Week of 1 Christmas, Wednesday

In which I indulge my liturgical geek on the occasion of the Feast of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, 1170.

Today is one of those days on the calendar of the Church Year (BCP 30) when there is an optional observance of a lesser saint, in this case Thomas Becket.

There are no special readings for the Daily Office -- you can simply add a collect from the Common of Saints (BCP 246-250) after the Collect of the Day to commemorate the individual in question.
So today at Morning Prayer I said the following:

• Collect of the Day (First Sunday after Christmas) from BCP 213
• Collect "Of a Martyr" from BCP 246
• Collect for Wednesday (Grace) from BCP 100
• Collect for Mission from BCP 101

Just a simple addition -- easy, huh? You'll notice the Common of Saints has a variety of collects for commemorations of martyrs, missionaries, pastors, theologians and teachers, and monastics.
There are also collects for Various Occasions (BCP 251-261) that you can use in the same way to note a church convention or the anniversary of your baptism, for example -- simply add a prayer to the office, but otherwise use the same psalms and readings.

Now, if Thomas Becket is your parish's patron saint, you might want to commemorate him at the Eucharist, in which case you could refer to a book called Lesser Feasts and Fasts to find particular lessons and a special collect just for him.

In the Daily Office, though, I suggest keeping it simple and easy without interrupting your normal flow -- just note the special character of the day with an additional prayer and you're all set.

Questions?

The Holy Innocents

"He was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under ..." (Matt. 2:16).

Herod is the very picture of a tyrant whose emotions are out of control. His power and position means that he can throw a tantrum, and innocent children will die. When he settles down, he does not have to deal with the consequences. He will never set foot in Bethlehem and hear the weeping.

Jesus, who must have grown up with the family story of the narrow escape into Egypt, suggests a radically different path. He suggests that we adults, who have power over children, should exercise responsibility in our care for them. "It would be better for you," he says, "if a great millstone were fastened around your neck and you were drowned in the depth of the sea" than if you caused a little child to stumble (Matt. 18:6).

What children has God placed in your life to care for? What should you be doing to ensure they can run without stumbling into the life God has prepared for them?

St. John, Apostle and Evangelist

My heart and my flesh cry out,

O God, O living God!

This icon of the Beloved Disciple has been at the heart of my personal prayer for many, many years. John, "the disciple whom Jesus loved," reclines near Jesus at the Last Supper (John 13:23). The intimacy shown here is what Christ desires for each of us, and it is the goal of our prayer and communion with each other.

The Society of St. John the Evangelist (SSJE) is a monastic order in the Episcopal Church based in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

I have been a member of the Fellowship of St. John in association with SSJE for many years now, ever since discovering their Rule during a time when I was teaching about sexual misconduct prevention in church settings.

The SSJE Rule sets out a vision of right relationship in community -- of intimacy with one another and with God -- which was profoundly helpful to me as I worked to outline a positive training program for those who minister with youth and adults and take responsibility for their nurture and safety. The monks of the SSJE community have a special devotion to the disciple whom Jesus loved, and their teaching demonstrates the fruit of that intimacy with God.

Though I still look forward to my first visit to the monastery, I have benefited greatly from the example of a group of men who pray the Daily Office as outlined in the Book of Common Prayer, welcome guests both in person and in a variety of social media, and offer their talents generously to the larger Church.

May the Lord Christ draw each of us to himself, enfolding us in his loving embrace, and inspire us to share his love with others.

First Sunday after Christmas

Belated post today, as I was preparing to preach before the Eucharist this morning, then enjoying the Packers' commanding win over the Seahawks when we got home.

Paul's letter to the Colossians asserts that "in Christ all things hold together" (Col. 1:17).

As I meditated on the Feasts of the Nativity, and of Stephen the deacon and martyr, and of John the evangelist while preparing my sermon for today, I didn't consciously have Paul's words in mind (I hadn't read them yet) but as I read them during Morning Prayer that phrase crystallized my thinking.

In Jesus the infant we see God's tenderness toward his creation, like the tenderness of a mother toward her child, and we are encouraged to become tender ourselves toward all who are homeless, or outcast, or downtrodden, or who have "no place for them," like Joseph and Mary.

In the man Jesus we, like Stephen the deacon, see a figure who leads us into radical inclusiveness, setting an example as he "stretched out [his] arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of [his] saving embrace" (BCP 101). Stephen burned out quickly, as his fiery preaching ensured he would make enemies among the council in Jerusalem.

Upon mature reflection, we may come like John to realize that in Christ, all things really do hold together, from time itself, to the creation in which the Word played a leading role, to the light which comes into the world, full of grace and truth, and overcomes darkness forever.

May your life "hold together in Christ" -- tender toward others, inclusive of all, and full of light -- in this Christmas season and always.

St. Stephen, Deacon and Martyr

A funny thing happens during Morning Prayer pretty regularly -- the Scripture readings appointed for the day resonate in a new way with the familiar prayers and collects that we read on specific weekdays.

Today we celebrate the Feast of Stephen, one of the Seven -- the first deacons -- appointed by the apostles to ensure that the ministries of care and preaching were extended to the Greek-speaking as well as the Hebrew-speaking Christians (Acts 6). Stephen was the first Christian to die because of his faith, his preaching having landed him in hot water with the council in Jerusalem.

Today is also Saturday, and in the collect for the day of the week we pray "that we, putting away all earthly anxieties, may be duly prepared for the service of your sanctuary" (BCP 99). The collect normally reminds us of the Sabbath rest ordained by God after the work of creation was accomplished, but today it also carries overtones of death. The prayer concludes with the petition "that our rest here upon earth may be a preparation for the eternal rest promised to your people in heaven."

Stephen is the prototype for those who trust completely in God's assurance of salvation, who do not even fear death, "our rest here upon earth." That unshakable faith is probably one of the reasons that following the naming of the Seven, "the word of God continued to spread, the number of the disciples increased greatly, and a great many of the priests became obedient to the faith" (Acts 6:7).

May our Lord give you such confidence in his salvation that you, too, can live and serve with boldness.

The Nativity of Our Lord Jesus Christ: Christmas Day

Because of the freezing rain last night, I could not make it to my own church for Christmas Eve, so Katrin and I attended the Eucharist at All Saints' Episcopal Church in Appleton, near to where we are staying.

Fr. Patrick Twomey spoke of the Son of God coming into the world and finding "no place" that was open to him. That vulnerability from the time of his birth grew into a ministry in which Jesus pursued those who also had no place -- the blind, the outcast, the adulterous, the possessed -- in order to draw them into the love of God.

That "outer Christmas" happened once 2,000 years ago, Fr. Twomey continued, but the inner Christmas happens every day, as we open ourselves to Christ, making in our hearts "a mansion prepared for himself" (BCP 212). It also happens as we reach out, following Christ's example, to the lonely, the unemployed, the mentally ill, the depressed -- all those who feel they "have no place" amidst the holiday cheer.

Bishop Jeffrey Rowthorn, chaplain to Episcopalians for Global Reconciliation, offered a new hymn for Christmas this year (sung to hymn 124, the tune Puer nobis). The fourth verse begins with the angels' praise:

Their worldwide song is clearly heard
where hearts by human need are stirred;
the holy Child, his crib outgrown,
would make our lives his earthly home.

May our Lord Jesus find a place in you as you reach out in love to those around you.

Amen! Merry Christmas!

Christmas Eve

O God, you have caused this holy night to shine with the brightness of the true Light: Grant that we, who have known the mystery of that Light on earth, may also enjoy him perfectly in heaven; where with you and the Holy Spirit he lives and reigns, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.

This morning's readings, the last appointed for Advent, include the angel's message to Joseph about caring for the infant Jesus.

Joseph (shown here in an icon by Br. Robert Lentz, OFM) is an excellent example for all who simply take care of others because it the right thing to do. Joseph is also a man who looks for God's leading -- even in dreams -- and follows the light he is given, no matter how far he has to go in order to do so.

During this season of light, stay attentive to the quiet voices that point out to you the people that God would have you care for. They may be family, they may be friends, they may be strangers -- but God draws them to your attention for a reason.

Merry Christmas!

Week of 4 Advent, Wednesday

Where two or three are gathered

The words of the Prayer of St. Chrysostom struck me during Morning Prayer today:

"Almighty God ... you have promised through your well-beloved Son that when two or three are gathered together in his Name you will be in the midst of them" (BCP 102).

As I prepare to fly home this morning from my last trip of the year, I am very much aware of the way friends and family are struggling this Christmas. Unemployment, the impending death of a cherished grandmother, visits to family that cause more frustration than they give joy, the snowstorm that has disrupted travel and made a duty visit even more difficult -- there are many reasons to dread the next few days.

But Paul, in his letter to Titus, urges that we hold to "sound doctrine" (Titus 2:1). And here's the soundest doctrine I know -- when we gather in Christ's Name, God is with us.

When we gather in Christ's Name over these next few days, God is with us. God is with our dying relatives, God is with our suffering friends, God is with our insufferable family, God is with everyone who helps us reach our destinations.

The reason we celebrate Christmas, the Feast of the Incarnation -- God's coming into the world in the person of Jesus -- is that it hasn't stopped happening. Whenever we gather in Christ's Name, God is with us.

So God bless you this Christmas with his presence in whatever gathering you're part of. God bless your grief and frustration, your hurt and resentment, your loneliness and sorrow.

God bless all of these and turn them to joy.

St. Thomas the Apostle

Advent is drawing to a close, and this is shaping up to be a hard week for many of our friends and neighbors, who are dealing with unemployment, sickness, estrangement from family, and the other elements of a "blue Christmas."

Into this picture today comes the disciple who represents both the transforming power and the tender compassion of the risen Christ.

Thomas was grieving Jesus' death like the other disciples, broken and hiding when he had hoped to be celebrating. "We had hoped," two other disciples said, "that he was the one to redeem Israel." Thomas was disappointed and unable to share in his friends' joy when they said they had seen the risen Lord.

What has always thrilled me about Thomas' story is how Jesus responds to him -- not by judging his disbelief (though Jesus does tease his friend, the way men do when they love each other too much to say). Jesus comes to Thomas and gives him what he needs in order to believe.

What do you need right now in order to believe? Say it out loud like Thomas did, and "in the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon [you]" just as it did for Thomas.

Out of grief and disbelief, through the compassion of the risen Christ, was born an apostle who ranged far and wide, legend says, to spread the Good News.

May our gracious Lord come to each of us with the news we need to hear in this most holy, this most difficult week.

Week of 4 Advent, Sunday

"Purify our conscience, Lord, by your daily visitation"

The Collect for this Fourth Sunday of Advent invites us into a life that is open before God.

John writes in the Gospel for this morning that "this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil" (John 3:19).

Living in the light does not always come easily. It is hard to act in such a way that we are never embarrassed or ashamed, never feel the need to hide our actions. Living in the light means exposing ourselves to judgment, not only from those around us, but from "our Father, who sees in secret."

The Collect for today invites us to dare to trust that if we live in the light, Christ's daily presence in our lives will purify us, stripping from us the shame and lifting from us "the weight of sin which clings so closely."

"God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world," John assures us, "but in order that the world might be saved through him" (John 3:17).

Dare to trust in that assurance. Lord Jesus, quickly come!

Week of 3 Advent, Friday

"Well done, good and faithful servant"

These are the words many of us long to hear more than any others ... to be told that we are doing a good job, that our work is valuable, that we're on the right track. That kind of feedback is a real boost to the ego, but it's in awfully short supply these days.

Instead we run scared, afraid that giving our all won't be enough, or that it would be better just to hide in our cubicles and hope not to be noticed. Certainly this is not the climate in which to risk anything ... or is it?

Jesus' parable this morning -- the parable of the talents -- suggests that the greatest risk lies in not using the gifts we've been given. Our talents are gifts from God, so we are free to use them without counting the cost. They are "seed money" or "venture capital" for us to build on, and none of us is left out of the funding.

Whether we receive five talents, or two, or just one, we've each got something to use and something to offer. Finding the opportunity to use those talents, searching until we discover the need that cries out for our skills, practicing so that our talents are made better, is hard work -- and too many are afraid of doing that hard work, preferring instead not to shine, not to put forward that they are capable.

There's a sort of false humility that denies or minimizes our talents, and that false humility is not of God. God has chosen to give to each of us generously, and as the parable suggests, God wants us to share our talents with equal generosity. True humility says, "Yes, I am good at this, thank you. How can I help?"

Thing is, when we put ourselves forward, our talents and skills -- whatever they may be -- are likely to be put to use, and then there'll be no more excuses. Once you've started playing the game, you can't go back to the sidelines.

Talent that is used draws other talents into play. I see that at the company where I work -- everyone really is trying to do their very best, and it's a joy to see how we add to each other's expertise.

Why not be the one who shares your talents with those around you? Why not step forward in trust that what you can do will prove to be what the world needs done? Go ahead, good and faithful servant -- enter into the joy of your master.

Week of 3 Advent, Thursday

Hail, hail! Lion of Judah!

I remember singing this song one Advent more than 20 years ago at a service at Brent House, the Episcopal Campus Ministry of the University of Chicago. I must have been there for a Province V gathering of some kind.

Many years later, I ran across this icon from Br. Robert Lentz, OFM. Lentz writes about how the resurrected Jesus appeared to Mary Magdalene and to the disciples in such a way that they did not recognize him. He goes on to ask whether we today would recognize Christ in others -- strangers, or the poor, or the naked, or the hungry. This powerful image depicts Christ as a Maasai warrior, surrounded by the evangelist seraphim we talked about yesterday, perparing to open the scroll with seven seals described in Rev. 5:5.

On Thursday mornings, we pray to God, in whom "we live, and move, and have our being" (BCP 100). We're not the only ones, though. Everyone belongs to God, and in God's good time that belonging will be made plain.

Hail, hail! Lion of Judah!

Week of 3 Advent, Wednesday

Engel - Angel
Originally uploaded by barryra

To you all angels,
All the powers of heaven,
Cherubim and Seraphim,
Sing in endless praise

The stained glass windows in medieval cathedrals were meant, in part, to resemble the jasper and carnelian described in Rev. 4:3, and this stained glass seraph could be the "third living creature with a face like a human face" (Rev. 4:7).

The living creatures are often used symbolically to represent the four Evangelists -- Matthew the Lion, Mark the Man, Luke the Ox, and John the Eagle.

I have a set of four framed images of the Evangelists as seraphim which will hang in my office again when it's remodeled, and which remind me of my diaconal calling to proclaim the Gospel.

What images inspire you to do the work God has given you to do?

Week of 3 Advent, Tuesday

"So, how do I get started saying Morning Prayer?" I hear you asking.

Good question -- let me give you three suggestions.

First, if you will primarily be praying the office at home, all you need is a Book of Common Prayer and your favorite Bible. The Daily Office Lectionary in the back of the BCP tells you what Psalms and what Scripture lessons are appointed for the day. For example, today's readings are listed on page 939 toward the top of the page. The lectionary is in a two-year cycle, with Year Two beginning in Advent before even-numbered years, like 2010.

Morning Prayer follows this basic pattern, starting on p. 80:

Opening Sentences - "Lord, open our lips"
Invitatory Psalm - Venite or Jubilate with a seasonal antiphon
Psalms Appointed for the Day
Lesson
One of the Canticles from pp. 85-95 (see the chart on p. 144 for suggestions)
(Second Lesson, if desired)
(Another Canticle, if desired)
(Third Lesson, if desired)
Apostles' Creed
The Lord's Prayer
Suffrages A or B
Collect of the Day - use the one from the previous Sunday
Collect of the Day of the Week (pp. 98-100)
Collect for Mission (pp. 100-101)
Pause here to add your own intercessions and thanksgivings
End with either the General Thanksgiving (p. 101) or
     the Prayer of St. Chrysostom (p. 102),
     or go directly to the closing sentences (p. 102)

I know it sounds a little daunting, but trust me, it gets to become second nature. Invitatory - Psalm(s) - Lessons and Canticles - Creed - The Lord's Prayer - Collects.

Now, a second alternative is to let someone else do the heavy lifting for you. The Mission of St. Clare produces an online Daily Office which walks you right through the steps I just outlined. It's that easy!

Naturally, there is also a third way -- Anglicans are famous for following the via media, or "middle way" -- which involves books that help you organize the Daily Office sort of like the Mission of St. Clare does.

I use a combination Book of Common Prayer and NRSV Bible with ribbons so that I have only one book to work with. It's a small volume that fits nicely into my briefcase and goes with me everywhere. My grandfather was a priest, and he had a similar volume that he used for his daily prayers.

Some people like to use the Contemporary Office Book, which takes only the services of the Daily Office and the Psalter from the BCP and then lays out the readings day by day. The Daily Office Book, an older version, splits the year into two volumes which are a little smaller and more portable. These are pricey leather-bound volumes, so you may want to talk to your priest and see if you can borrow one of them to try before you buy.

The point is to make saying the Daily Office as easy as possible, so you won't have an excuse not to do it. At various times in my life, I've used each of these methods, and at various times I've prayed the office at home, on the bus, on the train, and in hotel rooms.

Why not try one of these methods for yourself and let me know how it goes?

Week of 3 Advent, Monday

While You Were Sleeping

We get a picture of real vulnerability in psalm 41 this morning. The psalmist complains that his enemies are plotting and spreading rumors:

"A deadly thing," they say, "has fastened on him;
he has taken to his bed and will never get up again." (Ps. 41:8)

Even his best friend is turning away from him, so it is only in the Lord that he finds solace, his integrity is rewarded, and he is set before the Lord's face (Ps. 41:12).

All of us have experienced a betrayal of some form, whether hurtful words from a colleague or fellow-student, harmful actions from someone we trusted, even a break-up that we didn't expect. At some level, as human beings, we simply have to learn that we will always be vulnerable, but we don't have to be destroyed when someone hurts us. Curling up into a ball won't work, but neither will stoic self-reliance -- we need to be in relationship, but not to load the full weight of our happiness onto the people around us.

Only the Lord can carry that load, but he also asks us to share it with him. We are called upon to "bear one another's burdens" (Gal. 6:2) in order to show each other and the world what protecting the vulnerable looks like.

We watched the movie "While you Were Sleeping" last night -- it's one of my favorite Christmas films. As Peter lies in the hospital bed in a coma, Lucy (who has dreamed about marrying him but never actually spoken to him) is mistakenly identified as his fiancee just as his family arrives. They embrace her and draw her into their Christmas celebration, a warm gathering of extended family that she doesn't have. Peter's godfather, Sol, eventually learns the truth about Lucy and says, "I won't let anyone hurt this family." She promises the same thing, even though it gets harder and harder to sustain the fiction.

God grant both that we will protect the vulnerable we meet, and that he will surround us with warmth and relationship that reflect his shining face.

P.S. God also grant that we won't have to put up with a goof like Joe Jr. (if you haven't seen the movie yet, watch for him!).

Week of 3 Advent, Sunday

The obligatory cat posting ... this is the Internet, after all.

As I was reading psalm 63 this morning, "my soul is content, as with marrow and fatness," my cat Dewey was curling into my lap in the crook of my elbow, purring deeply, and kneading furiously. This is his favorite spot.

Sock Monkey, our other boy, is too energetic to sit still for very long, and Miss Tibby, the fluffy princess, has to remain vigilant lest one of the boys gets too close, so she sits up alert in my lap. Dewey, however, settles right in and looks into my eyes like the psalmist admiring the beauty of the Temple:

"Therefore I have gazed upon you in your holy place,
that I might behold your power and your glory" (Ps. 63:2)

Dewey knows he's in the lap of luxury.

Sometimes it's all right simply to curl up and be content. Looks like today will be one of those days.

Blessings!

Week of 2 Advent, Saturday

Love grown cold? No way!

Last night was TeleTracking's annual holiday party, a tradition that brings the far-flung implementation and sales teams back to Pittsburgh (often with their spouses) to enjoy an evening of celebration with our colleagues who are based in Pittsburgh.

It's a great party, and it gets bigger every year, not just because TeleTracking is a strong and growing company, but because this year, in a very difficult economy, we acquired two other software companies. It was a real treat to welcome employees from those companies into our tradition.

The church I used to serve in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin hosts a Community Meal every Saturday evening. Local churches take turns serving the meal, but it is always held at Holy Communion. Several years ago, we had an Advent play performed at the Saturday evening Eucharist, followed by a reception, which gradually flowed into the Community Meal. The folks coming for their meal joined a party already in progress.

Since then, that has been my image for the church at its best -- we invite people to join a party already in progress, and by our joy and delight in each other they come to know the Lord we worship.

It doesn't always happen that way, of course. Sometimes we need to hear the rebuke that Christ delivers in Revelation to those whose "have the name of being alive, but ... are dead" (Rev. 3:1). Sometimes our love grows cold, and our welcome lackluster.

Last night at our company party, however, we were at our best and brightest. Our CEO thanked us for both our knowledge and our heart, our new colleagues joined us on the dance floor, and the party was in full swing!

We were blessings to each other last night. May we reach out to be blessings to those we serve in the year to come.

Week of 2 Advent, Friday

"I am forgotten like a dead man, out of mind;
I am as useless as a broken pot.

For I have heard the whispering of the crowd;
fear is all around" (Psalm 31:12-13a)

An op-ed in USA Today yesterday talked about the impact joblessness has not only on the unemployed, but on all of us.

"Recent studies confirm the results of research during the Great Depression," the authors write, "unemployment badly frays a person's ties with his community, sometimes permanently." People who have been unemployed are less engaged in the community around them, and that withdrawal outlasts the unemployment itself. The authors also note that the unemployed find themselves increasingly alone, isolated from their neighbors.

"Equally disturbing," the article continues, "high unemployment rates reduce the social and civic involvement even of those still employed." Fearing that they, too, might be under the gun, those still employed work harder, which cuts into their civic engagement. Lasting unemployment sends ripples of despair through neighborhoods and cities.

Our best friend has been unemployed for more than a year now, and though she maintains all kinds of connections with her neighborhood, has taken advantage of the opportunity to add new skills to her resume, and is energetic in her job search, I know the months of effort and rejection weigh heavily.

Even though we stay in regular contact with her, we're sometimes shy to bring up her situation, not wanting to cause her distress, but our silence on the subject must bring up the same emotions the psalmist felt so many years ago. I think many of us have the same response to unemployment as when someone has died -- we are afraid to cause hurt to a friend or neighbor, but our concerned silence actually deepens their isolation.

I can't solve my friend's unemployment -- though I will insert a shameless plug for you to read her blog A Career Pursuit -- but it is within my power to keep reaching out to her and to friends who have lost jobs or loved ones so that their sense of being passed by isn't made any worse.

Most Friday mornings, we pray to Christ that we, "reaching forth our hands in love, may bring those who do not know you to the knowledge and love of you" (BCP 101). Please join me in reaching out to those you know who might be feeling isolated or ignored in this challenging season.

Week of 2 Advent, Thursday

The cares and occupations of our life

Jesus continues to have harsh words for the Pharisees and the scribes today -- condemning them for being poor leaders, punctilious tithers, self-indulgent ritualists instead of the strong and wise servants God's people need them to be.

For the professionally religious, it's easy to turn into a sort of hothouse flower -- and I know, because it happens to me from time to time. Observing the Church's rhythm of feast and fast can turn into being a bit precious about this or that minor saint's day and what color the altar cloth should be. Living and working in the Church all the time can make it easy to forget that there is more to life and faith than what happens in the parish.

But it's no less dangerous on the outside -- the world we all live in and work in doesn't know the life of faith from a hole in the ground. We're all of us too easily infected by the shallow, glittery veneer, and it's hard to practice being faithful, being true to deeper commitments than the latest political wind or whatever's on the entertainment news tonight.

Whether we're inside the Church's walls or outside (or shuttling between them, as many of us are) Jesus' words remind us not to be so preoccupied with the trivial than we overlook the substantial. The deep work of faith is practiced quietly by good people all around us -- I see it in colleagues, parishioners, and friends who simply produce good work, constantly support parish projects, regularly turn to help a neighbor.

We who lead in the Church need to have eyes to see, so that we can better recognize the quiet, steady life of faith and make sure nothing happens to distract or dishearten those who are walking in God's sight.

Week of 2 Advent, Wednesday

Now it starts to get personal.

In the Revelation to John, the figure of Christ starts making pointed comments about the seven churches, beginning with the Church at Ephesus. "I have this against you," he says, "that you have abandoned the love you had at first" (Rev. 2:4).

This risen Christ, "the first and the last," sounds like himself still, at least compared to the Jesus we meet in the Gospel reading as he denounces the scribes and Pharisees.

See, the scribes and Pharisees like to "do all their deeds to be seen by others; for they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long; they love to have the place of honor at banquets and the best seats in the synagogues, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces" (Matt. 23:5-7).

As I said, now it starts to get personal. I freely admit to loving the vestments that come along with being a deacon in the Church -- my stoles are broad and my dalmatics are long -- and I even have twice as many ribbons in my Book of Common Prayer than is strictly necessary. My sales colleagues at work will also tell you I love being the "big guy," the presenter in the spotlight, just like my parishioners know I love to preach from the center aisle.

While these things in themselves are not necessarily a problem, but (I hope) a reflection of the joy I take in my two callings, it's important for me to remember that they are things I do at church and at work because of what and whom I love. They are not ends in themselves, but the trappings of a life of love.

This is the cautionary tale for the Ephesians and for me, that it's too easy to "abandon the love we had at first" and get caught up in demanding respect and acclaim, in believing our own press releases.

"Remember then from what you have fallen," the revealed Christ tells us, "repent, and do the works you did at first." Focus on doing what you love for the ones you love, and for goodness' sake, don't trip on your fringes.

Week of 2 Advent, Tuesday

"It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God."

The writer of the Revelation to John does his best to describe the vision of Christ appearing to him in the midst of seven golden lampstands, clothed in white wool, and dazzling, holding stars in his hand and with a two-bladed sword coming from his mouth. We've entered richly symbolic terrritory here, and Christians for centuries have searched the words of Revelation for clues and dates and details.

At an emotional level, though, John is also describing the inward response to Christ's presence in our lives -- it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. "I come not to bring peace, but a sword," Jesus said, and if we weren't dazzled by his appearance, we might be cut by the sword in his mouth.

"The Word of God is living and active," we read in Hebrews, "sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart" (Heb. 4:12).

When we allow the Word to enter our lives, we have to prepare ourselves for the inevitable piercing and paring that will result. Even if we are longtime readers of Scripture, familiar with the story, we must remain open to the possibility that the Word will speak to us in a new way today, and that what we hear may not be comfortable.

Being open to the truth as we discover it each day is a hallmark of many disciplines in our world -- I think of the evolutionary biologists with whom I used to work at the Field Museum in Chicago, or the hospital staff using our software today who learn where it is they need to improve their processes. Embracing a new revelation calls for integrity to deal with the new data rather than running from it into comfortable certainties.

It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God, but Lord Jesus, quickly come!

Week of 2 Advent, Monday

The Collect for the Second Sunday of Advent, which sets the overall theme for this week, asks God for the grace to heed the warnings of the prophets and to forsake our sins (BCP 211). The Collect for the Renewal of Life, which we read each Monday morning during the office, asks God to "drive far from us all wrong desires, incline our hearts to keep your law, and guide our feet into the way of peace" (BCP 99).

Now the warnings of the prophets are big business these days. Katrin and I are fans of what she calls "crackpottery" -- the endless History Channel specials on the Knights Templar, the Nazca lines in Peru, Mary Magdalene, Nostradamus, and the Masonics. Thrown in there pretty liberally are documentaries on the End Times and the Revelation to John from which our readings will come for the next couple of weeks.

Crackpottery invites us to speculation on the grand patterns (or conspiracies, if you will) behind the events of history. It invites us to ponder grand theories, secret societies, the global machinations behind seemingly ordinary institutions. It's fun, but it doesn't lead anywhere -- the TV specials, you'll notice, are full of questions, but pretty thin on answers. "Isn't it plausible?" they all ask, without ever giving much evidence.

But our Prayer Book pattern for the Christian life -- grand in its own way -- invites us into a different kind of consideration. "Give us grace," we pray, "to forsake our sins." The evidence is clear. We know precisely what our sins are, the things we have done and the things we have left undone. Forsaking them means changing how we behave, and we know exactly what that would look like, too. This is not a grand conspiracy; this is me, a sinner just like everyone else.

Repenting is not easy, as we all know. Learning to act differently means practicing the new way every single day. "What do you monks do in that monastery?" the visitor asked. "We fall down, and we get up," the abbot replied. "We fall down, and we get up again." Overcoming sin, overcoming addiction, is something we have to do day by day, one day at a time, every time temptation strikes.

That's why the Prayer Book gives us a daily pattern to follow. "Every day we begin again," as St. Benedict said. Every day is a new opportunity to turn in the right direction. There are no vast conspiracies keeping us from repenting, though the world does work hard to distract us with news not worth watching and to sell us on a lifestyle that we don't need.

The movement of the human heart -- the turning away from sin (which is what repentance means) -- happens in the space, nearer than breathing, between us and God. "Give us grace," we pray. "My grace is sufficient for your need," God replies. "Here I am."

It's a new day; God give us grace to begin again.

Turn around, bright eyes ...

Um, actually, it's Year Two on the Daily Office calendar, so, like, you're supposed to be reading those lessons on page 937 instead ....

Repentance comes from the Greek for "turn around," so here we go! Year Two, everybody!

Week of 2 Advent, Sunday

"Regard the patience of our Lord as salvation" (2 Peter 3:15).

This would make a good motto for the Patience family crest, I think, and it's a good theme for Advent reflection.

Like the Thessalonians, the believers to whom Peter's letter is addressed are concerned about the last day -- and especially why it hasn't come yet. Peter urges them to consider "what sort of persons ought you to be in leading lives of holiness and godliness, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God." But he also offers a beautiful thought about why that day hasn't come yet.

"Beloved," he writes, "the Lord is not slow about his promise, as some think of slowness, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance."

This single passage clarifies for me why fire-and-brimstone threats have no place in our preaching. That sort of threat, playing on people's fear, distorts the picture of God we present to the world. We are not "sinners in the hands of an angry God," but are rather the object of God's limitless patience and mercy.

God wants us all, and God has time to wait until we're all ready to join him.

Week of 1 Advent, Saturday

Every Saturday the collect appointed in Morning Prayer gives thanks for God's creative act and for the weekly day of rest for God's creatures.

We also pray for two things: "that we, putting away all earthly anxieties," may be prepared for Sunday worship, and "that our rest here upon earth may be a preparation for the eternal rest promised to your people in heaven" (BCP 99).

The Saturday collect perfectly mirrors today's readings. In the Gospel, Jesus warns his disciples not to let anxiety about the end times lead them astray. This is a reasonable Jesus saying, "things will happen, but don't be afraid."

Paul, writing to his church in Thessalonika, gives the same reassurance, but speaks particularly to their worries about those who have died before that last day. "I do not want you to be uninformed," he writes, "so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope."

Neither Jesus nor Paul sugarcoats reality -- things will be tough -- but they insist that ours is a hopeful stance even in the face of death. There will be wars, we will face betrayal, we will lose the ones we love, but in the larger plan of God's creation we can rest in hope.

Week by week, we practice that hopeful resting. Saturday by Saturday, we renew our praise and rehearse our confidence in the One who made us and makes us whole.

Week of 1 Advent, Friday

"Do so more and more" (1 Thess. 4:1,10)

The pattern for the Christian life laid out in our Book of Common Prayer is aspirational. In many ways, it's far too much to take on all at once.

The Holy Eucharist on Sundays and other feast days, morning and evening prayer every day, days of special observance -- the calendar itself can be fairly daunting, and that's only pages 15-33.

But we find as we practice living into that pattern that we are able to "do so more and more," that what initially seems daunting over time becomes encouraging. The pattern, far from confining  us, provides a structure upon which to build a life oriented toward God.

Paul urges his church at Thessalonika to "do so more and more," not for their own sakes, but to demonstrate the love of God in Jesus Christ to the Gentiles among whom they live, and work, and worship. It is the same for us. We pray during Morning Prayer that Jesus, who "stretched out [his] arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of his saving embrace" will "so clothe us in [his] Spirit that we, reaching forth our hands in love, may bring those who do not know [him] to the knowledge and love of [him]" (BCP 101).

We learn to know and love Jesus, in part, because we participate in a pattern of life that places us before God day by day, week by week, year by year. We learn to love Jesus "more and more" and that love leads us "more and more" to reach out to others.

Beloved, in this Advent season of preparation, we urge you to do so -- to learn to love Jesus -- more and more.

Week of 1 Advent, Thursday

I woke up really early this morning in my hotel room in Little Rock, and I couldn't concentrate on the newspaper, so I turned on the TV and got hooked by a movie on HBO. Summer Catch is a local boy-meets-rich girl, has a chance to play baseball in front of Major League scouts, nearly blows it, but learns valuable life lessons from his hometown friends kind of movie.

There's stupid teenage humor, but there's also a lot of heart. Our hero is discouraged, thinking he'll fail in front of the scouts, but his best friend tells him, "You think you're a failure? To me, you've already made it! I've never missed a game all these years ... I'm proud of everything you've done!"

Two thousand years ago and more, people who were discouraged needed to hear the same reassurance as we do today. The psalmist sings, "He rescued me because he delighted in me." Paul asks his young church in Thessalonika, "How can we thank God enough for you in return for all of the joy that we feel before our God because of you?"

In the movie, our hero's realization that he loves the girl is the key to his finally embracing success as a ballplayer. It sounds Hollywood when it involves Freddie Prinze, Jr. and Jessica Biel, but we Christians testify to the same dynamic between us and God. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me," Paul tells another of his churches in Rome. Today in Morning Prayer, we asked God "in whom we live, and move, and have our being," to help us "remember that we are ever walking in [his] sight."

What could you accomplish -- in front of your boss, and your peers, and your neighbors, and your family,  and Major League scouts and everyone -- if you knew (and believed) that you were loved and cherished by One who wants you to succeed?

Play ball!

Week of 1 Advent, Wednesday

I said Morning Prayer today after boarding my 6:41 a.m. Delta flight to Memphis.

While I turned the pages of the prayer book, I couldn't help noticing the young men and women in Navy uniforms who were also boarding the flight. "We're headed to Mississippi," one of them told me, "for additional training."

The collect For the Nation (BCP 258) asks God to grant us "forbearance ... to use our liberty in accordance with God's gracious will" without forgetting that God "made all the peoples of the earth for [his] glory."

Let's remember all the young men and women whose self-offering preserves our liberty, and give thanks for the freedoms we enjoy. Let's also remember all of God's people, in whatever part of the world we may find them.

Week of 1 Advent, Tuesday

"Defend us, your humble servants, in all assaults of our enemies; that we, surely trusting in your defense, may not fear the power of any adversaries, through the might of Jesus Christ our Lord."

For many people, the holiday season is hard to bear. Memories of past losses, frustration over current pain, the burden of frenetic activity without rest -- in so many ways we are hard pressed. The psalmist says, "I grow weary because of my groaning; / every night I drench my bed / and flood my couch with tears." What should be a season of joy (and the word "should" captures our angst precisely) is for many a siege to endure.

"Defend us," we pray. Fence us around with "sure trust" in God's goodness, even when we are beset by tinny Christmas carols and pressure to be perfect. Help us to trust, when the blizzard of "special offers" and "one day only" sales erodes our belief in plain dealing. Free us from fear, whether we are afraid to disappoint, or afraid to ask for a break, or afraid to cry when everyone around us is acting happy.

"Your way is not to be the world's way," Scripture says in another place. And Paul reminds his new charges how he acted with them -- "we were gentle among you, like a nurse caring for her own children."

The might of Jesus Christ our Lord -- the strength in which we pray to God at all -- is not like the world's might. The power that he brings into the world is solace, rest, peace, courage. His power derives from his own gift of himself, which upsets every other measure of power that we know. The wicked tenants in Luke's parable cannot win over the son, even though they take his life, because the Son has already won and has already given it away. Like Paul, he has determined to share with us not only the gospel of God but also his very own self, because we have become very dear to him.

We are dear to God. We are very dear to our Lord. He has determined to share with us his very own self. May that quiet confidence sustain us. May that strong tower defend us. May that Love enfold us.