"Almighty God, you have created us out of the dust of the
earth: Grant that these ashes may be to us a sign of our
mortality and penitence, that we may remember that it is
only by your gracious gift that we are given everlasting life;
through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen." (The Book of Common Prayer, p. 265)

These are the words of blessing spoken over the ashes which are to be imposed on worshippers during the Ash Wednesday worship which begins the season of Lent.

I have always been fascinated by the idea of smudging ashes on someone’s forehead: making the sign of the cross-a most holy and meaningful symbol-by using something which represents violence, death, and waste. I mean, ashes are what is left over from any great conflagration. Ashes represent loss to me. I think of that home down the street from where I grew up. One Halloween night it was burned to the ground. Almost nothing was recovered; all was turned to charred timber and ashes. I recall the day the woods not far from our home in Arkansas caught fire. A controlled burn gone wrong. Hundreds of acres reduced to nothing. I think of the images I have seen of Mt. St. Helen’s blowing up and the falling ashes which blackened the sun. I remember the horror of the twin towers and those ashes of ruin, violence, and death which covered the streets of Manhattan.

Ritual observance, or practical action?

Humans need ritual. Whether it be the simple act of breaking bread during a family gathering or an elaborately staged high mass, a weekly outing with "the girls" or reading the morning paper while enjoying a cup of coffee, rituals play a much needed role in our lives. They can help us to find order in our lives which so often times are filled with chaos. They can bring meaning and richness to a community. And, perhaps most importantly, ritual–especially religious ritual–can help us to transcend the ordinariness of our lives and touch the unknown. Ritual is one way people of faith can see God.

Running on Empty

Go to the text

I like a good story in which the hero–against all odds–totally devotes him-or-herself to a cause which involves a complete denial of self in the service of others, oftentimes leading to that hero's death.

Les Misérables is just such a story.

Of course, I haven't exactly read the book. But I have seen the musical six times!

You know the story: Our hero, Jean Valjean, unjustly sentenced to a long prison term for stealing a loaf of bread, is in turn released, later accused of stealing yet again, and is arrested for a minor parole violation; he escapes, becomes the owner of a factory and a respected mayor, saves a man from certain death who is caught under the wheels of a runaway horse-cart, raises the daughter of a dead woman whom he has just fired, escapes capture yet again, decides not to kill the man who has been hunting him down all those years, saves a young man from death during the French Revolution–which young man just happens to be the lover of his foster daughter–and dies while singing a final farewell with the ghosts of his foster daughter's rival–who, coincidentally, is also her step-sister and rival for her lover's attention–and her mother! (Now, perhaps you can understand why I've never read Victor Hugo's book. The story is much easier to follow when you got great music to move you along!)

Ezekiel 37.1-14

I'll admit to being somewhat jealous of Israel as that nation faced years of exile at the hands of their Babylonian captors those many, many years ago. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating for a life of servitude and bondage. There's enough of that going around to last more than a lifetime of lifetimes. Neither am I looking romantically back at a time I can only imagine was one of terrible uncertainty, deprivation and hopelessness.

But at least Israel had Ezekiel.

Here was a prophet brave enough (and maybe just a bit crazy enough) to interpret the nation's present condition as a sign of God's impending justice and promise of restoration.

It is with a great deal of humility that I accept the call of your Vestry to be your next rector.

With the announcement by Bishop Jelinek, during his visitation earlier this morning, that he was consenting to my call and by your gracious sign of approval, it has finally dawned on me: God wants to do a new thing in this place. It is in the face of that reality that I know that what we are to be about in the coming years is nothing short of being the kind of Spirit-filled church of grace that God intends us to be.

When I arrived here just over two years ago, we were both–you, as a congregation and me, as a priest–in need of some grace in our lives. I had just come through a stage in my faith journey of being absent from congregational life for three years–while engaged in other ministry–and was sorely in need of reconnecting with a parish family. You, as that parish family, were showing a certain amount fatigue following a rather challenging season of parish life.

"I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in (God's) word I hope..." (Psalm 130.5)

Back in seminary there used to be a mysterious group of people who would go around the students' quarters and check to make sure that no one decorated for Christmas before December 24. Not-too-affectionately known as the "Advent Police," this clandestine liturgical vice squad would remove any festive holiday display which contained any reference to the Incarnation. Gold and red ribbon, brightly colored lights, decorated trees (except, of course, for Jesse Trees), mistletoe, reindeer, Jolly 'ol St. Nick, even mangers–if they contained the Christ child: all were stealthily removed under the cover of darkness and hauled to some unknown ecclesial impound lot. The only decoration allowed during Advent Season were plain green wreaths, Advent wreaths with the appropriate color of candles and the odd purple bow.

“A work is praised for the skill of the artisan; so a people’s leader is proved wise by his words. The loud of mouth are feared in their city, and the one who is reckless in speech is hated. A wise magistrate educates his people, and the rule of an intelligent person is well ordered. As the people’s judge is, so are his officials; as the ruler of the city is, so are all its inhabitants. An undisciplined king ruins his people, but a city becomes fit to live in through the understanding of its rulers. The government of the earth is in the hand of the Lord, and over it he will raise up the right leader for the time. Human success is in the hand of the Lord, and it is he who confers honor upon the lawgiver.” (Sirach 9.17–10.5)

"St. John's celebrates the loving acceptance of Christ through worship, fellowship, and service which includes and affirms all persons."

Dear Friends in Christ,

With these words, your Vestry in 1997 made a very bold statement. In essence they declared that St. John’s Parish was to be a place of welcome for all people, regardless of race, gender, socio-economic status, age, marital status, sexual orientation, or any other aspect of the human condition which is often used as a means to divide God’s people.

In choosing to endorse these words, our parish took the bold step to join with other Episcopal congregations throughout the country in being a place of welcome to gay, lesbian, transgendered, and bisexual individuals. We proudly proclaimed our intention to extend the loving embrace of God to all persons. I am very grateful that we are a “Welcoming Congregation.” That fact played a large role in my decision to accept the call of the Vestry and Bishop Jelinek to serve as your priest-in-charge.

Now that I am somewhat coherent, I think I'll let everyone know what's been going on the past few days:

I woke during the morning on Tuesday, the 3rd, with some stomach pain which went away in an hour or so. Back to bed and things were better. At 7.30am I woke and was in a great deal of pain. Severe is a more appropriate qualifier. After ten minutes or so of trying to decide what to do, I called a friend of mine, Travis Salisbury, who lives in St. Louis Park, and asked him if he would come and drive me to the hospital.

While he was on his way the pain got much more severe and acute–kinda felt like that Alien creature, from the movie of the same name, was trying to get out of my stomach! I've never felt such agony. I moved outside to meet Travis at the entrance to my house and sat on the steps leading to the sidewalk. It seemed like an eternity had passed – and no Travis. I decided to call 911 and have an ambulance come, thinking that it would get me to the hospital a lot sooner (after all, they can run traffic lights!). Travis showed up and the ambulance arrived shortly thereafter.

[textile]
Summer is here. I know that because I've already had to mow my lawn three times so far. That's kind of amazing if you know anything about me, for I really cannot stand to do yard work. Don't get me wrong, I've got nothing against that kind of work, it's just that if I'm going to be outside I'd rather spend time enjoying nature than working to control it. Why mow lawns anyway? The grass just keeps growing and growing, no matter how many times you try to control it!

Summers in Minnesota are a special time. And Minnesotans really know how to spend a good summer. With only a few really good (but really short) months in which to enjoy the favorable weather, we take good advantage of our leisure time. Boating, fishing, camping, playing golf or softball, taking vacations, traveling. All these are activities for which we in the north country have a great passion this time of year.