Rector’s Reflection 2022.01.07

Well, here we head into a New Year.  So, Happy New Year!  At least I hope and pray that it will be a happy new year.  By most measures, this past year was a difficult one for many of us.  So many have lost so much in the span of so little time. And while we can never forget what or who we have lost this past year, there is a real danger that we become enslaved to our losses.  A new year is an invitation for a new start, and I pray that new start is, for all of us, characterized by freedom.

You see, our shared life in Christ is about freedom.  Freedom from sin, freedom from bondage, freedom for goodness, freedom for abundant life.  It is not about ignoring hardship or all the small deaths that we suffer in our lives.  Rather, our life in Christ is about allowing death to be transformed into the stuff of new life. That process of transformation is about shattering the chains that hold us down and freeing us to live into the dream that God has in store for us.

So, my prayer for each of us and all of us is that we may use this year as an opportunity for a new start.  Allow God’s Spirit to transform hardship and death to life.  Embrace beauty this year.  Seek truth this year.  Commit to be an agent of love this year.  And this year, watch for signs of God’s presence and love all about us.  So, Happy New Year!  May it be to us a sacred new start.

~Father Art  

My late evening walks around White Bear Lake have been greatly enhanced recently.  It seems that virtually every house is lit up with Christmas lights and decorations, and the entire neighborhood has an enchanting feel about it.  The twinkling of the lights beneath the recent snow only adds to the sense of beauty and, in my soul, a sense of wonder. 

I remember this same sort of feeling when I was a kid.  Anticipating arguably a child’s most cherished day of the year, I would lie beneath the Christmas tree gazing through the evergreen branches and piercing white lights at the ceramic angel that was positioned at the tip top. It was, and remains still, such a magical experience. For those who didn’t understand, I would feel compelled to issue an invitation… come and see.  Come walk around the neighborhood and sense the wonder.  Come lie beneath the Christmas tree and feel the mystery.

Come and see.

Those were the same words issued by Philip after he had met Jesus.  There was just something about Jesus that penetrated into the very heart of Philip.  He couldn’t understand it, much less describe what he was feeling.  Philip was immediately drawn to follow Jesus, and further, he felt compelled to become one of the very first evangelists. When Philip encounters Nathanael who cynically asks, “Can anything good come from Nazareth?”, Philip, quite literally, becomes rather speechless, responding only, “Come and see.” To my reckoning, that is evangelism at its best.  Some things just can’t be described through the use of human words; they need to be experienced.  That’s the way it is with Christmas lights for me.  That’s the way Jesus was for Philip.

We will be worshiping in the church for our Christmas services this year. Thanks to Steve Johnson and Harvey Caldwell, the garland has been hung and the aislabras have been mounted.  Members of the Altar Guild have polished the sacred vessels and carefully prepared the liturgical hangings.  Twinkling lights are in the windows of the church.  Our Music Minister and Choir have been rehearsing familiar Christmas carols.  Bulletins have been printed and the creche will soon be placed in front of the altar.  All of it has been prepared for our annual celebration of the nativity of the Christ child at the Christ-Mass.  Our preparations have been completed out of a sense of reverence and love that we have for our Lord.  And it is all so very wonder-full.

Words are inadequate to recount the experience so many of us have in church at Christmas time.  The sights and smells and sounds and Spirit are blended in such a mysteriously rich way that it sometimes makes me dizzy.  When people do ask me to describe it, like Philip, I say simply, 

Come and See.

Because here’s the thing… the Jesus that Philip had such a hard time explaining to Nathanael is the very same Jesus that is in our midst at St. John in the Wilderness.  Of course, Christ shows up in our midst in all places and conditions and times of our lives, but there’s just something special about being in church at Christmas.  Don’t believe me?  Well, just come and see.

~Father Art    

Can we even imagine what it must have been like for those displaced parents? Mary, impossibly pregnant; Joseph, faithfully stunned.  On the road to do what was required of them, and then, on the run for the sake of their very lives and that of their newborn son. The desperation they must have felt.  The fear.  The isolation and alienation from all who loved and supported them.  Separation from every source of love that they had known.  Lacking all safety nets.  Apart from all.  

All, that is, except God and those whose hearts were strangely stirred by God.

We like to think that, had we been there, we would have been kind and understanding.  We would have recognized the distress in Mary’s downcast eyes and heeded the anguished pleas of the tormented Joseph.  We like to think that, had we been the innkeepers, we would have given them the best room in the place and a hearty supper to boot.  We like to think that, had we been there, we would have been those whose hearts were strangely stirred by God; that we would have stepped up and stepped into the lives of those in such overwhelming need.

In truth, however, would we have?  Have our hearts become so torpefied, so hardened and numbed by the immense difficulties of these immensely difficult days that not even God has the ability to strangely stir them anymore?  Have we become so consumed with circling the wagons of our own little lives that we have lost the will to aid those who have no wagon anymore, those whose lives are simply and utterly desperate?  I wonder.

Because the stark truth of the matter is that Mary and Joseph have become, in our own time, incarnate in our midst.  Refugees from Afghanistan have come to Minnesota, desperate and in utter need of our help. The cruel vagaries of this world have dealt these families a striking blow, and they have had to flee from their homes and yield to forces far beyond their control.  And so they come to this nation and to a people with historically big hearts. They come in hope that God can still stir those very hearts into a swirl of mercy and grace.

This Sunday at St. John’s, the loose offering and specially designated checks will be given to assist Afghan refugees.  This is our chance to be part of an effort led by the deacons of our parish and diocese.  It is our opportunity to be part of the solution for desperate Afghan brothers and sisters.  It is our chance to be an answer to prayer.  

So, may our hearts be strangely stirred by the living, gracious and ever merciful God.  May we come alongside these modern-day Marys and Josephs.  And may we come to church this Sunday with cash and checks in hand ready to give to those who need a room in the inn.

~Father Art

I have always been fascinated by the Amish tradition of barn-raising.  It is so strange and alien to our normal way of navigating life, and yet, I wonder whether the tradition may help us as we engage rebuilding our lives still in the throes of a pandemic.

I suppose that the most unique feature of Amish barn-raising is its communal nature.  Barns, clearly, are an essential part of an agrarian lifestyle.  Some equipment must be stored inside; animals must be sheltered; some work must be accomplished with protection from the outside environment.  Barn-raisings occur when a family is in need. Either the family has never had a barn or, more often the case, the family barn has been destroyed by a storm.  It is then that the community comes together and quickly and efficiently “raises a barn” for the needy family.

It takes a shockingly small amount of time to raise a barn when many hands are at work.  Of course, the amount of time has much to do with the size and complexity of the barn, but, as an example, a group of 30 men can put up a 32’ by 40’ barn in roughly 12 hours. Many materials are acquired through barter rather than outright purchase, and the builders are compensated either with free barn rent for a year or simply with the knowledge that their families will be helped should the need arise.  Of course, the entire community understands that it also benefits economically when all families have the ability and wherewithal to provide for themselves. In short, the Amish seem to understand and truly live as if the identity of an individual is found by his/her place in the community.

If one carefully reads the Bible, one will notice that most often God relates to God’s people in the context of community.  Certainly, God lives and moves and has being within each individual, but, in general, like the Amish, people in the Bible find their identity in the context of community. And so, the concern with much of the Bible is the transformation of community because as a community is transformed, so is each individual within the community.  

And that is why the Church holds so much promise for us.  The Church, when it is true to its identity, is that body in which individuals may find a place and become the people God has called them to be.  Church is what can help us on our journey of life.  When we are strong, it is the place where we can learn to give to others.  When we are weak or broken, it is that place where we can learn to receive from others.  At all times, within the Church we are reminded that the good and loving God of the universe is with us, always with us.  

For the past several weeks, we have been doing our own barn-raising of sorts.  We have been engaged in our annual stewardship campaign.  We have come together as God’s community to put together a structure of time and talent and treasure that will serve as an agent of love in the year to come.  Our annual stewardship campaign binds us together as one community, committed to the God who loves us and committed to each other as we learn to love one another and the world. I hope that you have discovered joy in pledging and giving to the Church.  I know that God will take our offerings and use them in powerful ways in the days to come.

So thank you for showing up to the barn-raising and lending your aid.  God is glorified by your offerings. And as we continue our life together in the barn, may our lives and our community be transformed into the greater image of Jesus our Lord.

~Father Art

There are certain passages in the Bible that give us important clues about the nature of the early church. One of these passages is in the eleventh chapter of the book of Acts. The author of this book, the same person who wrote the Gospel of Luke, tells us, “that for an entire year [Paul and Barnabus] associated with the church [in Antioch] and taught a great many people, and it was in Antioch that the disciples were first called ‘Christians’.” We’re not exactly sure what was happening in Antioch, but whatever it was, people were coming close to Jesus. In fact, so much so, that when they were asked who they were or what they were, they responded by taking on the name of Christ. Whatever was happening in Antioch, it perhaps may best be described as a revival.

In his address to the ECMN Convention this past weekend, Bishop Loya confronted the fact that, for the past 50 years, church membership in the Episcopal Church and all other mainline churches has been declining. He then, in essence, called for a revival based on certain agreements, the first agreement being “Belief in Jesus.” The bishop wasn’t just talking about belief as some intellectual exercise but rather belief as a primary relationship with Christ from which our entire identity is transformed. Bishop Loya is asking each of us to reconsider what it may mean to take on the name of Christ.

I believe that this work of belief in Jesus happens best in community. This has certainly been the case at St. John in the Wilderness. I have witnessed first hand people who have recommitted their lives to Jesus at St. John’s. I have seen God transform lives at St. John’s. It has been at St. John’s that men and women have sensed their calls to ordained ministry. A bishop has been raised up out of St. John’s. Whatever was happening in Antioch all those years ago is much the same as has happened at St. John in the Wilderness Church throughout its history.

I share the bishop’s call to revival. I believe that God is once again not only asking us to take on the name of Christ but to behave as if we really believe in Jesus. I invite you to become part of this new movement of God’s Spirit at St. John’s. It can begin with a pledge of support to our parish, and who knows where it may end. Years from now, folks may just say that it was in White Bear Lake after a great pandemic that a new group of people rededicated their lives to Jesus and understood themselves to be Christians not just in name but to the core of their souls. May it be so.

~Father Art

I bought a new winter jacket this year.  After repairing my old jacket several times in the past two years, the seamstress at Sew What, the local alterations shop, not so subtly suggested that it was perhaps time that I purchase something new. My new jacket is one that was made in Sweden, and let’s just say that they do things a bit differently in Sweden.

I appreciated some of the differences immediately.  First of all, the hood is extra deep and is lined on its outer edge by faux fur.  I’ve never had a jacket with faux fur, but let me tell you, I will never go back.  How can it be that I’ve spent so many winters without faux fur on my hood!  Secondly, the entire Swedish jacket can be waxed to resist water.  There’s this special wax that one rubs all over and then irons into the outer shell of the jacket.  I doubt whether I’ll be wearing my winter jacket in the rain anytime soon, but regardless, as I went about the waxing, I felt a strange connection to Scandinavian fishermen of the past. 

There is one thing about the jacket, however, that is taking some getting used to.  It’s the zipper.  The tab on the zipper is on the left hand side.  In the United States, the zipper tab for men’s clothing is usually on the right, right? At least that’s the way it is with every other jacket that I have, and that is what I have become accustomed to.  But not with this Swedish jacket, and my hands are having to learn the new trick of using a left hand tab.  

Now I must say that all of the essentials of this new jacket are comparable to or better than my old jacket that I loved so much.  They are both warm. They both have pockets in just the right places.  They both have ways to cinch down for warmth or loosen up for ventilation. But that left tab…it’s been a challenge.  Enough of a challenge, in fact, that I’ve been tempted to just go back to my old worn out jacket.  

Learning new things is often like that, isn’t it?

Even before Covid, most church leaders were coming to the realization that the way we were trying to “be Church” and “do Church” wasn’t working very well any more. Over the course of the last forty years, membership in mainline Christian denominations has been steadily decreasing.  Most studies indicate that this has had remarkably little to do with theology, and much more to do with the fact that the old church jacket was plum worn out and it was time for a new jacket. 

Of course, most of us love our old jackets, and even if they are worn out, we are hesitant to replace them.  They’re comfortable.  And sometimes, new jackets come with strange features such as left tabs that require us to learn something new or try something different. The temptation is always to stick with the old and comfortable even though it isn’t working very well any more.  

Jesus, however, is always beckoning us to take risks and try something new in order to experience and extend the Kingdom of God. Complacency is never an option for followers of Jesus, and even though the road is often difficult, Christians have always chosen the Way of Christ, the harder way, in order to find and be found by God.

The Church will continue to be the hands and heart of Jesus in the world.  That is our calling, our mission.  To do this well, however, may require us to exchange some old with some new. We may have to try new ways of manifesting the Good News, ways that make sense to a new generation of people loved by God.  It may be uncomfortable at times, like learning to use a left hand tab on a zipper.  We may just find, however, that this new jacket is just the ticket and will serve us well for many winters to come.

~Father Art

It was rainy and cold this morning, and all I really wanted to do was to drink my coffee, say my prayers, and read a chapter of my favorite book. Part of being a dog owner, however, is that, whether one likes it or not, one must take the dog out for a morning walk. Unlike humans who have ultra-convenient indoor plumbing, dogs have the great outdoors.  And so I threw on a sweater and rain jacket, hooked the dog to the leash, and proceeded into the wet and cool of the day.

After several hundred yards, my dog arrested his gait, formed the customary statuesque defecatory pose and went about the real business of our morning walk.  It was still raining.

I had assumed that, after said “real business” was concluded, my dog would compliantly accompany me back to our nice, toasty home where I could resume my pleasant morning regimen.  My dog, however, had other plans.  He, apparently, was having a grand time in the wet and cold and had no intention whatsoever of reversing our ambulatory course.  A tug-o-war ensued, of course, and I am proud to say that I emerged victorious, albeit barely.  We returned to the house, both us feeling rather dejected.

For a while, my dog sauntered somberly around the house.  I pretended not to notice.  After about ten minutes of pouting, my dog seemed to be over it.  He picked up one of his well-worn tennis balls, brought it to me, and forced his still-moist head into my lap.  This was my dog’s way of saying that he had forgiven me and wanted to get on with it… a golden retriever’s form of reconciliation.  I rubbed his ears, playfully pulled at the drooly tennis ball and gave him a bite of my bagel.  I had forgiven him as well, and I, too, wanted to get on with it.

Oh, were it this easy with humans!  Reconciliation, I mean.  

Humans are made for relationship, with God and with each other. Sometimes our relationships go fairly well.  But not always.  It is inevitable that we have differing ideas, desires, perspectives, inclinations, dreams, and aspirations. When these come into conflict with another’s, it is inevitable that we either hurt or get hurt.  If this has been your experience, please do not conclude that you’re doing something wrong. No matter how in sync you may feel with another, we will always, eventually, hurt and be hurt. And instead of bemoaning that it shouldn’t be like that, we are always given the opportunity to focus our energies instead  on forgiveness and reconciliation. Jesus even tells us as much, “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who have trespassed against us.”

Of course, human-to-human relationships are much more complex than human-to-animal relationships, and often, more profound.  Consequently, the work of reconciliation among humans can be immensely more challenging.  Nonetheless, I wonder… 

I wonder  whether much of the difficulty in becoming reconciled would be eliminated if we were just a bit less prideful. I wonder if, maybe, golden retrievers can teach us something about what it means to forgive.  I wonder if, maybe, we are making it just more complicated than it needs to be.  Perhaps, if we are willing, God really can use simple tools, like tennis balls and bagels, as we learn to forgive and get on with it.

~Father Art

Halloween is just around the corner.  I live in a neighborhood where, traditionally, we get a large number of Trick or Treat visitors.  Now, I’m not one of those overly industrious people who decorate their house for Halloween or create a trick for the children to experience when they come for their visit.  I am, however, one who feels that if the kids are going to go to all the trouble of getting dressed up, they should be rewarded richly with candy. And so, I purchase lots of candy for the occasion.  Like many of us, however, I tend to dip into the humongous bag of candy early just to make sure that tootsie rolls still taste like tootsie rolls.

One of my favorite candies is the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, that perfect balance of peanut-butter-like-stuff on the inside and cheap chocolate on the outside.  The blending of those two food-like-substances makes for a near perfect confectionary experience. And while one without the other is pretty good, it is the blending of the two that leads to sheer candy joy.

Our Stewardship Campaign, like Halloween, is just around the corner as well.  This year, our theme is: Rejoice and Give Thanks. In many ways, our lives of faith are analogous to the delectable Reese’s Cup.  A blending of gratitude (rejoice) and generosity (giving thanks) is the secret sauce for joy in our lives. Gratitude is a recognition of how, despite all the toils and tribulations of our lives, we are so very blessed.  Generosity, in turn, is a natural outpouring of gratitude. As gratitude and generosity dance together in our lives, joy is the result. That’s how it’s supposed to work. 

Actually, that is how it does work as I have seen that beautiful dance in the lives of so many of you. That is what has sustained the parish of St. John in the Wilderness for all these many years. That is what has sustained the parish of St. John in the Wilderness throughout the pandemic. And that is what I hope will continue to sustain the parish of St. John in the Wilderness as we make our way through the last few miles of pandemic.  Gratitude and generosity will see us the rest of the way and will lead us to a joyful life together.

In the coming weeks, you will receive more information about our Rejoice and Give Thanks pledge campaign.  Take a few minutes each day to discover gratitude in your heart.  Allow that gratitude to be transformed into generosity.  And in that special dance of gratitude and generosity, I am 100% sure that you will find joy.  It doesn’t get much better than that… except maybe a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup!

~Father Art

“There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes.” This phrase hails from Scandinavia, where it’s a common mantra repeated by parents who insist that their children spend time outdoors every day.

I thought about that saying as I prepared for my morning walk.  There was, most certainly, a bit of a nip in the air. Being from Minnesota, however, I have a wide variety of clothes from which I may choose to match the conditions. I chose a lighter insulated jacket and decided to forgo the winter cap, knowing that I had a trusty hood on my jacket if needed. It’s only mid October, for goodness sake, and I need to build up my winter stamina! Though as the days become cooler, I am confident that I will need to break out the much warmer jackets, the snowpants, the winter caps, the mittens, the snow boots, the ice tracks, and, if we are exceptionally lucky this year, the snowshoes! What a blessing, albeit challenge, is this thing we call a Minnesota Winter!

In writing to the Church in Ephesus, Paul exhorts the believers to “put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”

That’s a lot of stuff.  We folk from Minnesota, with all of our winter clothes and gear, have nothing on the Ephesians!

Life is difficult, right?  I mean, it’s beautiful too, but sometimes it’s hard to get through the day because of all of the brokenness of our lives. And just as it takes the right clothes and gear to thrive in a Minnesota winter, so it takes the right stuff of God to survive and flourish in a world beset with slings and arrows and challenges and battles.  

God loves us so much that not only has God already won the world from everlasting brokenness and death, God also provides us with the stuff necessary to be joyful in our lives and useful to the Kingdom.  The belt of truth, a breastplate of righteousness, special shoes of readiness and peace, the shield of faith, a helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. That’s some good stuff, and all of it is given freely and readily by the One who loves us.

So, before you step out into the upcoming Minnesota winter, put on your winter boots and mittens and jacket and hat.  And before you go forth into this beautifully formed yet impossibly broken world, put on the stuff of God.     

~Father Art

I went climbing last week with my old friend Kevin and my new friend Karl.  The climbing was indoors on human-made walls where handholds and footholds have been placed in sadistically creative ways. “How did it go,” you may ask…  Well, let’s just say it was a lesson in humility. Kevin and Karl are extremely skilled climbers.  Indeed, as they ascended the various walls, they resembled spider monkeys, seemingly moving upward with little effort. I, on the other hand, felt like a manatee, clearly out of my element and league.

While there is such a thing as solo climbing, most folks do it with at least one other person.  The two people wear harnesses that are connected by a rope.  While one climbs, the other belays.  If the one climbing falls, the one belaying stops the climber from hitting the ground through the use of the rope and some other equipment.  Before beginning to ascend, a climber traditionally turns to the belayer and says, “On Belay”? If ready, the belayer responds, “Belay On”.  The climber then says, “Climbing”.  In turn, the belayer says reassuringly, “Climb”.  It is a very good thing to have an experienced belayer.

So, here’s the thing about climbing…. by definition, before grabbing a higher handhold or placing one’s foot on a higher foothold, one must first release from the lower handhold or foothold.  This is not always as easy as one may think. Sometimes, one isn’t sure that the higher handhold will be as good as the lower one.  At other times, the higher handhold or foothold is just a half inch stretch further than one may wish to extend.  Still other times, one lacks confidence that one has sufficient strength to make the move. Decisions constantly have to be made, and sometimes, quite literally, physical leaps are required.

All of this can be rather terrifying, even paralyzing.  Any sensible person would refuse to participate in the sport were it not for the trust the climber places in the hands of the belayer. If (or, in my case, when) a climber is not able to make the move and falls, the belayer is there to catch them.  Trust is paramount.  While it is a beautiful thing to watch a skilled climber do her or his thing, I believe that it is equally beautiful to watch a belayer standing at the ready at all times and saving the day when needed.

Our lives of faith are similar.  God desires us to probe and seek and grow in our knowledge and love of God. God yearns for us to move outside the protective borders of our little lives in order to serve those in need and on the margins.  This sort of spiritual climbing often requires stretching and straining and gripping. Much of the time, our spiritual journey is uncomfortable. Oftentimes it, like climbing, is downright scary, necessitating the release of preconceived notions or ways of doing things in order to strain upward to the next handhold, to where God’s Spirit is leading. And sometimes, for us to go where God is leading, we need to engage a leap of faith.

This whole spiritual endeavor would be utterly crazy were it not for the fact that we are always “on belay.” God is always with us to lead and to guide and to spur us onward and upward. And as we do so, God stands ready to catch us if and when we fall. I wish I could say that the spiritual journey to which we are called as Christians is easy, but it’s not. The Way of Christ is the Way of the Cross, and the Way of the Cross is always hard. But we are never alone, and God will catch us 100% of the time.

Us: “On Belay?”

God: “Belay On.”

Us: “Climbing.”

God: “Climb!”

~Father Art