We Remember

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A Memorial Day Prayer

Eternal God,
Creator of years, of centuries,
Lord of whatever is beyond time,
Maker of all species and master of all history --
How shall we speak to you
from our smallness and inconsequence?
Except that you have called us to worship you
in spirit and in truth;
You have dignified us with loves and loyalties;
You have lifted us up with your lovingkindnesses.
Therefore we are bold to come before you without groveling
[though we sometimes feel that low]
and without fear
[though we are often anxious].
We sing with spirit and pray with courage
because you have dignified us;
You have redeemed us from the aimlessness
of things' going meaninglessly well.
God, lift the hearts of those
for whom this holiday is not just diversion,
but painful memory and continued deprivation.
Bless those whose dear ones have died
needlessly, wastefully [as it seems]
in accident or misadventure.
We remember with compassion those who have died
serving their countries
in the futility of combat.
There is none of us but must come to bereavement and separation,
when all the answers we are offered
fail the question death asks of each of us.
We believe that you will provide for us
as others have been provided with the fulfillment of
"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted."

- Rev. Dick Kozelka (ret)
First Congregational Church of Minnesota
Minneapolis, MN



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Light Everywhere

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a sacred time
in a sacred space
at a sacred hour

an open heart

a place
so thin

and light rose from within

golden and sure
rising, then rushing


the open heart filled

and burst

and opened some more

until the heart no longer existed


because it
wasn’t meant to contain
wasn’t meant to hold

the heart was just a thin place, too

a passageway
through which light flew free

into the world

golden and sure
rising, then soaring

up

and

out

and everywhere

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A visit from the Presiding Bishop

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Mother's Day

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The Lanyard

The other day I was ricocheting slowly
off the blue walls of this room,
moving as if underwater from typewriter to piano,
from bookshelf to an envelope lying on the floor,
when I found myself in the L section of the dictionary
where my eyes fell upon the word lanyard.

No cookie nibbled by a French novelist
could send one into the past more suddenly—
a past where I sat at a workbench at a camp
by a deep Adirondack lake
learning how to braid long thin plastic strips
into a lanyard, a gift for my mother.

I had never seen anyone use a lanyard
or wear one, if that’s what you did with them,
but that did not keep me from crossing
strand over strand again and again
until I had made a boxy
red and white lanyard for my mother.

She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light

and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.

Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
And here, I wish to say to her now,
is a smaller gift—not the worn truth

that you can never repay your mother,
but the rueful admission that when she took
the two-tone lanyard from my hand,
I was as sure as a boy could be
that this useless, worthless thing I wove
out of boredom would be enough to make us even.

- Billy Collins


Happy Mother's Day to all those who care and comfort and ache and celebrate with the love of a mother.

One Ohana

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Congratulations Bailey, Emily, Evan, Kathryn!

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SERMON
EASTER 3B, APRIL 26, 2009


Picture this: An incredibly cute 10-year-old boy, standing in front of his house at 442 White Bear Avenue in St. Paul, on a warm spring night in 1957. Dressed in dark blue pants, white shirt, and red tie, holding a brand new missal with gold edges, and looking amazingly pious, all the while trying desperately to remember the twelve fruits and the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit which he and all the other fifth graders were supposed to have memorized a long time ago.

It was confirmation night at St. Pascal’s Catholic Church and in a short time, the incredibly cute 10-year-old boy, along with more than 100 other kids, would be presented to Bishop Leonard P. Cowley for anointing, the laying on of hands, and some serious questions about gifts, and fruits, and virtues. The incredibly cute 10-year-old boy was really hoping for the virtues question since there were only three of these to remember.

I mention this for two reasons: First, I came across my confirmation picture a few weeks ago, as Roxie and I continue the process of sorting, saving, and throwing thirty-four years worth of stuff; and second, four young people from our congregation were confirmed yesterday at St. Mark’s Cathedral-- Emily Davis, Evan Furniss, Kathryn Rooney, and Bailey Parsons—and so I’ve been thinking about Confirmation a lot lately.

The Book of Common Prayer says: “In the course of their Christian development, those baptized at an early age are expected, when they are ready and have been duly prepared, to make a mature public affirmation of their faith and responsibilities of their Baptism, and to receive the laying on of hands by the bishop.”

I can tell you this about Emily, Evan, Kathryn, and Bailey: Each of them was baptized at an early age, each of them has been duly prepared, at least in the sense that they came to confirmation class more than thirty times, each of them told me they felt ready to be confirmed, and each of them did indeed receive the laying on of hands by the bishop yesterday at St. Mark’s Cathedral.

But now comes the hard part. Because the other thing each of them did yesterday was this: They each made a “mature public affirmation of their faith and the responsibilities of their baptism.”

They each promised to continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread and in the prayers; to persevere in resisting evil, and to repent and return to the Lord whenever they fall into sin; to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ; to seek and serve Christ in all persons, and to love their neighbor as themselves; to strive for justice and peace among all people, and to respect the dignity of every human being.

Wow! That’s some heavy-duty stuff!

We talked a lot about these Baptismal Covenant Promises in class, we talked about practical ways to fulfill these promises, and I always had to admit that that last one is the most difficult one for me: “to respect the dignity of every human being.”

What about the person who doesn’t respect me? What about the person who I disagree with politically, socially, or theologically? What about the postal clerk at the local branch post office who saw the St. Anne’s Episcopal Church return address on a letter I was trying to mail, and told me, in front of a long line of people, that he hoped I was aware that all of us Episcopalians are sinners because of that gay bishop?

Definitely not easy to respect the dignity of that guy. But that’s exactly what Emily, Evan, Kathryn, and Bailey promised to do yesterday. And that’s exactly what each of has committed ourselves to do as baptized members of the Family of God.

And we are reminded of it every time we witness a baptism or a confirmation, every time we attend the Great Vigil of Easter, and every year on the First Sunday after the Epiphany—the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord—when we repeat our Baptismal Covenant Promises.

Our four young people who were confirmed yesterday did not choose to become adopted children of God. They did not choose to have promises made on their behalf, to have water poured on them, to “be sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever.” They didn’t choose any of this.

For them, baptism was a gift, a gift that their parents and godparents desired that they have, and the church bestowed upon them.

What they did choose, however, was to be confirmed yesterday. To stand and to publicly affirm their faith and their commitment to the responsibilities of their baptism. They chose to say for themselves what had been said for them when they were infants. They chose to state their beliefs using the words of the Apostles’ Creed, and to publicly declare their intention to strive to faithfully live their lives in accordance with their Baptismal Covenant Promises.

They did all of this and acknowledged what we all know to be true—we cannot do any of this on our own. And that’s why each of the Baptismal Covenant Promises ends with these words: “I will, with God’s help.”

I will continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers---with God’s help.

I will persevere in resisting evil---with God’s help.

I will proclaim the Good News of God in Christ, I will seek and serve Christ in all persons, I will strive for justice and peace among all people, I will respect the dignity of every human being---with God’s help.

I’m not a person who is easily provoked, but I have to be honest and admit that there were all kinds of things I would’ve liked to have said to that postal worker I mentioned earlier. Fortunately, somehow, with God’s help I think, I was able to smile and tell him to have a good day.

“I will, with God’s help, respect the dignity of every human being.”

Emily, Evan, Kathryn, and Bailey, even though you’ve already been confirmed, today’s Gospel reading from Luke suggests three more things I’d like to tell you.

“While the disciples were telling how they had seen Jesus risen from the dead, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’” (Luke 24:36)

My hope is that St. Anne’s will always be for you a place of peace. A place where you feel welcomed, respected, and loved. A place where you feel the presence of God, the love of God, and the peace of God. A place that calls out to you to join in and participate. A place that inspires you to be “Christ’s loving arms in the world, by spreading the Good News of Jesus Christ to all people.”

“Jesus said to his disciples, ‘Why are you frightened, and who do doubts arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself.’” (Luke 24:38-39)

My hope is that St. Anne’s will always be for you a place that you can come to when you are frightened and when you have doubts. A safe place where you can feel free to express your fears and share your doubts. A place where you know that you will always be listened to and taken seriously. A place that will encourage you to ask as many questions as you want, even though we probably won’t have all the answers.

“Jesus said to his disciples: ‘Have you anything here to eat?’ They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate in their presence.” (Luke 24:41-43)

My hope is that St. Anne’s will always be for you a place to be fed and nourished. A place where you feel welcome to come on any Sunday and celebrate Eucharist with us, because, as Lydia reminds us every week, “this is Christ’s table, and he invites everyone.” A place where the bread and wine of Holy Communion will be offered to you as a reminder of Christ’s sacrifice for us. A place where you will be sent out to speak words of hope and healing, and to perform deeds of compassion and courage, to a troubled and hurting world.

Okay, back to the incredibly cute 10-year-old boy. I’m happy to report that he was confirmed without incident. The bishop didn’t ask him any questions. And unfortunately, the seven gifts and the twelve fruits of the Holy Spirit continue to be NOT memorized.

To our four newly confirmed young people, I have good news and bad news.

The good news is you have been confirmed. You came to class over thirty times, you met with an adult mentor, you answered all the questions, and you filled in all the blanks. You did it! Congratulations!

The bad news is, IT’S STILL NOT OVER! God is not finished with you yet. But his really isn’t bad news, because God isn’t finished with any of us yet. God continues to be active in our world today. God continues to speak to us in the people and events of our daily lives. And continues to call us to go and do.

Finally, to you newly confirmed members of the St. Anne’s family, and to all of you, I want to offer this Gerhard Frost poem, from his book Kept Moments. It’s called “A Life to Share.”


A LIFE TO SHARE
by Gerhard Frost

He is my friend,
warm, magnanimous, and wise.
I heard him speak to students,
and this is what he said:

Give yourself to God in trust
and to your neighbor in love.
Remember, contempt for persons
besets us all. Servanthood centers
in grace and in our fellow humans.
We have a way of life to share;
if we’re too busy for people,
we’re busier than God.

Wherever you live, be sure to unpack;
no place on God’s great earth
is just a stepping-stone.
People, profound and complex,
are always there, great as saints
and great as sinners. Be ready to forgive
and be forgiven.

Avoid the tyranny of swift success,
recalling that where persons are at stake
many things must just be lived with in love
and left undone,
awaiting the miracle of God.

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Amen

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- The Rev. Pat Markie