Happy Easter!  Those are the words that many of us said to each other and to perfect strangers just a couple of weeks ago on Easter Sunday.  Such a greeting was acceptable two weeks ago, rather expected actually.  Two weeks ago, most of the various media outlets, at least for a day or two, made mention of this ancient Christian holy day.  But almost as quickly as the day sprang upon us, it has departed, and to use the greeting Happy Easter now, nearly two weeks later, would be considered weird, strange, out of touch, way-too-churchy.  We have resumed our routines and regimens, and now, for most of us, we are back to the same daily grind.

But what if we, as God’s people, lived as if Easter weren’t just a day, but were, rather, a whole new way of being, a new existence, a new perspective.  What if we lived as if the resurrection wasn’t just something that happened to Jesus two millennia ago, but was something that is still happening now, in our world, in our lives, in our midst.  

The apostle Paul was a what if, as if sort of guy. In his second letter to the Christians in the city of Corinth, Paul writes, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!” For Paul, Easter wasn’t just a day.  Somehow and someway, through the death and resurrection of Jesus, God had tilted the whole axel of our existence so that what was once considered dead was now alive, what was once considered defeat was now victory, what was once to be feared was now to be welcomed.  It was as if God had taken the whole deck of cards with which we were used to playing and had thrown it into the air, causing all the well-ordered cards to go gloriously every which way.  In doing so, God had caused the rules of every card game of life to somehow be changed. 

“The old has gone; the new is here.” Those are the words of somebody whose spiritual DNA has truly been altered by the Easter message. Paul got it. He understood. And so, despite the continued challenges of his life, and despite the fact that even after the resurrection of Jesus the world looked much the same as before, Paul lived as if everything were changed. Paul lived as if truth and beauty and compassion and mercy and forgiveness and grace and justice and reconciliation mattered.  Paul lived as if the new rules of every card game of life boiled down to basically one rule… love.  And the new rules, or should I say, that one new rule was to be celebrated and lived not just on one Easter day each year, but on every day of every year.

Easter isn’t just a day.  Easter isn’t just a season.  Easter is a new way of living life connected to God and connected to each other by the tenacious tendon of love.  What if we lived as if this were indeed true?  What might our world look like if, each and every day, we truly behaved as the what if, as if folks that God is calling us to be?  Alleluia! Christ is risen!  The Lord has risen, indeed!  Alleluia!  Or to put it another way, HAPPY EASTER!

~Father Art

I have always loved the theater.  Invariably, I am drawn into the dialogue and action of a play, and while I am only a spectator, I often feel as if I am part of the drama.  There is power in theater to communicate and to help us see and think and feel and learn in ways that we would not otherwise. Good theater often leads us to experience the truth of our humanity.  

Sometimes critics of theater denigrate it by claiming that it’s only make believe.  They claim that because theater is fictitious, it is therefore not real, not true.  The experience of me and so many other theater lovers is, however, that make believe often enables us to enter into what is really real and truly true. It allows us to experience beauty and love and grace and truth in ways otherwise inaccessible to us.

Good worship is like good theater.  It invites us and provides the space for us to enter in and actually participate in God’s love story.  Christian women and men have, over the centuries, composed the great liturgies of the Church to aid us in receiving the truth of God’s love.  In listening to the scripture readings and singing the hymns and saying the prayers and receiving the sacraments, we are, in essence, actors in God’s great theater.  Well crafted worship, like a good play, helps us in the make believe work of faith.

We call this coming week Holy Week.  Of course, every week is holy in that every week God reaches out to us and offers us innumerable opportunities to be reconciled and to receive and give abundant life.  Holy Week, however, is special in that it is that time of the year in which we intentionally recount the last week of Jesus’ life. This Sunday, in our Palm Sunday worship, we celebrate the triumphant entry of Jesus into Jerusalem that marks the beginning of his journey to the cross.  On Wednesday evening at 5:30 pm, Stations of the Cross gives us an overview of the entire week.  Brief readings and prayers are offered at 14 stations.  On Thursday evening at 7:00 pm, our Maundy Thursday service helps us to experience the last supper of Jesus with his disciples, to participate in the act of washing one another’s feet as an expression of humility and service, and to prepare for Jesus’ crucifixion. Following our Maundy Thursday liturgy, members of the parish will be taking turns in the Chapel, praying with Jesus.  These Prayers in the Garden commemorate Jesus’ time spent in prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane in which he exhorts his disciples to stay awake with him.  On Good Friday at 12:00 noon and then again at 7:00 pm, we will hear and experience the story of Jesus’ crucifixion.  Prayers at the Third Hour will be offered via Google Meet at 3:00 pm on Good Friday afternoon.  This is the occasion at which we take pause in our day to remember the death of Jesus. On Saturday morning at 8:00 am, we will offer Prayers at the Tomb, again via Google Meet, as we come into solidarity with all the saints both living and deceased who await the Resurrection.  On Saturday evening at 8:00 pm, we will celebrate the Great Vigil, the climax of the entire church year, in which we remember God’s story of life and salvation from the beginning of time through the ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus, to our own day and age.  And then finally, on Easter morning at 8:00 am and 10:30 am, we will celebrate the Feast of the Resurrection and the abiding truth that even death has no power over God who desires and grants abundant life.

Our Holy Week liturgies are commemorations of events that actually happened, but they are also much more than that.  In these liturgies, God actually invites us to participate in the great drama of salvation.  It is my fervent hope that you will join your parish family, take your part in God’s theater, and participate in some of these opportunities to experience the story of God’s profound love.  May our worship give glory to God and may they become occasions of make believe for all those who yearn for truth.

~Father Art

“Piglet noticed that even though he had a very small heart, it could hold a rather large amount of gratitude. (from Winnie the Pooh, A. A. Milne)” 

We are coming into our last full week of Lent, and like many of you, my Lenten focus has been on the many ways that I have missed the mark and not lived into who and what God has created me to be.  There have been numerous times throughout the course of this season of Lent in which I have been dismayed and ashamed at the small size of my heart. I have found myself humbly falling to my knees before the altar to confess all the ways that I have done those things abhorrent to God  or not done those things pleasing.

This is all well and good, but if such time spent in sackcloth and ashes leads one to a place devoid of joy, then all that penitential reverence is for naught. Gratitude is the name of the game. Gratitude leads to lives of joy and service and generosity.  Gratitude is the song of those on the Way of Christ. And thankfully,  I am finding in these latter Lenten days that like Piglet, while I may have a very small heart, it can hold a rather large amount of gratitude.

I am grateful for so very much:

• the declining rates of Covid infections and deaths that has enabled us to return to some semblance of parish life that we know and enjoy;
• the inspirational and generous response of many parishioners to our appeal to help our fellow human beings in Ukraine;
• the willingness of most parishioners to try new ways of being church so that we may respond to a newly emerging post-covid world;
• the faithful and diligent service of so many of you as we put our parish back together;
• the splendid Lenten Fish Fry this past Wednesday!
• and so, so, so much more.

I am full of thanksgiving for the Church of St. John in the Wilderness.  I cannot imagine my life without this parish family, without all of you. I hope that’s how you feel too.  It truly is an amazing and miraculous thing that such small hearts as ours can hold such a large amount of gratitude.

~Father Art 

The traditional definition of a sacrament is “an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.” That means that there are things in this world that we can see and smell and hear and taste and touch that get us connected to God and God’s love.  Traditionally, the Church has named seven special sacraments in which Christian communities participate together, but of course, the whole universe is replete with these outward and visible signs.

Recently, I had a powerful experience of sacrament at a meeting of the St. John’s Altar Guild.  If you have never been to an Altar Guild meeting, you are missing something.  These women and men of the parish come together once a month to plan for the holy housekeeping that is done every week on behalf of the church. There is so much more, however, that happens at these meetings.  Prayer for our parish, community and world, support for each other, laughter, and real fellowship also always occur.  Love.  That’s what it is.  Love happens at those meetings, and as somewhat of an interloper that evening, I found myself caught up and lifted up by it all.  

At one point in the meeting, an Altar Guild member was expressing the pride with which she wears the Altar Guild pin that she was given upon induction into this loving, serving, faithful band of sisters and brothers. In response, another member who was wearing her pin at the time, held her pin out so that the rest of us could see.  That pin, and all the similar pins worn by the other Altar Guild members, are in my book, sacraments, outward and visible signs of inward and spiritual grace.  They are signs of love: love for the other members of the Altar Guild, love for the members of this parish family, love for God.  

I suppose that is why many of us wear crosses as well.  They, too, are outward and visible signs of the love that we have been shown by God in Christ Jesus.  In turn, the crosses we wear are outward and visible signs of our commitment to follow where our Lord leads and to allow our lives to be sacrifices of thanksgiving.  

To tell the truth, it is not the pins or the crosses or anything else that we may wear that matter most.  What matters is the love to which the pins and crosses point. Love received and love given. That is the essence of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection.  It is the essence of our lives as well.  Our Altar Guild members testify to this essence by wearing their pins of love and by serving and supporting and praying each and every week.  Their pins and their lives are sacraments of God’s love received and God’s love given back.  May all of our lives be and do the same.  

~Father Art

A couple of days ago during our Ash Wednesday service, I had the immense privilege of imposing ashes upon the foreheads of many members of the St. John’s parish family. It is such an intimate act as people allow the minister to spread the ashes of last year’s Palm Sunday palms across the brows of their faces. As the sign of the cross is imposed, the words “remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return” are spoken.  

I couldn’t help but notice that, like my own brow, most of the foreheads upon which I imposed ashes were wrinkled. Our furrowed brows speak to the years of laughter and pain and joy and sadness and excitement and heartache and glee and worry and so much more that we have experienced.  Furrowed brows are a beautiful and much earned sign that we have lived life and have been touched by the same.

The ashes spread and the words said are signs of God’s presence and love. God creates us out of nothing, journeys with us throughout the triumphs and tribulations of our lives, and draws us back to God’s own breast when our earthly pilgrimage has ended. God with us at our beginning. God with us in the midst of our lives. God with us at the end.  And God always breathing life into the dust of our lives, leading and guiding and loving. The sign of the cross imposed on our furrowed brows with ashes helps us to remember the unfailing, tenacious love of God that just refuses to let us go.

There is a line from a David Whyte poem that strikes me as particularly appropriate for us Christians as we begin our Lenten journey.  Whyte writes, “Sometimes, with the black sticks left when the fire has gone out, someone has written something new in the ashes of your life.” That someone is Christ. And that something new is love. 

~Father Art   

When I was five years old, I began to learn some basic arithmetic.  Simple addition and subtraction problems along with some very basic fractions became the standard fare of my earliest education in the science of mathematics.  I remember that my friends and I found addition much easier to comprehend and execute than subtraction.  I’m not sure what it was, but the whole idea of “taking away” didn’t sit well with me.  It seems that what is true of learning arithmetic may also be true in other areas of our lives.  

Generally, many of us imagine spiritual maturity as the accumulation or addition of more spiritual ‘goods’, that is, general knowledge of Scripture, number of Bible verses memorized, extent of time spent in prayer or fasting, our performance in terms of spiritual disciplines, etc..  Yet, according to a number of great spiritual masters such as Meister Eckhart, real spiritual maturity has much more to do with what we are ready to leave behind than with what we acquire. In the words of Eckhart, ‘the spiritual life has much more to do with subtraction than with addition’.

Certainly, this insight into our spiritual lives echoes the life of Jesus.  In the second chapter of Philippians, the apostle Paul exhorts all disciples, “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross. (Phil. 2:5-8)  In other words, if we want to become more like Jesus, we need to learn how to subtract.

This next week, we begin the season of Lent. Traditionally, it is a time set apart for penitence, fasting, self-examination, and faithful reading of Holy Scripture. All of these things are important and helpful disciplines in our lives as followers of Jesus. Certainly, you may consider adding one or more of these spiritual practices to your daily regimine. But maybe this Lent you might want to practice some spiritual subtraction instead.  Perhaps, for a season, we might learn to “empty ourselves” and submit to God in humble obedience, thereby releasing ourselves from whatever hinders us from truly siding with our Lord.  

Spiritual subtraction is about surrender, liberation, making room in our hearts for real freedom. It is essential soul work, and through his life and death, Jesus shows us the way.  Quite frankly, however, this work of subtraction is much more difficult than just adding a new spiritual practice to our lives.  Through much practice as a child, I developed my mathematical skills of subtraction.  It was a lot of hard work.  Lent may be just the time for us to do the same with our spiritual skills of subtraction.  

~Father Art

Following our second service this coming Sunday, we will hold the Annual Meeting of the Parish Church of St. John in the Wilderness. This event is not found on any liturgical calendar, but it is an event into which many have put a significant amount of work and one which has great potential to propel us into a robust season of spiritual vitality. I realize that I may be aggrandizing the Annual Meeting in spinning it so, but it truly may be a time of good, honest reflection on the past year as well as an opportunity to discern and talk about where God is leading us next. And so, this year I am saying: “Yes! It’s time for the Annual Meeting!”

As Episcopal Christians, one of the primary sources of authority we use in figuring out our lives is the Bible. We go to the Bible when we need to be reminded of who we are and what our lives should look like.  We go to the Bible when we need help seeing a right path forward.  Now, of course, the Bible is not a blueprint or a topographic map of our lives with God.  It doesn’t work like that. And so, while the Bible doesn’t contain any record of an Annual Meeting per se,  it does contain a number of stories of the people of God coming together for reflection, instruction, inspiration and dedication. 

In the midst of the desert, Moses gathers the Israelite people to explain the ten commandments.  Joshua, upon entering the Promised Land, gathers the people together to remind them of what God has done and to challenge them to recommit their lives.  Peter calls the earliest believers of Jesus together in a meeting of sorts to choose another apostle to take the place of Judas. There is a strong Biblical tradition of the faithful people of God gathering together to ask, “What next?!”

And so, looking to these stories and others when seeking a proper tone and tenor for our own Annual Meeting, we ask the following questions:  Where have we sensed God’s presence and power in the last year? How has God used us to further God’s mission of love? What resources has God given us for which we may be thankful?  Who among us is God raising up to lead us forward into a new year of ministry? What opportunities to spread the good news of Jesus Christ are right in front of us?  

These are exciting questions to consider.  And these are the questions of a healthy, fulsome, Spirit-filled Annual Meeting. And so, I say, “Yes! It’s time for the Annual Meeting!” Come join us this Sunday either in person in the Parish Hall at 11:45am or online at the appropriate link found in the eNews, Facebook and on our website.  God is sure to be in our midst.  I hope to see you there too!

~Father Art

The Right Reverend Craig Loya, tenth bishop of the Episcopal Church in Minnesota will be coming to our parish for his biannual visitation this Saturday, January 29th. You may or may not know this, but the word “episcopal” actually means “of or relating to a bishop.” In other words, the Episcopal Church is an episcopal church because our governing structure is based on bishops. So, it’s kind of a big deal when the bishop comes to town.

When I was ordained a priest, I made the promise to “obey” my bishop. In fact, every year, we ordained folk renew our vows, promising the same. It’s truly not as bad as it may sound!  In fact, in my thirty years of being a priest, I’ve never had a bishop command me to sit, stay, fetch or play dead. Frankly, I’m honored to make the vow of obedience over and over again, because obedience, when properly understood and experienced, isn’t about power at all.  It’s not about coercion. At its root, obedience is not about somebody with more power forcing somebody with less power to do or say or think or be anything at all. Obedience is about relationship.

The notion of obedience is found all over the place in the Bible.  Throughout the Old Testament, faithful men and women sometimes do wild and crazy things in obedience to God.  Noah builds an enormous watercraft to ferry the living things of the world to safety. Abraham leaves his home country where he has it made in order to live for many years in the dangerous desert.  Moses returns to Egypt, to the scene of the biggest crime of his life, to ask one of the most powerful rulers on the face of the earth to “let [God’s] people go.” In the New Testament, we hear of Paul who, out of obedience to the Voice on the Damascus Road, does a complete 180 to become a passionate apostle of Jesus.  Peter, in obedience to God’s directive in a dream, decides that it’s permissible for followers of Jesus to eat non-kosher food. And then we have Jesus himself who, “humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:8)

All these great ones obeyed not because God made them do it, or because God threatened, “Do it or else!”  No, Abraham and Moses and Noah and Paul and Peter and Jesus and countless others obeyed out of their love of God. Their courageous actions, often perceived by others as being flat-out crazy, were grounded in their trusting relationship with the God of abundant life. And God is always faithful.

It might sound kind of kooky, but the obedience to which we Christians are called is actually freeing. That’s right, when we humble ourselves to trust and obey as the old hymn says, we begin to actually experience the true freedom and peace that surpasses all human understanding. By obeying we become a little more like the people God dreams us to be. By obeying, we become free.  

Now, of course, the bishop isn’t Jesus and would never claim to be, but I have learned that by humbly trusting and obeying him, I have learned just a bit of what it means to obey Christ. By obeying, I have become a better priest and a more free man.   Let’s just hope that the bishop doesn’t ask me to roll over!

~Father Art  

I awoke at 3am, the cares of the world having found purchase in the confines of my mind.  Having lost patience with tossing and turning, I arose, moving into my living room. In my former life, I would have lit a morning fire in the wood stove to warm a night cold home. The best I may muster in my city home is to light the candles that I have placed in my now inoperable fireplace. By the dim candlelight of my living room, I can see, as Paul says, dimly.

I see the dim shapes of lamps and tables and household objects. I see them as they are, albeit darkly, and I see their shadows as well, dancing slightly in time with the candle flickers. It is the shadows which, this morning, claim my attention. The shadows are monochromatic, slightly skewed, but nonetheless fuzzily representative of that which truly is. The shadows leave me yearning for more, which is an unsettling but not altogether unpleasant sensation.  The shadows invite me to a journey of truth, to a better seeing. I am tempted to flick the lightswitch, but I hesitate.

As with physical seeing, our spiritual sight is also only translucent.  Using Scripture, reason, and tradition, as well as the wisdom and counsel of trusted friends, I am compelled to acknowledge that I am only seeing shadows of what truly is, of who God is and who I am. And yet, those shadows bid me to venture further, deeper, trusting in the very Source of the light.

Epiphany is the season of light.  We celebrate the Light that has come into the world in the person of Jesus, and we celebrate the Light of the Holy Spirit that continues to enlighten our hearts and our minds and our souls. As we travel through the dark days of winter while simultaneously celebrating the gift of light, I encourage you to put your trust in the Light and to walk faithfully.  You may see only shadows of truth and beauty and all that is of the grace and mercy of God, but trust nonetheless.  And trusting in that Light, take one more step.

~Father Art

01.14.2022

On my way home from work yesterday, I was listening to the radio and heard the most recent numbers regarding the surge of Covid-19 infections.  The news was sobering.  At the present moment, Minnesota is at the highest level that it has been all year for infections. As I am confident you have heard, researchers are finding that the Omicron variant of the virus is much more contagious, albeit seemingly less deadly, than the other variants through which the world has suffered.  Even if one is vaccinated, the risk of becoming infected is extremely high at the present time.

Discerning a proper course forward for our parish family has been challenging.  Please know that we are doing the best we are able to attend to the physical safety of each individual while also keeping our faith community healthy.  As you know, the manner in which we worship in church necessarily puts people at risk of exposure and the decision whether or not to keep worshipping in person is a difficult one. 

Upon receiving the counsel of many, I have made the decision to keep worshipping in person at the present time.  We will do so, however, with the following measures in place:

• We will wear masks at all times while inside the church building.
• Households will distance themselves as much as possible in the pews.
• There will be no congregational singing and the choir will sing with masks.
• There will continue to be no coffee/fellowship time either prior to or following our worship.
• All non-worship parish meetings are encouraged to gather online rather than in-person.

I realize that some of you would prefer that we offer no in-person gatherings at all at the church while others would prefer that we relax the safety measures that we have felt important to impose.  The strategy that we are employing is clearly one of compromise that is our best attempt to do what we are called to do in our baptisms… to respect the dignity of all.  As we continue to monitor the situation, our plan may once again be altered. I appeal to your patience and persistence as we move forward.  

I have said this so many times, but it bears repeating many more…. we are not alone. The God who has spent and promises to spend eternity in faithfulness to us and to all of creation walks with us.  Faith is holding to this truth.  And faith is living this truth by walking with each other in these difficult days.  

So, be patient. Be persistent. Stay connected to each other. Keep praying for each other and for the world. Take time to be quiet and still and know that God is with us. This is a grueling marathon of a journey, but we’ve got this. Through the power of the living, loving, liberating God, we’ve got this.  

~Father Art