Ashes to Go: Another Reason to Be Rather Fond of the Episcopal Church

Welcome, my friends, to Lent.

This season joins us all to the shared human condition of sinfulness and repentance - things found not just in the Church, but outside.

Sure, Episcopalians aren't the only ones who mark this season (and our foreheads) - but this year hundreds, maybe even thousands, of clergy (and others) took to the streets in a missional attempt to bring Ash Wednesday ashes to foreheads of those who didn't go to church.  Volunteers went to bus stations, parking garages, and public squares (above) to remind folk that we are dust and to dust we shall return.

They did it to welcome people into this holy season - which is our annual tithe to the Lord - 10% of the year, 40 days, given to God’s deep attentions to our lives.

Christianity offers a radical way of understanding human flourishing that’s not rooted in the things that can be seen but in the things that can not be seen - like love, care, concern, affection, hope, and faith.

We challenge ourselves to do some radical things to combat the world’s assault on our souls.
The world says: Buy something for you.
Lent says: Give that money to the poor.
The world says: Practice self-indulgence.
Lent says: Practice self-discipline.
The world says: Feed your body.
Lent says: Feed your soul.

So as we offer ashes to all, confess our sins, skip meals, give alms, and read more Scripture. We’re not doing it because we want to get ahead in this world, but because we want to better imagine another world. We believe that when we get a deeper vision of that other world - the one with the Real Rewards - we are made stronger to resist the false rewards of this world. 

It is a message that sends us out into the world, ashes and all, to reconcile all things to Christ.
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Chris Yaw is the rector of St. David's Episcopal Church in Southfield, Michigan

Grandparents with Great Faith: Another Reason to Be Rather Fond of the Episcopal Church

         You would have loved Grandma Ruth. We did. Our kids definitely did.
         Raising a young family in an established suburb of Detroit, we were the kids on the block. The folks who lived there built the neighborhood, raising their own families many years ago in an idyllic world that we could only imagine. They were from an era where neighbors watched out for each other.
         Grandma Ruth and her husband, Grandpa Bill – that’s what our young children called them (even though we weren’t related) – were the perfect neighbors. She would give our dog treats over the fence. And if we couldn’t find our kids right away, we knew where to look – next door, where they would fold laundry with Ruth, have an ice cream with Bill and generally love their elderly neighbors to pieces.
         At around the same time, my wife and I were growing increasingly disillusioned with the Catholic Church and wanted to explore other religions. We eventually found an Episcopal church in our town. The first time we had ever been inside an Episcopal church wasn’t under the best of circumstances. We went there for Ruth’s funeral.
         During the eulogy, given by Ruth’s daughter, we heard wonderful stories about Ruth. One of them included how grateful they were for our children, who obviously loved Ruth so much and came over almost every day to see her parents. That touched us, but I thought it spoke volumes about our neighbors.
         Ruth and Bill were always offering to help us whenever we needed it. Maybe it’s not a surprise that my wife and I knew finding this Episcopal Church was no accident. We knew this was the church we had long been seeking.  
         Thanks, Grandma Ruth.

         Rick Schulte is Director of Communications for the Episcopal Diocese of Michigan. You can keep tabs on all communications of the diocese on Facebook
(http://www.facebook.com/EpiscopalMichigan)

We Are Ancient and We Are New: Another Reason to Be Rather Fond of The Episcopal Church.

(This month's post is from a special guest: Anne Rudig, head of Communications for The Episcopal Church)

Out with the old! In with the new! Happy New Year!

Wait a second – not so fast...

At least, that's what comes to mind after polling some in our tribe regarding our just-launched updated website:

"Gothic? Dark? Traditional? Fine. I am not an Episcopalian because I want to be "hip" and "21st century" and I still consider myself young. I like some tradition. I like cathedrals. If I wanted "Buddy Christ", I'd likely find a non-denominational mega church. The Episcopal church stands for a lot of "modern" thinking. I also enjoy and support that."

I have been responding to comments related to the new site that launched on December 28.  One thing that strikes me is that a few of us want to be new, without also remembering the rest of our identity, which is very old. We weren’t born yesterday, and people actually like that about us. Especially in uncertain times, they find great comfort in our prayers, worship, music, and even our worn wooden pews:

They are well worn, but polished. There is something about it that is used and old, but well maintained…You can tell people have held onto them over time, and the wood has been smoothed by age. I think it’s a good image of this church. It’s been shaped by people over time, and yet it’s timeless and substantial.

That quote is from research done with both current members and newcomers to The Episcopal Church. We heard that people love our church because it is steeped, but not mired, in tradition. Young people said that they want to “touch an ancient tradition, while asking a lot of questions.” The design of the new website evolved directly from this research.

I know that there can be no resurrection without death. It’s healthy to let go of some of our old “stuff.” In fact, we must. But we have an authentic and unique story to share, and it involves the old colliding with the new.  The stained glass motif of the new site allows us to showcase our contemporary church within an ancient framework. I think that’s a good metaphor for us. That’s where the drama lies, where the sparks of creative energy can fly. Not always comfortable, but more dynamic and relevant than any other church.

Happy New Year everyone!

Spilling the Secrets of Faith

To spill a secret: my family goes back six generations in the Episcopal Church — and before that, to the Church of England. I don’t talk about it much; it sounds a bit elitist, but underneath, I’m proud of it. The church has been both a bridge and a beacon for me, one that both stretches back and shines forward.

There’s an old saying that goes, “Faith can’t be taught; it has to be caught.” I caught that faith when growing up; not because all was right with the world, but probably because things were wrong.

My mother struggled with cancer, my father with alcoholism. And our parish church, St. David’s in Minnetonka, Minnesota, was there for them in their stuggles:  warm and welcoming, always providing a structure and a place of enduring hope. They had their church. They had their Prayer Books, handed down; they had their faith, passed on by previous generations. 

We went to church every Sunday, even in difficult times. We went to bake sales and parish fairs and church was a fun and positive place, despite the craziness at home. I  found I was not alone. I knew the presence of God; I knew the love of a parish family; I knew my way around the great stories of the Bible because someone had bothered to teach them to me.

There were “junior” choir rehearsals (not yet called “youth” choir). There was confirmation in the seventh grade (which worked out fine; I was glad it was then instead of later). There were potluck dinners and youth groups and retreats. There was a sense of normalcy. 

Church was a place of strength and respite. It was a place where the larger questions about life and death and faith were answered. No one was perfect. But there was love: God’s love. I knew I belonged; I knew the ground on which I stood. 

That love carried me through college and seminary and into parish life as a priest. I don’t expect the church to be perfect; it never is. But I do call it home, and love it dearly. 

A priest of 26 years, the Reverend Lindsay Hardin Freeman lives and works in the Episcopal Church of Minnesota. She is the author of The Scarlet Cord: Conversations with God’s Chosen Women and the editor of Wisdom Found: Stories of Women Transfigured by Faith. For more info, seewww.scarletcordbook.com

We Don’t Pledge Like Ferrets: Another Reason to Be Rather Fond of the Episcopal Church

Ah, fall in the Episcopal Church. The leaves begin to turn, the program year is in full swing, and everyone breathlessly awaits the rector’s annual stewardship sermon. Sometimes the rector speaks in vague generalities about “scarcity” and “abundance” hoping that the message will get through by osmosis and at others the rector takes a page out of Jerry Maguire’s playbook and goes with a more direct approach: “Show me the money!”

This year I’ve been thinking about stewardship in light of my new status as a ferret owner. Why ferrets? Good question. Obviously my boys were involved since owning a ferret was never a childhood fantasy of mine. In fact, if I was asked to identify a ferret in a police line-up along with some similar suspects – weasel, rat, wombat-- I doubt I would have correctly fingered the ferret.

But one of the characteristics of ferrets is that they exhibit hoarding behavior. They like to stash things away whether it’s food or socks or keys. The good news is that they tend to ferret things away to the same location every time. So if you can’t find your remote control, it’s likely to be found in the same place they stashed your left slipper.

Now, I don’t have such practical problems because it’s not as if we let them run amok in the rectory. They live in a mansion of a cage that is larger than married student housing at most seminaries. But as I’ve thought about our relationship to money in this context, one thing has become clear – it’s hard to be in a fruitful relationship with God when we act like hoarders. Money is ultimately a gift to be shared rather than a resource to be hoarded. A right relationship with God involves a generosity of spirit which can never be fully realized by literally or metaphorically hiding all your money under the mattress.

So that’s the message this year – don’t pledge like a ferret! And allow the abundance of God’s grace to both pour out of you and upon you.

The Rev. Tim Schenck is Rector of the Episcopal Parish of St. John the Evangelist in Hingham, Massachusetts. Visit him on the web at www.frtim.com where you can access his blog “Clergy Family Confidential.”

Blessing the Animals: Another Reason to Be Rather Fond of the Episcopal Church

I may have accidentally cursed Boo Boo—cursed him to death. But I honestly don’t think I have that I kind of power. It was my first St. Francis Day as a priest (I had been ordained only a couple of weeks) and the first dogs I blessed were a pair of Pomeranians named Yogi and Boo Boo. Boo Boo wasn’t feeling great that day, his owner told me, and I offered an additional prayer for healing for the fuzzy-faced dog. But nevertheless, the very next day I received word that Boo Boo had died.

The Blessing of Animals on the Feast of St. Francis is not a strictly Episcopalian thing to do, but it is one of the liturgies we are best known for. There are no official liturgies to bless pets in the Book of Common Prayer, no special edition of Enriching Our Worship dedicated to ministry with non-humans. We are not the only denomination that blesses animals, and yet, in some circles we are best known for offering this unofficial rite.

Every year I meet people who only come to church on the Sunday following Oct. 4^th to have their pet blessed. I never see them at Easter, their children are neither baptized nor confirmed, and they are ambivalent about their belief in the existence of God, but doggone it, they bring their dog to be blessed every year.

Blessing people’s pets can be the most important ministry that a parish can offer someone. I think sometimes it is easier to receive a blessing from God for your dog than it is for yourself. Priests ask for God’s blessing on all sorts of things for holy use. This ministry incorporates dogs and cats into the sacred calling of being God’s agents of grace in a harsh and lonely world.

Boo Boo’s death was not the result of a rookie mistake, a blessing-curse mix-up. Blessing that dog in his final hours gave his family immense comfort in knowing that Boo Boo truly died in peace. Perhaps the blessing gave him permission to let go and die.  All I know is that this ministry is totally worth the extra laundry I have to do to wash the dirty paw prints off of my alb.

The Rev. Lindsay Lunnum serves as the Assistant Rector at the Church of St. Barnabas in Irvington-on-Hudson, NY.

Union with God: Why I Am Rather Fond of the Episcopal Church

If you were in your twenties in the 1960s, you probably were overly interested in the search for “the meaning of life.” You could fulfill that quest for meaning through many avenues - political action, sex, drugs, rock and roll, and, believe it or not, through religion.  Well, it wasn’t so cool if it was conventional religion but Eastern religions and peyote certainly were. 

As one of those children of the 60s I developed an unusual interest in one quite conventional form of religion – the Episcopal Church. I discovered, unexpectedly, it brought all my other unconventional paths together.  The beauty of the parish church and the quiet, profound reverence surrounding the Eucharist were suggesting that a door to the meaning of life might lie just inside the Episcopal Church, a short walk from my college campus.  There was a dawning awareness that the answer to meaning in life was God. 

Yet those more eastern paths to God were also being explored.  I wanted to be just like J.D. Salinger’s Glass family.  I imagined a closet door inscribed with quotes from all the great world’s religions and myself immersed in the Vedanta, Sutras and the teachings of the great mystics.  One day reading Franny and Zooey by Salinger I reached this point in Zooey’s attempt to reach through to Franny in her crisis.  “I swear to you you’re missing the whole point of the Jesus Prayer.  The Jesus Prayer has one aim, and one aim only.  To endow the person who says it with Christ-Consciousness.” 

I was intrigued, but I really didn’t know what Zooey meant.  Nor did I know that The Way of the Pilgrim, the book that brought on Franny’s crisis, and the teaching about the Jesus prayer were real, not simply a figment of Salinger’s imagination.  Not long after as it happened, a friend and fellow reader of Salinger excitedly placed in my hand an actual copy of The Way of the Pilgrim.  And lo and behold, what did I notice but this exotic book that seemed to have leaped out the pages of Franny and Zooey and into my hands was published by an arm of the Episcopal Church – Seabury Press.  And as I stepped into this new and strange world of the Russian pilgrim I read this.  “My heart kindled with desire for union with God by means of interior prayer.”  At that point I understood Zooey’s words about the meaning of the Jesus prayer.  It was a turning point in my spiritual life. The goal of life is union with God and there is a way towards that goal.

And the connection between Seabury Press, which had the vision and courage to publish this strange book, and the Episcopal Church, where I was beginning to discover a home, was not lost.  These Episcopalians must value the spiritual journey.  They obviously are not afraid of the mystical aspect of the Christian faith.  And they believe that the end and purpose of life is union with God. 

There is meaning to this life.  It is union with God.  The Episcopal Church has provided a wonderfully beautiful environment for me to grow within the community of Christ towards this goal.  The examples of how this is so are countless, but the Episcopal Church has said it best.  In the catechism we’re asked what the Church is sent by God to accomplish, what is the mission of the Church?  “The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ.”  And that’s one very good reason I’m fond of the Episcopal Church.

This month’s guest post is from The Rev. Bob Hart, an Episcopal priest in the Diocese of Michigan where he currently serves as interim minister at St. James Episcopal Church in Birmingham, MI.