Category: From the Clergy

I feel like my whole life is about waiting these days. Waiting to see what the newest news is. Waiting to see what case numbers are doing today. Waiting to hear further guidance from the Bishops. Waiting for… I don’t even know what all I’m waiting for, but I know I’m busy right now waiting.

The season of Advent will be upon us soon, and Advent is a season all about waiting. Waiting to celebrate Christmas. Waiting for the Lord’s return. Waiting for….It isn’t Advent quite yet, and yet, we are already in a season of waiting.

In the meantime, while we wait, we continue to hold our primary worship service at 10:30am online. We are working on expanding the ways folks can access that service beyond Facebook. (One of the issues with Facebook seems to be that every other mainline Protestant church in the US is also streaming or premiering their service at 10:30am on Sunday mornings.) We will offer an outdoor Eucharist service on Sundays at 8:00am, 9:30am, and 4:30pm until November 22. If it rains, the service will be cancelled.

Speaking of Advent, beginning with the first Sunday of Advent, November 29, our Advent services will be online. There will be some special offerings along with the principle worship service at 10:30am on Sundays. The staff and Vestry are brainstorming special ways we might celebrate Advent and Christmas both in person and online in new, creative, and socially distanced ways.

What about indoor, in-person worship? We will start experimenting with holding small worship opportunities inside starting with Evening Prayer on Wednesday nights. More information about that and what it will look like will be coming soon, but we are going to start small.

Will we have indoor, in-person worship in January? I don’t know the answer to that right now. It all depends upon what the positive case percentage and the number of new cases will be in January. It also depends upon what we as the Nativity community feel comfortable doing.

More waiting, I know. I wonder though, as we wait, do we see God in unexpected places? Does sitting in the waiting room help us to notice what we didn’t see before? Where do you see God as you wait? What newness of life might you anticipate?

In peace,

Stephanie

Last week, Stephanie encouraged us to take as a mantra Paul’s marvelous words: “Rejoice in the Lord always. . .” (Philippians 4:4-7). I support that heartily.

When the Apostle Paul wrote the letter to the Philippians, his life certainly was not perfect. He wrote it from a prison cell; his work was constantly under attack, by the Jewish establishment as well as by competing evangelists, and, after many years of hard work and travel in the service of Jesus, he might have welcomed some relief. Yet the entire letter exudes happiness.

The key for Paul — and for us — is the critical phrase “in Christ.” Paul uses this expression eight times in Philippians. He connects it to: believers (1:1); joy (1:26); glory (3:3); faith (3:9); hope (3:14); peace (4:7); reward (4:19); and citizenship (4:21). He is fully grounded in Christ; this undergirds his happiness.

The theme of joy — joy in the Christian life — permeates the letter. Within its four chapters, the words “joy” and “rejoice” are found sixteen times. Paul speaks of joy in suffering, as Christ suffered; of joy in service; of joy in believing; and of joy in giving.

Joy is not the same as happiness. Happiness is triggered externally – when things are going well, when life is good. But joy comes from within — even in the most appalling circumstances. Paul tells us that joy is a gift from God, one of the gifts of the Spirit – a gift which is there for the asking.

I believe we can indeed find joy through suffering. How can this be? Paul reminds us of the redemptive power found in the suffering of Jesus, reflected in Paul’s own sufferings, and in ours. We experience joy when we feel connected to others — and to what is genuinely good, beautiful, and meaningful — which is possible even in pain. Through suffering, we learn compassion, which leads to fulfillment and ultimately to joy. This is definitely food for thought!

I have always felt a great deal of affection for this little book, which provided the Epistle readings for four recent Sundays. My father, a Baptist minister, preached a sermon based on Philippians 1:21 (KJV): “For me to live is Christ; and to die is gain.” I heard that sermon many times as I was growing up, and I was delighted to find and listen to a tape recording of it recently. As a church musician, I have always been drawn to two wonderful texts: Philippians 2:6-11, the “Christ hymn,” which we sing as hymn 435, “At the Name of Jesus;” and Philippians 4:4-7, “Rejoice in the Lord always,” which inspired the composer Henry Purcell to create a marvelous anthem.

Many other themes appear in the letter to the Philippians: the Incarnation; humility, coupled with love; fellowship, essential as we support one another in a loving community. It is a genuine treasure. I encourage you to read it, many times and in many different translations. I really believe it will inspire and comfort you, as it has done for me. And do take “rejoice in the Lord always” as a mantra!

With Paul, I offer this blessing, from Philippians 4:7: May the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, keep your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

David

https://youtu.be/v7weD9D0XGQ

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. – Philippians 4:4-7

I love these words from Paul’s letter to the Philippians. I’ve always loved this passage. But what do we do with it when there feels as if there is not much to rejoice about? How can this scripture speak to us when it seems like any expression of gentleness in our culture these days is immediately run over by a mack truck? Do I feel the Lord is near? Don’t tell me not to worry. There is a lot to worry about. And forget peace. All I want right now is just a little bit of feeling normal again.

And yet, these words have sustained generations of Christians who have gone through equally difficult times. Maybe rather than believing them wholeheartedly right now, they need to be read repeatedly, like a mantra. Maybe praying these words over and over again will bring them into being, so we will see gentleness, we will see the presence of God, we will experience that peace that passes all understanding, and we will rejoice.

There is a reason why we say the same prayers over and over again. There is comfort in knowing that the words of scripture and the prayers written in our prayerbook have sustained and nurtured the faith of the generations who came before us. The prayers connect us with Anglicans around the world, and these verses of scripture are used as a final blessing at the conclusion of worship by priests and bishops everywhere.

We are connected to one another through prayer. We might not be able to be close to one another in worship right now, but we are still connected. May these words bring you comfort this week, and give you hope for peace.

Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Keep on doing the things that you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, and the God of peace will be with you. Philippians 4:8-9

“…for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” Philippians 2:13

We all have rhythms in our life, or routines, or rituals if you prefer. Maybe you don’t think of them as particularly sacred, but order and structure to our daily lives are not only comforting, but also ground us in our identity. As an example, I call myself a knitter, so I make sure to spend some of my time knitting. Whether we realize it or not, the way we spend our time develops into something of a rhythm for us. Our sacred rhythm reminds us of our identity as God’s beloved children.

As Christians, a piece of that rhythm is our time in prayer, whether it be corporate prayer in Sunday worship, a simple prayer with family before meals, quiet meditation in the morning or before bed, or even just a quick intercessory prayer for a friend or loved one. Worship is another piece of the rhythm, as is the reading of scripture (study). You might be surprised to hear that vital to a sacred rhythm is what we do for rest and restoration – gardening might be part of your rhythm. Or running. Or cooking. Or…. Service to others is a part of your sacred rhythm. That might be serving in your community, or that might mean care of your family – those with small children or those caring for aging parents.

Living in the midst of a global pandemic has destroyed many of these rhythms. Even the simple act of going to church has been significantly changed by Covid-19! I say “destroyed,” because it has felt almost like an act of violence to have our lives so completely changed by this. We have been experiencing this loss for the past six months, and it still isn’t over.

Instead, we are in the midst of weird hybrid way of being. Some things have gone back to “normal,” except not completely. We need not fear the grocery store, but make sure to wear your mask! We have gone back to work, though not the way we worked before. Church is still online, even as we try to gather in small groups for outdoor worship. It’s just not the same.

How do we live during this strange hybrid time? I believe we are called right now to find a new sacred rhythm. As our routines have changed, what routine have we included to ground ourselves spiritually? What practices are helping you to stay rooted in God’s love?

I believe this new rhythm is going to be more flexible than before. We can stay rooted, but allow our branches to move with the wind that changes daily. I wonder if we might be more like trees that share their root systems – the deeper we go, the more connected we are to one another, which makes us stronger when the winds come.

God is feeding those roots, nourishing and sustaining us. Take some time to consider your new rhythm and find the sacred moments within it. Take some time as well to mourn the loss of the rhythm that gave you life pre-pandemic. There is no statute of limitations on being sad and grieving what has been lost. Ask God for a new rhythm, a new song in your heart, to sustain you during this time. And remember, God is there, always, to give us life and to wipe away every tear.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lyy7RWXAV9Q

Phillip Bass joins Nativity for the next few months as an intern discerning a call to the priesthood. Phillip will be joining in on zoom calls, participating in worship, and being a part of the community as we help him learn more about his call and prepare for his next steps towards ordination.

Phillip calls North Carolina home.  He grew up in the Methodist tradition in Greensboro, NC.  Having made his way to the Triangle to attend UNC, this area has been home ever since.  Phillip completed his M.Div and Th.M from Duke Divinity School.  During his time at Duke, he found his way to the Episcopal Church and was confirmed at Church of the Good Shepherd.  Following seminary, Phillip worked at the Duke Cancer Center for several years while completing a Masters in Mental Health Counseling at NCCU.  Since 2014, Phillip has been in private practice for mental health counseling in Raleigh.  After several moves around the Triangle, Phillip’s family settled in Durham in 2013 and found a home at St. Luke’s.  Phillip enjoys spending time with his husband and 7-year old son.  They recently found a love of camping and look forward to time away together.

The Daily Office lectionary has, for the last 36 days (August 20-September 17), included readings from the book of Job – all 42 chapters. On some days, this does require the patience attributed to this Biblical hero. All that eloquent poetry can be heavy going; but it’s extremely worthwhile.

You know the story: Job, a godly man who has prospered in every way, is suddenly stripped of almost everything to prove a point to Satan, the prosecuting angel. God gives Satan permission to take away Job’s livestock, crops, and even his children to test Job’s faith and to cause him to curse God.

As Job sits in sackcloth and ashes, covered with painful boils, three “friends” come to console him. These three – Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar – assure Job that he is actually being punished for having sinned. They offer platitudes which provide more pain, and are definitely not comforting.

In response to each of them, Job offers his defense. No, he has not sinned! He does not understand why God, whom he has always worshipped and obeyed, would allow him to suffer so. Next a new character, a young man named Elihu, comes to weigh in. He helps Job realize that he has been so absorbed with self-pity that he has lost the ability to listen to God.

Finally, God appears in a whirlwind, reminding Job and his four companions of his total majesty and control of all things. Humbled, Job confesses his inadequacy, his complete surrender to God’s mercy; and the story comes to a happy ending as God rewards Job with a new family, new possessions, and a long life.

Of course, Job is about human suffering and the part that God plays in it – the problem that we call theodicy. It helps us realize how naïve and simplistic Job’s assumption is that God rewards us for our loyalty and causes us to suffer because of our sins. Suffering is inevitable. We can’t blame God for it. The book of Job never answers Job’s question of “why?”  But God does care, and God offers comfort.

An absolutely marvelous characteristic of this book is its description of God’s creation. In poem after poem, the glories of nature are celebrated in eloquent language. It is truly rewarding to read for that feature alone.

Scores, if not hundreds, of expressions enrich our language. One website offers 1,070 “most popular” verses from Job. To name just a few:

1:21:  “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there; the LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.”

5:17-18:  “How happy is the one whom God reproves; therefore do not despise the discipline of the Almighty. For he wounds, but he binds up; he strikes, but his hands heal.”

12:11:  “Does not the ear test words as the palate tastes food?”

14:1:  “A mortal, born of a woman, few of days and full of trouble, comes up like a flower and withers, flees like a shadow and does not last.”

As I search for meaning in Job, I can’t help but think in these terms:  Job’s persona (his ego, or “false self”) is the righteous man who has earned his good fortune. Tested through loss and suffering, his shadow side demands justification from God. Only when he surrenders completely, dying to his self-righteousness, is he able to receive God’s mercy and healing. Then he experiences individuation as his “true self” manifests itself.

The lesson to me is that I have to give up all pretense and open myself completely to God’s love.

My favorite quotation from Job is found in Chapter 19, verses 25-27:  “For I know that Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth; and after my skins has been thus destroyed, then in my flesh I shall see God. . . .”  George Frideric Handel set this eloquently in this aria from the Easter section of Messiah, completed this month in the year 1741:

https://youtu.be/Kg7aXEvCeXY

The Lord said to Moses and Aaron in the land of Egypt: This month shall mark for you the beginning of months; it shall be the first month of the year for you. Tell the whole congregation of Israel that on the tenth of this month they are to take a lamb for each family, a lamb for each household.

This Sunday we will hear the story of the first Passover. The story of how God passes over the Israelites and sends death to the homes of the Egyptians. There is a hypnotic rhythm to the story as it carefully outlines each step the Israelites must take to protect themselves.

If a household is too small for a whole lamb, it shall join its closest neighbor in obtaining one; the lamb shall be divided in proportion to the number of people who eat of it. Your lamb shall be without blemish, a year-old male; you may take it from the sheep or from the goats. You shall keep it until the fourteenth day of this month; then the whole assembled congregation of Israel shall slaughter it at twilight.

It clearly is a story meant to be spoken and shared aloud. The repetition and the rhythm need a voice for the reading to have its true power. The reading offers safety and comfort in the clarity of purpose and instruction. There is no question as to what each household must do; there is no ambiguity or special circumstance. To live, they must follow these steps. To survive, they must take part in this ritual.

They shall take some of the blood and put it on the two doorposts and the lintel of the houses in which they eat it. They shall eat the lamb that same night; they shall eat it roasted over the fire with unleavened bread and bitter herbs. Do not eat any of it raw or boiled in water, but roasted over the fire, with its head, legs, and inner organs. You shall let none of it remain until the morning; anything that remains until the morning you shall burn. This is how you shall eat it: your loins girded, your sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand; and you shall eat it hurriedly.

It is important to remember that the story we read today was told long after the actual event of the first Passover. There were many tellings and retellings. Different voices added to it. Details enhanced. The clarity in the story we have now was not present on that first night. That night was most likely chaotic, fraught, and scary. The rush to find a lamb, to share with neighbors, to mark doorways, was almost certainly filled with breathless terror of what might be coming next. These were a people afraid for their lives and their continued survival. A people who were putting their hope and trust for freedom in the hands of a trouble-maker who kept challenging Pharaoh. The guidance to eat while standing came from that sense of terror and fear, not the calm and reasonable instruction in our story.

This day shall be a day of remembrance for you. You shall celebrate it as a festival to the Lord; throughout your generations you shall observe it as a perpetual ordinance.

In this time of Covid-19, I find the clarity of instruction and purpose in this reading incredibly comforting. There is no question of when to begin, no wondering if it is Stage 1 or Stage 2, and there is an order to it that creates boundaries.

Clarity is hard to find in the midst of a global pandemic. But perhaps in the lack of clarity we can find a reminder that God brings order, clarity, and wisdom to all stories. Perhaps reading this story with one eye on the soothing ritualism while the other remembers the fear and chaos of the actual night, we will be reminded to seek clarity in our faith. Perhaps we can find some simple rituals that remind us that God is present with us just as he was with the Israelites.

What ritual might you start to remind your anxious self that the God who led a nation of slaves out of Egypt into the promised land is also the God who continues to dwell and delight in you? Is it a daily, intentional recitation of the Lord’s Prayer and the Apostles’ Creed? It is a few minutes of silence each day to rest in the presence of the Lord? It is a pause at the end of the day to reflect upon the presence of God in the day?

Perhaps it is a daily reading from Psalm 46: Be still, then, and know that I am God. Whatever you do, may you find peace.

In our readings this Sunday, Moses encounters God in a burning bush. Would that be nice right now? Or terrifying? Probably terrifying. Moses was pretty scared. Not only does the voice of God come from a bush that burns but isn’t consumed, but he asks Moses to do something that sounds impossible.

In the Gospel reading, Jesus tells his disciples to take up their cross.  A cross that will not bring them fame or glory or even praise. Taking up the cross means not seeing the end result, not being sure what God is about, but believing that God will prevail, love will win, even if we don’t see it in this lifetime.

We are being called as followers of Jesus to live through a global pandemic with grace, compassion, and love. We are being called to cry out against systemic racism and injustice in our country, and to work towards an equitable world in which all God’s children are loved and honored and each life afforded dignity and respect. It seems sometimes impossible.

Yet, our faith says that it is possible. We have our part to play as followers of Jesus who believe in a love that has saved us all. The story doesn’t end at the cross.

The burning bush is asking something of us all. What is God saying to you? How will you respond?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3uyfW1opFEk

I am so excited that we can start offering some in-person worship opportunities at Nativity. I’m sure you all are tired of hearing me say, “I miss you.” But it’s true – I miss you. I want to see your faces, even if they are partially behind a mask.

The Diocese of North Carolina’s reopening plan allows us to gather outside for worship in groups of 25. We will stay 6 feet apart from one another, and we will wear masks.

What does this mean for Nativity?

We will start small on Sundays with a Morning Prayer service at 8am and an Evening Prayer service at 7pm. We will experiment for a few weeks and see how it goes. Since attendance at the services is limited, if we find we need additional times to accommodate everyone who wants to worship in person, we will look to add other opportunities.

How will this work?

Signup will be available for two weeks before the service in the weekly email. The Friday before the service date, we will email you a brief pre-screening questionnaire and ask that you complete it that day.

What happens on Sunday?

Bring your mask, and bring a lawn chair. We will arrange seating under the oak tree, six feet apart. We will send a bulletin before the service that you can print at home or read on your device. As you get settled, we will check your name off the list, and might ask you if anything has changed since you completed the health questionnaire.

What if it rains?

If it rains, we won’t have the service at that time. We will send an email to the group signed up a half hour before the service begins if it is raining at church and the service is cancelled. But, it might be the case that you arrive, and it has started to rain, and we aren’t able to proceed. I will ask you to be patient and be flexible.

Will we still have a service online?

Yes. We will continue with our main service at 10:30 am on Sunday mornings. Please join us on Facebook or YouTube to participate.

I’m very excited to try this. I’m very excited to worship in person and on our church grounds once again. There will be more to come for online offerings for the fall for worship, fellowship, and formation.

The 150 Psalms model prayer for God’s people – praise, adoration, supplication, intercession, thanksgiving, lament, even anger.  When we can’t find the right words, praying the Psalms can connect us to God.

This week, I have been drawn to Psalm 137:

1 By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept, when we remembered you, O Zion.

2 On the willows there, we hung up our lyres.

3 For there our captors required of us songs, and our tormentors, mirth: “Sing us one of the songs of Zion.”

4 How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?

5 If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither.

6 Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.

Composed during the Babylonian Exile (597-539 B.C.E.), when Jerusalem was sacked, the Temple destroyed, and the survivors taken captive, this Psalm resonates with anyone separated from a beloved homeland.  It had profound meaning to the hapless Africans kidnapped and forced into lives of slavery, as it has spoken to immigrants and refugees throughout the ages.  In an 1852 speech, the abolitionist Frederick Douglass referred to it:  “If I do forget, if I do not faithfully remember those bleeding children of sorrow this day, ‘may my right hand forget her cunning, and may my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth!’” Somehow this sounds appropriate still today, doesn’t it?

Our own community also mourns the loss of so much we had taken for granted – including the freedom to gather in our beloved space for worship.

Psalm 137 has inspired a tremendous variety of musical settings. Bach, Dvorak, Verdi; the Melodians, Boney M., and Stephen Schwartz have all been drawn to it.  In Schwartz’s Godspell, “On the Willows” (a paraphrase version) is sung as the disciples bid a poignant farewell to Jesus during the Last Supper.  It is heartbreaking.    http://www.themusicallyrics.com/g/237-godspell-the-musical-lyrics/1585-on-the-willows-lyrics.html

But the last three verses of the Psalm are a curse:

7 Remember the day of Jerusalem, O Lord, against the people of Edom, who said, Down with it! down with it! even to the ground!”

8 O Daughter of Babylon, doomed to destruction, happy the one who pays you back
for what you have done to us!

9 Happy shall he be who takes your little ones, and dashes them against the rock!

Ouch!  It was so sad, so moving – what happened?  Is this not a totally human response to tragedy?  (The Lectionary, of course, would stop us at verse 6.  No anger, no cursing, please.)  Please remember:  these are human beings handing their hurt, their anger, to God, trusting God to deal with it.  In confidence, we can join in prayer through the Psalms and know that God hears us.

God bless you and watch over you this week and in the weeks ahead, beloved sisters and brothers.

David