"For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully,
even as I have been fully known." (1 Corinthians 13:12)
|
| Alpena Harbor Breakwall (Cf. Sunday, March2) |
|
 |
|
Monday, June 23, 2008
It has not been a series of quiet weeks on the local shores of Lake Huron. But then, we're not Lake
Woebegone, either. Our capital projects are proceeding apace, with much tiling of once-ugly floors and the scaffolding for
the new roofing set for June 30 or July 1. We've been blessed by an abundance of newcomers and visitors since my last post.
All I will say is, there are few better reasons to not post daily.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Blessed are you, creator of all,
to you be praise and glory for ever.
As your dawn renews the face
of the earth
bringing light and life to all creation,
may we rejoice in this day you have made;
as we wake refreshed
from the depths of sleep,
open our eyes to behold your presence
and strengthen our hands to do your will,
that the
world may rejoice and give you praise.
Blessed be God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
This is in an "Acclamation of Christ at the Dawning of the Day" from our link to Daily Morning
Prayer. I chose it because it presumes what did not happen for me an hour ago; I did not "wake refreshed from the depths
of sleep." Rather, I roused myself on my third attempt from REM sleep, and remain groggy -- plus confused over dream-scenes
that I wish I could recall but cannot.
My prayer seems all the more urgent: "open our eyes to behold your presence and strengthen our hands
to do your will..."
Amen. And, "Have a nice day." (?)
Sunday, April 6, 2008
The latter splendour of this house shall be greater than the former, says the Lord
of hosts; and in this place I will give prosperity, says the Lord of hosts.
From today's Evening Prayer, an unanticipated bit of encouragement for Trinity's capital project
aspirations: "The latter splendour of this house shall be greater than the former..." (Haggai 2:9)
As our new tile floors are laid in the church and parish hall foyers, and as the red aluminum shingle
roof is about to be installed, and as we try to afford these without a loan, how good it is to hear "in this place I will
give prosperity."
Haggai's oracle, of course, was addressing a different house, but given what seem to be our prospects,
I like to think it's applicable here, too. A more splendid house in which the Lord will give prosperity -- prosperity for
service.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Open our ears, glorious Lord Christ,
to hear the music of your voice
above the chaos
of this world;
open our eyes to see the vision of your glory,
for you are our King, now and for ever.
This prayer concluded Psalm 29 in the Church of England's Morning Prayer from
Common Worship. Ironically but accurately, the "music of [Christ's] voice" is thereby associated with natural phenomena such
as the cataracts of a river and thunder storms.
Experiences while white-water rafting in West Virginia and backpacking in the
Smokies verify -- for me, at least -- that nature, no matter how chaotic itself, can open one's eyes to the divine glory.
But what peculiar music in the instances given by the psalm. Listening back to the New River's rapids and the Smokies'
electrical storms, I realize it was played solely by the percussion section!
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
The Lord brings the counsel of the nations to naught; •
he frustrates the designs of the peoples.
Psalm 33 was appointed for Evening Prayer today, and v. 10 jumps out to
confirm the folly of the Bush and Blair administrations (and their few allies) in their design upon Iraq. But instead of depairing,
I pray this prayer that was often said in Morning Prayer at Trinity when I was a boy:
O Lord our Governor, whose glory is in all the world: We commend this nation to your merciful care, that, being guided by
your Providence, we may
dwell secure in your peace. Grant to the President of the United States ... and to all
in authority, wisdom and strength to know and to do your will. Fill them with the love of truth and righteousness, and make them ever mindful of their calling to serve this people in your
fear; through Jesus Christ
our Lord. Amen. (BCP, p. 820)
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Vulnerability and compassion
Compassionate God,
as you know each star you have created,
so you know the
secrets of every heart;
in your loving mercy bring to your table
all who are fearful and broken,
all who are wounded
and needy,
that our hungers may be satisfied
in the city of your peace;
through Christ who is our peace.
This all-inclusive prayer from the today's morning prayer link concludes the recitation
of Psalm 25. To one degree or another, everyone can count themselves fearful, broken, wounded, or needy. While I don't appreciate
it when people whine, I do think some authenticity about our hurts would promote healing.
As the congregation kneels at the altar rail, brought to the table by God's Church,
they are shoulder-to-shoulder, sometimes, with others whose very hurts they share, unbeknownst to them. It's not my place
to blow anyone's cover, but a little vulnerability somewhere along the line would be a healthy thing. They might be surprised
by the compassion they meet.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
The Bat
Just back from a Village Church Concert given by Quintetto Sonare, a very fine woodwind quintet
comprised of musicians from northeastern Michigan. The audience was relatively small, but very appreciative.
During the encore, in flew a bat -- as if they were playing Die Fliedermaus. First bat we've had
since Edna DeBats' funeral over two years ago, and the the timing was less appropriate by far!
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Tuesday evening already! It has been hard to do a daily blog of late, but -- if excuses are allowed,
I have some. Like funerals. We buried Gordie Collins, age 51, today. His parents survive, and suffer what the professionals
regard to be the toughest bereavement. So, too, do a son and daughter and wife/best friend, likewise grieving.
No songbirds at the cemetery to cushion the blow, but plenty of wind and snow. Bleak. Leaving the family
and grave after the committal, a funeral home employee remarked that he had heard summer was going to fall on a Sunday this
year. "Let's have a picnic!"
I cannot remember the community's ever being so tired of winter. In line ahead of me, a Seven Eleven customer
announced loudly that he was "through with Alpena" and that, even though a native, he was returning to Arizona after trying
it back home for five years. That he was younger and hardier than I made me wonder what I will do in retirement.
Nonetheless, for anyone reading this blog who is not familiar with Alpena, be assured that at least six-or-so
months of each year, this place is justifiably called "God's Country." And the two geese I saw headed north day-before-yesterday
suggest that you might want to come up pretty soon yourself.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
May God bless us,
that in us may be found love and humility,
obedience and thanksgiving,
discipline,
gentleness and peace.
This conclusion of Night Prayer on Easter Eve (actually Easter itself, since we've celebrated
the Great Vigil) resonates with the hospitality our small Vigil congregation showed to a special guest. "Georgia" phoned forty
minutes before the Vigil to ask if we were having a Service this night. "You betcha. At seven," I replied. "Good. I'll be
there." And she was -- although in a far corner of the room where we gathered to light the Paschal Candle to lead us into
the darkened church.
I had little time to foster our acquaintance before the Service, but she took advantage of
every second, smiling broadly and quickly explaining that her missing teeth would soon be replaced. She reported that she
came to Trinity every Sunday, and I shortly realized she was one of our Sunday Supper clients. "Wonderful," I thought. We
-- the Vestry -- had discussed just Tuesday why we don't have any of this clientele worship with us.
Georgia is "special" or whatever the politically correct adjective is. When I raised my
arms into the ourans position during the Eucharistic Prayer, she did the same. It took me a moment to realize that
she was not a Pentecostal Christian or a Charismatic Episcopalian, but was only imitating me. AOK regardless!
A few minutes later, when I gave her "The body of Christ. The bread of heaven," she loudly
responded, "Thank you, God." Not what I would have expected in either the words or the volume with which she spoke them, but
how entirely appropriate! How much more appreciative of God's gift than the Prayer Book's prescribed "Amen."
After the post-Communion prayer, "Jesus Christ is ris'n today," and "Alleluia. Alleluia. Let
us go forth in the name of Christ," we few congregants casually greeted one another. And we all made a point of greeting Georgia,
who quickly asked, "Can I join your congregation?"
Yes!
May God bless us,
that in us may be found love and humility,
obedience and thanksgiving,
discipline,
gentleness and peace.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Better sometimes to receive than give
A woman aged forty-eight or so came into church late this afternoon. I asked if I could help her. (It's
not that I asked her age, but that she told me the year she was graduated from high school when our conversation led us to
realize I knew somebody from her hometown in the Thumb.) She asked where the parish office was. I took her there, and
upon finding the office manager busy on the phone, again asked if I could help her.
She began to cry, and blubbered through her tears that all her life she had been a giver, but now her circumstances
were forcing her to be a taker: she had been referred to us for food from our pantry.
"Would you like to sit awhile and talk?" I asked. And for a moment, it seemed she would. Drawing herself
up, however, she thanked me and said she would at the moment prefer to gather the food. So I went to the pantry,
pulled out two empty cartons, checked out the hand-out list on the upright freezer, and filled the cartons.
Afterwards, grateful, she volunteered her story. She had recently left a bad relationship, lost a brother
to cancer, checked herself into a local rehab facility, been found to have been mis-diagnosed for MS and bi-polarity, prescribed
one medication instead of the four she had been taking, and had been today released to re-enter the world in which
she has been drawing disability from the state.
She struck me as maybe disabled, but certainly not unable. She seemed to have the moxy and gifts to resume
that former life in which she had -- in her own estimation, at least -- always been a giver rather than a taker. I could only
tell her as much as she seemed willing to hear: that today, it was more blessed to receive than to give.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Computer worship
No, not worship of a computer, but worship at a computer. Since getting
this site up and running, I've not missed a day of MP, EP, or NP, and I've sometimes done all three. It is convenient, and
maybe that's the best that can be said for it. Sitting at this little desk cannot match kneeling and standing at the prie
dieux in the chancel. About all I can do gesture or posture-wise in this confined space is make the sign of the cross.
In better days, I've used just about all the ideas that Edward Hayes proposed in his Prayers for an
Interplanetary Pilgrim -- little shrines and chapels in the house, candles, sacred stones, and even an ancient prayer
desk given to me by a retired priest whose knees no longer allowed him to kneel.
But for now, with the walk to church so icy and the chancel so cold, this computer desk suffices. And an
added benefit is that though the windows here are not stained, they are many, completely enwrapping this "sun room." The snow
with the sun upon it and the black squirrels in such contrast to it are subjects for thanksgiving. And the occasional passerby
a subject for intercession.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
When life's the pits
He brought me out of the roaring pit,
out of the mire and clay; •
he
set my feet upon a rock and made my footing sure. (Ps. 40:2)
Anyone who has trekked much in the wilderness can relate to this verse, though the "roaring" aspect of the
pit is foreign. I once trudged along the Appalachian Trail in a downpour that turned the rutted path to very slippery footing
indeed -- a "mire" to be sure. What a relief it was to reach bare rock which, though wet, was negotiable thanks to the special
soles of my boots.
But there is another way that I can relate to this, and perhaps you can, too. That is to regard the "pit"
as depression. Something like "mire and clay" defeat all your efforts to lift yourself out of it. Not that you can't
help yourself out a bit, but that if it's a true physiological condition, there needs to be an intervention.
Laus Deo for a friend twelve years ago who recognized my need and brought me out of the pit
of my depression.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Ending our day, ending our life
"Now, Lord, you let your servant go in peace:
your word has been fulfilled."
Night Prayer of course includes the wonderful canticle, Nunc dimittis. It bespeaks a wonderful
way to end a day, but also a wonderful way to end a life. When my grandfather Ralph was in his last days at a "rest home"
in 1985, an elderly priest on Trinity's staff would visit him. To conclude every visit, the priest would invite my grandfather,
a wonderful bass, to sing the canticle with him: "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word."
For this hope and encouragement given my grandfather, and for the priest who was its channel, I give you thanks, O Lord.
Psalm 55:1-2
Hear my prayer, O God; •
hide not yourself from my petition.
Give heed to me and answer me; •
I
am restless in my complaining.
This AM's psalmody might have been in Jesus' mind when he concocted the parable of the
persistent widow demanding justice from the unjust judge. (Luke 18:2-5) No need to be polite, eh? I have enjoyed and been
rewarded by those times when I could pray the way Rab Tevye did in Fiddler on the Roof -- frequent dialogues during
the day, with my part spoken out loud. Talking to one's self is maybe the beginning of prayer, and talking with
one's self prayer more fully developed.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Sleep tight, sleep right
"That this evening may be holy, good and peaceful, let us pray
with one heart and mind." So reads the first petition in our site's link to Evening Prayer. Especially after those hectic
days we sometimes have, running here and there like firefighters responding to multiple alarms, to pray for a "peaceful" evening
seems especially good. But then, as firefighters still at their station, to add the prayer from Compline, "Keep watch, dear
Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick,
Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all
for your love’s sake. Amen." (BCP, p. 134)
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Snowbirds
An email arrived from a senior parishioner this morning, with photos attached of his church away
from home in Bonita Springs, FL. The first thing I noticed was how bright the altar area was. Light flooded it from beside
and above, making it a far cry from the usual appearance of our sanctuary in this 125-year-old building. I have no thoughts
of replacing our beloved Good Shepherd window above the altar with clear glass, but I do look forward to the fruit of
our capital campaign, which is to include enhanced lighting for our entire worship space. "O splendor of God's glory bright!"
(Hymn 5)
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Adjusting for the light
My son's photo (at the top) might have required adjustment of aperture and shutter speed -- or
maybe he just trusted the automatic setting on his camera. Regardless, he seems to have an eye for the makings of a good photo.
This, I think, is a valuable gift whether one is a photographer or not: to be able to see and frame all those parts of life
that are extraordinary no matter how ordinary. To have eyes open and alert to take in and make sense of life is as much a
Christian's task as a photographer's. To look for the light -- and with a flash, maybe to be the light -- in even the darkest
of human circumstances.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Bliss
The late Bishop of Michigan, Richard S. Emrich, accepted me for postulancy in 1969 and ordained me a transitional
deacon in 1972. Upon the latter occasion, he advised that when I take a vacation, I not go to a church on a Sunday morning,
but to some place such as a golf course. (He himself was an avid golfer. I took his advice precisely in 2000, playing golf
on a Sunday morning after my class reunion.) His wisdom came home to me again today, which I spent skiing with three buddies.
How renewing! What insight I gained into what's going on with and of concern to persons who are outside the church's orbit,
and who are completely comfortable and free around me, and not constrained by the collar I sometimes wear. I suppose I could
gain much the same by interviewing the "man on the street," but how much more relaxed and maybe more authentic it is when
it's the "men on the slopes."
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Children of light
Another gray day. I lent my anti-SAD lamp to a parishioner, and now wish
I had it, though hope it helps him. Maybe I'll phone to ask if he's using it. This Sunday's epistle exhorts us to "live as children of light..." (Eph 5:9) I'm looking at a photo of a light-filled
sky above the harbor's breakwall -- a scene caught by my older son on a bright winter day. What a challenge to keep such light
before us, so that it can lift our spirits. Christ, the light of the world.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Decidedly ecumenical
I haven't published it on this site yet, but it comes to mind after this morning's lectionary study group:
we are decidedly ecumenical. I guess this needs some clarification, because we local Episcopalians have not been numerous
at the Lenten Wednesday series with the Lutherans, Methodists, Presbyterians, and UCCers. But we have collaborated with them
in planning these series, had them with us on Maundy Thursday, and joined them for the last two hours of the Good Friday Tre
Ore. And there is the afore-mentioned lectionary study group, where the clergy gather weekly to discuss the readings for the
upcoming Sunday. Also, lest I forget, there is our local chapter of LARC -- Lutherans, Anglicans, and Roman Catholics. "Ecumenical
Relationships" deserves a page of its own on this site.
|
|
2008.06.22
2008.05.18
2008.04.06
2008.03.30
2008.03.23
2008.03.16
2008.03.09
2008.03.02
2008.02.24
2008.02.17
2008.02.10
2008.02.01
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|