Today I had the pleasure of listening to a lecture by Fr. Boyle entitled, Tattoos On The Heart. It was given all the way up in Walnut Creek.
The audience was asked to imagine the world as it should be, for that is our job, our work. Fr. G., as his homies call him, asked us to imagine a place where there is no us and them, but just US. He said, "God too busy loving us to be disappointed."
What circles do you see yourselves within or without? How do we imagine a circle of compassion? How do we gather those who are outide this circle? He suggested that we try "stand at the fringes". It is here that we can embrace and welcome in all of God's children into the dignity and acceptance and honor that is rightfully theirs. Father Boyle suggested that we need to return people to themselves and said that all of us are exactly what God had in mind when he made us. "You are God's dream" and our ministry, everyone's ministry is to recognize one another as the shape of God's heart.
Consider helping Homeboy Industries by making a tax deductable donation, eating at the Homegirl Cafe, or purchasing merchandice online at http://www.homeboy-industries.org/. You'll be glad you did!
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
One week to go
There is one week to go and the semester, my first semester in seminary, will be over. It is hard to believe that just a few months ago I packed my car and drove up to Berkeley with so many hopes, dreams, fears, and a lovely icon of the BVM in my front seat.
I'm thinking of Mary as the days begin to point to the Nativity of our Lord and wonder what Mary must have been thinking. She said, yes! Yes to the unknown. Yes to potential ridicule and danger. Yes to hope.
All of us, not only seminarians, have an opportunity to say yes to God. We can say YES to the unknown, undefined, uncharted future that is before us. We can say yes to the hope that is within us. Yes to paradox. We can say yes to kindness, yes to that space that allows those who are different from us and ourselves to be... to just be. Being. Pausing. Allowing someone that is in a hurry to pass, savoring the space that allows the expelled breath, that sigh of satisfaction, that nod to the Christ reflected and born again in the mind and heart.
I say yes to late night readings, yes to the moments of laughter, yes to preping for finals, yes to new ways of thinking, yes to new friends, yes to doing it differently, yes to preserving what is best, yes to making new traditions, and, YES to Advent's great pause. Everything seems the same, but everthing has changed.
I'm thinking of Mary as the days begin to point to the Nativity of our Lord and wonder what Mary must have been thinking. She said, yes! Yes to the unknown. Yes to potential ridicule and danger. Yes to hope.
All of us, not only seminarians, have an opportunity to say yes to God. We can say YES to the unknown, undefined, uncharted future that is before us. We can say yes to the hope that is within us. Yes to paradox. We can say yes to kindness, yes to that space that allows those who are different from us and ourselves to be... to just be. Being. Pausing. Allowing someone that is in a hurry to pass, savoring the space that allows the expelled breath, that sigh of satisfaction, that nod to the Christ reflected and born again in the mind and heart.
I say yes to late night readings, yes to the moments of laughter, yes to preping for finals, yes to new ways of thinking, yes to new friends, yes to doing it differently, yes to preserving what is best, yes to making new traditions, and, YES to Advent's great pause. Everything seems the same, but everthing has changed.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Sermon for 11 July 2010 - St. Thomas the Apostle
Good traveling requires equal parts of planning and inspiration. Planning, because we need to know where we're headed, what is our journey's destination. How are we going to get there? Personally, I like to study a bit and find out all I can, and what I'll want to see and do. Inspiration is important, because the best parts of a trip are the things that surprise us, the wrong turn that leads to a breathtaking vista. It also helps to know someone who is familiar with the destination, who has been there before, and can help us avoid some of the pitfalls and dangers inherent in travel.
As children we go to Grandmother's house, on family vacations, to our best friend's house, to church, and have even traveled to far off worlds in our imagination. "Remember what Bilbo used to say (in Tolkiens's Lord of the Ring): "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.""
Once, my parents planned a trip across much of the nation, up into Canada, back down the St. Lawrence Seaway, through Maine, eventually Virginia, and, what I was really excited about, to Washington, D.C. Leaving our hotel early in the morning, my sister and I half asleep, we made our way towards D.C., but after half an hour, we found ourselves circling back to where we started, we repeated this a number of times and couldn't figure out how to get to the Francis Scott Key Bridge and across the Potomic River. Now fully awake, my dreams of seeing the stately dome of the Nation's Capitol, teh mall and it's grand monuments were dashed. We were going to be stuck in the Commonwealth of Virginia forever. We could see the bridge, but we couldn't figure out how to get to it.
My Dad, with a look that said, "Brace yourselves", drove onto the railroad tracks circling the hotel, terrified, boom, ba-boom, we road the short distance to the bridge road, got back on the road and finally crossed over into the promised land. Why didn't we go back to the hotel and ask for directions? I don't know. We could have used the help of someone familiar with the area.
There are, of course, other journeys: the journey from child to adult, from young to old, from the comfort of home to finding our place in the world. There are paths of self-discovery and Christian rites of passage. At our baptismal adoption we are made heirs of a heavenly city and we are marked as God's own forever. We are given a passport that entitles us to begin anew, to enter the King's Highway - El Camino Real.
There is an ebb and flow to the Christian journey. We go up to the Temple Mount and back into the world. It is a daily pilgimage of prayer. It is a journey into the Sacred Heart of Jesus. In Prayers For A Planetary Pilgrim, we pray with the poet, "I bow before you, Divine Father, Holy Mother, Eternal Source of my existance. Your heart is my home, from you I have come and to you I journey this day."
This journey is exciting, for by turns and rises we can glimpse the domes of the Celestial City, the City of Shalom, that new Jerusalem of peace and joy in God's presence. But like the mountain that seems so close, it is further away than we first thought. We descend into valleys of dryness in prayer and only by grace can we make the steep ascent to that Golden Gate. We enter this gate with thanksgiving and God's courts with praise.
But soon enough, obligations require us to go back into the world, back to work. Refreshed, we begin our steep descent to Jericho, and, here, we meet up with today's Gospel lesson. It says that robbers surprise us. They strip us of our dignity, the honor due to every child of God regardless of color, education or national origin; we are attacked by unkindness, petty jealousy and spite, lack of hospitality, shelter, and sufficient food.
We are mentally and emotionally beaten down by economic insecurity, under-employment, injustices, sickness and unbearable loss. Next is the hardest blow, people we trust the most, the priest - church leader, a particular family member, our dearest friend, sometimes even our helpmate that promised to be there for life, leave us. We have even been our own enemy and have hurt our soul by sin. We are left for dead, feeling alone and vulnerable.
Now comes the Samaritan we call "Good". This Samaritan, an outcast, who in a sermon preached by Martin Luther, is of course our Lord Jesus Christ who shows love to both God and his neighbor: "Toward God, in that he was obedient to him, came down from heaven and became man, and thus fulfilled the will of the Father; toward his neighbor, in that he immediately after his baptism began to preach, to do wonders, to heal the sick. And in short, he did no work that centered in himself alone, but all his acts centered in his neighbor."
Jesus, loving with all his heart, soul, strength and mind, is moved to pity for our condition. Not stopping to question the cost, he binds our wounds, annoints us and heals us body and soul. He stands vigil and arranges for our basic necessities - shelter, food, clothing.
The incarnate Jesus gives us the "posada" or shelter he and his family were once refused, the one who fasted, feeds us with his own body and redeeming blood and clothes us with his own righteousness. Knowing the immensity of God's love for us, knowing healing of body and soul, knowing that nothing can separate us from the love of God, we can begin again. In Communion our strength renews. Find warmth by telling the story of our rescue and redemption, like those on the Emmaus road, hear Jesus speak through Moses and the prophets, and in the breaking of bread eyes will be opened.
We must see Christ in all his creation - reflections of a loving God in every person we meet. Out of an over-abundance of love, we, without even thinking, reach out in love. Like a certain Belgian Priest volunteering to serve the Leprosarium on Molokai, our hand goes out without us knowing, in an impulse reverberating the love of Christ from the cross.
Last year in early November, a vast number of Pilgrims ventured to Rome for Damien's Canonization, including a small contingent from St. Thomas the Apostle - Hollywood. The day after Blessed Damian was named Saint, there was a special Mass at St. Paul's Outside the Walls. At the peace I turned to the person closest to me and naturally reached out to give peace. I looked down and was horrified. The man in the wheelchair, about to clasp my hand, was a patient from the colony at Molokai, a leper. Honestly, there was an impulse to pull away, but looking into his eyes, I saw him. I saw Jesus bracing for rejection, the pulling away of hands would signal that he is still an outcast, somehow unclean, and unworthy of love.
Still looking into his eyes, I clasped his rough hand and hugged him. We felt peace. We both experienced healing and were made whole. Strangely, roles reversed. I became the embraced. Let's make our homes in the heart of Jesus, fully warmed in His love, so that they never grow cold and callous to the needs of our neighbor.
What must I do to inherit eternal life? The answer lies in following the path our Lord walked. St. Augustine expounds in a happy paradox that "not by journeying but by loving we draw nigh unto God. To Him who is everywhere present and everywhere entire we approach not by our feet but by our hearts". The first Psalm puts it like this, "Happy are those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or take the path that sinners tread, or sit in the seat of scoffers." Therefore avoid the uninformed or mean-spirited advice of those that argue over exactly who is our neighbor. If we can find the face of Jesus in the Leper, we can find it in ourselves and others. Do not take those paths that lead you and, by your example, others further from active loving, instead, delight in the law of the Lord and on his law of love meditate day and night.
You will know you are on the right path when you are thinking of others first before thinking of yourself. Then you will be like trees firmly planted by streams of life giving water, and you will yield the fruit of righteousness. Your leaves will not wither. All that is done in Love's holy name will prosper and you will be given the laurel crown of everlasting life adorned with every good deed.
As children we go to Grandmother's house, on family vacations, to our best friend's house, to church, and have even traveled to far off worlds in our imagination. "Remember what Bilbo used to say (in Tolkiens's Lord of the Ring): "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.""
Once, my parents planned a trip across much of the nation, up into Canada, back down the St. Lawrence Seaway, through Maine, eventually Virginia, and, what I was really excited about, to Washington, D.C. Leaving our hotel early in the morning, my sister and I half asleep, we made our way towards D.C., but after half an hour, we found ourselves circling back to where we started, we repeated this a number of times and couldn't figure out how to get to the Francis Scott Key Bridge and across the Potomic River. Now fully awake, my dreams of seeing the stately dome of the Nation's Capitol, teh mall and it's grand monuments were dashed. We were going to be stuck in the Commonwealth of Virginia forever. We could see the bridge, but we couldn't figure out how to get to it.
My Dad, with a look that said, "Brace yourselves", drove onto the railroad tracks circling the hotel, terrified, boom, ba-boom, we road the short distance to the bridge road, got back on the road and finally crossed over into the promised land. Why didn't we go back to the hotel and ask for directions? I don't know. We could have used the help of someone familiar with the area.
There are, of course, other journeys: the journey from child to adult, from young to old, from the comfort of home to finding our place in the world. There are paths of self-discovery and Christian rites of passage. At our baptismal adoption we are made heirs of a heavenly city and we are marked as God's own forever. We are given a passport that entitles us to begin anew, to enter the King's Highway - El Camino Real.
There is an ebb and flow to the Christian journey. We go up to the Temple Mount and back into the world. It is a daily pilgimage of prayer. It is a journey into the Sacred Heart of Jesus. In Prayers For A Planetary Pilgrim, we pray with the poet, "I bow before you, Divine Father, Holy Mother, Eternal Source of my existance. Your heart is my home, from you I have come and to you I journey this day."
This journey is exciting, for by turns and rises we can glimpse the domes of the Celestial City, the City of Shalom, that new Jerusalem of peace and joy in God's presence. But like the mountain that seems so close, it is further away than we first thought. We descend into valleys of dryness in prayer and only by grace can we make the steep ascent to that Golden Gate. We enter this gate with thanksgiving and God's courts with praise.
But soon enough, obligations require us to go back into the world, back to work. Refreshed, we begin our steep descent to Jericho, and, here, we meet up with today's Gospel lesson. It says that robbers surprise us. They strip us of our dignity, the honor due to every child of God regardless of color, education or national origin; we are attacked by unkindness, petty jealousy and spite, lack of hospitality, shelter, and sufficient food.
We are mentally and emotionally beaten down by economic insecurity, under-employment, injustices, sickness and unbearable loss. Next is the hardest blow, people we trust the most, the priest - church leader, a particular family member, our dearest friend, sometimes even our helpmate that promised to be there for life, leave us. We have even been our own enemy and have hurt our soul by sin. We are left for dead, feeling alone and vulnerable.
Now comes the Samaritan we call "Good". This Samaritan, an outcast, who in a sermon preached by Martin Luther, is of course our Lord Jesus Christ who shows love to both God and his neighbor: "Toward God, in that he was obedient to him, came down from heaven and became man, and thus fulfilled the will of the Father; toward his neighbor, in that he immediately after his baptism began to preach, to do wonders, to heal the sick. And in short, he did no work that centered in himself alone, but all his acts centered in his neighbor."
Jesus, loving with all his heart, soul, strength and mind, is moved to pity for our condition. Not stopping to question the cost, he binds our wounds, annoints us and heals us body and soul. He stands vigil and arranges for our basic necessities - shelter, food, clothing.
The incarnate Jesus gives us the "posada" or shelter he and his family were once refused, the one who fasted, feeds us with his own body and redeeming blood and clothes us with his own righteousness. Knowing the immensity of God's love for us, knowing healing of body and soul, knowing that nothing can separate us from the love of God, we can begin again. In Communion our strength renews. Find warmth by telling the story of our rescue and redemption, like those on the Emmaus road, hear Jesus speak through Moses and the prophets, and in the breaking of bread eyes will be opened.
We must see Christ in all his creation - reflections of a loving God in every person we meet. Out of an over-abundance of love, we, without even thinking, reach out in love. Like a certain Belgian Priest volunteering to serve the Leprosarium on Molokai, our hand goes out without us knowing, in an impulse reverberating the love of Christ from the cross.
Last year in early November, a vast number of Pilgrims ventured to Rome for Damien's Canonization, including a small contingent from St. Thomas the Apostle - Hollywood. The day after Blessed Damian was named Saint, there was a special Mass at St. Paul's Outside the Walls. At the peace I turned to the person closest to me and naturally reached out to give peace. I looked down and was horrified. The man in the wheelchair, about to clasp my hand, was a patient from the colony at Molokai, a leper. Honestly, there was an impulse to pull away, but looking into his eyes, I saw him. I saw Jesus bracing for rejection, the pulling away of hands would signal that he is still an outcast, somehow unclean, and unworthy of love.
Still looking into his eyes, I clasped his rough hand and hugged him. We felt peace. We both experienced healing and were made whole. Strangely, roles reversed. I became the embraced. Let's make our homes in the heart of Jesus, fully warmed in His love, so that they never grow cold and callous to the needs of our neighbor.
What must I do to inherit eternal life? The answer lies in following the path our Lord walked. St. Augustine expounds in a happy paradox that "not by journeying but by loving we draw nigh unto God. To Him who is everywhere present and everywhere entire we approach not by our feet but by our hearts". The first Psalm puts it like this, "Happy are those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or take the path that sinners tread, or sit in the seat of scoffers." Therefore avoid the uninformed or mean-spirited advice of those that argue over exactly who is our neighbor. If we can find the face of Jesus in the Leper, we can find it in ourselves and others. Do not take those paths that lead you and, by your example, others further from active loving, instead, delight in the law of the Lord and on his law of love meditate day and night.
You will know you are on the right path when you are thinking of others first before thinking of yourself. Then you will be like trees firmly planted by streams of life giving water, and you will yield the fruit of righteousness. Your leaves will not wither. All that is done in Love's holy name will prosper and you will be given the laurel crown of everlasting life adorned with every good deed.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
for-ma-tion
I've been up in Berkeley for four weeks and have begun to develop a routine. Many of us are up early for Morning Prayer, classes, weekday Eucharist, lunch, more classes, Evening Prayer, perhaps more classes and lots and lots of studying. Some students form study groups and I'm participating in one for a Hebrew language class and a discussion group for Early Christian History.
The community has a distinct personality. Each class has shaped the life of CDSP as an institution as much as it has shaped the individuals that make up the student body. Not everything is learned in the classroom. The professors are amazing. The faculty really cares about the seminarians and each in their own way has already made an impresion upon us. In addition to prodding our preconceived notions of how things "should" or "ought" to be in the Episcopal church, we are, in a sense, forced to look long and hard at our own beliefs, at our preferences, and at our selves.
Living in close proximity to budding church leaders and folks from all around the United States and the globe, we rub off on each other. Some times we can rub each other the wrong way. All of this comes together under what is called "formation". Mirriam -Webster defines formation as an act of giving form or shape to something taking form. We, the seminarians, are that something taking form. So everything becomes part of the learning process.
Everything we choose to do, and there is a superabundance of things to do, shapes us into something different than what we once were. Last week my head was so full of early martyrs, Hebrew vocabulary, history, legends, myths, traditions, local and national issues facing the Episcopal Church and the wider church, that even my dreams were effected.
Saturday, September 25th, some of us ventured out to the Angel Island Immigration Station for what was called the Pilgrimage To Angel Island 2010: Wispers of the Past to the Cries of Justice Today. The program was intended to help citizens remember the religious communities that served, and advocated for, the detainees of Angel Island, and how that speaks to the world today.
The simple ceremony highlighted why it is important to remember what happed on Angel Island and the profound impact issues of immigration have on people. I was moved by an elderly man that was helped to the microphone and told his story to us. Dale Ching, a former detainee, began by saying, "Welcome to my first home in America". Here is his story.
After weeks on a crowded boat, the hopeful immigrants were greeted at the docks by armed guards. Men, women, and children were immediately separated into barracks. The doors locked from the outside and opened only for meals and in the afternoon for a period of recreation. They were locked in day and night. He was held for three and a half months, but many were held for three or more years. Dale was only 16.
Laborers were sought out to help with America's push West, the Gold Rush, building railroads, and at times the very workers that were brought here to help were blamed for taking away jobs, especially when the economy went sour. Though only 10% of those who came to the Island were sent home, they lived in fear.
In July of 1937 Dale was granted permission to enter the United States. Taken on a boat to one of the many San Francisco piers, he saw his father waiting on the dock. This was the first time that he had seen his father in seven years. He never wanted to return to Angel Island. This was part of his past, but not something he talked about.
Years later his children talked him into returning to the Island. They had so many questions. In 1991 he started to volunteer at the Detention Center as a docent. He wanted to tell new generations his story. Dale wanted the public to know what happened here so they could interpret for themselves the history of the immigrants. He hopes that by telling his story it might help ensure fair treatment for all people.
We also heard the story of Deaconess Katharine Maurer who minstered to the women and children here. In her smart suit and cape she brought hope and comfort to those locked inside the cramped barracks. There were many Chinese, Mexican, Korean immigrants waiting for permission to start a new life. In the 1930's and early 1940's Jews fled from Germany, Poland, Austria and other European countries as a result persecution. In the anti-immigration atmosphere of her day, Deaconess Katherine worked hard to mitigate the hard realities faced behind the barbed wire fences of the detention center. She preached a message of love, respect and tollerance. She once said, "We look pretty much the same to God. We are all his foolish children".
Many others spoke out against the current climate of fear and hate surrounding the immigration debate. Once American daughter who's father was recently deported said that "there is no nice way of discrimination". Another person noted that hate and discrimination is not over - it has been modernized.
I don't claim to have an answer. The issues surrounding immigration are complex. It is, though, upsetting to see politicians scapegoat immigrants to get votes. Fear and hate have been used for personal gain. These people carelessly ignite fires of discrimination. I pray for the dignity of all immigrants, of all people struggling to find a better life for themselves and their family.
I'm put in mind of a quote by Woodrow T. Wilson, who said, "America lives in the heart of every man everywhere who wishes to find a region where he will be free to work out his destiny as he chooses".
One of the recent Community Eucharists on Thursday night featured a prayer attributed to Reinhold Niebuhr that guides my thinking on this and many other issues of importance.
The community has a distinct personality. Each class has shaped the life of CDSP as an institution as much as it has shaped the individuals that make up the student body. Not everything is learned in the classroom. The professors are amazing. The faculty really cares about the seminarians and each in their own way has already made an impresion upon us. In addition to prodding our preconceived notions of how things "should" or "ought" to be in the Episcopal church, we are, in a sense, forced to look long and hard at our own beliefs, at our preferences, and at our selves.
Living in close proximity to budding church leaders and folks from all around the United States and the globe, we rub off on each other. Some times we can rub each other the wrong way. All of this comes together under what is called "formation". Mirriam -Webster defines formation as an act of giving form or shape to something taking form. We, the seminarians, are that something taking form. So everything becomes part of the learning process.
Everything we choose to do, and there is a superabundance of things to do, shapes us into something different than what we once were. Last week my head was so full of early martyrs, Hebrew vocabulary, history, legends, myths, traditions, local and national issues facing the Episcopal Church and the wider church, that even my dreams were effected.
Saturday, September 25th, some of us ventured out to the Angel Island Immigration Station for what was called the Pilgrimage To Angel Island 2010: Wispers of the Past to the Cries of Justice Today. The program was intended to help citizens remember the religious communities that served, and advocated for, the detainees of Angel Island, and how that speaks to the world today.
The simple ceremony highlighted why it is important to remember what happed on Angel Island and the profound impact issues of immigration have on people. I was moved by an elderly man that was helped to the microphone and told his story to us. Dale Ching, a former detainee, began by saying, "Welcome to my first home in America". Here is his story.
After weeks on a crowded boat, the hopeful immigrants were greeted at the docks by armed guards. Men, women, and children were immediately separated into barracks. The doors locked from the outside and opened only for meals and in the afternoon for a period of recreation. They were locked in day and night. He was held for three and a half months, but many were held for three or more years. Dale was only 16.
Laborers were sought out to help with America's push West, the Gold Rush, building railroads, and at times the very workers that were brought here to help were blamed for taking away jobs, especially when the economy went sour. Though only 10% of those who came to the Island were sent home, they lived in fear.
In July of 1937 Dale was granted permission to enter the United States. Taken on a boat to one of the many San Francisco piers, he saw his father waiting on the dock. This was the first time that he had seen his father in seven years. He never wanted to return to Angel Island. This was part of his past, but not something he talked about.
Years later his children talked him into returning to the Island. They had so many questions. In 1991 he started to volunteer at the Detention Center as a docent. He wanted to tell new generations his story. Dale wanted the public to know what happened here so they could interpret for themselves the history of the immigrants. He hopes that by telling his story it might help ensure fair treatment for all people.
We also heard the story of Deaconess Katharine Maurer who minstered to the women and children here. In her smart suit and cape she brought hope and comfort to those locked inside the cramped barracks. There were many Chinese, Mexican, Korean immigrants waiting for permission to start a new life. In the 1930's and early 1940's Jews fled from Germany, Poland, Austria and other European countries as a result persecution. In the anti-immigration atmosphere of her day, Deaconess Katherine worked hard to mitigate the hard realities faced behind the barbed wire fences of the detention center. She preached a message of love, respect and tollerance. She once said, "We look pretty much the same to God. We are all his foolish children".
Many others spoke out against the current climate of fear and hate surrounding the immigration debate. Once American daughter who's father was recently deported said that "there is no nice way of discrimination". Another person noted that hate and discrimination is not over - it has been modernized.
I don't claim to have an answer. The issues surrounding immigration are complex. It is, though, upsetting to see politicians scapegoat immigrants to get votes. Fear and hate have been used for personal gain. These people carelessly ignite fires of discrimination. I pray for the dignity of all immigrants, of all people struggling to find a better life for themselves and their family.
I'm put in mind of a quote by Woodrow T. Wilson, who said, "America lives in the heart of every man everywhere who wishes to find a region where he will be free to work out his destiny as he chooses".
One of the recent Community Eucharists on Thursday night featured a prayer attributed to Reinhold Niebuhr that guides my thinking on this and many other issues of importance.
God, grant us the serentity
to accept the things we cannot change,
the courage to change the things we can,
and the wisdome to know the difference.
Living one day at a time,
enjoying one moment at a time,
accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,
taking as Jesus did,
this sinful world as it is, not as we would have it,
trusting that you will make all things right if we surrender to your will,
that we may be reasonable happy in this life,
and supremely happy with you forever in the next. AMEN.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
The lights are on
Heading home late this evening from studying I noticed more than half the lights were on in Parsons Hall (the CDSP dorm). Now, there's no way to verify that all those lights represent grad/doctoral students hard at work, but knowing the homework that needed to get done this weekend, it is entirely probable.
Most of my time has been spent digesting the writings of the early church, early christian history and learning the Hebrew vowels. It is strange to think that in just a couple of weeks our class has gone from learning the "alef bet" to reading Proverbs 1: 1-4. It is overwhelming and awesome.
This morning, on part of my trek to Episcopal Churches in the Berkeley and Bay area, a GTU friend and I went to St. Clements in Berkeley to hear a seminarian from CDSP preach. Kay did a great job with the Gospel text and made us proud. She had confidence and poise, but most importantly she had a passionate message to proclaim. Brava!
The church is over 100 years old and the stained glass windows tell more than the stories of the scriptures but of many, many people over the last 100 years that have loved, served and wanted to be remembered. Sometimes I fear our memory is too short, but at St. Clements they lovingly keep both the 1928 prayer book, east facing altar, reverence and modernity in thoughtful tension. If you're ever in the Berkeley area it is a wonderful oasis to consider even if your not a fan of Rite I or the 1928 prayer book service.
The rest of the day was spent reading and in a Hebrew language study group thanks to Elizabeth and Hannah. Once more over the flash cards and then to bed. The day begins early with Morning Prayer at 7:30 in the Chapel. Good night!
Most of my time has been spent digesting the writings of the early church, early christian history and learning the Hebrew vowels. It is strange to think that in just a couple of weeks our class has gone from learning the "alef bet" to reading Proverbs 1: 1-4. It is overwhelming and awesome.
This morning, on part of my trek to Episcopal Churches in the Berkeley and Bay area, a GTU friend and I went to St. Clements in Berkeley to hear a seminarian from CDSP preach. Kay did a great job with the Gospel text and made us proud. She had confidence and poise, but most importantly she had a passionate message to proclaim. Brava!
The church is over 100 years old and the stained glass windows tell more than the stories of the scriptures but of many, many people over the last 100 years that have loved, served and wanted to be remembered. Sometimes I fear our memory is too short, but at St. Clements they lovingly keep both the 1928 prayer book, east facing altar, reverence and modernity in thoughtful tension. If you're ever in the Berkeley area it is a wonderful oasis to consider even if your not a fan of Rite I or the 1928 prayer book service.
The rest of the day was spent reading and in a Hebrew language study group thanks to Elizabeth and Hannah. Once more over the flash cards and then to bed. The day begins early with Morning Prayer at 7:30 in the Chapel. Good night!
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