Back to School and Bartholomew

One of the side effects of the terrible life decision I made to do a PhD not once, but twice, is that I am deeply formed by the academic calendar. This time of year fills me with energy, with hope, with a sense of putting away the old and embracing the new. But I'm also reminded of something that my former colleague Lauren Winner once said: “What if our lives really were formed by the liturgical calendar as much as they are formed by the rhythms of the school calendar?”

In an academic community — in a church within an academic community — it is a truly tenuous balance. We acknowledge the changes in work, in classes, and even in the energy level in town. We see friends return from vacations and return to church. It is a liturgical time, but that of a secular liturgy.

But if we look at the liturgical days that surround this back to school time, we might just find a little inspiration from our own tradition. August 24 is the feast of Saint Bartholomew, an apostle that we don't know too much about — but we do know that he was one of the twelve, that he spread the word everywhere he went, and that he was martyred for his faith. St. Bartholomew's Day is also a day of mourning and remembrance in the Reformed tradition. It’s the day on which the French Protestants (also known as Huguenots) were massacred in 1572 for their convictions. More than 10,000 Huguenots would be murdered over the course of the next two months throughout France. On St. Bartholomew’s Day on 1662, several thousand Puritan clergy including theologian Richard Baxter were ejected from the Church of England because of their refusal to conform to the Book of Common Prayer. As I think of the apostle Bartholomew, and also of the later events that took place on his feast day, I’m moved to ask myself, “What am I willing to do in order to stand up for what (and who) I believe in?” I’m moved to pray that God will give me the courage to always do what’s right — to do his will, not mine.The second feast day that comes around at this time of year is Holy Cross Day, on September 14. One of the Scripture lessons for this day is from Galatians 6: “May I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. For neither circumcision nor uncircumcision is anything; but a new creation is everything!

As for those who will follow this rule--peace be upon them, and mercy, and upon the Israel of God.” This, too, is a reminder to keep the first thing the first thing: what God has done for us in Jesus Christ, and who we are — a new creation in Christ!So while you might be packing a bag or briefcase full of new pencils, new notebooks, and new aspirations, I hope you will remember this: You are a new creation in Christ, and no achievement in this world can ever match it.

 

Yours in Christ & in Christ alone,

 

The Rev. Cn. Dr. Kara N. Slade, Associate Rector

 

When You Remember Me

In Memoriam
Frederick Buechner
1926-2022

Dear Beloved of Trinity Church,

Earlier this week, the world lost an icon of the faith — Frederick Buechner. Over the years, Buechner has been for me a faithful and wise companion and guide.  Buechner touched the lives of countless believers and non-believers, seekers and sojourners.  Buechner was gifted, by the Holy Spirit, to speak to our human condition in a way that very few can. He could read your mind and know your heart as if he actually resided within the innermost parts of your truth. 

Buechner attended the Lawrenceville School, Princeton University, and Union Theological Seminary.  He was a “Presbyterian minister who never held a church pastorate but found his calling writing a prodigious quantity of novels, memoirs and essays that explored the human condition from inspirational and often humorous religious perspectives … Likened by some critics to the works of Mark Twain, Henry James, Elizabeth Bowen and Truman Capote, Mr. Buechner’s novels were admired by loyal readers for their elegance, wit, depth and force. His more homiletic memoirs and essays reached much larger audiences of Christians and consumers of religious books, even though he did not hold orthodox religious views” (The New York Times).

            On this day, I invite you to join me for a time of prayer in thanksgiving for the life of a faithful follower of Christ and a steadfast herald of God’s love and Good News.

When you remember me, it means you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are. It means that you can summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us. It means that if we meet again, you will know me. It means that even after I die, you can still see my face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart.

Rest in eternal grant to Frederick, O Lord;
And let light perpetual shine upon him.
May his soul, and the souls of all the departed,
through the mercy of God, rest in peace

In Christ,

 

The Rev. Paul Jeanes III, Rector

 
“The place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.”
“Wherever people love each other and are true to each other and take risks for each other, God is with them and they are doing God’s will.”
“The world says, the more you take, the more you have. Christ says, the more you give, the more you are.”
“Your life and my life flow into each other as wave flows into wave, and unless there is peace and joy and freedom for you, there can be no real peace or joy or freedom for me.”
“If we are to love our neighbors, before doing anything else we must see our neighbors. With our imagination as well as our eyes, that is to say like artists, we must see not just their faces but the life behind and within their faces. Here it is love that is the frame we see them in.”
“Go where your best prayers take you.”
“If you want to be holy, be kind.””
“Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.”

Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

 
 

The Lord is full of compassion and mercy, slow to anger and of great kindness. — Psalm 103:8

Jeremiah 1:4-10;
Hebrews 12:18-29;
& Luke 13:10-17

 

Can you imagine receiving a sacred call as a child? In our culture, we often ask children what they will be when they grow up, but we do not often ask how God has called them. When Jeremiah heard God’s call, he was only a boy. Initially, he protested that he was too young, but nevertheless, the scriptural account of his life as a prophet narrates how he lived into God’s call. Aileen Weintraub’s book, Never Too Young! 50 Unstoppable Kids Who Made a Difference, offers a compendium of stories about kids who changed the world at young ages. As you contemplate and discuss these stories, you might wonder how God is calling you now. Weintraub offers a few questions at the end of the book that facilitate brainstorming together. If you discern a call from God with your children or grandchildren, how might you support each other as you follow that call?

When we try to hear God, we practice a particular kind of holy listening. It can be hard to hear God’s “still small voice” amid everyday whirlwinds. The author of the letter to the Hebrews exhorts their readers to cultivate this kind of listening and writes, “see that you do not refuse the one who is speaking.” In Don’t Squish the Sasquatch, Kent Redeker and Bob Staake hilariously illustrate the consequences of not listening, of refusing the one who is speaking. Their book connects well to the warning from Hebrews, while also injecting a welcome dose of giggles for young readers. After reading this story, you might wonder together about warnings. What warnings do you hear most often? How can warnings protect us? What happened when you ignored a warning in the past, or when you followed one?

Usually, good listening requires being quiet and attentive. Because it is so hard to find quiet, some places (libraries and places of worship) are often set aside for quiet. Then, when an unexpected noise interrupts the silence, it seems like a rule has been broken! Michelle Knudsen’s story, Library Lion, takes place in (you guessed it!) a library, where being quiet is the rule. One day, the lion breaks the silence with a huge roar, and Mr. McBee, who loves the quiet of the library, throws him out. It turns out that the lion roared in order to get attention for someone who was injured. This story of a rule-breaking lion connects well to the text from Luke’s gospel for this week. Jesus breaks the rules in order to heal a woman in the synagogue on the Sabbath. Even though some of the leaders were angry with him, Jesus demonstrated that showing compassion should not be limited to weekdays. When we show compassion to those around us who are suffering, we do God’s work. Have you ever followed a rule that stopped you from showing compassion to someone? Have you ever broken a rule in order to show compassion? Has someone else ever broken a rule to show compassion to you? How did those experiences affect you?

 

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Bonnie Bivins: Connections to General Convention and Lambeth Conference

Over the past few weeks we have had a rare blessing.  While uninvited we have, perhaps because of Covid-19 or simply the expansion of modern technology, been able to watch the proceedings of both the Episcopal General Convention and the Anglican Communion Lambeth Conference.  Both are circles of our world as Episcopalians, Anglicans, and Christians that we rarely have the opportunity to observe must less participate in.  However, what happens in those meetings has bearing on our parish life. On the lighter side it gives un an opportunity to have a sense of the people guiding us.  

Off and on I watched the General Convention to observe where the Holy Spirit was guiding the Episcopal Church. Then I had the distinct blessing to observe in living color the whole (almost) Anglican Communion who came together with their differences and led by Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby discussed their context and theology with each other in love if not agreement.  One felt the embrace of God’s love for all gathered and the strong encircling bond of the children of God from their own context greeting each other as fellow disciples.  

Unfortunately, the General Convention was mostly the business of running the Episcopal Church. The Lambeth Conference was something different with three keynote addresses, a Bible Exposition of 1 Peter led by Justin Welby, and a number of Plenary sessions that brought together the contextual experience of the breadth of the Anglican Communion.  

I saved for myself and now share with you the YouTube links, so you can watch some of these extraordinary events. Only the General Convention opening sermon from Presiding Bishop Michael Curry is included in the links. You may possibly find other sessions from the General Convention on YouTube.

The links of the Lambeth Conference are in order (i.e. top down), from the start to finish of the conference. Other news and comments from the Episcopal perspective you will find on the Episcopal News Service news@episcopalchurch.org. 

Peace,
Bonnie Bivins

Why the Lectionary?

 

Recently, a wonderful question landed in my email inbox:

Why do we read the Old Testament, Psalms, Epistle, and Gospel every week in church?

One of the gifts of our liturgical tradition, a gift that we share with the Orthodox, Catholics, Lutherans, and others, is the use of the lectionary. Every week, a cycle of readings prescribes what Scripture we hear in church. While some of the details of the how the lectionary works have changed over the years, one thing has stayed the same. The church, not the clergy, chooses the Scripture we read publicly in worship. This means that what we hear proclaimed as the Word of God isn't down to our whims or personal preferences - we all have to wrestle with the Bible together, in its entirety. What's more, using the lectionary means that we hear from all parts of the Bible, and not just our favorite bits.

We read the Old Testament…

…because it is the story of God's enduring faithfulness in choosing Israel to be his people, and as Christians we read the Old Testament as those who in Jesus Christ are grafted onto the promises of Israel. Not to take them over, but to take our part in a conversation and a covenant that has been going on long before us. The Old Testament also reminds us that there is one God, and that the God we see revealed in Jesus is the same God who called the prophets and let Israel out of bondage.

We read the Psalms…

…because they are our greatest treasury of songs of worship. But they also remind us that the life of faith is a life of joy and sorrow, anger and reconciliation, tears and shouts of joy. John Calvin says that in the Psalms, "there is not an emotion of which any one can be conscious that is not here represented as in a mirror." Another very ancient way of reading and hearing the Psalms is to imagine that Jesus is the one speaking. Try it sometime and see if your experience of the text changes!

The Epistles…

…connect us to the very earliest churches, and in them we see that the first Christians encountered the same challenges that we do today. They are some of my favorite parts of Scripture, as they set out what it means that God is with us and for us in Jesus. When we say that they are "the Word of the Lord," we acknowledge that they are inspired by the Holy Spirit and can speak to us now, just as they did for the first readers.

Finally, we hear the Gospel —

…the story of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection. We stand for the Gospel reading as an acknowledgement of their place at the heart of our faith. But, having heard the other Scriptures read as well, we also acknowledge that they don't stand alone. They stand within the story of God's acts: past, present, and future. Scripture helps us to interpret Scripture, and the more we can explore the relationship between the texts in the Bible, the more we can grow in relationship to the one who inspired them.

Do you have a question about the Bible, theology, or the church? Email me!

The Challenge of Baptism

Grace and Peace to you from our Lord Jesus Christ!

I am writing to you from Bethany Beach, Delaware.  Being able to come out here and decompress, if only for a few days, is such a gift.  Sitting at the water this week, I’ve been thinking a lot about baptism – and not just because we have a baptism this Sunday (everyone get excited!  It is always a great gift to welcome a new member of the family).  Our Gospel reading this Sunday mentions baptism as well: Jesus foreshadows his Passion, saying, “I have a baptism with which to be baptized, and what stress I am under until it is completed!”  More on that in the homily on Sunday. 

One other thought on baptism: in his final sermon before his assassination, titled, “I Have Been to the Mountaintop,” the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. details the struggles of the Civil Rights movement and the Poor People’s Campaign.  About halfway through the sermon, King speaks specifically about the encounter with the notorious Bull Connor in Birmingham.  In what amounts to some of his most apocalyptic rhetoric (ask me more about that in person), King writes:

I remember in Birmingham, Alabama … by the hundreds we would move out.  And Bull Connor would tell them to send the dogs forth, and they did come; but we just went before the dogs singing, “Ain’t gonna let nobody turn me around.”

Bull Connor next would say, “Turn the fire hoses on.”  And as I said to you the other night, Bull Connor didn’t know history.  He knew a kind of physics that didn’t relate to the transphysics we knew about.  And that was the fact that there was a certain kind of fire that no water could put out.  And we went before the hoses; we had known water.

What King is talking about here is exactly the power of Baptism, or rather, the challenge of it.  In baptism, we, as St. Paul puts it, die to ourselves and are born in Christ.  We are baptized into his death and his resurrection, which means that the whole world is transformed.  King knew the stakes of his baptism.  He had lived it for years.  But he also knew its promise: that he would not be overcome, for Christ had been raised from the dead.  No water could harm him – he’d already known it.  Death was no threat.  In baptism, Christ’s resurrection had annulled all fear of it.  And as King’s life is an ever-present witness to, when the fear of death is taken away, so too is the fear of the Enemy.  And there, exactly there, is where baptism works: it frees us to love our neighbour. 

I can’t wait to see you on Sunday.  Enjoy your forgiveness – and your freedom!

Peace in Christ,
David King, PTS Summer Intern

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