Memorial Day Tribute
Give rest, O Christ, to your servants with your saints, where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing, but life everlasting. --The Burial of the Dead, Book of Common Prayer
Today I want to remember a particular saint who died yesterday--the Rev. Fa. Paul Wessinger, SSJE. Paul was am Episcopal priest and a professed member of the Anglican order of monks, the Society of St John the Evangelist. He was my spiritual director for over 10 years. He was a spiritual marker and guide for me. He brought me back to my truest self again and again. The self that God had in mind for me to live into when God created me (see Psalm 139).
When someone that we love dies, it takes us time to figure out how to love them when we see them no longer. For Paul and me, we had some practice at this already. For the past few years, Paul has been deaf. He had to give up spiritual direction. When I made retreats at the monastery in Cambridge, we would see one another, but we had trouble communicating. Eventually, Paul moved to a nursing care facility close to the monastery--where he died in the night Friday morning. He was over 90 years old.
In his prime, Paul was Superior of the Order. He brought the Society to a place of deep inclusion--for ordained women, for ordained gay and lesbians, for those for whom the institutional church was less than welcoming. He continued to bring out the best in me--which, in the end, allowed me to be true to my deepest self. He loved the church yet he challenged the church to go further into Gospel living. He was and is a deep inspiration in my ministry for me again and again. On the day Paul died, he was that deep source of comfort and strength yet again.
As it turns out yesterday was also the day that I received some news that caused me--yet again--to wonder why I have been created the way that I am. I heard news--yet again---that being open about supporting social justice causes and living your life in a way that supports actively those causes continues to cause misunderstanding, exclusion and pain. As the Gospel for Sunday points out, following and then living out the Gospel is not such an easy road. In fact, it will lead to suffering again and again. But how can you be true to yourself and not live out the Gospel? As you live your life, there are times when you realize that the choices you have made for the Gospel exclude you from the very living you believe that God is calling you to do. How do you reconcile that?
That's when I bring Paul into my heart. I imagine him sitting across from me in our room of spiritual direction--a candle lit and an icon of Jesus close by. He is in his black cassock. As I recount the latest story of exclusion, he listens. His face radiates gentleness and love. After I finish there is a moment of silence. And then Paul smiles at me. There is a gleam in his eye. Paul replies: "It is so hard. But what else can you do. I believe this is God's work that you are doing. It is important work. It is the way of love." I leave spiritual direction feeling that I am not alone. That I am loved--just as I am and just as I live. There are so many days that I need Paul Wessinger in my life. He is still with me. He will be with me all along.
This Memorial Day weekend....Who is it that loves you as you are? Who is it that confirms your call in God?
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Moving Forward
Sing to the Lord a new song*for he has done marvelous things. Psalm 98:1
When we are trying to find meaning as we move forward from one day to the next, we often spend a good deal of energy in the past. We think of decisions that we wish we had made differently or with more forethought. I'm sure the disciples had a good deal of these kind of thoughts after Jesus' death and resurrection. There is a great song in Jesus Christ Superstar entitled "Could We Start Again Please?" That song could be a mantra for many of us.
For years, when asked about my college experience, I would start off by saying that I attended Davidson College. If the conversation continued, I would then add that my first choice of college had been Williams College. Then I would launch into a discussion about how I had applied to Williams early decision and had not been accepted. I then added that I hadn't taken the application seriously, that I had written it in longhand in cartridge pen. Yada..Yada..Yada.. On and on I would go about how I had made mistakes in my application. I would wonder what my life would have been like if I'd been a college student in the northeast.
Not long into the conversation, my good husband would interject that I would never have met him if I had gone to another college. For a while, I would try to argue that I would have met him eventually. After a while, I gave up that line of argument. My experience at Davidson was a wonderful experience in many ways. Why did I spend a good ten years of my life unable to recognize this fact? Why focus on the road not taken?
This morning, I started the sermon with a poem by Carl Dennis called "The God Who Loves You." The poem is in his collection called Practical Gods. I won't quote the whole poem here but here are some pertinent lines:
It must be troubling for the god who loves you
To ponder how much happier you'd be today
Had you been able to glimpse your many futures.
It must be painful for him to watch you on Friday evenings
Driving home from the office, content with your week---
Three fine houses sold to deserving families--
Knowing as he does exactly what would have happened
Had you gone to your second choice for college,
Knowing the roommate you'd have been allotted
Whose ardent opinions on painting and music
Would have kindled in you a lifelong passion
A life thirty points above the life you're living
On any scale of satisfaction.......
The difference between what is
And what could have been will remain alive for him
Even after you cease existing, after you catch a chill
Running out in the snow for the morning paper,
Losing eleven years that the god who loves you
Will feel compelled to imagine scene by scene
Unless you come to the rescue by imagining him
No wiser than you are, no god at all, only a friend
No closer than the actual friend you made at college,
The one you haven't written in months. Sit down tonight
And write him about the life you can talk about
With a claim to authority, the life you've witnessed,
Which for all you know is the life you've chosen.
Who is that friend that you actually know that it's time to write? That's a way to move forward into the future.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
The Love of God
Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love. 1 John 4:7-8
One of the greatest truths that I know of is that God is love. And the best way to find God's love is to love one another. This weekend was testament to the love of God at Memorial. On Saturday, we celebrated the life of Judith Mosley, who died a week ago Sunday. It has certainly been an amazing journey of Christian love that brought Judith home to Baltimore from New Mexico. In the short time that she has been back among us, her hospital room was full each day of Memorial visitors. While I was out of town last Sunday, Judith was visited by several folks--one brought communion, one prayed, some talked gently to her, and others sang by her bedside. By then, Judith was non-responsive, but I believe she knew that God's love surrounded her as she made her way home.
On Saturday, the celebration of her life was joyous--with more singing and much festive eating and visiting afterwards. All of Judith's communities came together to remember her and how she brought so many people together that she loved. At Memorial, my Wednesday morning Bible Study has regular attendees that Judith brought to the class. She loved her friends and even though she was frightened at times and had difficult moments, she knew we loved her.
After the funeral, I traveled up to Western Maryland to join some of Memorial's Young Adults on retreat. As we spoke about sabbath and a discipline of prayer, the gathered group realized that they spent their Sabbath together. These busy twenty-somethings spend almost every Sunday meeting up at the 10:30 service and then going to brunch together. Often, they spend the afternoon hanging out while two of the group wait to lead the Memorial youth group on Sunday night. Sometimes they all reconnect for dinner as well. When I asked them what was their Sabbath time--they all said to a person "our Sunday Brunch after church." They went on to add that the Sabbath really does begin with worship and informs the rest of their day. What a lucky group! They find God's love in being together one day a week. Sometimes they let me come along to brunch and it's true---they show what the love of community looks like.
All in all, it was an Eastertide kind of weekend--begun and ended in love. The love of friends in Christ for one another. Alleluia!
Question for the week: What does your Sabbath time look like? Does it involve the love of friends?
Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God; everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love. 1 John 4:7-8
One of the greatest truths that I know of is that God is love. And the best way to find God's love is to love one another. This weekend was testament to the love of God at Memorial. On Saturday, we celebrated the life of Judith Mosley, who died a week ago Sunday. It has certainly been an amazing journey of Christian love that brought Judith home to Baltimore from New Mexico. In the short time that she has been back among us, her hospital room was full each day of Memorial visitors. While I was out of town last Sunday, Judith was visited by several folks--one brought communion, one prayed, some talked gently to her, and others sang by her bedside. By then, Judith was non-responsive, but I believe she knew that God's love surrounded her as she made her way home.
On Saturday, the celebration of her life was joyous--with more singing and much festive eating and visiting afterwards. All of Judith's communities came together to remember her and how she brought so many people together that she loved. At Memorial, my Wednesday morning Bible Study has regular attendees that Judith brought to the class. She loved her friends and even though she was frightened at times and had difficult moments, she knew we loved her.
After the funeral, I traveled up to Western Maryland to join some of Memorial's Young Adults on retreat. As we spoke about sabbath and a discipline of prayer, the gathered group realized that they spent their Sabbath together. These busy twenty-somethings spend almost every Sunday meeting up at the 10:30 service and then going to brunch together. Often, they spend the afternoon hanging out while two of the group wait to lead the Memorial youth group on Sunday night. Sometimes they all reconnect for dinner as well. When I asked them what was their Sabbath time--they all said to a person "our Sunday Brunch after church." They went on to add that the Sabbath really does begin with worship and informs the rest of their day. What a lucky group! They find God's love in being together one day a week. Sometimes they let me come along to brunch and it's true---they show what the love of community looks like.
All in all, it was an Eastertide kind of weekend--begun and ended in love. The love of friends in Christ for one another. Alleluia!
Question for the week: What does your Sabbath time look like? Does it involve the love of friends?
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
The Spirit of God
The Spirit of Nakanawa is with you always. From far away cities to distant shores. But nobody else can find it for you. You have to find it for yourself.
The above text is from a song from my summer camp. For eight summers, I attended Camp Nakanawa, a camp for girls on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee. This past weekend, I attended a reunion weekend at camp. As part of the reunion, of course, we sang camp songs. I find it amazing that these songs are blazoned on my heart--I remember ALL the words. As part of the weekend, we ate in the dining hall with all the southern delicacies (grits, biscuits, bacon, sausage). We helped the directors get ready for camp in a few weeks. I weeded gardens and woodburned pine medallions for awards. We hiked on the trail around the lake. In between the rain, I canoed on the lake. There were women in attendance from their early twenties to the late eighties. It was a blast.
As part of the weekend, I was asked to helped plan the church service (so I was still working after a fashion on Sunday morning!). We sang from the old Methodist hymnals that remain all year long in the Wigwam (the gathering hall). Those hymnals still had that familiar musty camp smell. We read Psalm 139--the psalm that is read at Rite 13 service to mark teenagers entering into adulthood. We prayed for all our daughters, the young women who would be coming to camp in a few weeks--biological or not. (We also prayed for the men-husbands and sons as well!) The most moving part of the service was the reflection period. Five former campers from the very eldest to one of the youngest spoke about what camp had meant to them and what they carried from camp into their later lives.
What I realized from the reflections (including my own) is that more than any other community, I learned at this camp what God's love looks and feels like in community. Coming from a family that was not good at expressing emotions or giving loving touches, camp was a whole new ballgame for me from the age of 12. This weekend, I remembered that I had to learn what it was to sit close to another person, to link arms, to hug, laugh and cry together. This weekend, I was amazed at how quickly we all fell back into our camp pattern. I noticed that unlike our usual worlds at home, we sat so closely together at meetings that our shoulders touched. We linked arms to sing songs. We held hands to pray. By Sunday, I realized that much of what I do in my vocation as an Episcopal priest flows directly from the community life of my summer camp. My call is to help to make the love of God present in a community day in and day out. I use what I was given and learned at camp to give back that Spirit of God's love to those I meet in my life as a priest. I came to camp a sad and lonely young girl whose mother had died. A young girl that did not know how to express her loss--or even what that loss really was all about. I left a young women who was given the healing and life-giving love of God who could then give and show that love to others. The Spirit of Nakanawa is the Spirit of God for me.
Where do you find the Spirit of God in community? Is it beyond your church community?
The Spirit of Nakanawa is with you always. From far away cities to distant shores. But nobody else can find it for you. You have to find it for yourself.
The above text is from a song from my summer camp. For eight summers, I attended Camp Nakanawa, a camp for girls on the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee. This past weekend, I attended a reunion weekend at camp. As part of the reunion, of course, we sang camp songs. I find it amazing that these songs are blazoned on my heart--I remember ALL the words. As part of the weekend, we ate in the dining hall with all the southern delicacies (grits, biscuits, bacon, sausage). We helped the directors get ready for camp in a few weeks. I weeded gardens and woodburned pine medallions for awards. We hiked on the trail around the lake. In between the rain, I canoed on the lake. There were women in attendance from their early twenties to the late eighties. It was a blast.
As part of the weekend, I was asked to helped plan the church service (so I was still working after a fashion on Sunday morning!). We sang from the old Methodist hymnals that remain all year long in the Wigwam (the gathering hall). Those hymnals still had that familiar musty camp smell. We read Psalm 139--the psalm that is read at Rite 13 service to mark teenagers entering into adulthood. We prayed for all our daughters, the young women who would be coming to camp in a few weeks--biological or not. (We also prayed for the men-husbands and sons as well!) The most moving part of the service was the reflection period. Five former campers from the very eldest to one of the youngest spoke about what camp had meant to them and what they carried from camp into their later lives.
What I realized from the reflections (including my own) is that more than any other community, I learned at this camp what God's love looks and feels like in community. Coming from a family that was not good at expressing emotions or giving loving touches, camp was a whole new ballgame for me from the age of 12. This weekend, I remembered that I had to learn what it was to sit close to another person, to link arms, to hug, laugh and cry together. This weekend, I was amazed at how quickly we all fell back into our camp pattern. I noticed that unlike our usual worlds at home, we sat so closely together at meetings that our shoulders touched. We linked arms to sing songs. We held hands to pray. By Sunday, I realized that much of what I do in my vocation as an Episcopal priest flows directly from the community life of my summer camp. My call is to help to make the love of God present in a community day in and day out. I use what I was given and learned at camp to give back that Spirit of God's love to those I meet in my life as a priest. I came to camp a sad and lonely young girl whose mother had died. A young girl that did not know how to express her loss--or even what that loss really was all about. I left a young women who was given the healing and life-giving love of God who could then give and show that love to others. The Spirit of Nakanawa is the Spirit of God for me.
Where do you find the Spirit of God in community? Is it beyond your church community?
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