Bishop Michael Curry’s royal wedding sermon

We preempt our regularly scheduled blog to bring you the royal wedding sermon by The Most Rev. Michael B. Curry, the 27th Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church. It is well worth fourteen minutes of your time. You may want to have a Kleenex handy.


faith and mystery

My former rector, Fr. Phil at St. John the Divine, Morgan Hill, tweeted this the other day:

quoteFaith involves the humility of living with mystery
since an infinite number of things are in relationship
with an infinite number of things

I re-tweeted that. I’m always trying to figure stuff out. And sometimes things can’t be figured out. Science is important and critical and essential. We need science. But sometimes we simply need to make room for the mystery.

follow me on twitter: @MikeChristie220 I tweet whenever I publish a new blog entry.


difficult times for God

I first encountered Pot Shots by Ashleigh Brilliant in the fall of 1971 when I first began attending Pitzer College in Claremont. They were postcards and the drugstore in downtown Claremont carried them. May favorite is someone looking off at the horizon, and the caption says:

quoteWho will take care of the world
when I’m gone?

They are all digitized now, and you can find them daily on gocomics.com. Right now they are offering Pot Shots from that 1971 year. I don’t remember this one from those days, but it is unsettling that this sentiment is as applicable today as it was in 1971.

PotShots


Sacred Music Friday: We’ve Come This Far By Faith

Appropriate, I think, given Wednesday’s blog entry. And, of course, I love the seventies milieu.


Emmaus in Summer

“Emmaus never happened. Emmaus always happens.”
— John Dominic Crossan, Jesus: A Revolutionary Biography

I have written much about Emmaus, though I normally reserve my comments for Easter. However, as I’ve mentioned, I have been taking the online course Soelle in Summer focusing on the work of Dorothee Soelle and facilitated by the marvelous Jane Redmont. Jane posted a poem by Soelle on Emmaus, which I reproduce below. It triggered a strong response from me, as the Emmaus story usually does. Here are the comments I made on the post, slightly edited.

EmmausThe Emmaus story touches and moves me at more levels and in more ways than any other passage in the Bible. I have blogged about it many times. I’m always disappointed that it shows up in the Lectionary for Sunday morning only once in the 3-year cycle (Year A – Matthew, which is odd). Yes, I know it’s there for Easter evening every year.

So I was struck by Soelle’s taking that passage and interweaving it with images of social justice denied, and then suggesting that Cleopas and companion (probably his wife) were walking away from the “city of their hope” to where, as we might say today, the grass is (or rather, seems) greener. Yet they turn back to Jerusalem, their “city of their hope” when the meet the Christ.

Powerful.

I need to come back to this poem and spend some more time with it.

Here is the poem:

Song on the road to emmaus

So long we have been walking
away from the city of our hope
to a village where life is said to be better

   Hadn’t we thought
   we could overcome fear
   the fear of the old pieceworker
   that she’ll have to take sick leave
   the fear of the turkish girl
   that she’ll be deported
   the fear of the haunted neurotic
   that he’ll be committed
   forever

So long we have been walking
in the same wrong direction
away from the city of our hope
to the village where there’s supposed to be water

   Hadn’t we thought
   we were free and could liberate
   all those poor devils
   the working man’s child held back and punished
   in school
   the adolescent on his motorbike
   sent to the wrong work
   for life
   the deaf and dumb
   in the wrong country
   at the wrong time
   silenced by working
   a lifetime
   for bread alone

So long we have been walking
in the same direction
away from the city
where our hope is still buried

   Then we met someone
   who shared his bread with us
   who showed us the new water
   here in the city of our hope
   I am the water
   you are the water
   he is the water
   she is the water

Then we turned around and went
back to the city of our buried hope
up to jerusalem

   He who brought water is with us
   he who brought bread is with us
   we shall find the water
   we shall be the water

   I am the water of life
   you are the water of life
   we are the water of life
   we shall find the water
   we shall be the water

Dorothee Soelle
Revolutionary Patience (Orbis, 1977)
pp. 46-48


believing and belonging

The folks over at Episcopal Café had an item called “Do you have to believe to belong?” last month. The article didn’t actually go in the direction I had expected, but it did set me thinking.

elizabeth_iFor me there’s a lot of church doctrine in which I don’t believe. Take, for example, the bulk of the Nicene creed, which we say every Sunday. Fortunately, I am part of the tradition of the Episcopal Church where doctrine is not crucial.

That tradition goes back, of course, to Queen Elizabeth I, who, while she had no reservations about telling people how to worship, was not interested in what people believed. Tradition holds that she said:

I would not open windows into men’s souls.

(I quoted the statement as it has been preserved. There was, of course, no concept of gender-inclusive language in her time.)

It is a practice that most of the Anglican Communion has continued to honor. That’s nice, because I love being able to receive Communion without feeling that I need to subscribe to a particular doctrine.

Yet another reason I love being an Episcopalian.


neighbors

I’ve long been familiar with Coffee with Jesus, since a couple of my Episcopal Facebook friends tend to share it frequently. It’s only recently that I’ve clicked Like on the source for the comic strip, Radio Free Babylon. The reason I did so was because of this one, which hit a bit too close to home (which CWJ frequently does). I’ve written about the house two doors down, where the wife has created something of a boarding house to make the mortgage, since her husband (whom I have not seen in ages) is not providing income due to his substance abuse. The boarders are not exactly young professionals, or even college students. They are, my guess is, mostly involved in recovery programs of one kind or another, and I tend to turn up my nose and look the other way.

That’s not quite what Jesus would have done.

cwj