see...or what we want the world to see. The Shadow Self is one we tend to keep hidden -- even from ourselves most of the time. Our close friends, family members and bathroom mirror may be subjected to this component. Otherwise we lock it down -- in the shadows.

Here is the problem. If these two components remain separated, all hell can break loose...literally. In a moment of distraction, someone may say or do something that will ignite the Shadow Self, and elements of it will spring forth before we can suppress it. Painful memories can be triggered in ways to unleash Shadow material. The emotions of rage, anger, fear, intense anxiety, saddness and feeling overwhelmed are examples of the release of Shadow material into conscious reality. I don't mean the "slow boil" stuff. I'm speaking about the sudden, intense and sometimes crippling kinds of emotions. Psychologists and theologians alike teach that a truly healthy, whole person is one who has integrated these components. Jesus taught that gaining the whole world at the cost of the True Self (in Greek) defines hell. One loses integrity -- which is integration.

One might rightly ask what the process of integration entails. Many myths and stories explore the process. Any story that includes a quest for a treasure is a story of the process of integration. The quest for the Holy Grail in Arthurian legend is the hero's quest for wholeness and integration. In Christianity, being Christ-like is achieving the integration of Self to reflect the wholeness God created us to be (Original Sin is the fracturing of Self -- good/evil, light/shadow).

Recently, I went to a workshop in which I was given the rare opportunity to be guided deep within myself by very skilled practitioners. After preparation with tools of meditation and guided imagery, the mentors in this very safe place guided me inward. I have almost no memory of what took place. Those who were observers and guides told me what happened. It was somewhat frightening to hear and try to comprehend. The rational mind can't be part of the functions of Presenting Self and Shadow Self, when they engage in struggle with each other. It's messy, ugly and dark. The conscious mind introduces a kind of neurological anesthesia that blocks conscious manipulation and memory. A highly skilled clinical person is very nearby. At the end, as I came to myself, I was out of breath, sweating profusely yet feeling almost lighter than air. I was gently encouraged and tenderly treated as I gained sensory balance and attunement.

I later described this to another psychotherapist/theologian, whom I thought would be horrified by what I had experienced. Instead, he calmly reflected, "a classic....intense, but classic....battle with your Shadow. Now I know why you appear as you do, you've achieved a level of integration. You've started a new journey. Congratulations!"

For one to claim total integration is nothing less than hubris (false pride...a deep sin in Christian theology). It is, indeed, a journey. I started one in a new and big way on this recent weekend. The circuitry is being meshed. It is a slow but real process. How do I know it's happening? I feel far less anxious about stuff that normally keeps me awake at night. I'm less afraid to speak my truth aloud and take a principled stand. I seem able to speak up and out more readily (read: less intimidated). My routine of contemplative prayer is more intense and fruitful. There are little things each day that I simply find amusing for funny...things I used to take rather seriously. I love better.

Jesus said, "where your treasure is, there also is your heart." Myths tell us that 'where there is treasure, there be dragons.' Yep. Engage the dragons with a loving heart, and you have the treasure. The True Self. The One God created, or, as a friend of mine calls it, "the God cell."

Blessings.

Silent Giants

2009-07-30T09:50:00.003-05:00

My wife, Denise, and I just returned from a twelve-day vacation in California. With exception of two business trips, this was our first time to explore the state. We are not the typical vacation tourists. We didn't visit Disneyland (we both grew up in the Orlando, FL area). We didn't hang out at a resort or seek out trendy places. After I completed my work with the Episcopal Church's General Convention, Denise met me in Anaheim. We rented a car and headed out -- away from the lights, glitz and concrete.

By way of the Central Valley, we ended up in Yosemite National Park. Between that park and Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Parks, we spent a week staying in rustic cabins, hiking to showers, climbing steep trails and enjoying the pristine beauty. Of course, in Yosemite, there were at least a thousand other folks doing the same thing. However, these folks were there for the same reason -- getting outdoors and away from the bustle of mainstream culture and into a very different lifestyle -- one marked by cargo jeans/shorts, tee shirts, hiking shoes, back packs and floppy hats. Oh, and the obvious lack of starch, ironing boards and the myriad synthetic scents of perfumes and colognes (which one of our daughters calls "foo-foo").

The main reason we went to the High Sierra national parks was to see the "Old Ones" -- the towering giant sequoias. These silent giants have experienced up to 2,000 years of earth history -- most all of what we call the "Common Era" (CE). With girths up to 37.5 feet (the "General Sherman" sequoia of Sequoia National Park). and heights of 275 feet (same tree), one feels like a very small being next to these huge trees. It puts things in perspective very quickly indeed!

On a warm Wednesday morning, Denise and I found ourselves at the very south end of Yosemite National Park in Mariposa Grove. It is one of the largest remaining stands of giant sequoias in the world. As we hiked back to the less visited area, we found ourselves a forest of about a hundred silent giants of various ages. They towered over us and blocked the sky with their broccoli-like tops. The huge trunks all around us made it nearly impossible to take in the magnificence, majesty and shear size of these ancient living beings. I was immediately reminded of the Ents in "Lord of the Rings." I expected to hear deep, old and wise voices erupt -- sharing all that had been seen and experienced over the long centuries of their lives.

We stopped at one especially large sentinal. While this may sound strange, we pushed ourselves against the thick, red bark -- hands pressed against the tree and ears listening -- and could truly sense the life coursing through this old one. The connection was awesome and as if there was deep wisdom of the ways of the earth and surrounding environment. This tree -- with its brothers and sisters around it -- has outlived every other living thing on earth. It is bigger than every other living thing on earth. I became intimately aware of the meaning of the biblical reflection of human smallness next to the infinite reality of God.

Even along a trail, hiking in the wilds of the mountains of the High Sierra range is a journey that is made in silence. Surrounded by the myriad shades of green, the hues reds and golds of other plants, sounds of birds, constant movement of water in streams, and the challenge of walking over rocks and around boulders one becomes lost in the mystery and wonder that is creation. What I see, as I make this journey, is very much what the earliest humans saw as they journeyed here. There is connection. As I sit quietly on an ancient boulder, empty myself of internal chatter (constant pre-occupation with what I believe to be so important in life), and become really aware of my surroundings, the wisdom of creation touches my inner being and bathes me with a kind of peace and intimacy that renews, heals and cleanses. As I emerge from this time of contemplation, it becomes clear to me just how trivial most of what we call important in life really is. I'm suddenly alive to possibility.

After two weeks of General Convention, coming to the Sierra Nevada Mountains to hike the national park trails renews perspective and washes clean the crustiness that comes with being consumed with issues and business we believe to be so important. Yes, the importance is there, and the need to maintain community is essential, but it always needs to be placed within the perspective of true reality -- the one created by God in which we play but one part of a huge tapestry of life. One sure way to gain that perspective is to walk among the Silent Giants in the High Sierra range.

Blessings!

Catching Up and the Power of Words

2009-07-18T11:46:00.004-05:00

It has been two weeks since my last blog posting. It does not mean that I have been silent by any means. I am in Anaheim, CA and have been a deputy from the Diocese of West Missouri at the Episcopal Church's triennial General Convention. This was my sixth GC as a deputy. My first was in 1991, when I was canonically resident in Central Florida -- my home diocese. The next three deputations upon which I served resided in Northern Indiana. I was the Dean of the Cathedral Church of St. James for eleven years. The 2006 GC and this one has been as a canonical resident of West Missouri. I have been an inside observer of the Episcopal Church's heartbeat and leadership for 18 of my 31 ordained years. What an evolution!

The Episcopal Church may be small by modern standards, but it has a very important and influential place in American history. Most of the signers of the Declaration of Independence and crafters of our country's Constitution were Anglicans (Episcopalians after the Revolutionary War). A majority of our presidents have been Episcopalians--at least in name. A surprisingly large number of the industrial, business and technology leaders have been Episcopalians. Numbers not withstanding, we have been a guiding force in cultural justice and equality over the past two hundred years.

This is not to say Episcopalians agree on all these matters. Not by a long shot! We are as diverse in our opinions and socio-political ideologies as our culture. Despite the barb that Episcopalians are the "White, Republican Party at Prayer," the truth is otherwise. We are "high church" and "low church," Democrats, Republicans, Independents, Native American, Latino, African American, Asian, Middle Eastern, wealthy, working class, middle class, liberal, conservative, moderate, straight, LGBT, and from every element of American intracultural life as possible. When we speak of being "inclusive" we mean it on every level possible. And, all of this was here at the General Convention of the Episcopal Church (the 76th triennial).

For the past two weeks, I have been working, praying, legislating, meeting and living with nearly 6,000 sisters and brothers who are Episcopalians in every catagory of life mentioned above (and maybe some I didn't include). It has been an honor and an education. I am constantly amazed regarding how much there is to learn about other folks. I am also amazed at how other folks are willing to share, if they perceive the inquiry to be honest and authentic. And, the most important part of all this is that I have seen the God of Jesus Christ in every one of these folks...in ways I have not experienced ever before. What a gift of Grace!!

The Holy Spirit has been leading me into deeper truth for a good while now. The lastest deepening began with sabbatical last summer (2008). In working with the Lakota in the Black Hills, I learned the words: Mitakuye Oyasin. The rough translation is close to "We are all one together." The direct implication is that Wakan-Tanka (God) is in all creation, we are his creation, which makes us one with each other. This is lived out among our Lakota sisters and brother in profoundly authentic and transparent ways.

Three years ago, at the 2006 General Convention (held in Columbus, OH), we mandated that, over the three years leading to this GC, a program would be developed to help us explore relationship and community. Thus the theme Ubuntu was born. Ubuntu is a Zulu (Xhosa) word that describes human identity as being formed through community and encompassing sense of caring, sharing and being in harmony with all creation. In short, Ubuntu means, "I in You and You in Me."

Now isn't that a coincidence. The Lakota phrase Mitakuye Oyasin and the Zulu phrase Ubuntu have almost identical meanings...each at the core of meaning for them such that in both Lakota and Zulu all prayers end with those statements...like our "Amen" (which means, "it is thus").

In truth, at this General Convention, there were no "for" and "against" camps. People intermingled, talked, shared, listened, prayed and walked together. We struggled together, and, above all, we have been careful with each other -- treating one another as precious gifts of God -- as we each are.

Some of our decisions were difficult, and we will face some confusion, anger or distress in our home community environments. This is not because folks disagree, but because, in general, folks in our communities live lives as individualists rather than individuals in community. The early Christian community was, in fact, an Ubuntu-style community. A careful reading of Acts of the Apostles will open that reality. Jesus taught it: "I in you and you in me: You are one as the Father and I are One." The Gospel is one of Mitakuye Oyasin/Ubuntu. The contemporary Christian community has nearly lost this cornerstone element of what it means to be a Christian.

I am remarkably at peace following this General Convention. To be sure, I am exhausted. The pace of the last two weeks has been intense. On average, each day was about 16 hours long in terms of the work most of us were assigned. I served on the Ministry Committee (#14) and, like all other committees, we began at 7am. In the evening, the committees met to continue perfecting legislative materials and holding hearings...where those advocating resolutions came to speak and share information about those resolutions charged to the committees. The only break of length during the day was at lunch (about 90 minutes) and dinner (about the same).

One cannot really complain about how this works. We only do it every three years. Imagine it. Now, what we have done gets three years to work through. The next GC will take further steps, fine tune, remove or replace what we have done this GC. Thus we grow and evolve as a Christ-centered community.

I have been working hard to deepen my life in the Spirit -- through new contemplative prayer techniques, deeper reading of Scripture and other source material, listening more carefully to my sisters and brothers as they share their journeys in the Spirit of God. The Grace and Power of the Word....the Christ of God (see John 1) was very present during the past two weeks.

Today, I begin three weeks of vacation. My wife joins me today for some days of exploring part of California and visiting dear friends. While I am tired, I feel more at peace than I have felt in quite some time. We have done good work. We have done God's work -- with and for God's People in this part of the Kingdom...the Episcopal Church.

Mitakuye Oyasin!! Ubuntu!!

Church and State

2009-07-06T14:57:00.005-05:00

The celebration of Independence Day is a venerable expression of our love for those whose sacrifice and vision created our country with its unique Constitution and guarantee of liberty for all citizens. It was a shaky start to be sure. As with any new idea, diverse opinions made gaining a solid foothold sometimes very dubious indeed. I continue to study a great deal of source documents and commentary on the development of what we call democracy. It is that, but wrapped in a republic form of government. We even say that in the Pledge of Allegiance: "...and to the Republic for which it stands..."

One article of the Constitution guarantees the freedom of religious expression. This was an absolutely new concept in civilization. The Roman Empire had attempted something like this by allowing conquered countries to continue the exercise of their indigenous religious practices. However, those religious entities could not engage in political enterprise. The confusion led to near collapse in the fourth century. Constantine steadied the empire's boat with his conversion to Christianity and mandate that all of the Empire would embrace Christian life and practice. From that point until the Constitution of the new United States, Church and State had been oppressively intertwined.

A large majority of the framers of the American system of government were Anglicans (Church of England at that time) and found it impossible to take an oath of allegiance to the Crown of England while fighting for independence from that crown and developing a new government. After the Revolution, the Anglican Church continued as the Episcopal Church. In its first General Convention of 1785, a form was set for celebrating the Day of Independence in public worship. Four years later, in the General Convention of 1789, with three Bishops of its own to create an independent body, it was determined that celebrating independence in a church worship setting was tantamount to, again, intertwining Church and State. To that end, worship celebrations for Independence Day were removed from the Book of Common Prayer.

The above status remained until the revision of the Book of Common Prayer in 1928. At that time, the liturgical celebration of American Independence was reintroduced with the stipulation that such celebrations would not reflect an exclusivity that had marked the Anglican status of State Church in Great Britain. With two World Wars and other points that raised patriotic conscience, the ideal of the liturgical reformers became lost with the "folks in the pew" of most Christian traditions. While not denominationally exclusive, we have come very close to state church status in our religious rhetoric and worship celebrations. In the Episcopal Church, I have observed many abuses of church/state status in parishes. In one parish, the American flag and Episcopal Church flag would be processed side-by-side at the head of the procession on Sunday mornings (right behind the cross). At the Chancel the two flags would part to let the procession pass. Then, the third stanza of "America" would be sung...during which the Episcopal Church flag would be dipped toward the American flag...as in submission. Now, folks, that is an abuse of church/state status.

Our government has been a little more guarded in maintaining an appropriate relationship between Church and State. Churches risk losing their status as independent religious bodies if the priest/pastor uses the pulpit to support a candidate for office or embrace a particular partisan political measure. One can speak freely about the moral or ethical implications of certain public, social political actions but cannot endorse a person or an issue from a partisan stance. This is a good thing. I am very careful in the parishes where I have been Rector to insure that I and my clergy staff use the pulpit for its intended purpose...the proclamation of the Good News and the challenge for living an ethically and morally sound life. That's tough enough on its own!

For reference, I am a veteran. I served with distinction in the United States Navy for six years and was decorated for my unique work with the submarine squadron staff to which I was assigned on active duty. It is an experience I treasure and would do again without hesitation. My military service was a time of growth, insight and development for me as a young adult. I am proud of that service. This is to say that I cannot be accused of lacking patriotism. There were a lot of dangerous things happening in the world in the early/mid-1970s -- things that most folks knew nothing much about. My work was in the thick of some of those events.

As a Priest in the Episcopal Church, I lead parishes that have veterans of all branches of service ... as well as non-military government service. I have heard and collected stories of courage, bravery and exemplary actions in combat and harm's way from every war in the 20th century. I am humbled by what these men and women accomplished to insure our ability to continue in the kind of government our forebearers envisioned. With them I celebrate our history of upholding freedom. However (and this is important), what we have proclaimed, we have also abused. I have seen the effects/affects of our prejudicial actions toward First Nations (Native American) cultures in the name of Manifest Destiny. This ideology was first artriculated by John Sullivan in the New York Morning News in 1842. It became a type of battle cry for the taking of land from peoples who had occupied it for centuries untold. Those people were told (in subjugation) that they were not free to worship in their cultural styles or continue their cultural practices. They were confined to lands that our government did not want -- because those lands were not fit for agricultural use.

While that seems like a digression, I believe it is fundamental to the understanding of Church and State. This past Friday (3 July) I celebrated Independence Day with parishioners gathered for our regularly scheduled noon Eucharist. I spent Independence Day preparing to leave for General Convention of the Episcopal Church. While I was traveling yesterday (Sunday, 5 July), our parish again celebrated Independence Day with liturgically assigned readings, prayers and music. Mother Anne Hutcherson (one of my two priest associates) had a wonderful sermon in which a flag belonging to her father was used. So, we do celebrate our freedom.

With all that, we continue to pray for people and governments different from us in ideology and practice. We pray for their souls' health and for wisdom in the ordering of their common lives. Those are prayers for transformation of heart and mind...not to be like us but to exercise integrity, humanity and compassion in their leadership. Jesus was very clear, "Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." (Matthew 5:43-48, which is assigned for the celebration of Independence Day). It is our work to pray for and, in our own lives, model justice, wisdom, compassion and mercy. The Church is where we are supposed to gain those virtues. It is the State in which we practice those virtues to create a just and equitable human community.
Church and State are related, but we have to recognize that, in the Church we honor God as sovereign and learn the truth of discipleship. It is not the State we honor, but in which we live and practice what it means to be created in God's image. It is imperative that we begin in our own boundaries where the freedom of others has been abused.

Appreciate It

2009-06-26T14:39:00.005-05:00

From the earliest days of my ordained life (I was ordained to the Transitional Diaconate on 29 June 1978), there were two things I had learned from my elder priest mentors. My beloved mentor from St. Paul's, Winter Haven, Florida (where I grew up) had been retired from 40 years of parish ministry in the Diocese of Milwaukee and settled in Winter Haven. He was always proud that the Pabst family had built the church where he had served longest as Rector. We became good friends during my seminary days. Shortly before my ordination, he took me to lunch. After a wonderful meal and raucous conversation, Pop Harding (as I knew him), got serious and looked me dead in the eye. "Fred, if you ever go to the Altar to celebrate Eucharist and are not afraid deep down inside, leave immediately! You have lost the sense of tremendous mystery with which you are charged." I've never forgotten this....and I have never gone to the Altar and not been terrified deep within.

The second learning did not come from one priest but from observing a number of older clergy. Some of these showed up at our seminary each spring for graduation and alumni day. They seemed dour, cynical and cranky. They continuously spoke of the Church the "way it was in my day..." When they even bothered to speak with one of us seminarians, they would begin with, "In my day..." and proceed to speak of how they were trained and how easy we had it. Funny, seminary didn't seem at all easy. It was graduate school with rigorous, demanding academics and disciplined life of daily prayer and worship -- something like a monastic graduate school I suppose.

As I began active, ordained ministry in the summer of 1978, I made a vow: That I would never let myself become a shriveled up cynic who had not read a professional book in 20 years; and, should I not fear the tremendous mystery of the sacraments, for which I am steward, I would leave this work immediately.

On Monday, 29 June 2009, I will celebrate my 31st anniversary of diaconal ordination. On 29 December I will celebrate my 31st anniversary of ordination to the priesthood. To this day, I still find myself getting "butterflies" on Friday afternoons -- anticipating Sunday morning liturgies and the incredible experience of presiding at Eucharists -- sharing both Word and Sacrament with the people gathered and in my care. It is still scary...even doing weekday liturgies in the chapel with 15 people.

There are aspects of parish ministry that can create an environment of cynicism. I often grow weary of folks "advising" me (or my colleagues) how to be a better priest. How do they know? Do they do what I do? It never occurs to me to tell my medical doctor or my attorney how to be better in their professions. How would I know? They are the specialists in their fields. I also get regularly surprised by just how nasty folks can be regarding their dispostions in a Christian community. One thing about which we were warned in seminary: "Folks will project all of their unresolved anger toward key authority figures onto their clergy...especially the Rector...because they are the heads of the household." (Ethics and Moral Theology Professor, 1977).

I'm generally okay with most of that. I've learned techniques over the past three decades to deflect inappropriate anger without getting hijacked into an emotional triangle. I have "lost it" only five times in all that time. The trouble is, three of those were in one year....two years ago. Was I becoming a cynical priest at 56? My spiritual director (who is also much like a therapist --- Jungian trained) explored this with me at length. Seems as though the older I get, the more vulnerable I become as a person of prayer. At such times, it is easy to get hooked...especially by persons who are trying.

Over this past several months, I have been learning a better way of working. I am dragging less of the past behind me and bending more into the present and future moments. As I reflect on the past, I am asking, 'what is my best experience of that moment when things seemed not so good?' From there I ask, 'what value lies in that experience for which the moment was only a vehicle?' You see, the events that we often call "bad" or "unpleasant" are vehicles that carry a number of opportunities. There is always something good about the experience...even if it is only survival. The value may be only that of resilience in the face of attack. There is, in fact, no failure...just opportunity.

This seems simple enough but is both hard to remember and to employ -- especially when one is up to his/her butt in alligators. We had a sign in our office when I was in the Navy submarine service: "When you are up to your ass in alligators, it is hard to remember that your initial objective is to clear the swamp."

The discipline of mindfulness keeps us focused on the present and on the blessing of being in the moment...alive to what is happening around us and engaged in experiencing the gracious love of God. Mindfulness lets us see opportunity in what could be a painful experience. Mindfulness obliterates cynicism.

I'm still working at two-for-two on my worst fears. At 58, the Spirit still flows through me in the Sacraments with me being in both awe and wonder. Though I have flirted with it, I am still not cynical. I have a passion to learn, grow and experience deeper understanding. I still love the challenge of each day and the anticipation of what change will happen around each new bend.

Mitakuye Oyasin

2009-06-23T15:10:00.004-05:00

The Lakota language is wonderful for getting to the nub of a thing. I began learning the language last year, while I was on sabbatical. I worked with four Lakota mentors in designing a project that would allow me to study the depths of traditional Lakota worship, prayer and ceremony. The idea was to look for connecting antecedents that correspond to ancient Celtic practices (this began with a Lilly grant sabbatical project in 1999-2000 working with Celtic cultural/spiritual traditions). I have been more rewarded than I dreamed possible in this journey. I have discovered things about myself and others that have literally transformed my sense of being and purpose.

As a moment of background: The Lakota are seven Council Fires of a larger group that include the Dakota and Nakota. We know the entire Nation as the Sioux. The term "Sioux" is not theirs but a French term that may have more than one meaning. Originally, the Sioux avoided contact with European trappers and traders...preferring to stay to themselves in their own culture. Continued encroachment "called them out" to pursue relationships and develop a more visible cultural presence. The young US government treaded harshly upon all First Nations peoples, and made, then broke, eight consecutive treaties with the Lakota people. The ensuing breech of trust gave us the Lakota about which history has written...warlike and aggressive.

The real Lakota people are caring, open, deeply spiritual and kind people. I have rarely known the kind of hospitality and kindness as shown to me during my time in the summer of 2008 and my nine days I just spent in ongoing study. If one comes to Lakota folks with an open mind and heart that openness will be returned in kind. As a people, the Lakota have an innate way of knowing the sincerity of others.

In this work, I have been led to read and study history, cultural anthropology, family dynamics, relationship with the surrounding creation (we might call this "cosmology") and spirituality. Next to the ancient Celts, I have found no place where daily life includes an intimacy with the Transcendent God present in creation and actively engaged in intimacy with those who are open...which are most of the Lakota with whom I have talked and interviewed. Their symbols may be very different from what many of us "westerners" (also known as European Americans) are accustomed to engaging. I have found that the "cultural icons" of the Lakota are wonderfully alive, real and can transport one into the reality of Spirit quickly and intimately...even moreso than those of my own background.

I began by suggesting that Lakota language brings deeper meaning. The title of this blog is "Mitakuye Oyasin" (pronounced Me-tah-koo-ya O-yah-seen). It is descriptive of community but in a deeper sense than just the Lakota community. This phrase directly implies that all people are connected in a dynamic community -- that we are all related. It is an ancient phrase and is often heard at the end of prayers (in place of our "amen") or as part of leave taking with one another (there is no word in Lakota that translates "goodbye," for they don't understand separation in spirit).

I last saw my Lakota friends in the middle of August 2008. When I showed up on 14 June for my nine day visit, it was as if I had only parted company with them a few days ago. Conversations and interactions almost literally began where they had been left last year. I took my place among them as if I had only just slipped out briefly. There are no words in the Lakota language that demean, judge or reject another person. The language is very descriptive, and they can disagree without ever saying that another is wrong in what he/she has spoken or expressed. Example: in preparing for the annual Sundance celebration, I was invited to help erect the tree that is at the center of the dance circle. Believing one of the persons holding a rope was having trouble, I went to grab a portion of that rope and assist this young man. Another Lakota man came over to me quickly, touched my arm and told me in Lakota to "back away." He was emphatic but not demeaning of me -- either as a person or a wasecun (white man). As it turns out, the young man was required to handle his rope by himself as part of the ritual he was entering. I learned but never felt embarassed or put down for not knowing. It was all explained later with a smile and mirth.

From this I am beginning to ask questions of the Christian community and our ability to really be a community. I am absolutely sure that the teaching of Jesus speaks of community as a depth of relationship, trust and integrity exactly like what is transmitted and experienced in "mitakuye oyasin."

We have so much to learn from our Lakota sisters and brothers...indeed from all First Nations cultures.

Mulligan

2009-05-27T15:36:00.002-05:00

A member of my parish (and a good friend) recently went golfing with her 13 year old son for the first time. As they were coming close to completing the eighteen holes, it was clear that her son was going to win this match. Being in obvious despair, her son gave her a loving look and asked, "Mom, would you like to take a mulligan?"

It is a bit disconcerting when, having played golf for a number of years, a relative neophyte to the game comes along and gives us a spanking on the first round of play. Maybe even a bit more humiliating is the gift of a mulligan. For those not familiar with the game of golf, a mulligan is a "do over." If one has hit a bad shot (or series of them when I play), those playing with us can offer to allow us to play a hole over again...in hopes of correcting the mistake. In tournament play, often one can buy or be given a certain number of mulligans before play commences...taking them when they may be most needed. I simply like to call a mulligan a "do over."

The nice thing about a mulligan is that, when it is taken, no one gives it any further consideration. I have never heard good golfers say anything like, "well, you only scored as well as you did because of that mulligan on #11." Or, "if it hadn't been for that mulligan, I would have really romped all over you." A real lady or gentleman golfer never mentions a mulligan once given and received. It is what it is. It is, in reality, a kind of forgiveness for a bad shot. It is as if it never happened. (In reflecting on this, I am aware of the book The Mulligan: A Parable of Second Chances, by Wally Armstrong and Ken Blanchard. I have not read this book but have come across it in bookstores and thumbed the pages. It looks like a good read!).

In an age when we are caught up in quantity, performance and perfection, it is hard to grasp that our being created in the image of God is all about second chances. Without taking anything away from old duffers, God was giving mulligans from the very beginning of creation. What we call the Doctrine of Grace comes down to God loving us so very much that forgiveness....complete and unconditional...is the hallmark of relationship. Folks have had to create a vengeful God as a means to justify their self-hatred and overwhelming sense of unworthiness. Vengefulness is not part of Love or redemption.

It is, admittedly, hard for us to wrap our heads around this concept of "Divine Mulligan." We have been conditioned to look for the worst...the bad...and the blame for anything that goes awry. If all else fails, we blame God. After all, in a perfect world, we should have perfect days...and when we don't, it has to be somebody else's fault.

Truth is, most of what happens is simply a bad shot on our parts off the tee. We put ourselves in the rough or out of play. When those times do happen that pain is induced by the action of another, it is because that perpetrator is blaming others for where he/she finds him/her self. In all cases, there is a mulligan waiting to be offered. Hard to believe that we are both loved and loveable just like we are. Perfection is not in our genes...ever.

Next time a bad day is in the making, take a moment and ask for a mulligan. Then, try again. Hey, like Jimmy Durante with his jokes...God is with Divine Mulligans. He's got a million of 'em! Just for you! And, me.

Worry Much?

2009-05-20T10:51:00.002-05:00

The following is a well researched lineal progression: anxiety leads to fear; fear leads to anger; anger leads to hatred; hatred leads to destruction.

After spending eight years working with Dr. Murray Bowen via Dr. Edwin Friedman, the above progression became like a prayer mantra. Murray Bowen was a psychiatrist who began his work at the Menninger Institute and then went on to found the Georgetown Family Center as part of the Georgetown University School of Medicine. During his long and very active career, Dr. Bowen developed what is now known as "Family Emotional Process." One of his many students was Rabbi Edwin Friedman. Dr. Friedman took the tools of Family Process and began working with church/synagogue systems. His seminal book, Generation to Generation: Family Process in Church and Synagogue, became a best-seller in the mid 1980s. I became a student in Dr. Friedman's clergy seminar and studied with him for eight years -- until his sudden death in 1996.

After the horrible events of 9/11/2001, our cultural anxiety rate spiked radically. In those weeks following the attacks, reports of terrorists erupted everywhere. Incidents of prejudice toward anyone who looked as though they came from the Middle East were rampant. It took months for us to come out of a fear-based state of being. Some of this is natural. It is good to be more observant and wary with the threat of futher violence; but fear-based actions lead to judgments that condemn innocent persons and do irreversible harm.

We are now in an economic crisis unlike any we have experienced since the Great Depression. I was born in 1950, and my parents grew up during the depression years. My dad fought with McArthur's army in the Pacific. My mom was an army nurse. What I noted from both of them was an almost mystical calm in the face of daily crises. They had seen what, for them, was the worst. Anxiety was not part of their repertoire of responses.

Those of us who have known relative security, and the lifestyle of mobility, abundance and ultimate convenience unparalleled by any previous or concurrent civilization are suddenly stunned by the loss of the resources making a lot of that possible. Our level of anxiety is higher than any time known in my lifetime. That anxiety has tripped easily into fear. What we see on television and hear on the radio only feeds that anxiety and fear. We have become a culture of increasing sensationalism -- over-reacting at the slightest hint of a new crisis. The first reaction is to look for a scapegoat...someone or something to blame for our predicament. We have many contemporary incarnations of the old western "lynch mob."

I am an Episcopal Priest of almost 31 years ordained experience. It has always amazed me how simple decisions or actions can become huge crises in a faith community. It only takes one highly anxious person to set off a firestorm of rumor, innuendo and actions of irreversible harm. I have done an experiment twice wherein, at the beginning of a sermon, I will share a statement with the first person in the front pew on my right...asking that the statement be passed from person to person from front to back and then across the aisle and back to the front on the left side. At the end of the sermon (about 15 minutes), I will ask the first person in the pew on the left side to repeat the statement. Not one word of it was part of the original statement! I have also started a scheduled class with a room of about 50 people and staged an interaction between two people (unknown to the group at large). The interaction contained loud words and obvious actions...some of which were threatening. I then randomly picked 10 people to share what they saw and heard -- writing it in journal form. Never more than one person saw and heard what actually transpired. Most saw physical blows (and no blows were ever struck).

Whether we like it or not, we see and hear what we want to see and hear. The Bowen rule is that all responses to real or perceived actions are emotional. We may believe ourselves to be logical, analytical folks; but the first response comes from the limbic portions of our brain...raw emotion. It's how we are wired. What makes us a higher form of creation is that we are also equipped to monitor that emerging response, check it and ask "data questions" that will reduce the emotional response and dampen the attendant anxiety. Doing so lowers the level of cortisol and other stress hormones and engages the portion of our brain that seeks homeostasis in the face of potential disruption.

What I have tried to describe is the state called "mindfulness." John Kabat-Zinn's book, Full Catastrophe Living, is a wonderful way to explore the dynamics of reducing anxiety and stopping the progression toward judgments and actions that are potentially destructive. Friedman's book, Generation to Generation, explores how we can understand our actions as part of our families of origin and investment in faith communities. The Gospels and New Testament Epistles are replete with examples and teachings on balanced living in the face of anxious environments (I can't imagine an environment any more stressful than first century Mediterranean Basin cultures).

All of this is an invitation to practice a kind of mindfulness that asks questions of ourselves and our environments that gathers meaningful and truthful information. For me, as a Christian, it is an invitation to "pray before you say." The act of prayer is simply to place one's self in the space of listening and seeking deeper truth. More on this will be forthcoming. Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam!

Kindle In Us...

2009-05-19T17:21:00.004-05:00

I have been taking a number of steps recently to become more electronically engaged. For a number of years, it has been my two computers (home and work) and my cell phone. Two years ago, I graduated to a smartphone that would allow me to keep up with office email. In March, I traded in my Treo smartphone and purchased a Blackberry smartphone. Now I can monitor both office and home email accounts and do several other tricks that speed up and simplify my ever expanding communication needs.

Within the past two months, I opened a Facebook account and began working with LinkedIn. I now also Twitter a bit. My Associate, Fr. John Spicer, and I also began blogging. Admittedly, my daily life is filled with enough real-time work that I don't spend a whole lot of time on Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter or my weblog. There are only so many hours in a day, and I am very guarded about time with my wife and being at home and "in the moment" -- especially with increasingly nice evenings sitting on the patio and soaking in the sounds of wildlife, children playing and the smells of late spring.

In beginning my preparations for what summer will bring, I began to look at the material I will have to lug with me to continue my research in the Black Hills (a week in June of continuing education) and to the General Convention of the Episcopal Church (being a deputy from our diocese....5 - 18 July). I'm getting old enough that hauling books, laptop and various other paraphernalia presents more of a challenge. So, I did it. I made another step into the 21st century.

I purchased a Kindle from Amazon.com!

Now, I need to admit that I was encouraged in this purchase by two colleagues who are senior to me in both years and "time in service." Both are at least nine years older than me and have been priests quite a bit longer than my 30+ years. Both of them travel a bit, are heavy readers and like to travel light. They both own a Kindle. Each of them has said to me on more than one occasion, "Fred, you have to get one of these....it is an essential tool in your arsenal of staying both current and light." I would smile, nod affirmingly and mumble something like, "Yeah, I'll look into it." Then, yesterday, the means were made available for me to make the purchase.

For stuff like this, it feels like coming to the edge of a precipice. Even with a parachute, why would one want to jump off perfectly good, solid ground? I love the feel of a good book -- turning pages, experiencing the binding, ink and thumbing the pages. Much of what I read, however, is not small. I read fast enough that it takes four or five books to cover being away a couple of weeks. That adds up quickly. Now airlines are getting cranky about weight and charging for luggage. So, I stood on the edge of the cliff and pondered the leap.

As my fingers sat poised on the keys of my computer, I thought about the product name, "Kindle." Meaning: ignite, set afire, arouse, inspire. Immediately, I thought about a prayer I have been saying for the better part of 30 years at the beginning of sermons. It includes the line, "...kindle in us the fire of your love...." The image of me as a senior in my final semester of undergraduate work at the University of Florida suddenly becoming aware that I might become a priest. No way!! No!! There was that precipice. I was 21, not 58 years old. That was my future ahead of me, not an electronic device. Yet, the issues of trust and possibility are not dissimilar. A leap is a leap. Life is a series of changes and transformations. Without these moments there is death. We cease to be in the dynamic flow. Just as I could have shut down my computer, I could have refused the call to vocation and gone on with my original, seemingly safe (and certainly more lucrative...potentially) life plans.

Taking the leap in 1972 was not without pain and sacrifice. It was costly in its own way. But what was kindled on that day was a kind of passion and love that has never left and has led in directions never dreamed possible. It led to a marriage that might not have otherwise happened; children that I adore; friends and colleagues that are faithful, challenging and engaging; places that have inspired and shaped me. What was kindled on the day I took the leap and said "yes" to this vocation was the fire of God's love...the fire spoken by the psalmist I quote each time I preach.

So, my fingers continued to move along the keyboard of my office laptop. Soon, the screen affirmed the purchase of a Kindle -- which will hold up to 1500 books, magazines and newspapers; will be only about a half inch thick and no larger than a standard sheet of paper folded in half. Will it renew my passion for reading -- heavily and widely. Possibly. It will certainly cut down on the weight of my briefcase and luggage.

Now, if only I could cut down on the weight of clothing needed for two weeks.....

Being Mindful

2009-05-07T11:23:00.004-05:00

Earlier this week I was forced to be home and off my feet for two days, while dealing with an infection in my foot (the one upon which I had surgery in February...a long and painful story). My wife checked out some movies for me so that I would keep the promise to my doctor and stay put. One of them was "Peaceful Warrior," a movie based on the book by the same name. The author, Dan Millman, is also one of the central figures in both book and movie.

At the heart of the movie is the message that the full meaning of life begins to come alive when one realizes that "there is never nothing happening..." and that "taking out the trash" is the process of emptying the mind of the clutter one believes is so essential to taking care of the business of life. Most of our response to life is a morass of emotional responses that carry very little real data and even less true meaning. It is a movie both worth seeing and pondering.

Much of my own life has been somewhat like that of Dan Millman's. I was never a star athlete, but I was very active in Scouting as well as any outdoor activity I could generate (and here I could be very creative). I have always loved nature and learning about how the "stuff of life" works. I could be found deep in the woods...off beaten paths...watching insects, reptiles and other creatures doing what they do best in the wild. It was much better than a zoo!

Somewhere along the line, I lost that deep awareness of my surroundings and intense focus on what was happening literally under my feet. I retained a strong sense of history and a strange sense of presence about things unseen. It is what the Lakota call "touching the Mystery." Even in the discipline of theology, this can be lost; and I came dangerously close to losing this gift.

Priesthood has a sacramental reality that shifts the fundamental character of the person ordained. it carries with it the outward responsibility to maintain a discipline of mindfulness regarding the presence of the Kingdom of God that literally surrounds our every moment. This is where it gets dicey. Most folks -- even in well-meaning faith communities -- regard the breaking in of the Kingdom as an invasion of personal space and a meddling with things over which they wish to maintain strict, personal control. In our culture especially, we are fearful of change and easily set off by critical events that call for measured response (check out the reaction to the H1N1 virus). Modern journalism is little help in creating a calm, measured environment. Society is most often like a washing machine in constant spin cycle.

Churches in general...and Episcopal Parishes in particular...focus well on the business of being a community but are easily threatened when we begin talking about the power of Mystery and the affect of the Holy upon our individual and common lives. For that reason, I have often opined that a parish priest could better lead a parish with an MBA rather than an MDiv or MTh. This isn't a rant, just an observation based upon nearly thirty-one years of parish ministry. I have long ago learned how to circumvent the attempts to keep clergy tied into business and away from prayer; but I have to admit, folks are getting craftier at keeping us "tied down" to the rigors of the kind of parish life measured by the statistics of secular business practices. If there is a "post-Christian" era (and I don't think there is really), it has been promulgated by the Christian community itself.

I came to realize, in my early twenties, that my way of being was just a tad different than many others. Simple prayer, structured prayer or the external elements of worship simply wouldn't work for me. It was what was happening below those events that drew me. Archbishop Michael Ramsey (100th Archbishop of Canterbury...retired in 1975) became my spiritual director in seminary, while he was in residence as our theologian. It was he who, on a walk one day, told me, "Fred, you are a natural contemplative....develop this gift and live faithfully in it." Though I have endeavored to do so, it has been the case that I have been tripped up by the temptation to simply "run the parish" (whichever one I was in) and "keep folks happy." Contemplative life is like exploring the woods. Once one opens both mind and eyes, there is never nothing happening. Countless things are always happening....right under foot! Once one opens one's right brain, becomes truly vulnerable and "empties the trash" of needless distractions (analytical data), truly remarkable things are experienced.

When I have allowed this kind of contemplative space, being a theologian begins to make perfect and practical sense. Holiness appears everywhere and in the most unexpected places. The ordinary becomes extraordinary. It becomes profoundly important to shut up, watch and listen.

That is what this blog will explore...being mindful...and, out of that mindfulness, seeing what we call "issues" in light of larger reality. Hopefully, we will see things less emotionally and more objectively. It's definitely worth the risk. It may be that, in the end, our true humanity will be learned through this experience: The "aha" of what it means to be created in the image of God.

Just a beginning

2009-04-24T13:37:00.000-05:00

I'm in the very rudimentary phase of setting up this blogging site. My plan is to add some thoughts and reflections several times each week...theological and personal reflections on our times.