The Adventurous Parson: O pray for us, the bourgeosie ...

Saturday, December 22, 2007

O pray for us, the bourgeosie ...

Now is the time to read "For the Time Being," W. H. Auden's "Christmas Oratorio."
I quote it in my sermon for Advent 4, since this year we read the account in Matthew of the angel coming to Joseph in a dream, announcing that his wife is bearing a child by none other than the Holy Spirit, and that, "... masculinity is, to nature, a non-essential luxury."
Read it all. Now. Find a copy in the library, or come to me. We have a few!
Here is an introductory article.
more later ...

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Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died!

The reactions I get when I tell people of the decision to close St. Paul's Church begin with shock, move into sadness, and then go different places.

Some people shake there heads in recognition that the this has been hard work we have been doing. Others feel the sadness come back from years ago, when other crises brought the congregation to a similar time of decision. Some feel relieved, others deeply disappointed, still others hopeful, that without the burden of maintenance and upkeep that comes with the blessing of a big, beautiful build, the Episcopal Church can thrive in new ways in this city.

The curious wisdom that is the lectionary of scripture readings for the church year has led us this fall to many weeks of Jeremiah, the theologian of the exile. In the 6th century before Christ, the holy city of Jerusalem was invaded, the temple destroyed, and the chosen people of God carried off into exile in Babylon. Jeremiah's task was to help them come to grips with what this devastating experience meant to the people who had defined themselves in relationship to a God who had promised always to be with them. Where was God now? Now that they were left in a colossal lurch?

So this fall, as the people of St. Paul's Church contemplate for us to go into our own kind of exile, Jeremiah has been our companion along the way. He is not always an easy companion to walk beside, but he offers guideposts. He can help us interpret what it means to be forced to leave home, to imagine what it might mean to sing God's song in the strange land of a new church or community.

Try as we might, our plans, our hopes and dreams for a revitalized St. Paul's Church, in a revitalized neighborhood, could not be realized.

We operate, however, as Christians, who know that resurrection comes only after death. Mary and Martha knew death was final, as they mourned the death of their brother, Lazarus. Dear friends of Jesus, they were angry and so disappointed that their beloved friend could not get there in time to heal Lazarus before he took his final breath. When they saw Jesus walking into their village -- too late!! -- they did not know what we know. They did not know the end of the story.

We do not yet know the end of the story of St. Paul's Church. We are grateful if you walk along with us over these next few months, pray with us and listen to us as we tell our stories.

Most important, stay tuned! God is still speaking ...

... in Brockton's Green and Pleasant Land

JERUSALEM (from 'Milton')

by: William Blake (1757-1827)

AND did those feet in ancient time

Walk upon England's mountains green?

And was the holy Lamb of God

On England's pleasant pastures seen?

And did the Countenance Divine

Shine forth upon our clouded hills?

And was Jerusalem builded here

Among these dark Satanic Mills?

Bring me my bow of burning gold!

Bring me my arrows of desire!

Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!

Bring me my chariot of fire!

I will not cease from mental fight,

Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand,

Till we have built Jerusalem

In England's green and pleasant land.

Are we all the woman with her waterjar?

O Jesus,
Image of the invisible God,
Word made flesh,
tired stranger,
waiting in the noonday lull
at Jacob’s well.

Are we all
the woman with her waterjar,
bent on the chore of the moment,
angry memories in our bones,
our thirst for God
hidden in the business of the day?

Do you meet us gently too,
hardly recognized,
quietly leading our thoughts
towards the deeper waters,
where our souls find rest?

Probing too,
uncovering secrets
we would rather forget.
“Lord, you have probed me,
You know when I sit and when I stand,
You know my thoughts from afar.”

Is the woman,
sure and strong,
our reflection:
sure but unsure,
strong but so weak,
seeking but afraid to find
our Savior so close by?

by Victor Hoagland

What I'm reading now

What is it about Anglicans and murder? I was given a spicy mystery novel recently: "Criminal Intent" by William Bernhardt. THe RECTOR of a church in Oklahoma CIty is accused of murdering his warden -- a woman. Sex scandals and politics, along with vengence-determined right-to-lifers, abound.
"Black Narcissus" by Rumer Godden: I got this book in a discard pile. It's about an order of Anglican nuns, with slight allusions to the Society of St. Margaret, who have taken up residence as missionaries in the Himalayas, I think on the Indian side. It is a meditation on the shortcomings of first-world missionary endeavors amid cultures who have vibrant cultures of their own. A dusty book but terrifically written and up to date in its observations of the collision of worldviews between "we who know it all" and people who know very well who they are.
"The Forties" by Edmund Wilson: a couple of years ago we made a pilgrimage to Wilson's family house in upstate New York -- the place he lived "Upstate," as his journals of that period are called. We were very impressed that he learned that the Iroquois had been had by the State of New York in its massive landgrab, which began after the Revolution and extended even into the 20th century. Here, these journal from the 1940s, Wilson expresses ambivalence, at best, at the results of the air war over Europe. "It may be that one thing which is responsible for the war is simply the desire to use aviation destructively. It must be a temptation to humanity to blow up whole cities from the air without getting hit or burnt oneself, and while soaring serenely above them. ... It is the thrill of the liberation of some impulse to wreck and to kill on a gigantic scale without caring and while remaining invulnerable oneself. Boy with a slingshot shooting birds -- can't help trying it out."
The First Christmas, by Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan: very rich Advent and Christmas reading
Check out "The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. It takes me back to living in New York, helps me think again about what went on in the Dominican Republic in the '50s and '60s. Wonderful, tough story.
Albion's Seed: I, too, am on a quest -- for the Calvinist roots of New England. For further comments, check out The Factory Girls ...
The Percy Jackson series: Simon has gotten me hooked on a series of books he is madly reading -- books about the children of the Greek gods, children who live in the U.S. and have all sorts of adventures based on the characters and themes of the Greek myths. All these adventures are set here, for Mt. Olympus is located at the center of power in the Western World (above the Empire State Building -- a location with which I thoroughly concur!) and Hades (where the hero is in the first book chasing something on a quest) is located in Los Angeles. I like LA, too, so I'm not entirely in favor of that as location of ultimate darkness, but I get the point. So check out the novels of RICK RIORDAN.
A Passage to India by E.M. Forster: spectacular! I am chagrined I have not read this poignant novel of all kinds of people caught in the maw of colonialism and desire.
Morgan: the biography, written about 10 years ago, of J. Pierpont Morgan. Yes, even I who never finished that course in microeconomics, is slogging through -- and understanding a little!! -- tales of robber baron deal-making and financial restructuring. Helpful, really, in our current climate. Plus, every other chapter details Morgan's romantic exploints, and how much he spent, oh so discretely, on these women. The author also takes seriously the influence of religious faith, and the Episcopal Church, on Morgan, his life, his actions -- his infidelity? Hmmm ... the record is silent.
Sermons in Stone ... is a lovely little book that tells the story of New York and New England in terms of its landscapes and stone walls.
Rabble-Rouser for Peace: the authorized biography of Desmond Tutu, by John Allen -- this is a wonderful read about the beloved Desmond. It's a social history of Africa in the late 20th century, of the end of colonialism and the power of the Christian faith in a place where it was not supposed to incite a revolution.
Doing Theology in Altab Ali Park -- by Ken Leech. I'm reading it carefully and taking notes. It really is an excellent reflection on the work we can do here in Brockton.

The Negro Speaks of Rivers by Langston Hughes

I've known rivers:
I've known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow
of human blood in human veins.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.
I bathed in the Euphrates when dawns were young.
I built my hut near the Congo and it lulled me to sleep.

I looked upon the Nile and raised the pyramids above it.
I heard the singing of the Mississippi when Abe Lincoln went
down to New Orleans, and I've seen its muddy bosom turn
all golden in the sunset.

I've known rivers:
Ancient, dusky rivers.

My soul has grown deep like the rivers.

The Adventurous Parson

Saturday, December 22, 2007

O pray for us, the bourgeosie ...

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