The Holy Innocents

A priest and liturgist at the Church Divinity School of the Pacific (my own alma mater) pointed out, in the Globe’s article, that in the Episcopal Church’s calendar we have these holy days during Christmastide which provide a context to address this legitimate  pastoral need. The day after Christmas, December 26th, is the Feast of St. Stephen, the first martyr, who was stoned to death. Today, is the Holy Innocents. Professor Larson-Miller wasn’t suggesting that we not create Blue Advent services, only that if we look to our existing calendar we can find rich resources that are both Biblical and liturgical. I also inferred by her comments that we’ve been doing this for centuries...that our tradition holds this, already! 

Meanwhile the parish where I serve is shut-up for the days between Christmas and New Year’s, and I bet a handful of the people whom I serve, at most, know that these days are filled with “major feasts,” including today’s, the Holy Innocents. If our churches don’t keep these days (i.e. if the clergy take 3-4 days off) how can we expect the faithful to know about them, or to keep/celebrate them?

When King Herod had all those under-two-year olds slaughtered he was using his power to squelch what he knew to be a liberating Word in the birth of Jesus. But St. Matthew’s telling of this god-awful story isn’t merely news. It's a story in the most literary sense, one designed to draw us beyond ‘what happened to them’ to the depths of ‘what is happening to us.’  Reading about a Joseph with prophetic dreams should remind us of another righteous man who ended up exiled from his family in Egypt. Hearing of baby boys slaughtered by the empire would remind Matthew’s readers of the way Moses narrowly escaped that fate as well. And any Jew hearing this story in 1st century Palestine would remember the more recent terrors under Antiochus, when any mother caught circumcising her son would be rewarded with a dead baby hung around her neck. 

And, even more, reading this story better remind us, in 2012, that innocents are slaughtered every day...in Syria, in the Sudan, in the Congo, and yes, on the streets in the United States of America. 

This past year (from December 2011 until December 2012) I spent a great deal of time with Stanley Hauerwas’s commentary on Matthew’s gospel (Matthew. Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible, 2006). I leave you today with a quotation from this book, and an invitation to reflect on our own response and feelings to today’s commemoration of the Holy Innocents, in the first century, as well as on those children who will die at the hands of tyrants, at home and abroad: 

"Perhaps no event in the gospel more determinatively challenges the sentimental depiction of Christmas than the death of these children. Jesus is born into a world in which children are killed, and continue to be killed, to protect the power of tyrants [like Herod]."

A prayer for Newtown, Connecticut

News from Newtown leads us to prayer. Here's where I went yesterday late afternoon:

Holy God, we pray for your guidance and presence. Surround the people of Newtown, Connecticut, as they respond to this horrible tragedy. Receive into your heavenly kingdom the children and adults who died this morning, give them unending joy. Bless and uphold their families and loved ones who grieve. And, finally, in your mercy give us wisdom and insight from this senseless violence, that we will do everything in our power to protect and nurture our children, in whom you make yourself especially known. We ask this in the friendship of your Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ, and in the embrace of your Holy Spirit, who breathes upon us a peace which passes understanding. Amen.

Guide us waking and guard us sleeping

Today, our last full day here, began early with the morning devotional time, which is an all-school assembly led by one of the teachers, who says the opening prayers, followed by a presentation/sermon/inspirational speech by Doña Claudia. Then, we divided ourselves into teams of three to spend time in the classrooms. The students run the gamut. Some are great students, some have almost no interest, some were distracted to have us as visitors, others were motivated. From our perspective we saw determined, compassionate teachers who welcomed us, and who worked non-stop to teach and to love.

Some of the classroom time was interrupted by more furniture moving, which we did cheerfully, and by something else:  food shopping. Because El Hogar is "in between" kitchens we offered to buy the groceries to make 220 ham and cheese sandwiches. That´s a lot of white bread, mayonnaise, mustard, cheese, and ham!

By 10:30 we were loaded into the van and en route to the Agricultural School, a good hour´s drive  from town. Our tour there was thorough, but given our tight schedule, not as lengthy as we had hoped. I loved especially how clean the stalls were for the cows and the pigs, and we were all impressed by the School´s coffee cultivation.

A beautiful drive over the mountain ended in Valle de Angeles, a town near Santa Lucia where locals and toursists alike go for shopping and eating. We loaded up on goods for Epiphany´s Artisan Fair, and dashed back to El Hogar just in time to assemble the 220 sandwiches. Doña Claudia laughed to see the new kitchen inaugurated by a cookery of all men. Before too long we could see all the children lined up outside the new dining center. We said several prayers, then we sang Gracias, then, like unto a grand liturgical procession in some majestic cathedral,  the children marched into their new space to collect their sandwiches. We danced to the beat of the school´s marimba and drums, and wondered when the band will make their way to a 10:00 service at the Parish of the Epiphany. From there we loaded up two vans and headed to a Honduran restaurant where we hosted the Castro family, as well as five of the teachers at El Hogar who are celebrating their birthdays during October.

Yet that´s not all.

Long before we left Winchester this group of nine men met several times to raise money, to get acqainted, and to prepare for this mission. One of the commitments we made at those initial meetings was to pray every night that we were here at El Hogar. And so it was that on our very first night here, Saturday the 13th, we gathered on the narrow enclosed porch at the Volunteer House, sitting in Technical-School-Made adirondack chairs, and we prayed. Every night, all of us, all the time. The Prayer Books, a few of them literally vintage, were donated by the Church of the Holy Trinity in Ocean City, New Jersey, and since I had left all of our prayer material at home, I was especially relieved for this gift from Holy Trinity. There were exactly 9 books. Once we had dug them out of the little bookshelf in the sitting area off the kitchen, we sat quietly, opened the books and discovered that the ribbons were already marked to the office of Compline, the ancient late-night service used by monastic communities throughout generations. Compline has been our prayer every night.

The closing antiphon is from the Song of Simeon, the canticle we know best from Evensong: Guide us waking, O Lord, and guard us sleeping; that awake we may watch with Christ, and asleep we may rest in peace.

We said this office tonight for the last time. We said it strongly, led by Thom Fries, and we prayed with a fierce, in-the-body-sense that God has blessed us beyond measure. We prayed while picturing in our mind the faces and smiles, the tears and the love of the boys and girls who have befriended us, and we ended with an unswerving resolve to hold the teachers, the staff, and the board of directors in our hearts.

In that meeting with Doña Claudia (mentioned in an earlier blog post) two days ago we asked her how she keeps up her attitude of hope. She answered by admitting that it´s not always easy. Then she said, "But thanks God we can see Him working in the lives of these children every day. Thanks God." Later that afternoon I thanked her for her courage in answering the question so honestly, and for permitting us to see not only her vulnerability, but also her faith. I said, "your life is cruciform, cross-shaped, yes?" She nodded and said, "Yes, it is, but Christ is alive." How right she is, that Doña Claudia! Jesus lived out what was in him, and on that hill, on that cross, he reconciled everything that was at odds, in his own self and in those who surrounded him. He reconciled that which was supposedly irreconcilable. El Hogar does the same thing. And what of us, the people who are his disciples? We know, along with Doña Claudia and the young boys and girls at this school, that what happened there is not the end. Life broke through. It was not possible for death to hold Jesus. Indeed he is alive, and so is El Hogar, and so are the 9 of us who were here this week.

On the back of Doña Claudia´s car is a bumper sticker. It reads Jesus es tu amigo, Jesus is your friend. The men of this trip, this group of 9, were the incarnation of this statement.

As we get ready to return home, to you--our families and our church--I am unspeakably thankful for these "amigos." I believe we have witnessed here that no matter how cruciform shaped life is (ours, or these children's, or anybody's) love and hope transform us into new creations; the glory of friendship unites us in new bonds of affection and respect; and the grace of  Christ, who is alive and who is our friend, guides us waking and guards us sleeping. 

With love--ours and God´s,
Thomas

Day 6, El Hogar

The day started with the now morning requirement of seven AM assembly. We joined in a large circle with most of the children as roll was called. An inspirational story was read by the matron in charge as the remaining children filtered in. The story involved "tres hombres de negocios" (business men) and the team listened with all their might and managed to pick up about every third Spanish word. Returning to the guest house, we compared notes and found that we had nine different versions of the story. Our Spanish is improving but at a slow pace.

This was the day to visit the technical school at Ameriteca. The drive passed along a true super highway which is a big contrast with what I experiemced five years ago. We turned off of the superhighway a few kilometers before our destination and found the familiar rutted gravel road. The technical school campus appeared shortly and we unfolded ourselves fom the van to see an impressive completed set of buildings including the chappel which now boasts a mural which was just completed in 2010.

Our guide, Minor, was a former El Hogar student who spoke with an impressive command of English, thus releiving us from the use of our primitive Spanish. The technical shool director, Lazaro (sp?) a founder of El Hogar provided interesting accounts of the early daysat the school. He sais that he never dreamed that it would grow to be what it is today.

Our return to El Hogar put us back in work mode as we had to move the old kitchen to the nrw dining hall/kitchen. We almost completed that task, with the exception of a large gas oven which we moved out of the old building and into the new building, but not into the new kitchen. It is too large for the doorway and will await the installers which will come tomorrow.

Will (Guillermo)

Day 5 Bricks & Stumps

This morning`s started with the 7 am morning devotional, which today was a little different from Tuesday`s.  Professor Karen started with what sounded like a talk on friendship and confidence, and took two boys into the center of the circle and had them each in turn, fall backwards as she caught them.  This led in nicely to Donna Claudia magically appearing and quickly getting everyones attention as she introduced a student who, as we learned later, spoke to the kids about his current situation.  Jorge Alberto had been a model student until three months ago, when began brooding and being disruptive in class and at the school in general.  Not surprisingly, this led to a meeting with Claudia, where she learned he had returned from a home visit with his father very upset.  Claudia encouraged him to open about about his fears and concerns with her, and he realized that he was loved at El Hogar and by God.  This led to Jorge realizing he could talk with his family at El Hogar, and led him to want to speak to the group.  Being that our Spanish is weak, we didn`t understand everything, but the younger children listened intently as he explained how they could avoid making the same mistake he had made.  As an outsider, it`s pretty obvious that these children are part of something special, and they appreciate it all very much. Claudia, took our group after the morning devotional, and told us how many of the new children have never been hugged, or even been told that they are loved.  It certainly focused us as a team to what the true meaning of this trip is, and it left a very strong impression on everyone.

According to Raoul, the true meaning of our trip, today, was to get about a thousand bricks up the hill at the Santa Lucia site.  If we thought that shovelling dirt and mud for two days was as base a level of labor as could be had, imagine our joy at today`s activities.  Those of us "working the hill" each started with 3 or 4 bricks, hand carried up the hill.  Padre Thomas immediately grabbed 5, thus setting off a competition among the alpha males.  The limit  was reached at 8, but we quickly realized that 4 per haul was the right amount for SIX HOURS of hauling.  Meanwhile, those "working the house" continued with the cleaning and painting on the second floor, wrapping up their work late afternoon, leaving a beautifully painted house for the girls moving in next semester.  At this point, some of the hill crew and some house crew members got together to remove a stump from the pathway of the ever-extending stone (and brick) wall.  One chainsaw, one axe, one shovel, one pickaxe and three Episcopalians were defeated by the stump, for today.  If it is still there next year, we`ll be back with dynamite.

The day ended with Father Matt inviting us to stay for supper at his home on the grounds of the El Hogar girls school in Santa Lucia.  We were rewarded with a beautiful sunset over the hills of Tegucigalpa, accompanied by grilled burgers and cold, adult, beverages.  A good hard day of work.  Unfortunately, the children were in their dormitories by the time we returned and we are not able to play with them as we usually do after dinner.

Buenos noches from HAYE,
Bill W. and Tom H.

Honduras wins big!

Today was an eventful day. We attended our first morning assembly at 7 AM. The students arranged themselves in a square outside the classrooms, sang the national anthem, and Claudia spoke about various topics, from the recent holidays, to being a good citizen. She also announced that the kids would be allowed to watch the Honduras-Canada soccer match that afternoon. She introduced our group, asked Thomas to address the students while she translated, and sent the students off to class.

We went back to our dorm for our first non-pancake breakfast. Cornflakes with whole milk, which were very popular. We then boarded the van and Raul dazzled us with his driving ability and took us to Santa Lucia for day two of working on the girls' dorm. The weather was beautiful, along with the mountainous scenery. Thom and Rick moved outside to help fill in the trench next to the wall foundation, and Thomas and Josh went inside to help paint. When we started yesterday, the trench was about 40 feet long and eight feet deep in spots. Lots of shovels, picks, and a wheelbarrow helped us finish, along with loud rooster crows from the adjacent property.

The painters finished the downstairs bathroom and moved up the outside stairway to start in on the bedrooms. NO PINK! The sixth grade girls have made it clear that they want no pink in their new home, and we have to return a few gallons of pink paint we bought.

We worked straight through lunch hour so that we could watch the soccer match too. We could hear the vuvuzelas from the village as we sat down to watch the game with Matt and Raul. Honduras quickly took control, and the result was never really in doubt. They beat Canada, 8-1. There was at least one goal, header-to-diving header, that we think will be in the soccer highlight reels.

Raul drove us back just in time for a dinner of quesadillas, and then we went outside to play with the kids. Sidewalk chalk drawings, see-saw battles, children sledding as they were pulled on plastic crates, and volleyball without any net were all highlights. We met Julio and Mychael, sponsored by friends back home. We are still trying to iron out the logistics of the dorm keys, as we locked ourselves out, and Claudia had to rescue us.

Ed and Thom F

Day 3- El Hogar and Santa Lucia

Buenos Tardes,

Today, Lunes, was a busy day for the men´s team here in Honduras as we made our first of three trips to Santa Lucia, soon to be home to the first graduating class of young girls from El Hogar.  Although today was the start of a new work week, the schedule was a bit more relaxed as it was actually a holiday here in Honduras.  However, we were never quite clear on what exactly was being celebrated.  Regardless, it meant that the day started a bit later as there was no devotional to share with the kids to start as there will be on all other days.  After breakfast, Raul pointed us in the direction of a large pile of wood in the back of the buildings that was to be moved and loaded onto a truck to be taken to Santa Lucia later in the day.  The group teamed up along with about a half dozen eager boys, and we all moved many long and heavy planks through the campus and down to a waiting truck.

We then piled into the van and pulled away from El Hogar with many waves and smiles from children who were hanging around to see what happened.  Raul took us through the city on the way out of Tegucigalpu and towards the east.  The road took us out of town and into hills and valleys that steadily became more rural as we progressed.  The winding road led us into a beautiful area of the country that is home to Santa Lucia.  The girls school is through the picturesque town of the same name and accessed via a twisting and turning cobblestone road.  The van climbed steadily and squeezed past other vehicles and Raul amazingly delivered us to the site of the school which is nestled high in the hills overlooking the outskirts of Tegucigalpa.  The place is beautiful, just as a number of boys had told us it would be earlier in the day before we had left.  There are several buildings on approximately two acres of peaceful, private property that was acquired with the generous help of friends to El Hogar from Canada.  Matt Engelby is staying at Santa Lucia when he is in country and he was there to greet us.

Work is under way to ready the school for the first graduating class of girls who are scheduled to start classes in February of 2013.  There are 6 girls in the first class, and they are going to absolutely love their new home.  The team split up into two groups who worked on two different projects during the day.  Bill, Tom H., Thomas, Ed, and Josh worked all day shoveling wet, heavy soil from a large pile into a trench that had been dug along the boundry of the property for a new security wall that is going up.  This was difficult work, but the guys made great progress during the day.  Meanwhile, the other group went inside the dorm where the girls will live and began cleaning and then painting a bright new color on the walls.  The dorm is a great space with room to prepare and serve meals on the ground floor, and bedrooms on the second floor.  There is an outside staircase that takes you up to the bedrooms which are off a long and wide open porch that overlooks the valley.  It is stunning.

We broke at noon and made a quick trip back up to the small town center of Santa Lucia to meet the truck loaded with all the wood from El Hogar.  The truck was not able to make it through the tight and twisting streets to the campus.  So we unloaded wood from the truck and loaded it into the van while Raul engaged a friend of a friend of one the workers at the girls school to also load wood onto his very small pickup truck so that it all could be moved.  Wow, what a sight!  It is amazing that the resulting load did not shift and lead to disaster, but the driver skillfully delivered the load intact.  All this wood is going to be used for scaffolding which will be needed to finish the wall over the next couple of months.  After lunch, we finished up projects for the day and headed back to El Hogar.

This is what I had waited for all day.  I had not seen Cesar Yoel over the weekend as he spends his weekends at home.  I grabbed the photo book and cards that had been prepared at home, and went out to see if I could spot him.  It only took a few minutes and I recognized him right away.  I introduced myself and asked Cesar if we could sit together.  I then showed him the pictures and notes, and the letter from Henry whom he had met this past summer.  Kids gathered round and could not wait to look on with Cesar as he took it all in.  His shy personality gave way quickly to smiles as he recognized members of the family.  He also became an instant celebrity as all his friends wanted to see the photos as well.  It couldn´t have been a nicer way to end a busy day.

We are all enjoying our time here and look forward to a return trip to Santa Lucia tomorrow.  What a great day.

Hasta Manana, Rick

Day Two - Settling into El Hogar time

El Domingo was our first full day at El Hogar, and we tried hard to heed Liz Kinchen's advice to stow away the "Type A" personalities, live for the children and settle into “El Hogar” time.   As of day two of our mission trip, we still have a lot to learn about slowing down.  Sunday is the day to attend the Eucharist at the Cathedral, and we were dressed and ready to go an hour and a half early….still not getting the concept of calming down and relaxing.

At 10:15, 19 of us (the 10 adults and 9 children - chosen by Donna Claudia based on academic excellence or exemplary behavior) piled into El Hogar`s compact van for the frantic, winding drive to the Iglesias.  The Cathedral is a small, but bright, airy, modern church.  And with it`s Latin rock band music, modern sculptures of the Last Supper (which might have been been made at the Technical School), it’s a festive and energized community.    So festive that The Peace (La Paz) lasted long enough for everyone in the entire church to greet each other.

The highlight of the day for the kids was the visit to Pizza Hut, which is a great treat for them.  And there, connections were made that will last throughout he week and beyond.  Tom, Bill and Ed entertained the girls Madeline, Maria and Katia with a 19-game tic-tac-toe contest while Rich and Josh made friends with William, Cezar, Luiz and Dennis (a charming, outgoing and very intelligent boy of about 9).  Despite the language differences, we shared many laughs and Padre Thomas (who Tom Hamilton, has affectionately nicknamed “Padre Wiseguy”) commented "I've always wanted to have about 10 kids".  Today Thomas, you have your wish!

All 19 of us crammed back into the van to race back to El Hogar, where we finally DID settle down, and spent the remainder of the afternoon playing with the younger kids.  Ed and Rick were invited to anchor a raucous tug-of-war. And we all joined the kids on the "soccer field", (the concrete courtyard outside the  classrooms) where most of the kids play barefoot, but play with such passion, joy and gusto that they might be playing in the Word Cup. 

And as the kids settle into their Sunday routine of chores and dinner, we’re sitting down to our dinner in the Volunteer House for and an evening of laughs and good stories.  Tomorrow we hear we`re off to build a wall.

Greetings from Tom, Tom, and Tom, Rich and Rich, Bill and Bill, and Josh and Ed!

-Josh

Epiphany Service Team Arrives at El Hogar!

Hola from rainy Tecucigalpa!

The Epiphany All-Men's Glee Club and traveling Service Team has arrived safely in beautiful Honduras. We were scooped up at the airport by Senor Raul Castro. All the porters at the airport clearly know Raul Castro, El Hogar´s Project Manager-they just came up to us, pointed at our bags, and asked, "Raul?" When we nodded yes, they seized our bags, and hustled us and them outside to where Raul and Matt Engleby, Executive Director of El Hogar Projects, were waiting to welcome us. In no time at all, the El Hogar van was filled high with luggage and people and heading back to El Hogar de Amor y Ezperanza. We arrive around mid afternoon, and since then have settled in, eaten twice (!), and received a guided tour of the facilities from Matt. We met a number of the children during the tour, all friendly, and ranging from shy to outgoing.

My wife and I visited the El Hogar facility in downtown Tegucigalpa seven years ago. Jefferson, one of the little children we met then, is no a graduate, has a job at El Hogar, and has won a full four-year scholarship to a local University, where he will be majoring in Business Administration. Jefferson is not the only one who has grown up since my last visit: El Hogar has some beautiful new buildings, including a lovely multi-story dorm for the children, and a spanking new, greatly expanded dining facility, which is due to open this week!

We're all excited to be here, and a bit overwhelmed. We're headed to bed now. In the morning we'll go to church with the boys, and on Monday head out to Santa Lucia, where we'll be doing some construction for the new residence for the older girls.

Greetings from Tom, Tom, and Tom, Rich and Rich, Bill and Bill, and Josh and Ed!

-rich

Headed to El Hogar

Tomorrow morning about 4:15am, while most of you are sleeping, Kate Reynolds, Pam Chester, Eileen Marks, and Stephanie Terry will be driving their husbands, their priest, and their husbands' friends to Logan for our flights to Tegucigalpa. When we arrive at TGU we'll be met by the staff at El Hogar, and before the afternoon ends we will have settled into the volunteer house.

Who are we? We are 9. All of us are married, 8 of us have kids, 1 of us is gay, 8 of us live in Winchester, 1 in Belmont; 3 of us have been to El Hogar; we are trained in engineering, finance, and theology, and only one of us is reasonably able to speak Spanish. We are all white and our ages span three decades--two of us are in our 40s, 5 of us are in our 50s, 1 of us is in our 60s, and 1 of us in our 70s. all of us are connected to the Parish of the Epiphany. Why are we going? My guess is that our motivations run the gamut. Some of us are going because what we experienced the first time was so compelling that we want to return. Some of us are going because our spouses or our kids have said, "You need to go to El Hogar." Some of us may not know, exactly, why we said "yes," but we did, so off we go. I think all of us believe the Prayer of St. Francis which says, "it is in giving that we receive...and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life." What will we do? Well, pretty much anything we're told. We'll work some every day at the new campus for girls (yes, I have work gloves!), we'll spend time with the children--which means we'll play soccer, take all kinds of snapshots (which the kids love), listen to them read books to us in English, witness their praying, and wonder how it is that such joy can overflow from such poverty. To answer the question, "what will we do?" I would say, "we'll be missionaries." Which is not the 19th or even 20th century expression of mission, but of the way we do it between the Epiphany and El Hogar...a relationship, rooted in God's boundless love for that community and ours, which grows deeper because we believe our friends at El Hogar have at least as much to give us, as we have to give them.

And you...what can you do? Check this blog out every day. Pray for us. Pray for the children and the staff at El Hogar. Be kind to our "left behinds" (our families here in Boston). When we come home, late on Saturday the 20th, please be prepared to see immediate changes in the way we think and speak, as well as the possibility that whatever transformation will occur might not be readily apparent for a very long time. In short, trust that God will be with us...while we're away, while we're there, and when we come home.

To nurture and to be nurtured

Last Thursday I was with the Sisters of St. Anne, a religious community of five women--three of them are filipino, one is from the Bahamas, and the other from Brooklyn, though each has been in the order their entire adult lives. In that sense, given their life-long vocations, it's important to say that their home is at the convent in Arlington Heights, Massachusetts.

Every morning at 8:00am they gather in their exquisite (Ralph Adams Cram) chapel, stunning in its simplicity, for the celebration of the Holy Eucharist. None of them is ordained so the sisters rely on priests from around the Diocese of Massachusetts to preside and preach. It's my privilege to be among the priests whom they invite; my day is usually the last Thursday of every month.

Arlington Heights is so close...it takes me fewer than ten minutes to get there. And without fail one of them is in the sacristy to welcome--with such warmth and genuine interest. Everything is neat as a pin...the sacristy, the vestments, and the altar furnishings are spotlessly laundered, and done so with devotion and years of steeped-in prayer. The liturgy is straight-up Prayer Book, but oh how they're there. The responses are are strong, and the quiet is long.

After Mass, as I drove over the hill into Winchester, I realized that I felt every bit as home there, with the sisters, as I do with the people at the Parish of the Epiphany, and that both communities have the capacity to do two things: to nurture me, and to be nurtured by me. If there's nothing else to the sacrament of Holy Baptism surely it's that...a mutual portion of Christ's presence.

A sermon for the Parish of the Epiphany

A sermon for the Parish of the Epiphany in Winchester, Massachusetts, preached by the rector, the Reverend Thomas James Brown, on the 18th Sunday after Pentecost, 30 September 2012, based upon the Book of Esther. To God be the glory.

We’ve heard three sermons this month. The first was from a stranger about the vocation to welcome, the second was from the assistant rector about the vocation to teach, and last week the Bishop Suffragan preached on the vocation to serve. I hope this will be a sermon about all three, I hope God will put it upon our hearts to say yes, to run and not walk, into each of those roles of welcoming, teaching, and serving.

Will you hear the story of Esther? It only comes around one Sunday every three years. Esther is a messiah, not the Messiah, but she saves the Jews from annihilation, and it’s her story that birthed the Jewish festival of Purim. We have to understand some of the context. At the end of the exile, the Persian empire, nearly 500 years before the birth of Christ, was a place where many Jews continued to choose to live. Most of them had returned home, but over the course of their living in exile, many discovered that the land of Israel was not the only place where God dwelled, and so it was that many Jews, including Esther, along with her cousin/surrogate father, Mordecai, were among the Jews who stayed. But living under the rule of King Ahasuerus was not easy. He acted omnipotently, he was fickle, extravagant, overly-sexed, and a combination of an absent-minded professor and a bully. Ahasuerus’s closest advisor is Haman, who has made it clear that he wants the Jews killed, and through his machiavellian maneuvers the King decrees that all Jews will be killed. There is one shred of hope for the Jews: Esther. Through Cousin Mordecai, who coached her, Esther underwent a year of spa treatments to have a one night hook up with the king. Things must have worked well because Ahasuerus made Esther his queen, but in title only. In every other way she was a subject, and just as vulnerable to being put to death as anybody else. Esther is so cut off that she knows nothing of Haman and the King’s plans to annihilate the Jews, so Mordecai fills her in, and says, “Esther, it’s up to you.” Esther protests and says she has no power, but Mordecai holds firm and seals the argument by saying, “Esther, do not think that in the king’s palace you will escape any more than the rest of us Jews? Your silence will get you killed. Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this.” God will use Esther to save God’s people. For just such a time as this.

On September 10th Jorge Fuentes was shot outside of his home in Dorchester. The Sunday after Jorge’s death you gave over $2,000 to support a South End parish church and their programs. It’s called St. Stephen’s. It’s a community which mattered so much to Jorge, and it’s also a center of our own transformation. The day after you gave all that money several of us went to St. Stephen’s on Shawmut Avenue for a vigil. The street was packed with people from every walk of life. There were old people, Spanish speaking people, African-Americans, there were young people doing a City Year, diocesan priests and deacons, and our bishop; there were scores of parishioners from St. Stephen’s, and of course Jorge’s family, friends, and neighbors. At 9:00 the hundreds of us walked in procession carrying lit candles, just around the block really, stopping several times to remember the young men who have been killed in the neighborhood, including the painful irony of Jorge’s uncle and namesake, who was killed 20 years ago. At the end, the Reverend Liz Steinhauser, the associate at St. Stephen’s, read the names of all 36 people who have died from homicide in the City of Boston since January 1st of this year. It was a moment I shall never forget.

On Wednesday, September 26th, ten days later, something else happened. My colleagues had hosted a birthday party for me following our staff meeting, as a result I was leaving later than I should have for a meeting at the diocesan office, a meeting which Bishop Shaw had organized to talk about the Episcopal Church’s response to our city, to Jorge’s death, and to the gospel itself. I walked into the conference room with 20 or so others...legislators, priests from the suburbs and from the city, Tim Crellin, the vicar at St. Stephen’s, and his wife, Jenny, and Liz Steinhauser, and several others whom I’d never met. Like unto the vigil outside of St. Stephen’s, the power in that meeting, the power of God that is, was so strong that I believe it will shape a chunk of our life together for a long time. At one point I felt as if my heart was missing a beat because of the intensity of the moment. In the days since then I feel as though a different kind of reality is taking shape. We will not say that God willed Jorge’s death. But maybe God has put us, along with other Episcopalians in and around Boston, for just such a time as this.

I’m asking us to follow in the way of Esther, who did indeed save her people. She was propelled to action of extraordinary resolve and courage, going so far as to seduce Ahasuerus until he issues a new decree, and the Jews are saved. We are propelled to no less an extraordinary posture of courage and action. Oh how Esther is a story for us today, teaching us that life in our city is dangerous, but not without hope. We can’t and shouldn’t do it alone, but we cannot merely sit back and wallow in sadness.

Teens in our city have almost universal access to drugs and guns, and a seemingly universal barrier to jobs and exit pathways from poverty. Perhaps we have come to this place, to this moment, to these people, to this challenge, for just such a time as this. At the meeting at the diocesan office Liz proposed that we create 910 additional jobs for teens during the next year, redeeming the date 9/10, and doing that in partnership with the city, with St. Stephen’s, and with the government. She wonders if we can build an after school program at Madison Park High School, the only vocational school in our city, where students are dismissed at 1:45 and where there are 5 guidance counselors for all 1300 students. I believe we are so called and I am ready and willing to take us there. But that’s not all. With your support and participation we’ll invite every single one of our 190 faith communities to read the book, The New Jim Crow by Michele Alexander. Even more, I believe that we will, despite the supreme court’s recent ruling, work to end gun trafficking and gun sales. Perhaps we have come to this place, to this moment, to these people, to this challenge, for just such a time as this. In 2013 our parish will celebrate 125 years since our founding. We moved from Mt. Vernon Street to Church Street in 1905, and since then we’ve been moving from here to all sorts of towns-- to Woburn, Chelsea, Cambridge, Lawrence, Tegucigalpa, San Salvador, Leogane, Kigali, Jerusalem, and yes, to Boston!

Throughout all the generations of our parish’s life various Mordecais, some of them rectors, most of them lay people, have grabbed our ears, our checkbooks, our devotion to Jesus Christ and the worship of his church, and said, “Maybe you’ve been given this desire, money, this talent, this vision, this call for just such a time as this.” 

Esther didn’t have everything, and neither do we. But we have some things...a desire to welcome and invite others, a call to teach and to learn, and to serve the city for just such a time as this. Esther said yes. If she can do it, so can we.

Praying Twice

Last night I greeted the Adult Choir at the Parish of the Epiphany. It was their first Thursday evening rehearsal of the “program year” and a reminder, as I looked into their faces, of all the commitment and love they give to our parish’s common life. 

This morning I did some writing for the Sunday leaflet about a hymn (Crown him with many crowns) and it led me into all sorts of directions and source material about 19th century hymnody. Which led me to think about my clergy group, a group of eight other priests who lovingly tease me about my nerd-like interest in hymns. So I said, “thank you, God, for those guys.” 

The Grenell Island Chapel

Last Sunday I visited a summer chapel on Grenell Island, a small hamlet of 50 or so cottages in the middle of the St. Lawrence River. It was a pan-protestant service led by a retired American Baptist denominational executive. The liturgical elements would have been familiar to most Christians; it was indeed a hybrid, necessary I’m sure, for the ecumenical crowd who live on that island. The singing was so-so, until we got to the “doxology.” This refrain, which is sung in so many churches at the offertory procession, but is often castigated, even spit on, in more liturgical traditions, revealed a community of worship who can sing! At that point the little chapel’s walls were almost reverberating...everybody was singing, not with their hymnals, but from their hearts. The Holy Ghost had shown up and we were having church.

There’s a whole story about how I came to faith, why I love hymns, and what they do for me...for my prayer life, and for my preaching. It’s a story to tell for another day. Today, I’m grateful for the music at the Parish of the Epiphany, for our interest in singing, and for  the way it helps us to pray not once, but twice.

Windy, windy, windy

It’s been wicked windy at Thousand Island Park revealing beautiful white caps up and down the   mighty St. Lawrence River. It’s impossible for me not to think about wind, which today isn’t especially welcomed by boaters, and at 20mph it’s even a little noisy to visit on the porch. 

The daily office readings from the New Testament are making their way through the Acts of the Apostles, and the “wind of change” is fierce for Peter. Here’s what we know about St. Luke, the author of Acts: he continually heralds the glory of inclusiveness. Today’s installment focuses clearly on Peter’s “conversion” to associate with Gentiles, something about which he heretofore has been reluctant (at best) to do.

Who among us can’t relate to Peter? The world changed radically before his very eyes, and so is ours. The church is engaged in what some have called the biggest change in 500 years. Our own nation’s economy and identity are blowing all over the place, and I hear elders saying they’ve never known America so divided as they do in these days. 

We all have to grapple with change, whether tragic or welcomed; whether it comes from loss or gain. The gospel responds with a blessing of hope that in the midst of change disciples of Jesus Christ proclaim again the glad news that Christ is risen from the dead. So we celebrate, and share with others, the reality that God’s wind, fierce at times and gentle and quiet at other times, leads  the church to embrace all people.  

For me, the question remains: will I sense the wind of change and follow God’s lead? 

A life well-lived: Betty Sawyer, rest in peace and rise in glory

Two days ago Betty Sawyer died, a giant in faith and service to the Episcopal Church, a woman whose twinkly eyes and faithfulness to prayer were consistent invitations to join her in practicing the Christian way. Her walk with Jesus always seemed to me both contagious and selfless. Betty Sawyer was a leader in the church long before women were ordained to the priesthood; I can imagine that if the door to priesthood had been open to her she would have walked in that path many years ago. 

In the last couple of years she began to be a little confused. There were moments--sometimes within the same sentence--when she was crystal clear, alert, and filled with insight, then suddenly she’d be addled, unable to complete the thought that had begun. One day, about four months ago, she insisted that I was one of the brothers from the monastery. When I assured her that I wasn’t, but that I was “Thomas, your rector, from the Epiphany” she said, “that’s ridiculous. They’d never have you be the rector!” I’m not sure if that was an indictment of the Parish of the Epiphany, or of myself, or both! When I laughed, she smiled graciously, and she seemed wholly herself again, and then with every ounce of gentleness and genuine concern, she said, “how are things going for you?” 

She loved the world and everything good in it. But that’s not to suggest she was inexperienced with either pain or death. Maybe it was the holy combination of loving what was good and knowing about death that made her so generous. In a way, Betty Sawyer always impressed me as one who was willing to do everything she could, and to give everything she had to save the particles of her life, and to invite others to do likewise. She raised the level of life by the level of her own call to “do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God.” It was her way in life and in death; at home, at church, at work; when she was busy and when she was idle; when she was sick in bed, and when she was up, and well and active.

When I first arrived at Winchester, three years ago, she gave me a copy of William Temple’s book, Christian Faith and Life. I don’t consider it a coincidence, but rather a profound gift of serendipity that yesterday afternoon as I walked into the kitchen door of a neighbor’s cottage to borrow green  olives, there was lying open on the reading table Temple’s Nature, Man, and God. Not the same book, but what’s the likelihood of that convergence? In that book...the one at the neighbor’s here in Thousand Island Park, there is a prayer which Temple wrote for a series of lectures at Oxford in 1931:  

O Lord our God, from whom neither life nor death can separate those who trust in thy love, and whose love holds in its embrace they children in this world and in the next: so unite us to thyself that in fellowship with thee we may be always united to our loved ones wether here or there; give us courage, constancy, and hope; through him how died and was buried and rose again for us, Jesus Christ our Lord. 

Betty’s requiem will be Saturday, 22 September at 11:00am at the Parish of the Epiphany.

Opening our ears

Two days with a friend with adult-onset hearing loss leaves me sensitized to this impairment, especially to its myriad negative psychological and emotional consequences. My friend is neither part of the hearing world nor part of the deaf culture. She lives somewhere in between, I suppose. She reports feeling isolated much of the time, of no use most days, and over the course of the past several years she finds that it’s easier to stay away from social gatherings, including church. So yesterday at worship, at the Church of Saint Lawrence in Alexandria Bay, New York (the Diocese of Central New York) I paid close attention to how well people read, the degree to which the sound amplification system was used effectively, and generally whether people could pick up on the nuances in communication and patience which are required to make people with hearing loss welcomed and integrated. Evidently the folk at the church did well because my friend said she was able to hear. 

In the mid-1800s there was an Episcopal Church established in New York, called St. Ann’s Church, still very much alive today, and is given the moniker “the mother church” of all congregations of deaf people in the United States. 

Thomas Gallaudet

Henry Winter Syle

Today,  August 27th, the church commemorates two men, Thomas Gallaudet and Henry Winter Syle--considered the founders of the Episcopal Church’s ministry to and with deaf people. Thomas Gallaudet was born in Hartford in 1822 to a deaf mother and a hearing father. He later married Elizabeth Budd, who was deaf. It was Thomas who started St. Ann’s Church, and from that genesis there sprang up congregations for the deaf throughout the country. One of Gallaudet’s students, Henry Winter Syle, who became deaf at an early age, was the first deaf person to be ordained to the priesthood (in 1876). 

I’m glad to be part of a church with this history.  But, I wonder about those of us who serve countless people who are not deaf, for whom sign language isn’t possible. What will the church’s response be to the ones among us who have hearing loss? What shall I do to make certain the doors of my church will be open to my friend? Jesus said (Mark 4:9), “let those with ears, hear.” 

Let us pray.

O loving God, whose will it is that everyone should come to you and be saved: we bless your Holy Name for your servants Thomas Gallaudet and Henry Winter Syle, whose labors with and for those who are deaf we commemorate today; and we pray that you will continually move your Church to respond in love to the needs of all people; through Jesus Christ, who opened the ears of the deaf, and who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.  Amen.

Bartholomew

Today is a major feast, a red letter day. We should be planning a solemn mass with full choir and a festive dinner, for this the Feast of St. Bartholomew. He is a saint about whom we know almost nothing. His name is listed only in three of the gospels (not in John). And even more, legends abound about what happened to Bartholomew. Some say he ended up in India, others suggest Armenia where evidently he was skinned alive. 

In the Hymnal 1982 there is only one hymn for this day (#280), written by John Ellerton, a 19th century hymn writer. The third stanza captures it, I think:

All his faith and prayer and patience, all his toiling and his strife, all are veiled from us, but written in the Lamb’s great book of life. 

The point here is that whatever happened in Bartholomew’s life it’s not written down for us here. We can’t turn to early Christian history books to read about Bartholomew, certainly not in the way we can about Thomas, or John of Patmos, or even Mary Magdalene. All is veiled. 

Except for one thing, which is not veiled, one thing we know “for sure” about St. Bartholomew. And that one thing is very significant. We know that he was a follower of Jesus. That’s enough, in many ways, because whether we die with a great deal of fame and recognition, or whether we die entirely unknown, each of us is known by God. And for those of us who are baptized into the great fellowship of Christ our life’s work is to remain faithful. What does that mean? For me, it means to keep walking in and toward the light of the good news which Jesus proclaimed and lived. Though let’s be clear also to state there are many ways to walk this walk. How I do it is different from how another travels it. The point is to be a disciple...whether we’re known by name is secondary. 

Mary Anne Evans was born in 1819, and died in 1880, but she isn’t known for being Mary Anne, but for her pen name, George Eliot. Her novels depict 19th century England with piercing reality, and perhaps the most well-known is Middlemarch. In that book George Eliot might have had Bartholomew in her mind when she wrote:

“For the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs” (Middlemarch).

Let us pray. 

Almighty and everlasting God, who gave to your apostle Bartholomew grace truly to believe and to preach your Word: Grant that your Church may love what he believed and preach what he taught; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God for ever and ever. Amen.

Give us Grace

Yesterday Tom and I were at lunch with friends. The conversation turned to answering the question, “what do you most look forward to about being in the Thousand Islands?”One of our companions, a retired Episcopal priest who is quite erudite, and even a bit enigmatic at times, said, “I love to read. I try to do it all day.”

There are many great things about life at Thousand Island Park. The porch is one, the re-connection with neighbors and friends is another. Long walks and river breezes are two more. Swimming is definitely a great thing here. The list could go on and on.

But maybe our luncheon guest is on to something about reading. It’s as if there’s more time...and I admit that I return to books I’ve read before, and read them as if they’re absolutely new. I suppose in a way they are. Give us Grace is an anthology of Anglican prayers compiled by Christopher L. Webber (Morehouse, 2004), and it’s a book I know quite well, but I never noticed the section of prayers from the Anglican Church in Kenya, until early this morning. Here’s a prayer from Kenya, a postcommunion prayer which leapt off the page. Maybe it will be for you a kind of grace today. Maybe today you’ll read something that’s old as if it’s completely new. I hope so:

Let us pray. 

O God of our ancestors, God of our people, before whose face the human generations pass away: We thank you that in you we are kept safe for ever, and that the broken fragments of our history are gathered up in the redeeming act of your dear Son, remembered in this holy sacrament of bread and wine. Help us to walk daily in the Communion of saints, declaring our faith in the forgiveness of sins, and the resurrection of the body. Now send us out in the power of your Holy Spirit to live and work for your praise and glory. Amen. 

Our desire...for the bread that lasts

Today's reading is from St. John's gospel, beginning at the first verse of the sixth chapter.

The Daily Office readings are about to repeat most of what we’ve been reading every Sunday this summer: bread, bread, bread! 

Last Sunday at the Epiphany Father Pitt preached, following four weeks of my preaching on Ephesians, which meant that we finally, thanks to Louis, heard a sermon on the gospel’s weeks-long emphasis on bread. Of course it was an excellent sermon, and at its end Louis asked us, “when you pray ‘give us this day our daily bread’ what are you praying for? What bread?” 

I think God cares about our answer, about our hunger, about our desire. That for which we’re longing and hoping...God cares about it. This story of the feeding of the 5,000 is told in all four gospels. There’s something about our hunger, our desire, that’s key to Christian discipleship. And, that’s what I think Louis was saying on Sunday. The way St. John tells this story--with important differences from the other versions--Jesus is the one who can end hunger. In this story, Jesus is the host; he distributes the food.

Because in St. John’s teaching it's Jesus himself who will become the real food; Jesus who will say to us just a few verses later, "I am the bread of life. Those who come to me will never hunger." Jesus is saying, "I am the real food. The most important food. Don't spend your lives on food that spoils, or stock the cupboards with things that will perish. Make me the staple, because it’s food that will last.” Jesus is ready, right now and always, to fill us with his love, with his call toward justice and right relationship, and with his peace. 

Let us pray.

O Lord, our Father, which art in heaven, grant unto us thy grace; as the children of thy kingdom, that we labor not only for the meat which perisheth, but for that meat which endureth unto everlasting life. Give us the true bread from heaven, even the flesh of thy dear Son, for he is our spiritual food and sustenance, without which we can have no life in us. 

(The prayer is from Fr. Richard Meux Benson, 1824-1915, the founder of the Society of St. John the Evangelist) 

Pascal & the decision for Christ

Today the church commemorates Blaise Pascal, born in France in 1623, and who died there in 1662. He was home-schooled by his father, but with connections to Mersenne, Fermat, and Descrates, it wasn’t fluff. He was a physicist, a mathematician, a Christian apologist, and a defender of the idea that salvation is a free gift from God, which was something only Protestants believed. Much of Pascal’s life was spent writing in defense of this idea, engaging it so mightily that scholars estimate that over a million people read his underground letters which not only defended the theological premise that salvation is a free gift, but also attacked the Jesuits, who were utterly opposed to what they believed was heresy. In one of his letters Pascal wrote that oft-quoted line, “this letter is longer than usual, because I lack the time to make it short.” 

In his later writings Pascal underscored two things: first, was the hopelessness of humanity without God (the need for a savior), and the second was the statement that to receive Jesus Christ as our Savior, all we need do is ask.

A few weeks ago I was at the Monastery in Cambridge for their Tuesday evening Eucharist. The brother who preached (about Mary Magdalene, the resurrection, and being a follower of Jesus) made an explicit invitation to his congregation, a bold invitation. Bear in mind that Brother Robert knew some of us well, including of course his brothers and the many people who make the Monastery their primary faith community, while others of us he knew not at all, having never met the visitors there that night, or the person on retreat for whom he might have only been able to recognize a face, without so much knowledge of her or his name. So in that context Brother Robert said (and I paraphrase), “if you have not invited Jesus into your heart do so this evening. The truth of the resurrection is yours for the asking.”

Maybe Brother Robert had been reading Pascal. Or, maybe he himself once asked Jesus to be the center of his life.

I wonder how many followers Jesu can have? Can he have me? Can he have you? The decision is ours.

Almighty God, who gave your servant Blaise Pascal a great intellect, that he might explore the mysteries of your creation, and who kindled in his heart a love for you and a devotion to your service: Mercifully give us grace to see in you, and in your Son, Jesus Christ, the truth of how we might live. Give us courage to never fail to reach out to him, for he is the one who reaches out to us always. All this we pray in his name, and to his glory. Amen.

Sources:

Lesser Feasts & Fasts, 2006 (Church Publishing); www.missionstclare.org (a daily office resource), and Longer than usual: a biography of Blaise Pascal (Alfred Knopf, 1979).

Healing on the sabbath: do you want to be made well?

Today's reading is John 5:1-18

Yesterday afternoon I made several pastoral calls on elderly parishioners. Soon I'll be on vacation and I wanted to connect with these folk. I love all of them, and I will genuinely miss them, and I would by lying if I didn't also admit that doing so was part of my pre-vacation to do list. It was a fantastic day!

One woman, in her 90s lives in a retirement home. She gets to church regularly, thankfully because her spirit is as contagious and life-giving as any I've ever known. Her beam lights up a whole room. She loves sermons...has a whole collection of them from former rectors, from me, as well as from other churches. She just reads them, over and over. In her words she reads them "for some new way to hear or to see."

I told her about my posting to this blog. She seemed both perplexed (why would I do this?) and relieved for not having a computer so that she didn't feel obligated to read these posts, in addition to her sermon regimen. Still, I told her about the daily office readings, and how I try to link my writing here to the day's gospel lesson.

Without missing a beat she said, "what's the reading for tomorrow?" So I pulled out my iPhone, found the reading, and read it to her. When I looked up she was her beaming-self, but even brighter than usual, like a little kid at an amusement park. "What's so funny?" I asked. "Oh, it's not funny, it's the best coincidence ever is all. That question, 'do you want to be made well?' was the question my friend posed to me the day I got sober. The answer back then was 'yes' and I've had a whole new life every since."

When Jesus asked the man "do you want to be made well?" he was doing that on the sabbath, a Saturday. Today is Saturday, and I wonder how you might answer the same question: "do you want to be made well?"

Let us pray.

In your boundless compassion, O God, lead us to pools of healing water, and to paths where we will walk with integrity, and even into your constant embrace. By the might of your Spirit heal us and make us well, through Jesus Christ, our friend and Savior. Amen. 

Welcome

The Gospel for today is from John 4:43-54.

The Galileans welcomed Jesus. They welcomed him.

At the Parish of the Epiphany we've had a welcoming team working really hard for over two years. We've redesigned things, organized events, delivered flowers, held inquirer's classes, and just about everything else evangelism experts suggest. No question we've been successful, but integrating those visitors and newcomers, well, that's been a much bigger challenge.

In the olden days the rector used to ring the doorbell of those who visited or who were new to the area. Now, we "shop for a new church" and the sign of a good and successful rector is the presence of a welcoming team whose ministry is to welcome and assimilate newcomers.

Really?

As I approach middle-age I'm discovering that some of the old-fashioned techniques of parochial ministry might need to be applied anew in 2012. I have never rung the doorbell of a newcomer. But maybe I should.

In a conversation with one leader I mentioned that I was thinking about doing this. She was stunned to learn that I don't: "trust me, if you or Audrey show up at the door, get to know them, invite them to serve in some way, they'll feel welcomed, and they'll get involved!"

The Galileans welcomed Jesus, true enough. But they welcomed him because they had "seen all that Jesus had done." I haven't seen everything that Jesus has done in your life, but I've seen it in mine. How can I do anything else but to welcome him, and by extension, to welcome others?

Hearing for ourselves

Today's reflection is based upon the Gospel reading appointed for today, John 4:27-42.

Yesterday I officiated at the funeral of Constance Davy, the oldest member of the Parish of the Epiphany. She would have been 99 this November. Connie Davy grew up in Winchester, and in these latter years she was completely blind, but always eager for a visit, and really glad whenever Peggy Roll, another parishioner and a fantastic baker of cookies, dropped off a half-dozen or more, preferably fresh from the oven.

When Connie's health began to fail, early in July, I visited with her. She spoke about her readiness to die. When I queried, around the edges, about her faith she said, "I really don't pray." Honesty matters, I say. So I responded by saying so, and assured her that formal praying is not a prerequisite for God. 

The day she died her great-nephew, Chris, a man about my age, and Chris's 6 year old son, Quinn, were singing to her. This father and son duo, with guitar and violin (the little boy with the violin), stayed with Connie until she died, a holy moment for all of them, I'm told. 

Just before the funeral started I learned that Connie had a Bible, and I saw for myself page after page of underlines and margin notes, clearly something she did before she lost her eyesight. Just because she didn't want to speak to the rector about her prayer life doesn't mean she didn't have one!

In today's gospel reading John 4:27-42 the disciples are astonished that Jesus had been speaking to a Samaritan woman (a double outsider), and she herself returns to the city to say, "he told me everything I had ever done!" Meanwhile Jesus is getting pestered by the disciples to eat something, so he responds not by eating, but my preaching. From those conversations (with the disciples) Jesus spends two days with Samaritans, and it is they--the Samaritans--who turn to the woman who had been at the well with Jesus, to say, "it is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the world."

Connie Davy didn't need to hear about Jesus from me! She had heard for herself.

Let us pray.

Gracious God, by whose will it is that we walk by faith and not by sight in the mysterious universe you have created, increase now our faith in you that in the midst of things which pass our understanding, we may not doubt your love, or miss your joy, or fail in our thanksgiving. Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.