Skip to main content

Author: Glenn

Rector’s Rambling – January 29, 2025

Rector’s Rambling – January 29, 2025

Numerous childhood diseases that were either eradicated or nearly eradicated are starting to infect more and more children in recent years. While it’s still a tiny percentage, it continues to grow yearly as more families seek exemptions from childhood vaccines that most of us received without a second thought. Despite the reality that most of the diseases we vaccinate for are deadly, especially for young children, parents are increasingly opting out. I recently read one explanation for the rise in unvaccinated or partially vaccinated children that I hadn’t really considered before: we’ve done such a good job eliminating certain diseases that almost no one can remember them anymore.

People have simply forgotten how scary such deadly diseases were at one time in history. Measles, for example, killed thousands of people a year before a vaccine became available almost a century ago. That’s after millions were infected annually, and many times, the number who died were seriously ill, including some cases that led to encephalitis. For those of us for whom measles or polio are more of a story from history than a lived experience, it simply does not generate a lot of concern. That sense of safety is precisely what allows some to forego vaccinations for elective reasons, trusting that it won’t be a problem.

For some reason, as I thought about the lack of remembering as a factor in this debate, I also considered the impact of remembering on one of the religious debates I noted in Sunday’s sermon. I mentioned that some consider the Episcopal Church to no longer center itself on the saving death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Instead, some detractors say we’ve left behind the Gospel of repentance for a mushy gospel of inclusion where everyone and everything is ok. As I explained in the sermon, that’s not entirely fair for a liturgical denomination that comes to the altar week after week for the Body and Blood of Christ in the Eucharist.

We speak of the Eucharist as an act of anamnesis, or holy remembering. As we say or listen to the prayers at the Eucharist, we are hearing and mentally reenacting the events of the Last Supper and Christ’s suffering on the cross, his death, and his resurrection. The Eucharistic prayers tie Christ to the larger story of God’s people and the arc of the New Testament and use it as the foundation upon which the Church lives and moves, and has its being today. We partake of the Eucharist over and over again so that we really can’t forget it, even if we tried. That holy remembering is extremely important to understanding our approach to so many other aspects of our spiritual and religious lives.

When we are reminded of the events of the Last Supper week after week, it subtly reinforces the layered meaning of those events. It was not just a transactional cosmic event; it was also personal and quite human at the same time. Jesus’ sacrifice and death were acts of grace, not cheap grace, to be sure, but the radical grace of God that sent God’s son to bring salvation, not condemnation. It is that grace that is poured into the chalice at the Last Supper and onto the ground on the cross. Remembering that supper means remembering that as friends gathered around the table, Jesus was in the midst of his betrayer, his denier, doubters, and those too afraid for themselves to stand up for their rabbi when he was arrested. Despite knowing all that about his followers, Jesus still gave them the gift of new life and did not berate them for their lack of faith or sinful behaviors. He loved them to the end, as John’s Gospel says.

By reading and reenacting those moments, again and again, the way we do, it changes us. It takes away a deep fear and the uncertainty that comes from wondering if God really loves us. With a repetitious, cyclical reassurance of that grace, we stop focusing on ways to assure or earn our salvation. We stop worrying about others’ salvation, too, in many ways. We begin to trust what God has been saying in many ways for centuries. We begin to understand that Jesus always loved and healed people before addressing the question of worth. We start to realize that such freely given, unearned gifts are often what lead to faith and not the other way around. It’s true in the bible and in human lives today. The work of God’s Son – the work of our Savior – is unbinding, not binding; it is welcoming home the prodigals of this world, not casting them out; it is finding value in the very people the power structures of our societies (be they political or ecclesial) are hell-bent on diminishing and devaluing.

I’m not saying that non-liturgical churches don’t share that same understanding or know the love of God the way that we do. I’m not even saying we’re right or that they have forgotten – only that I KNOW we haven’t. I can say that when we pray it, sing it, eat it, and drink it over and over again, it changes us, and it changes the way we understand the work God is doing in our lives and the world. We remember. And that, in turn, changes the work we believe God calls us to do in our lives and for others. Our liturgical worship is not for everyone. Some find it boring and repetitive. Others feel we’re not “bible-based.” We may not treat the bible the same way some faiths do, but there is no denying that we are centered around scripture. Despite its flaws, our lectionary ensures we hear the vast arc of God’s story from all corners of the scripture and always hear about Jesus Christ from one of the Gospels. Our preachers don’t get the chance to stray too far from the Gospel, even when we want to.

We don’t get the opportunity to forget God’s grace and the incredible freedom that comes with it. We don’t take it for granted, and we trust in it. We don’t see it as a “get-out-of-hell-free” card, allowing us to do whatever we want, but as a personal invitation to strive to do better, always knowing nothing can separate us from the love of God. There are differences in the order of operation, but we believe that because we’ve been given the gift of God’s love found in Jesus Christ, we’re called to reshape our lives in response to it. We don’t reshape our lives or demand others to reshape theirs to attain it. It’s already ours and theirs. The gift always came first in the Gospels and still does. Again, we remember every single time we humbly come to the altar with our outstretched hands to receive the gift we know we aren’t worthy of and cannot earn, but we are given over and over again. In response, we offer our confession and praise to God every day that we draw breath but always trust in its veracity without fear. Our confession is essential to a right relationship with God but is not subjunctive. We believe in the assurance of absolution.

Ironically, one might use the example of diseases and vaccines to accuse churches who are no longer afraid of sin as having decided to opt out of the “vaccinations” of repentance to ward off the deadly wrath of God. I don’t think we’ve forgotten that the way people have forgotten deadly diseases. I believe we simply remember differently, or more precisely, how Jesus intends us to remember. When Jesus tells us to “do this in remembrance of” him, we do. The remembrance of Jesus is knowing that he is the vaccine, raised up like the staff Moses raised to treat snake bites in the wilderness, a symbol of healing to this day. That saving grace gives us the freedom from worry and the freedom to be fully alive.  

There’s plenty we can and do forget. But if we’re going to remember one thing, above all else, remember that.

Tom+

Father of all, we give you thanks and praise, that when we were still far off you met us in your Son and brought us home. Dying and living, he declared your love, gave us grace, and opened the gate of glory. May we who share Christ’s body live his risen life; we who drink his cup bring life to others; we whom the Spirit lights give light to the world. Keep us firm in the hope you have set before us, so we and all your children shall be free, and the whole earth live to praise your name; through Christ our Lord.  Amen.

Continue reading

Rector’s Ramblings – January 23, 2026

Rector’s Ramblings – January 23, 2025

Wow. That was a fun couple of days! Snow on St. Simons for the second time! Ok, so it was mostly ice, but it still allowed for the creation of icemen (the colder, harder cousins of snowmen). I actually had to go digging around in the garage to find my ice scraper and snow brush, impressing even myself when I successfully located them. I saw lots of pictures of folks out enjoying the snow, some for the first time ever. My youngest, for example, has not seen snowfall like this before, or at least since she was tiny, meaning it’s not much of a memory. This week’s snowfall was memorable, to say the least.

The other side of the coin, however, was how difficult the last two days have been. Like so many in our community, we lost power. Ours went off at 3 am on Wednesday morning and just came on at this writing mid-afternoon Thursday. Well, it’s sort of on. It’s been flickering on and off for two hours, just frequently enough that the HVAC system can only get started blowing warm air before it shuts off and goes through its reset procedures. It’s still sub-60 degrees at home. Despite growing up and living part of my adult life in the North, I’ve never had to endure an extended power outage when it’s freezing outside. I can’t say I enjoyed it. We’ve done summer outages, even the days-long variety, on several occasions, which are much easier to manage.

As unpleasant as it was for those of us who went without power (and some still don’t have it back), I still feel incredibly blessed. We had proper clothing to allow us to layer up inside. We had plenty of blankets we could hide under. Although it wouldn’t start for five hours, we have a generator that finally turned over and ran without a problem for the next twenty-six hours straight. That allowed us to run a small space heater – just enough to keep the temps in the 50s downstairs. We also have a solar generator and all the rechargeable electronics to keep us connected and the room lit in the darkness. We’ve even learned that our fiber internet service works when powerlines are damaged, so long as we plug it into the generator. Perhaps the biggest blessing is that we have tents that we could set up in the living room to sleep in, with efficient sleeping bags inside them, which allowed us to preserve body heat and have a decent night’s sleep despite the cold temperatures in the house.

I contrast that experience with the experiences of so many of the people I spent a few hours with on Tuesday. As you probably saw from our emails this week, our friends and neighbors at St. Athanasius opened their doors to the unhoused in our community as a warm daytime shelter. This allowed dozens of people to get off the street when the Well shifted their hours to overnight to ensure those same folks had a place to sleep during these bitter nights. For all that the Episcopal Church has gotten some bad press in the last week, both in a Brunswick News-run opinion piece last weekend and then in some of the political responses to the inaugural prayer service, it is worth noting that a large part – almost all – of the community response to those on the street offering day shelter has come from Episcopalians, along with some other mainline denomination faithful, too.

There is a lot going on in Christendom these days that I won’t address head-on in this rambling, but I will note a growing conflict about what “true Christianity” looks like. Being a Christian is not a monolithic vocation. It has always looked different for different groups of people as long as people have followed Jesus Christ. Some think the chief concern of the church is salvation and faith, shifting in the West over the last two centuries away from faith in The Word, Jesus, God’s son, as the primary differentiator and more towards faith in the bible as the inerrant Word of God. For others, the focus on living as Jesus lived is primary – following the teaching from Matthew 25 in which Jesus singles out care for the vulnerable and the needy as the chief sorting tool when final judgment comes. We may accuse each other of leaning too far one way or the other. Still, there has always been, and always will be, a need for authentic Christian faith to capture both elements of discipleship (not to include inerrancy, which Anglicans don’t profess).

I am so grateful to all those who have been able to lend a hand at St. Athanasius these last few days and those who will help St. Mark’s when they open their doors tomorrow. I saw members of this parish talking with folks who have virtually nothing, lifting their spirits and loving them despite apparent differences. We also had members of this parish making and taking food, beverages, snacks, and more to comfort those who needed it most this week. I watched a volunteer lovingly bandage the ankle of a woman bit by a stray dog. I was moved by the graciousness of those who received this care, frequently thanking anyone they could for the kindness and compassion that can be all too rare for those who live on the streets.

Beyond those who were able to assist firsthand, I also know how many in this parish support the work that we do in the community in so many other ways. Supporting Christ Church’s mission and ministry in any way allows us to send a few emails, make a few calls, and know that we will have all that we need and more to address a need. So I am grateful for all of us who stand next to one another in service and who kneel alongside each other in prayer; those of us who sing along with the hymns in church and break bread together in our parish hall; I’m grateful for a community of faithful followers who are doing their best to understand how they can live out the salvation that has been offered to all of us, building God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven.

Give thanks for homes and blankets, heaters and generators, for one another, and for the merciful love of God that is so strong it was manifest in Jesus’ humanity and divinity. Give thanks to those who can open doors to those without doors and those who can keep our electricity on and restore it when it goes out. Give thanks to the people you see when you come to church and the strangers who smile when we’re out and about. There’s much to give thanks for. God is good, my friends, so very good.

Tom+

Almighty and most merciful God, we remember before you
all poor and neglected persons whom it would be easy for us
to forget: the homeless and the destitute, the old and the sick,
and all who have none to care for them. Help us to heal those
who are broken in body or spirit, and to turn their sorrow
into joy. Grant this, Father, for the love of your Son, who for
our sake became poor, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Continue reading

Rector’s Rambling January 16, 2024

Rector’s Rambling

January 16, 2025

I listened to an Atlantic article on aging via Apple News this week. The magazine’s title for the article is “The Longevity Revolution.” In Apple News, it’s entitled, “America Needs to Radically Rethink What it Means to Be Old.” Regardless, it’s about aging and the reality that we’re getting older. Rather, more of us are living longer than those generations before us, so the average age of those considered older is getting higher and higher as medicine and technology expand life expectancy.

I’ve heard others reflect on this reality before, such as another article last year suggesting the need to change how we think about retirement. The “retirement age” that used to be the target for leaving gainful employment and doing all the fun things we could never do when working is just a number picked out of the sky. In fact, it’s a number that leads to harm for many people. For one, when we live longer than we used to, and the cost of care continues to rise, sometimes retirement funds don’t last as long as we do. Research is also unequivocal that stopping work too early can lead to an earlier death. Keeping the body and the mind busy and the purpose that often comes with work do wonders for slowing the aging process in many ways.

Still, another article I read within the last six months highlighted the need to rethink our approach to medicine and health because, although we live longer, our bodies are wearing out. Those final years aren’t much fun when our bodies are falling apart. The critical number is “active” life expectancy, not just life expectancy. Others call it aiming for “health expectancy” over life expectancy. Either way, a longer life span won’t be too much fun if it’s not active and healthy.

The article I referenced at the start acknowledges that we must be thoughtful about how we frame life after 50, as our old assumptions don’t hold true. “Senior citizen” is a term on its way out as we now think of people over sixty as living into their “later adulthood.” Age is just a number in many ways. I know many folks who are happily and effectively working deep into their seventies and eighties. We’ve all known at least a few people who worked into their nineties. Not all vocations and jobs lend themselves to octogenarians and nonagenarians. Most Americans have expressed concern about the age of the current President and President-elect for a reason. Cognitive ability and physical stamina decline at different rates and times for everyone. Regardless, there is still much to offer later in life than we may be programmed to accept based on the traditional aging model.

When we talk about living faithful lives, using the gifts God gives us, it applies to everyone. In the Church setting, I’m well aware that many of our members aren’t going to show up for a physical ministry opportunity. I know that some simply can’t drive after the sun goes down, and others may not be able to get up and going early in the morning. And yet, as I’ve said before, we all have ministries we can engage in, even if it happens from our sofa. Our wisdom and experience can yield incredible results even as our career potential drops off. The article’s author even notes gains in later adulthood, including: “greater equanimity, greater emotional resilience…a heightened appreciation of life’s blessings.” All those traits are gifts to the world if we care to put them into practice in the community around us.

This week I listened to a colleague who has been in ministry for decades describe his decision to take a sabbatical. I think he’s in his early eighties. He is stepping away from regular pastoral responsibilities of any kind, and he will be visiting family and praying about this chapter in his life. He told our local Clericus (gathering of clergy) that he hadn’t had a sabbatical since the early 1980’s. I pointed out that most people with his experience weren’t talking about a sabbatical but had entered retirement long ago. Retirement, as we commonly think of it, isn’t in his vocabulary, though he did admit his discernment might lead him to stay on sabbatical. Either way, I know he won’t come back and do nothing.

Tom+

[As I sit here editing this, we just finished a staff bowling outing, and I can feel my “sliding knee” cramping up. I need to work on my own health span! I have a long way to go…]

Here is a “Prayer for the Aged” from the Book of Common Prayer. I wonder what age constitutes “aged?”

Look with mercy, O God our Father, on all whose increasing
years bring them weakness, distress, or isolation. Provide for
them homes of dignity and peace; give them understanding
helpers, and the willingness to accept help; and, as their
strength diminishes, increase their faith and their assurance
of your love. This we ask in the name of Jesus Christ
Lord. Amen.

Continue reading

Rector’s Ramblings – December 12, 2024

Last weekend I had the opportunity to attend Sewanee’s service of Lessons and Carols remotely via livestream. I have not attended that service in any form for twenty years, and I forgot how beautiful it is. In that space, with that choir, it’s simply an experience unlike anything else I’ve had in the time since – although other services of Lessons and Carols are certainly beautiful in their own right. The impetus for this tune-in was Eva’s role as a member of the Sewanee choir, as she wanted to continue using her gifts of music in college, but not by playing her saxophone. Donna got to be there in person, and I settled for livestream with the audio streaming through my surround sound system at home. It was glorious from afar, and I know in person would have been even more so.

Our Lessons and Carols service this weekend will be glorious, too. Jim Broussard has been working with the choir and has arranged for a string quartet to accompany them. The service will be held Sunday evening at 7 pm in our Parish Hall, a space that has exquisite acoustics for music. It will be lovely, and I hope many of you will be able to join us. It’s also a great event to bring friends and neighbors to, by the way.

We have had our own version of Lessons and Carols in recent years, with only some of the traditional readings. We have also included children’s bible versions of some of the stories with, ahem, “dramatic” readings of those stories by staff members. We have loved that, too, and it allowed more people to participate in a version of Lessons and Carols, but I’m really pleased to be moving back to a standalone service. There is just something powerful in this service, in a similar way to the Easter Vigil, when the first part of that service tells the story of God’s saving acts throughout history leading up to the ultimate act of creation played out in Christ’s resurrection.

Lessons and Carols tells a hopeful story of God’s promises to be in and with the world, again spanning a long period of time in the history of the faith. Those promises found fulfillment in the arrival of the Christ child on that first Christmas. The Incarnation is both a moment in time, but also the beginning of a new reality that is ongoing. God is still present and our relationship to God has and is strengthened by God’s experience on the inside of humanity itself, no longer limited by “only” being the Creator. The Feast of Christmas shortens the distance between us to zero, and we find new and enriched life as a result.

We can talk about the theology of the Incarnation all day long, but it is through story that we engage it best. It is in listening the stories of those who have come before us, the prophecies of God’s promised salvation, and the hope that has motivated the faithful right on through to today. We find commonality with their human experience despite the immense gap in our historical experience. As we continue to prepare our hearts for the coming of Christ, and to remind ourselves that he has already arrived, Lessons and Carols gives us the narrative through word and music to connect the longing of God’s people to our longing; the hope of others, to our hope; the promises to our faith itself.

If you can come on Sunday, I encourage you to do so. These are realities and stories worth revisiting and retelling. I know you will find that it touches your heart and inspires you. It certainly does for me.

Tom+

Loving God, you are our peace;
prepare our hearts for your coming.
Forge the swords of bitterness into plows of blessing;
till the soil of our souls for your springing forth in us.
Remove our heart’s defensive armor,
clothe us in light alone,
and pierce our wide-open hearts with your love.
By your Spirit in us, may we be at peace:
awake, and ready to welcome your presence.
Amen.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes

Rector’s Ramblings – December 5, 2024

This week marks the end of the 2024 Formula One season with the final race scheduled for Sunday in Abu Dhabi. Indy Car ended its season more than two months ago. I’ll have a little open-wheel racing withdrawal until March when both series start back up again. While both series had good years, Formula One was particularly fruitful, which is surprising. A year ago many fans were complaining that one team, Red Bull, had won all but one race the entire season, with most of those going to one driver, Max Verstappen. Some folks found it decidedly boring to watch drivers essentially fight over second place last season.

 

This season, however, to everyone’s delight, there have been seven winners across the season, and three teams fighting it out to see who would come out on top. The driver’s championship was concluded with two races to go, however, that’s very close considering that last year’s champion had more than twice the points of the second place driver and settled the title with six Grand Prix’s remaining. Uncertainty about who might prevail, it would seem, is what makes sporting so much fun! 

 

This is of course true in other sports. This year’s college football season has been painful for those whose teams could be out in front in a clearly dominant position, yet each weekend brings upsets and surprises. Even Georgia, with its ups and downs, looks likely to make it in the playoffs. This reality brings joy to many, as they envision what might happen. It’s the stuff of Hollywood – someone might get a movie deal out of this season!

 

Outside of sports, uncertainty isn’t always welcome. We much prefer a little bit of boredom in our life. Not that we don’t like a little excitement now and then, but the sense of not knowing what is coming is most often anxiety producing when it’s something a bit more important to us than a sporting event. When we know a move is coming, but we don’t know when we’re moving, is a perfect example. That was my experience when finishing up seminary. With only a few months to go in school I knew I would have to leave, but I didn’t have a place to go lined up yet. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

The same sense of unease arises when we first get a diagnosis, or maybe we hear that we’re pregnant for the first time, or perhaps when the news of the world simply causes us to worry about the future, and our future in particular. Fortunately, not everything in this life is uncertain. One of the greatest gifts of our faith is the assurance of God’s care and love. No matter what is happening in our little world or in the world in general, God reigns above it all. That reality does not mean we don’t have to wrestle with our anxiety or our fears, but it does remind us that there are some things that are lasting and unaltered by the “changes and chances of this life,” as our Prayer Book describes it in the service of Compline.

 

We also find assurance through the grace in God’s plan of salvation. Eternal life has been offered to every one of us in a moment we weren’t even there for two thousand years ago. Yes, we must accept the gift once we understand what is on offer, but to live each day in fear that if we have a bad day and get hit by a bus, we’re goners is less than helpful. I find it comfortable and motivating to realize, with certainty, that God loves me enough to invite me to live with God despite all the things that I think ought to bring uncertainty. I have blown some big races and fumbled during some important games, and yet I have never had the sense that I have lost the place prepared for me. I doubt I’ll finish first in most things on this side of heaven, but to have any place on the other side is more than enough for me.

 

Tom+

 

Be present, O merciful God, and protect us through the hours
of this night, so that we who are wearied by the changes and
chances of this life may rest in your eternal changelessness; 
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Rector’s Ramblings – November 21, 2024

I recently changed vehicles, saying goodbye to my large and thirsty SUV in favor of a
very efficient car: a plug-in hybrid sedan. My decision to make the switch was really
driven (pun not intended but noted) by two things. First, my growing unease with driving
a vehicle that consumed so much fuel despite typically carrying one passenger, and the
growing cost of ownership – fuel and upcoming repairs. I loved my SUV, and I had
nearly 200,000 miles on it – just a fraction of what is possible with that particular V-8
motor. At sixteen and half years old, the motor’s longevity was not my only concern,
however. While the motor might make it a half a million miles, various parts and some
important systems would need replaced simply because of age.

I belonged to a few Facebook groups for owners of that particular SUV, so I knew what
repairs were coming. The timing belt and water pump were due for scheduled
replacement. The valve cover gaskets and the rear main seal were beginning to weep.
The front CV axles needed replaced. I am pretty sure I didn’t have long on my brake
calipers, especially the rears, as I cooked them a bit a few years ago dragging the
brakes when towing it down the mountain into Yosemite. A little incident after a long trip
last Christmas reminded me they needed attention before too long. And those were just
the things I knew I needed to be addressing relatively soon. All of it was within my
scope of ability, yet was still going to be expensive, and would have exceeded the
vehicles value. And truthfully, as much as I like working on my own cars, all those jobs
would certainly have induced headaches, too.

When I sat down to calculate the “cost to own” for that truck and the car I ended up
choosing, it became an easy choice. Yes, the newer vehicle will cost more over the next
four years, but most of its cost is absorbed by the high fuel and repair expenditures, and
the equity at the end of the period is radically different, too. In addition to the financial
realities, using 90% less fuel and what should be relatively headache-free ownership
sealed the deal. So far, I have been affirmed in my choice. I don’t really miss the larger
vehicle, and it’s been really nice to realize 120 mpg in the first 1500 miles of driving. I
only wish all such decisions were so easily arrived at.

In a recent Hospice meeting I was reminded what a difficult choice it can be to decide
when to enter into end of life care. Our bodies age, just like cars, and as we age, we
pick up diagnoses because some of our systems don’t work the way they once did.
Sometimes we have parts that go bad. And even if we’re relatively healthy, there are
some terrible illnesses that upend everything we had expected, which suddenly bring
our mortality into focus and make it appear a lot closer than it did for most of our lives.
We all know that at some point we will breathe our last. Despite our faith in what comes
next, however, it’s still a sobering and challenging reality to confront.

When we are facing our mortality in very specific ways, maybe because a doctor has
told us how serious things are, there are usually some choices. It may be a choice
between treatments, or it could be a choice between treatment or not. While the world of
medicine has bell curves, it does not have crystal balls. Sometimes, doctors are reticent
to suggest a timeframe for a prognosis as a result. Veterinarians seem to be less so, as
we’ve had vets tell us it was time for both of our first two dogs. But with humans, those

clear messages seem to be rarer. I know why; it’s not easy to tell someone that it’s time
to truly and finally embrace their death. We spend our lives taking medicine and
receiving treatment so that we can be healthy and extend our lives, so it’s literally a
complete turn-around entertain a different way of thinking. Many doctors struggle with
that moment. Their training is to extend life, in the most basic sense.

We rarely have clear analytics when we face such choices. It’s not as easy as it is with a
car, where we can calculate the various costs and determine if the value is there to
make the repairs. Our lives are priceless, so cost isn’t typically the question. In such
times we are dealing with realities beyond the measures of this world. These moments
are spiritual moments more than practical ones. The measuring of days, weeks, and
months is very different than anything else we might try to measure. Because our lives
are so full of love, we’re not exactly eager to waste any moment of them.

The question should shift to quality at some point, though. Modern medicine can extend
life in incredible ways – sometimes to the extent that it is literally labeled miraculous.
Ask a person whose had a quadruple bypass, for example. Or someone who has had
the risky surgery and the chemo that followed it and has celebrated being out on the
sliding side of the bell curve. Nonetheless, there comes a time when there really aren’t
good options for extending life with any quality. In those cases, we must choose
whether we undergo procedures and treatment at all costs, physical, emotional, and
spiritual included, to carve out what may represent a comparatively small gain in
lifespan. Or do we focus on making the most of the time we have left with as little
discomfort as possible?


I haven’t had to make that kind of decision for myself or someone I love, but I have been
with countless families who have faced such choices. In most cases, I would say we’re
measuring in weeks before the typical decision is finally made. Granted, there are cases
where there are only weeks from diagnosis to mortality, but those instances are
blessedly rare. Instead, it’s typically our best intentions to treat whatever the presenting
problem is, if for no other reason than to see where things stand afterwards, in the
hopes that another outcome will come to fruition. Eventually, however, we all get there.
When we do, I’m glad we have options like hospice care to being comfort to patients
and families who face those final chapters. I’m also aware that no one has ever told me
that they wished they had waited to enter hospice care. By contrast, I’ve heard the

opposite more times than I can count.

I don’t want anyone to give up or give in or choose not to fight when they face a health
crisis. Not at all. I also grieve to watch the struggle and the pain that can come with
never-ending treatments and toll they can take on a person and their loved ones. On

some level, our faith is informative in these moments, if we are attuned to what it can
offer. We proclaim first and foremost the life that we find in the resurrection of Jesus.
Knowing that we have an eternal life doesn’t make us automatically ready to leave this
world, any more than that knowledge takes away the grief when we lose a loved one.
They may be enjoying the fruits of their faith, but we miss them terribly. As it should be.

The recent story of Lazarus in the lectionary reminds us that even Jesus, who had and

used the power to break the bonds of death for his friend, experienced grief at the loss
of a loved one.

Our faith doesn’t make hard choices easy, but it can make them a little easier,
remembering that God wants life and health and goodness for us. It is also worth
remembering the words that will be said at our funeral as we ponder our last days: “you
were formed of the earth, and to earth you will return.” We will all die, as it has been
designed. Understanding that, and the promise of life on the other side of our death can
reshape our lives, not only as we consider the final moments, but every day that we get
to spend in this world. We don’t have to fear death because we’re already dead…and
yet we live.

I wish it were as simple as using the metaphor of the new car to suggest that we should
let go of these mortal bodies with ease because there’s something new and shiny
waiting for us. That’s true, in the broadest sense, but it’s not at all the same, either. Or
maybe it’s closer to the reality than we can imagine? Who knows. All I want to say today
through all of this pondering is that when we face these moments we must strive to be
brave, be grateful, and be faithful, and trust that there is no right answer. Whatever we
choose, we God goes with us, and that’s a gift without measure.

Tom+

Direct us, O Lord, in all our doings with thy most gracious
favor, and further us with thy continual help; that in all our
works begun, continued, and ended in thee, we may glorify
thy holy Name, and finally, by thy mercy, obtain everlasting
life; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Rector’s Ramblings – November 14, 2024

On Monday, a group of about twenty Christ Church folks made the trip down to Orlando for Mother Ashton’s father’s service. The funeral was moving, highlighting the best of what Episcopal worship has to offer. Our burial liturgy is beautiful and comforting and provided a meaningful way to honor and celebrate the life of Bishop Dabney Smith. The Dioceses of Central Florida and Southwest Florida came together with others from around the Church to remember Bishop Smith and support his family, including Mother Ashton. It was a fitting ceremony that Bishop Smith would have appreciated, and I know Mother Ashton’s family found the entire day to be a comforting part of their grief process.

Bishop Smith was remembered for his gifts in pastoral care and leadership, and also for his personal traits like his sense of humor and being an accomplished musician. It is near impossible to capture an entire life in a funeral service, and yet with that assembly of persons from each portion of Bishop Smith’s life, I think we all – even those of us with limited knowledge of him – got a sense of the breadth of his life and the depth of his relationships. Above all, his choice to center his life on Christ and live the way of love as best he could was at the center of the celebration.

The funeral happened to be held on Veteran’s Day, a day we remember and celebrate all those who have served our country in its armed forces. Many men and women have served their country by enlisting in one of the branches and tackling whatever job they were assigned. Some saw combat and took up arms. Among those, they still bear wounds, seen and unseen from their tours of duty. Many others were spared that experience, serving in peacetime or out of harm’s way, but were prepared to do so in defense of the Constitution of this nation and its people if called upon. 

Although ministry may feel like a battlefield on its worst days, I realize that it is a very different vocation than military service, although there are some parallels. Soldiers and priests both devote their lives to something greater than them – a supreme authority. That service often comes with some level of sacrifice, including discipline that many others do not need to submit to. Service to the church or to the public also tends to come with less compensation than what might be found in the private sector for similar skillsets and training. And yet, those who serve, are not typically resentful about their service. They are proud to devote their lives to the benefit of others. Again – I know these are different ways of serving, and we shouldn’t draw too many lines of comparison, but the overlap did not escape me on Monday.

Bishops have a very challenging vocation. They get to do a lot of problem solving, as any problem of note within their diocese will likely come across their desk at some point. No matter what they do, bishops are often the recipients of criticism from some corner of their diocese as they address those problems. As Bishop Lee said in opening his homily, the advice Bishop Smith was given at his consecration included three things: “Love God, love your people, and don’t read your press clippings.” Ministry is about loving as best we can and making decisions. Not everyone will agree with those decisions, of course, but we do the best we can as servants, and that is what we heard described as Bishop Smith was honored.

I am so grateful for his ministry to the Church, even though he was never “my” bishop. I know full well what his ministry required of him and his family, and I thank him (and them) for his decades of service to something greater than himself. I also remain grateful for all the veterans who have served our country. I did not enlist and did not serve in that capacity, and yet I also know what that service required of them. For too many, the burden they carried on our behalf has remained their burden to bear no matter how long it’s been since their discharge. They each deserve our appreciation and understanding.

Jesus calls each of us to be servants, and we answer that call in different ways. If we are attuned to God, service is not an option we’re given. It’s an imperative. Once we hear it, we respond in faith. One day, we can all hope to hear the assurance: “Well done, good and faithful servant,” as I know Bishop Smith did.

 

Tom+

 

I failed to offer this prayer at all services this past weekend, so I will offer it now, for Veterans Day:

 

We pray for those who have served our nation and laid down their lives to protect and defend our freedom, asking that we remember their sacrifice and make right use of our liberty.

We pray for those who still bear the scars of their service, asking for healing for them in mind, body, and spirit.

We pray for those who serve us now, especially for those in harm’s way, asking that you shield them from danger and bring them home in safety.

We pray for all those who govern, asking that you turn their hearts and minds to the work of establishing a peace born of justice and equity.

We pray for all those who are caught up in conflict around the globe this day, civilians and peace-keepers and the poor who have no escape, asking that we have the courage to defend the defenseless, make room for those who flee for safety, and look to that day when we will train for war no more.

May the peace you gave us, the peace that passes all human understanding, be the peace that guides and sustains us. For it is in Jesus’ name that we pray. Amen. (David Lose)

Rector’s Ramblings – October 31, 2024

The Dodgers have won the World Series! This means one crucial thing – the New York Yankees lost the World Series! As an Orioles fan, I cannot pull for the Yankees even though they represent “our league.” I root for whoever the Yankees play as a way to support my team, which has had some good seasons in recent years, including this season. But the Orioles are notorious for postseason mishaps. This year, losing in the wildcard series against Kansas City was no different. It’s just what we do, which makes it all the more annoying when the Yankees are playing well. Granted, they haven’t won the Series recently, but still.

Truthfully, however, I don’t really hate the Yankees, even if I tease Tom Ernst, who tortures me every Sunday during the season with his Yankees pins and watch. It’s more of a lighthearted rivalry. It’s not like I have to spit every time I say the Yankees’ name. There’s no hatred involved towards the Yankees or their fans. It’s just fun to have rivals. Someone has to win in baseball when all is said and done. I just prefer it when it’s my team. When we don’t win, we all look forward to the next season with hope. Well, Orioles fans didn’t have much hope for a long time, but you know what I mean.

I cannot help but contrast the much more serious and troubling team sport we sometimes call politics with baseball and the end of the World Series. The team that played the best and scored the most runs just won the Series. No one is sure when we’ll know who wins the presidential election next week. Playing the best isn’t the most fitting metaphor, but it feels like it’s been turned into a game, nonetheless – and a deadly one. It may not cost lives, but it’s costing us a sense of unity, shared purpose, identity, and a legacy. Those elements of our common life are not guaranteed; without care and keeping, they will die. When they die, no one is quite sure what will come after.

As Christians, we don’t get to, nor should we sit out on political discourse. We are not called to be impartial. We are called to build God’s kingdom however we can, and while baseball games might not do a lot of kingdom-building (but in another context, we could identify ways they could), elections most certainly can. Not because we strive to elect Christians, per se, but because starting from the fundamental elements of our faith, we do our best to ensure (when we can) that those elements are present in the people we choose to represent us, govern us, and cast a vision for our future. 

Despite the rivalries, for baseball fans, it’s about baseball at the end of the day – for love of the game, as a Kevin Costner baseball movie title suggests. Every fan appreciates a perfect game, a new record, or a history-making moment. Baseball fans live for the weird statistical records that announcers love to pull out of their research, regardless of who sets those records. At the end of the day, American League fans don’t want to see the elimination of National League fans. They are rivals, but they are compatriots in the church of baseball (to quote Bull Durham), too. They share a love of the sport, how it’s played, and anything that helps baseball thrive, such as the now-popular pitch clock addition.

Political rivalries, on the other hand, have become corrosive, dehumanizing, and dangerous. Gone from large swaths of political life and speech-making are calls for unity, shared purpose, a hopeful view of the future, an invitation to work across differences, and even a sense of truthfulness about serious issues. Grievance and the politics of resentment have replaced any healthy debate of policy differences. Once upon a time, policies essentially sought a general outcome regardless of the candidate and differing details on how to get there: the thriving of all the citizens in our nation. As we navigate these waters, it is increasingly difficult to catch even a glimpse of God’s kingdom in stump speeches or a voice that speaks any little echo of the Gospel.

Last evening, we heard from Bren Dubay, the director of Koinonia Farm, a Christian collective community a few hours from here. They have chosen a unique and biblical framework for their common life that is not perfect but strives for faithfulness, nonetheless. She admitted it’s undoubtedly not a utopia. They argue with one another, face trials, and find their way through problems together. They build their lives around three Gospel teachings of Jesus: service, reconciliation, and hospitality. Those three pillars of their common life are central to ours, too, whether welive on the same farm with one another or not. We’re all called to think more in terms of “us and we” than “us and them.”

Conversely, there are a lot of “me” focused messages in our political world at the moment. I get it. Everyone wants to win. We’ve turned politics into an existential competition at the end of which there can only be one winner. That’s how baseball might work, but not how God intends our world to work. We only truly win when everyone wins. I realize that’s still a radical message to this day, but such is the Gospel. Ideally, everyone on a ballot would articulate a vision for everyone to thrive together, but that’s not always the case. And we know that by now. Our system is what it is, and it produces the candidates it produces. I don’t know how we can heal and reform those systems, but I know it won’t happen between now and next week. 

Over the long term, we need to engage in prayerful discernment about how we can raise up and elect candidates for all manner of offices who can demonstrate their calling to faithful leadership and governance and a life that reflects the fruits of the spirit like some of those Paul outlined for the Church in Galatia: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. We aren’t looking for perfection – we’d never find it. But we know what we’re seeking, nonetheless. We know it when we see it, and we know it when we see its opposite. The goal is to get as close as possible to raising up those who can reflect at least some of these ideals.

We wear a lot of hats.Hats for our baseball teams, hats for our families, hats for our careers, hats as citizens of a community, hats for our church – there are a lot of them. Whatever hat we are wearing at a particular moment, we wear it with our Christian identity peering out from under the brim. As followers of Christ, we are called to serve and love our neighbors. The mission of our Church is reconciliation between people at odds with one another and between people and God. One of the strongest threads throughout our Judeo-Christian tradition is about care and hospitality for those who are “other.” We know what God expects from us.

I don’t know what will happen next week in our political World Series (let’s be honest, baseball isn’t really a world contest either!). I know that many people are anxious, angry, and afraid. I don’t think the outcome will change those feelings. There’s a good chance it will have the opposite effect. I don’t think God intervenes in baseball games, and I’m not sure how much God intervenes in elections. Except. Except that God intervenes in our lives every day, again, no matter what hat we wear.

God sends the Holy Spirit to move in and through us, inviting us to hear and see the world around us as Christ might, even as we stand in a ballot box. At the end of the day, we have free will and will use it. God’s involved because we’re involved. And, no matter what happens, God will still reign, the Good News of God in Christ will be needed more than ever, and our Christian identity will remain. We’ll still be on the same team, God’s team.

If you’re feeling anxious about this election cycle, I get it. You’re far from alone. And we’re all far from alone with the presence of God in our midst. Let’s just remember who we are and who we serve, and when all this is behind us, we can recommit ourselves to things like service, reconciliation, and hospitality. You can wear an Orioles hat, a Dodgers hat, or a Yankees hat – God doesn’t care about the hat. God cares about us and that we care for one another. The rest takes care of itself in time.

 

Tom+

Almighty God, to whom we must account for all our powers and privileges: Guide the people of the United States in the election of officials and representatives; that, by faithful administration and wise laws, the rights of all may be protected and our nation be enabled to fulfill your purposes; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Photo Credits: Dodgers Fan, Sammy Sosa, and hat/flag via dreamstime.com subscription

Rector’s Ramblings – October 17, 2024

It’s always frustrating when I think I should be able to fix something, but it turns out I can’t. Sometimes, it’s because something just can’t be repaired, and other times, it’s because I lack the skill to fix it. I’m usually game to try most things at least once, although there are some jobs I’m smart enough not to tackle in the first place. Other times, I think, “Sure, I can fix that!” If I try and fail, I’m usually no worse off than when I started. Usually. There was a memory on Facebook recently of the time I was helping the church do some demo in the Rectory in Maryland. When removing the subfloor to prepare for new tile, I pulled one particular nail out, only to see a geyser of water spray up into the room. The nail had been driven into a water pipe when the floor was laid. It never leaked…until I pulled it out. Then we had to shut off the water to repair the pipe.

A recent adventure was not so exciting, but it also deals with water, come to think of it. Like many, we bought a small above-ground pool during the pandemic when we weren’t supposed to go anywhere that first summer. It’s been nice to have it, even though we rarely use it. Equipment for above-ground pools isn’t usually as robust as in-ground pools, so I’ve already repaired hoses and valves and have swapped out the pump. The most recent issue was a bit of a surprise, though. Our filter sprung a leak. It didn’t leak around a fitting or an O-ring. Instead, the heavy plastic from which they formed the filter tank (about the size of a 5-gallon bucket) simply developed a small hole along the seam. 

I took everything apart and inspected it. I have a plastic welder, and I was pretty sure I had compatible plastic rods, so I cleaned everything up and welded the split. I put it all back together, and it worked! No more leak. For about 48 hours. The leak came back and pushed my plastic weld aside. Not one to give up, I eventually tried again and added flex seal tape to the interior. Surely, it would work between the tape (with all its hype) and the entire rod of plastic I welded into the seam. Nope. As soon as I had everything hooked up again: “Pssssshhhhhh!” Another stream of water. So, I cried, “Uncle!” and immediately ordered a new one from Amazon. 

I was annoyed. First, a piece of heavy plastic that isn’t exposed to the sun should last for more than four years, right? But also because I couldn’t fix it. It seemed like something I should be able to fix, and even though it may not be reparable for anyone at any skill level, it SEEMED like I should be able to fix it. Alas, it was not to be. That frustration is real, though, and I’ve felt it before. Frequently, actually. Just yesterday, I learned that an acquaintance lost his son unexpectedly last week. I don’t know what happened – his son is still a boy. I reached out with an email, and this is often the case in such situations. I was frustrated because I didn’t know what I could say to help make things better. He used to be a pastor, so in some ways, he knows there are no words and any attempt at condolence is appreciated, but still. Yes, I am well trained and know that presence and contact are much more important than any words in these situations, but my inclination – our inclination, is to do something that feels more overtly effective.

With cars, I have a pretty good average. I’ve never had to have a car towed because I began a repair I couldn’t finish – it’s been close a couple of times, but I’ve always figured it out. With home projects, the average is still good, but there are a few Hail Marys with colorful commentary along the way. With home goods, particularly electronics, repairs are rare; things just aren’t made to be fixed like they once were, but I’ve managed to repair my own computers and vacuum cleaners, among other things. With people, it’s even more varied. I don’t know how much “fixing” I’ve done, and fixing isn’t usually an option, yet the yearning is greater in relationships than it will ever be with any inanimate object.

Trying and failing to fix things is an excellent source of humility. And it’s a reminder that some things can’t be fixed. Not in a traditional sense. We can’t fix it when someone dies. We can’t exactly fix a broken heart. We can’t fix dementia. We can’t fix aging. Despite our yearnings, we must humbly accept that some things will be what they are. No matter how much we wish and pray, there is another outcome. In God’s time and God’s view, fixing isn’t even the proper arena for many things. God deals in healing, wholeness, renewal, and redemption, and not always on this side of heaven. God does this through Love. Love doesn’t fix things, per se, but Love can make room for growth, adaptation, and acceptance. It can and will eventually chart a course to healing, wholeness, renewal, and redemption. 

I don’t know that Love would have helped me with my pool filter housing. Maybe it would have helped not to think less of the designer or think in such colorful terms about how the unrepairable item annoyed me. And it may have allowed me to be kinder to myself instead of seeing my efforts as failures. Or maybe it would have made me grateful for the four years of continuous service I received from that infernal piece of plastic. It’s too late now. UPS will make it better when they drop off the new filter housing any day. But next time, I’ll try to pause for a moment and ask how Love could help.

 

Tom+

 

Do not be dismayed by the brokenness of this world.  All things break, and all things can be mended. Not with time, as they say, but with intention. So go, love intentionally, extravagantly, and unconditionally. The broken world waits for the love and light of Christ that is in you.  (from one of my favorite blessings)

 

Photo credits: water and tools via dreamstime.com subscription

Rector’s Rambling – October 10, 2024

Earlier this week, I was in a conversation with a relatively new arrival to coastal living in the south. He expressed annoyance and frustration at the back-to-back storms in our area, although Milton turned out to be a lot less of a storm for us than we knew at the time of the conversation. Those of us with a bit more coastal experience tried to assure him that it wasn’t typical to have a season like this one or to have two significant storms threaten our area in two weeks. Despite its rarity, it is a reality. 

Our conversation turned to hurricane preparedness. Helene’s surprising strength and impact on our area meant that many people weren’t as prepared as they might have been had they known some neighborhoods would be without power for five days. I shared what I’ve learned about creating a hurricane kit, the experience of staying through Irma, and a series of less severe storms over the years I’ve lived on St. Simons. I also pointed him to the FEMA and Red Cross guidelines for hurricane kits as a starting point. Everyone should have some kind of emergency kit to help them manage unexpected natural or human-made disasters. Having such plans can help us rest a bit easier.

Preparations only get us so far, however. While we can manage without power or water for a given period, provided we have stocked up ahead of time, such supplies don’t mean much if the weather is so severe that our homes are destroyed. A lower-grade hurricane is one thing; a tornado is something completely different. So, too, is the flooding we saw in North Carolina. We’re used to talking about storm surges here, but storm surges are mostly predictable. Often, flash flooding is not, especially if an area hasn’t been designated as a flash flood area. 

The other preparation we can do is the spiritual kind, where we learn to trust in God. That trust doesn’t mean we are spared from storms, damage, or anything else; instead, it means we trust that no matter what we experience, God is working, somehow, in some way, for our healing and goodness. The Holy Spirit guides people into helping vocations or volunteerism to help those in need, including us – an incredible gift and demonstration of God’s goodness. Such trust, however, does not negate the need to get out of the way of walls of wind or water. I always cringe internally when someone says that God will protect them. Our faith is not storm insurance. It’s not even insurance – it’s assurance.

In the old parable/joke, the pastor of a country church is warned about a failing levee and his need to leave his church behind. He turns down two rescue parties in boats, assured that God will save him. Later, as he clings to the steeple in the rising water, a Coast Guard helicopter drops a ladder for him to climb to safety, but again, he declines, claiming that God will save him. Unsurprisingly, he drowns, gets to heaven, and asks God why God didn’t save him. God’s reply? I sent two boats and a helicopter! For some skeptics, that story is, indeed, proof that God doesn’t act on our behalf and, therefore, must not exist. For those persons, if the Coast Guard initiates the rescue, God can’t do it also.

However, we recognize that God is at work in the human heart, not causing outcomes but guiding decisions, inspiring sacrifice, and calling people to relationships. Fortunately, time after time, people do help one another. When it matters, we take care of each other. That is God at work – Christ at work in the world. Nonetheless, that won’t always be enough. Sometimes, there will still be danger, loss, and death. As I’ve said before, the promise of our faith isn’t that everything will be okay, only that we’ll be okay when everything around us isn’t. That assurance is more of an eternal standard, which can be frustrating at times. That also doesn’t make it any less accurate.

We should have hurricane plans, emergency plans, and kits to ride out different scenarios. We rightly take responsibility for ourselves as much as possible, knowing we can’t plan for everything no matter how hard we try. While we can do a lot for ourselves, we will likely need others, too. And when that’s not enough, it’s important to remember that God’s got us in God’s hand. Thankfully, it’s rare that everything will go wrong, but for some, it is reality. When it does, we can rest easier knowing God’s love and the promise of life in Christ no matter what is reality, too.

 

Tom+

 

O God of might and mercy, thank you for your many blessings and never-failing care and love for your creation.  On a day of discovery and hope we await news of the fate of those in the path of Hurricane Milton.  While we wait, we offer our thanksgiving and praise to you: 

For beautiful sunrises, reminders that the light will always conquer the darkness and the fear that often accompanies it, we thank you.

For the welcome and hospitality for strangers and refuges displaced from their homes, we thank you.

For the men and women who respond to dangerous emergencies instead of fleeing them, putting their lives at risk for ours, we thank you.

For the men and women who work for our government at all levels, who made plans ahead of time, communicate openly during the crisis, and who will soon begin the work of rebuilding, we thank you.

For those who are working even now to inspect damage, remove downed trees, and restore power and essential services to those already affected by storms, we thank you.

 For those who care for the sick, the injured, and the dying, and those who have stayed with the weak and vulnerable, we thank you.

For the strong walls and sound homes that stand the test of wind and waves, we thank you.

For the care we share with one another in times of distress, as neighbors are kind and gentle and supportive, we thank you.

For the wonder of your creation that will heal itself in time, we thank you.

Bless those who will receive news of damage and loss; shield those who grieve from further torment; keep safe those who labor on our behalf; grant us thankfulness when we sigh with relief at news that does not confirm what we feared the most; and let us look towards a new day with all its promise.  Keep us from forgetting those who are worse off and inspire us to help where we can.  Do not let us quickly forget that what is most important in this life is not what we have but the people with whom we share our journey.  In the midst of our innumerable blessings, may we work together to rebuild, to lend aid, to serve one another, and to model the example of our Lord, Jesus Christ, as we strive for your kingdom’s glory on earth as it is in heaven.  Amen. 

 

Photo Credits: Milton radar and disaster relief via dreamstime.com subscription