Wisdom and the Pe Sla

As I write, I am sitting in my cabin on the campus of Borderlands Ranch and Spiritual Education Center. Borderlands is 253 acres of rolling prairie hills in the very center of the Black Hills in South Dakota. It is the highest elevation of the Hills at nearly 5200 feet. It is now completely ranchland or land owned by the National Forestry Service. It is covered with prairie grass and dotted with various trees…usually alongside the numerous streams that flow through the hills and down to the rivers at lower altitude.

This prairie area can be seen from satellite photos as a bare area in the central part of the Black Hills. The Lakota call this area the “Pe Sla.” It means “Peace in the Bare Spot.” As with all the Black Hills, this is an historically (and current) sacred area. The Pe Sla may be the most sacred, because, for centuries it has been a place where Lakota, Cheyenne, Arapaho and other high plains First Nations groups came to worship, pray and “cry for a vision.” The latter is one of the Pe Sla’s central purposes. “Hanblecheya” means to “Cry for a Vision” or simply to make a “Vision Quest.” The Borderlands property has two places where Vision Quest has been made…archeologists say for at least 500 years. They are still used by Lakota leaders.

The Rev. Linda Kramer is the owner of Borderlands. She is a “Hunka” of the Lakota…one who is not Lakota but adopted into the Oyate (family). Her Lakota father is Fr. Robert Brokenleg (now deceased) who was an Episcopal Priest and council leader of the Sicangu Lakota Council Fire (tribe)…one of seven Council Fires that make up the Lakota Nation. (btw, Euro-Americans may know the Lakota by the name given by the French in the early 1700s….”Sioux”.) Non-First Nations persons can be adopted into a Nation and be part of life and culture. Mother Linda (an Episcopal Priest) spent several years working in parishes on both the Pine Ridge and Rosebud Reservations of the Lakota.

I am not adopted into the Lakota Oyate (Oh-yah-teh). However, since 2007, I have been welcomed and accepted as both a friend and trusted sojourner among these gracious, generous and good humored people. I currently have four Lakota mentors. One is an archeologist and former professor of field archeology. One is an Episcopal Priest and psychotherapist living and working as co-director at the mental health facility in Kyle, a town on the Pine Ridge Reservation. One is an Episcopal Priest and Rector of the Lakota Parish (St. Matthew’s) in Rapid City. One is an Episcopal Priest & retired professor of developmental psychology and education and, until his retirement two years ago, was the Dean of Indigenous Studies and Vancouver School of Theology at the University of British Columbia, Vancouver, BC. He still lives there.

How did I get here? It’s a long story. The key points: I was introduced to Mother Linda Kramer by reference. I shared my vision with her for a project, and she graciously invited me to make a retreat at Borderlands in August 2007. She spent five days of her schedule taking me to meet three of the four persons noted above, who would become mentors. The fourth (Fr. Martin Brokenleg in Vancouver, BC) I met via email and phone conversation that week. The archeologist, Ben Rhodd, became my chief mentor and spiritual advisor. He is an acknowledged leader within the Lakota community. In hearing my personal story…along with my project vision…he strongly suggested I make an Hanblecheya (Vision Quest) before any decision could be made. This suggests the depth of his own spirituality.

I made the Vision Quest in early October 2007…a three-day intense time of prayer, fasting and spending a day and a night “crying for a vision” on one of the spots where this has been done for centuries…at the far east end of Borderlands. In the end, the elders gathered in the sweat lodge (at the end of my time of fasting and being “on the hill”) spoke to the visions I had and the visions seen in their own prayers and welcomed me to engage in this journey. After further preparation, I spent most of three months in the summer of 2008 (sabbatical) either in the Black Hills or Vancouver, BC.

I was invited to experience the Sun Dance and have returned each year…until this year. I am at Borderlands for 6 days to accomplish a pre-retirement retreat (suggested by my advisor from Church Pension Group) and to spend time with two of my mentors. This time will form the vision for the next phase of what this journey becomes. It is a full three weeks before Sun Dance…and that week is my last week prior to retirement. These last 21 days before retirement will be critical.

Sitting here today, an Episcopal Priest, husband, father, friend and seeker of knowledge, 60 years and 6 months old, I have been slowed by a rather awesome wind storm. The sky is bright, deep blue with no clouds. The wind howls at gusts of at least 50 miles an hour. This has been going on for several hours. Down below, in Hill City (still in the Black Hills but about 2000 feet below us and 16 miles away), the wind may be only light with occasional gusts. This is part of life in the Pe Sla. The horses across the road are gathered in a bunch on the leeward side of a barn. They don’t like the wind either. It has been like an aviary here since my arrival Monday evening. I have counted 17 different species of birds that are very active. They are quiet and hidden this day.

The very deep, centuries-old spirituality of this place draws me into a contemplative space, and that is what I have mostly done over the past four days. I have taken breaks to walk the hills, drive to two other Pe Sla locations of Vision Quest and travel to Hill City to do email/phone business. There is no cell or internet connection here. Mother Linda has a phone and satellite dish internet connection (with television) in the “big house” (her house). I like the challenge of silence and its requirement that I listen, observe and experience myself and life on a very basic level. I cook my own meals in this cabin. It is a “complete” home in the sense I have all I need to have a daily life routine….kitchen, bathroom, living/sleeping room and a porch with a rocking chair.

Today, I experience and reflect on the wind. I cannot see it. It is invisible. However, I can certainly observe the emerging prairie grasses bending and shifting; the trees bending and branches moving wildly; dust from the gravel road; the manes and tails of the horses blowing briskly. I feel the wind in my face and hear it whistling through the eves of the cabin roof.
Wisdom is the same. It is not seen and cannot be contained or created. It moves, and we experience its impact in our lives. Knowledge comes by learning the elements of our craft, reading a book, hearing a lecture watching someone accomplish a task. Wisdom comes from engaging what we know and by experiencing both successes and failures; by conversation and experiences of others and taking those into our own experiences…thus expanding our horizons. Wisdom comes with time…age and embracing all aspects of life’s joys, sorrows and encounters. How we manage those moments, what we learn, how we incorporate past, present and future into our journey…all of these make for wisdom.

In Lakota culture, there is no word for “authority” or “war.” In strict, pre-reservation Lakota culture, there was a Council of Elders…older men who had experienced all life could offer and were of an age to give advice. They would meet to discuss and pray about issues and problems. At the end, they would share their combined opinions and advice on action. However, it was never as authority but as counsel. Because of their combined experiences (hundreds of years combined ages), the advice was usually taken.

Because of our revisionist history, we think of Native Americans as warlike people. War is not in any of the plains nations languages. One goes into battle to settle issues or fight over territory (land ownership was not known among Native Americans before reservations were forced upon them). A battle wasn’t won or lost. It was ended when the redress was made. “Warpath” is something Euro-Americans made up for our books and movies. No Indian ever went on a warpath. There were occasional renegades…just as there were/are among Euro-Americans (whites). They were dealt with handily by their Oyate.

I am here, because I am on the doorstep of being an elder by most standards. In general American culture, being an elder most often means being pushed aside for “younger folks.” Interesting to think, when one defines wisdom, just why our culture is in the mess it finds itself. We fracture wisdom rather than drawing upon it for the current moment and future of our culture. I am here, because I look for the next road of my journey and how the Holy One will use what I have learned, experienced and observed over these 60.5 years of life. Like the wind, I don’t see it, but I feel it. Such is the onset of Wisdom and encounter with the Spirit.

Blessings,

Fr. Fred+

Is This the End....or Just a New Beginning?

Holy Apocalypse! It has made the CBS, NBC and CNN news networks. It is all over the internet and radio. I have now heard or seen eight separate stories on the impending Judgement Day. Sure enough! This morning at 7:00am I was driving my wife to the airport for a trip to see one of our daughters for a few days. On I-435, just before the Missouri River bridge, there was a billboard emblazend with the words, "Judgment Day....May 21, 2011....Are You Ready?"

The billboard work is part of a "ministry" of Harold Camping, who owns and directs Family Radio (headquartered in Oakland, CA). It is an international broadcasting system. Camping -- a retired engineer -- claims to have done the math, after fifty years of study, and determined that the Rapture (a term used by evangelical Christians to denote the moment when the chosen will be taken into heaven) will take place on the above date. Further, his calculations indicate that there will be five months of torment following this event until the end of the world as we know it on October 21, 2011.

Speaking of the end times, there is also a claim that an important transition for humankind will happen on 11-11-11 (November 11, 2011). Then, there is the Mayan calendar research and event that is locked in for 12-21-12 (December 21, 2012). This creates an abundance of confusion.

Already, thousands of people (not exaggerating according to a CNN report) in the United States alone have sold their property, liquidated retirement and life savings, and taken themselves to places either to assist in getting the word out or to prepare themselves for this Saturday's apocalyptic event --scheduled for 5:58pm. This is a potentially dangerous and disasterous situation. Where is the Church and its leadership in all this?

Let's clear up some terms first:

1. Apocalypse - Literally means to "unveil" or "reveal." In both Old and New Testaments, apocalyptic literature was written to unveil the mysteries surrounding the actions of God in creation. The Book of Daniel (OT) and the Book of Revelation (NT) are two such writings.



2. Rapture - Literally means "moment of pure joy" or "jubilation." This is neither a biblical nor a theological term. It does not even appear until the late 19th century among strongly evangelical groups presenting a uniquely literalistic approach to biblical writings. Adherents to the Rapture say that a select group of chosen people will be taken into heaven before the end of the world.



3. Eschatology - Literally means "last discourse." It is a biblical term and connotes the part of systematic theology dealing with the final destiny of both the individual soul and of mankind in general. Albert Schweitzer and Karl Barth were primary architects in the modern theological investigation into eschatological events. In orthodox (eastern and western Christian systematic theology) terms, the Church has taught about the "four last things: death, judgment, heaven and hell." Modern biblical theology has continued to fine tune what this means in light of further language and cultural discoveries from the time of original biblical texts.



4. Judgment Day - Literally the day where humans will be "sifted" into the "saved" and the "damned." There is no biblical material to support this and, again, the term only appears in the latter 19th century.

Jesus makes a strong reference to a place, which in Aramaic (the Hebrew of the New Testament) is call "Gehenna." Dante later translated that into "Hell" in his book Inferno. Truth is, Gehenna was a valley about three miles outside Jerusalem...kind of cut in the rocky earth that went on about two miles. It was where refuse was taken after being removed from the city. One end of Gehenna was marked off as a leper colony. It was a place forbidden by those who were "clean." The garbage end of Gehenna was (it seems) always smoldering. Thus is had an acrid and putrid stench. It was a place of disease.

In describing sin as separation from God's abiding love, Jesus used Gehenna as a picture symbol for what that might seem like. His manner of teaching almost always used pictographic elements and metaphors to aid the hearer in remembering the parable or teaching.

Does hell exist? Separation from God's Love can happen...but only at our instigation and choice. We consign ourselves to that state of loneliness and isolation. The torment of the Evil One (Satan) is two-pronged: our tireless, egocentric willfullness at work with the fractured element of creation that rebels against God's love. It can be and is easily enough defeated with a proper sense of who we are in relationship to God -- and the humility to be reconciled.

Now, is the end of life as we know it upon us? My absolute true answer is: I have no idea whether it is or not. Truthfully, I do not bother myself or my folks with such speculation. Why? Jesus is pretty clear: It's not our business to know the time or season of the eschatological events. I think it will happen, and I have sound theological and deep internal senses to support my thinking and believing.

What God expects (and I am utterly convinced of this), is that we should live faithful, loving, honest and productive lives -- using our gifts and talents in such ways that foster both community and goodwill. To the extent that we do that, we are honoring who we are as people created in the image of God.

Pray: Daily time of true prayer (not a mouthful of words spewed forth as we hasten into our self-important busy-ness) that invites a strong time of listening for the soft words of God's love and purpose in our lives and the world around us is vital. It reduces anxiety and gives us appropriate perspective. I do find myself spending more time in quiet, contemplative prayer daily of late...as if I am being drawn into a deeper relationship.

This leads me to say that I believe a shift and changes are underway. We, as humanity, are moving into a new place of community, oneness and enlightenment. I see strong signs of this in a number of venues. It is comforting. BUT, it is not anything like Judgment Day or Rapture.

While I practice a Benedictine style Rule of prayer, study and work; I am Franciscan in my attitude about the eschatological events. St. Francis was weeding a vegetable garden, when one of the monks asked what he would do, if he knew that Christ Jesus' coming was imminent. Without missing a stroke, Francis responded, "I would hope to be able to finish this row of weeds."

God loves creation with all capacity. God brought us forth and will take us back into that place of enlarged being. It will be on God's terms and in God's time. Maybe this Saturday and maybe a thousand years from now. If I am alive, I want to be found faithfully doing what most pleases God...which is what I have been equipped to do.

Blessings in the Risen Christ,

Fr. Fred+

Pray?!

Since my last blog posting, I have had a few questions about praying for situations and people...especially for people who have lived "notoriously evil lives" (to quote one questioner). These are excellent questions, because we throw that word "pray" around a lot -- so much in fact that it may have lost its real meaning and impact.

My guess is that, when an image of prayer is conjured, any number of folks will visualize Albrecht Drurer's "Praying Hands" as a universal symbol. Others might produce the image of a person kneeling with hands clasped before them. Still others might see the image of Jesus kneeling at a rock in Gethsemane with hands clasped and resting on the rock in front of him. There is nothing wrong with any of these images. They are part of our western cultural history...but all of them are post-Reformation works of art conceived with a certain cultural and theological perspective.

My liturgics and sacramental theology professor and graduate studies mentor, Fr. Louis Weil, strongly suggested that our disposition and conditioning often limit the capacity to engage in the full power of what it means to pray. The result of that is that, in turn, we fail to be fully empowered for both enlightenment and action. Enlightenment, here, means the encounter with the Holy in such ways that show us more of our true nature and capacities. All prayer leads to some kind of action. We are moved/motivated to engage the environment around us or, many times, within us in ways that create positive shift and change.

This last week was difficult for many people. The death of a terrorist and criminal released all kinds of emotions around the globe. After the initial impact, people began asking questions about whether bin Laden was even dead; the efficacy of the decision to send the SEAL team in; political fallout with Pakistan; new reactions from al-Qaeda; factional rhetoric in our own Congress. And this is just that event. We are still dealing with financial recovery issues; soaring fuel prices; unemployment; and a host of domestic concerns that can create stress and deep concern.

Then, we begin to get close to home. For me -- with only 51 days until retirement -- I face the uncertainty of what that will mean to me vocationally and within the context of having been 33 years in a particular aspect of ordained life. The financial shift in our household and the preparations in completing the pre-retirement process. Yesterday (Monday), I began "collapsing" my office. I did so by throwing away materials in my desk, filing cabinets and closet that no longer serve a purpose and/or won't be useful at home. I sat and looked at several things that have journeyed with me since seminary. I then began the daunting task of thinning out my professional library -- reducing the nearly 800 volumes of books that have defined my vocation for more than three decades. Books are dear friends to me, and saying goodbye is a rough experience.

Yet, in all this shift and change, I kept hearing my own voice advising me as I advise others: Pray! In the foxholes of life, prayer can take on the images I cited early on in this posting. Those images indicate supplication: me beseeching God to make something better; change a situation; or provide something I believe I need (strength, guidance, etc.). So, if that isn't it, what do I do, when I hear the counsel to pray?

First, I closed my office door -- a sign for those around my office that I "need a minute." I am not disturbed when the door gets shut all the way. Next, I sat upright in a chair...straight but comfortable and placed my hands out on my lap and turned my palms up. This is called the modified "orans" position. It is the most ancient form of prayer. It is also the kind that Jesus would have used in his culture. It is the classic pre-medieval/reform style in Christianity. It signifies a conversation and an openness to receive as well as to offer. I'm here for a conversation....which is the definition of prayer....conversation with the Holy One.

Since I was up to my nose in concerns of my own and in response to events that shape our world (and, subsequently, my life as a priest and citizen), I simply sat in silence for quite some time. Silence is also an essential characteristic of prayer. What?! Say nothing?!! One might think that a waste.

NO, to pray well is to empty one's head of all the noise, bright ideas, critiques and busy-ness that occupy it. Shut down the machinery and find placidness. Once that has been achieved as much as possible (and it takes a lot of practice), simply lay out what the problems seem to be. I took whatever time it was to simply say, "this is where I find myself right now...scared, worried, overwhelmed, unsure...(name what those things are that go with those feelings)." I then simply stated, "I need order and direction." Then, I SHUT UP.

In the ensuing quiet, I let myself drift using a mantra to distract the thinking elements of mind. A mantra is simply a word or phrase that keeps me focused on why I am here in this time. I use several, depending upon what is going on. Yesterday, it was simply, "Jeshua" (the Hebrew name for Jesus). This I said quietly and rhythmically with my breathing...slowing things down as much as possible. I didn't focus on the mantra, and it gradually became a background repitition. Images, and moments of insight began flashing. I simply let that happen. Take no notes. Just be still and stay with the silence. At some point, your heart knows when it is time to be done. I utter a prayer of thanks for whatever gift of God's Love I have received and the ability to do what has been purposed in this time.

THERE, I have actually had a conversation. The truth is, I felt compelled to shut my office down for the afternoon, go home, take a short nap and make dinner for my wife...who was arriving home late from her work. As this day (Tuesday) unfolded, I began having some insights into what I need to do with my books. My hands seem more purposeful in choosing what stays and what goes. I have been rather creative in working with the staff and doing some long-range planningn with them for the time after I retire. I feel calm, happy and peaceful within. Stuff around me hasn't changed much, but I seem to have changed in relationship to them.

Prayer is conversation. When I suggest that we pray for something or someone, I am not suggesting that we squeeze out some kind of dissertation to God about what to do or what we need. After all God already knows what is needed. Take Osama bin Laden. None of us know what torment and torture he was dealing with in his psyche that produced what we witnessed over the years. Yet, in simply giving him over to God for what God knows needs to happen to bring balance to the world and to deal with a broken human being, we have shown compassion -- solidarity with God. I note that, as soon as I did that last week, I suddenly realized that bin Laden isn't our problem any longer. Let go of him -- the anger -- the fear -- all of it. God has all that and knows exactly what comes next in the context of creator-creature relationship. That's not my paygrade. Move on to what lies ahead.

Blessings in the Risen Christ,

Fr. Fred+

Altered Space and Osama bin Laden's Death

I was just completing a unique weekend experience when, at a hotel near Chicago, I learned that Osama bin Laden had been killed. The details were sketchy and I was in what might best be termed an "altered space." It was a very unusual moment.

I had just completed a special conference over the weekend. It brought together women and men from all over the United States. We were Christians, Buddhists, Hindus, Muslims and Jews -- and maybe others. The nearly 230 of us had gathered at invitation to experience a second level of teaching, prayer and meditation using various points of departure into experiencing contemplative states within our own expression of faith. I had done the first of these weekends in late February and found it to be transformational. This particular weekend (29 April - 1 May) found me in a new depth of experiencing God's Presence, the power of Christ's healing and the transformational indwelling of the Holy Spirit. This is what we are all about. And it does produce an altered space, when one emerges into the regular human stream of life. It was in this space that I watched and listened and read the emerging news of the raid on a compound in Abbottabad, Pakistan by two dozen SEAL special operations personnel, and their final confrontation with Osama bin Laden.

It was interesting that the only word that would come forth from me at the moment of this revelation was, "Damn!" This says a lot, probably, about me and where I was in that moment. First, the expletive itself revealed the state I believed bin Laden found himself at the point of his death: damned. The expletive expressed my profound respect for the US Navy SEALS...being a veteran of the Navy and very familiar with special operations during my time in service (1972-75 active on station). The expletive also expressed the delicacy of my moral and ethical concerns for death and the disposition of that which is conceived as evil. This latter is where, perhaps, any number of us might find ourselves.

For me, the response of a Christian Priest and practitioner of contemplative/mystical spirituality is to go deep inside, find that place of true silence and peace and explore what emerges from my external experience. Since I was still very near that altered space after a weekend of right brain, contemplative practice, this was was not a difficult journey inward.

What I heard and learned: Yes, this death needed to happen. The explosion of a person into acts that can only be described as evil in their intent and destructive in their result can often only be healed in the death of that person. When a psyche confuses his/her own twisted and chaotic self with the voice of God, it is the definition of sin -- at the least -- and destructive evil -- at the worst. It is why I have always been very concerned when anyone speaks of "me and my God..."

Yes, God does love Osama bin Laden -- for who he is as one created in the image of God -- NOT for what he had become in the twisted expression of self and the actions that led to thousands of deaths and the creation of an organization that only understands religious practice through the thoughts and feelings of anger, hate and the striving for personal supremacy. I also am very aware that each of us must say, "there, but by the Grace of God, go I..."

Justice has been served in truth. It will give pause to those who follow in this life of terrorizing world societies and otherwise peaceful people. It will not stop them. As scripture reminds us, we must "be sober and vigilant; for our Adversary skulks about seeking those to devour..." I do not spend any time looking over my shoulder or around the corner. I am inwardly resolved to walk placidly amid the noise and haste with my heart in Christ and my mind on what I must do in this moment of a life that is precious...for it is a gift.

We, who are People of the Risen Christ, do pray for the soul of Osama bin Laden....praying that he will, in death, be healed of the severe brokenness that plagued his life. We pray for the thousands of lives lost around the world at the hands and instigation of such a man. We pray for the healing of those left with the loss of dear loved ones and dear friends. We pray for the men and women serving in harm's way and for their families. We pray that those who continue to follow a false god of terror and selfish procurement will have their hearts turned to the God of Grace and Peace, who is our Creator.

Mostly, after my own recent experiences, I pray that we, the global community, can be tolerant of each other's faith journey and its particular expression: Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist and others. All seek to know the true God and to have hearts that know sincere peace and acceptance. May this moment be a place where Oneness can really begin anew. Let not the death of so many innocents be for naught.

In Christ's Love,

Fr. Fred+

Mindfulness and the Holy Three Days

During Lent, I have been been exploring and deepening my engagement in what is known as "mindfulness meditation." I actually started this practice in the mid-1980s when I read Gerald May's book, Will and Spirit: A Contemplative Psychology. Dr. May is a psychiatrist and theologian -- a combination one does not often hear about. Not only did he attempt to explain the dynamics of contemplative practice; he taught the reader how to disengage from momentary preoccupations and experience the deeper reality of what we call "spirit" (aka, soul, true self, ontological ground). I reread this book so many times that it began falling apart, and I had to buy another copy. It is still in print with updates.

While also studying the works of Thomas Keating, Basil Pennington and John Main (all excellent teachers and practitioners of contemplative prayer), I began branching out a bit and reading the works of John Kabat-Zinn (Full Catastrophe Living. Wherever You Go, There You Are & Mindfulness for Beginners are excellent) and Thich Nhat Hanh (You Are Here: Discovering the Magic of the Present Moment). There are a number of other notable teachers and writers in both the Christian and Buddhist traditions that help foster a state of mindfulness in daily life.

Learning this technique was not always necessary. It is very much in our genetic makeup and was part of our normal routine in ages past. If we read Scripture from the standpoint of the experience of the Patriarchs, Matriarchs, Prophets and Apostles, we can easily see that they were living very much in the moment of their lives. Thus, they were quite capable of experiencing transcendence as well as the nuances of their surroundings.

This is not the only aspect of mindfulness. It includes the capacity to experience self without either affirmation or judgement -- simply observing self for "what is" at the moment. It includes being able to see self not as separated from the rest of creation but being integrally invested in its expression.

This last element of mindfulness had always escaped me. It was not until my sabbatical in 2008 that it finally became real in my practice. I was given the honor of participating in a variety of rituals at the invitation of my Lakota mentors. Their historic traditions remain part of their daily experiences of life. I was able to see, for the first time in practice, what it means to be connected in the current moment to all that is around me and to allow creation in the present to embrace me fully. It opened a new dimension to the experience of true prayer and the practice of contemplative meditation.

When I was in the fifth grade (ca. 1960/61), we were each given a Gideon pocket-sized New Testament. It was when such things could still be done in public schools. It was an emerging tradition in our home for my Dad to wake me up early on Good Friday morning -- before sunrise -- and take me with him to St. Paul's Episcopal Church (where I grew up in Winter Haven, FL). The church was dark except for the chapel whose windows glowed with soft light from the outside. Inside, there were several parishioners quietly reading devotional material or praying quietly. My Dad and I would find a seat, and I would take into full vision the Chapel Altar -- filled with flowers, plants and candles. In the center of the Altar was a veiled Ciborium containing consecrated bread. Behind it was a flagon of consecrated wine. This was Christ Present in the Eucharistic Sacrament. These things I came to learn very early from parents and teachers who were deeply committed to both their faith and their parish.

I had received the above mentioned pocket-sized New Testament just before Holy Week from our fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Dixon. I took it to the Chapel that Good Friday morning, and my Dad showed me where the story about the last days of Jesus appeared in each of the Gospels. I marked those spots with slips of paper. Beginning with Matthew, I read each story...starting with the entry into Jerusalem (our Palm Sunday) and finishing with the Resurrection. We spent an hour in the Chapel for the Watch with Jesus (called variously the "Watch Before the Altar of Repose" or the "Gethsemene Vigil"). At the end of the hour, I had only read three of the Gospel narratives. We went to breakfast, and Dad dropped me at home on his way to work. I finished the narrative from the Gospel of John (which is now my favorite) sitting cross-legged on the floor at the foot of my bed. I was totally in awe and mystified by those readings. From that time forward, every Holy Week has been a unique experience of journey from the gates of Jerusalem, to Gabbatha, to Golgotha and to the tomb. At the empty tomb, I had to "wait" until I was about 15 years old before I suddenly "got" what Resurrection was all about. It was while serving as an acolyte at a Sunday Eucharist that I encountered Jesus in a way totally unexpected, unanticipated and undeserved. I came away knowing I was in a different place in life from that moment forward (no, it was not when I knew I would be a priest... that didn't happen until I was in college...another story).

In reality, I was practicing a type of mindfulness when, in the environment of our parish chapel, I was caught within both past and present reality. The Jesus of biblical narrative was the Jesus with whom I sat in vigil. The Jesus I experienced in the Eucharist as an acolyte was the Jesus in the Sacrament and community of that moment. The Jesus I experienced in the love and faith of my parents was the Jesus that embraced me in a never ending relationship.

Forty-seven years later, on top of a tall hill in the center of the Black Hills -- while on Vision Quest -- I experienced a oneness with all that was around me unlike anything I had known before. While engaging in that night of vigil and prayer with an ancient Lakota ritual, I touched heaven and earth simultaneously and caught a glimpse -- just a glimpse -- of what Transfiguration is all about. It was all I needed. The next summer, during sabbatical, everything seemed alive in the moment. I made the effort to be present to everything I did...no matter how mundane. Drinking a cup of coffee -- smelling, tasting, feeling and savoring -- became a matter of moment. In being mindful, I observed/heard/smelled/tasted/felt things that were always around me but never experienced in those ways.

After getting back into my daily work routine, I all too quickly lost what I had learned. It happens when we begin to over-focus on the past and future -- always trying to stay ahead of the game in order not to get "caught out" when the impatience of others rule the business of the parish church. It may (just may, mind you) be a chief reason for early retirement. If there is anyone in a parish who needs to be regularly and completely mindful, it is the priest. It is he/she who models that life to the congregation and leads/teaches them the path to that place.

The Holy Three Days (the Triduum Sacrum) of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Vigil tell a continuous story of community, servanthood, obedience, judgement, condemnation, abuse, death and the glory of Resurrection. Easter is not able to be truly experienced without true mindfulness of the story that leads to that new life. Mindfulness isn't truly possible without being "in the moment." That is why the Church engages in the most ancient of its ritual practices during these times of worship and gathering community. Those moments put us in step with Jesus and refines our experience of the relationship we have with God by virtue of our own creation and journey.

More later.

In Christ's Love,

Fr. Fred+

The Hopes and Fears

The Diocese of West Missouri has just ordained and consecrated its eighth Bishop in Apostolic Succession. On Saturday, 5 March, Bishop Barry Howe handed the diocesan crozier (symbol of diocesan authority) to the newly consecrated Bishop Martin Scott Field. In that moment, the authority was transfered, and Bishop Field became our Ordinary (this is a term which designates the Bishop of a Diocese). I was there -- as were all the clergy of the diocese -- except those who were ill or away on assignment. Several hundred laypersons from around the diocese, Bishops from a number of dioceses and honored guests from other faith traditions filled out our numbers at the Grand Ballroom of the Marriott-Muehlbach Hotel in downtown Kansas City.

In the nearly 33 years of ordained life, I have been canonically resident in three dioceses -- which includes my current residency in West Missouri. In 1989, we elected and consecrated a bishop in Central Florida. I was on the Standing Committee and liturgical planning committee for that moment of diocesan history, when John Howe became the Ordinary. In 2000, I was a runner-up in the election in Northern Indiana and was President of the Standing Committee and Dean of the Cathedral (St. James) when we consecrated Edward Little as our new Ordinary. Since the Cathedral was host, I was involved in that planning (though the actual consecration took place in the Basilica on the Notre Dame University campus).

This time, I got to bear witness without much involvement in making the event happen. My role was as an occasional, very background advisor -- when called upon. This suited me well. This change of Bishops comes at a time when I am in my own transition of authority. It was good to be present, to pray and to listen intently to the words of Presiding Bishop Katherine Jefferts Shori as she, the Co-Consecrators and other Bishops laid hands upon Martin to make him a Bishop.

During the moments leading to the actual Prayer of Consecration and the exhange of the crozier, I reflected deeply on the Gospel upon which I would be preaching at St. Andrew's the next day. Yesterday was the Last Sunday after the Epiphany. The Gospel assigned for this Sunday is always the Transfiguration of Jesus from the Gospel for the Lectionary Year. Jesus took Peter, James and John to the top of a small mountain, where those disciples witnessed the true nature of Jesus as he was flanked by Moses and Elijah (representing the Law and the Prophets). In larger scope, this would set the stage for a journey that would lead the Disciples of Jesus to become the Apostles at the Day of Pentecost. Much had to happen in between these events that would prepare these folks to become what we now call the Apostolic Community. As the Apostles were coming to the end of their times, they laid hands upon those who would replace them as the bearers of the Gospel and carriers of an emerging faith tradition. Thus began the Apostolic Succession. In the sacramental traditions of Anglicanism, Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy, this succession has come to us unbroken.

So, my reflection on our particular moment of history engaged the reality that I was seeing the hands of the Apostles on the head of Martin; and the hand of one Apostolic Leader give over authority to a new Apostolic Leader. Transfiguration of a true nature was happening in our midst on that Saturday at about noon.

Everyone has hopes and fears when leadership changes. I have lost count of the number of times the questions have been posed to me: What kind Bishop will Martin be? Is Martin liberal or conservative? Does he side with larger parishes or small parishes and missions? And that's just three of the many questions. They are all, in essence, well-meaning and reflect serious concerns or anxieties on the part of Episcopalians and those who may, in some way, be affected by the work of the Episcopal Church in our diocese. I offer some thoughts by way of general response.

I have been the Rector of the smallest parish in a diocese and am currently the Rector of a parish that, on any given day, is the largest in a diocese (our Cathedral and St. Andrew's seem to run neck-in-neck in this regard...only the current parochial report will reflect who edges forward). I have been the Rector of two parishes somewhere in between in size (called "Program Parishes" in our work). Each parish system is different in its needs, concerns and development of both mission and ministry. One is not better than the other. My experience with each has been both valuable and a blessing. Each congregation worked hard to live into its fullest expression of the Gospel of Jesus Christ in its community and in the larger diocese.

Bishop Field has had a lot of experience. While much of that experience has been with smaller churches, he has been at this long enough to know that a diocese needs all its congregations -- large and small -- to create and maintain a dynamic faith community. I trust the Holy Spirit to work through Marty to make that balance a reality.

I have long ago become weary of the political nomenclature used in the Church. I truly don't care whether Bishop Field is liberal or conservative. That spectrum slides around like crazy anyway and is a slippery slope at best. Those terms raise fear and anxiety in folks, which is unfortunate. My sense is that Marty will be a "big tent" Bishop. Diversity creates a balanced community and one that is both honest and accountable for the well-being of all its people. Every Christian who is Episcopalian needs to feel safe in the diocese and in his/her parish. Anything less is not the truth of the Gospel. Further, constant dialogue and speaking our truth in love allows us to grow and develop the Truth that is the fullness of life in Christ.

Will I disagree with Bishop Field? At some point, I probably will. Such is only a natural part of human community. The truth here is that, for me, I will never cast judgment upon him, nor will I function in any way that is disloyal to his rightful authority as my bishop. One can critique without casting judgment. Jesus had harsh words for those who judge others. If one disagrees with another, integrity demands that one goes to that person and works through the disagreement in an atmosphere of love and trust. My hope and sense is that Marty is a man of integrity.

Someone said to me last week that I am probably not so much invested in what will happen with our new Bishop, since I am on the threshold of retiring from parochial ministry. Not true in the least!! Retirement does not remove a priest from life or activity in his/her diocese. In retirement, Bishop Field will be my Bishop, and I will respond to his call for action or input as needed or requested. Even in retirement, a priest is one under authority to his/her bishop. Perhaps I will have even broader voice, since I will be speaking for only myself and not on behalf of a congregation. That remains to be seen, since I have never been retired before.

I had a wonderful time of bidding farewell to Bishop Barry Howe three weeks ago over a long lunch. We have been friends for 30 years, and we have had an easy, open dialogue throughout those years...and especially in my years in this diocese. I look forward to what is ahead and in developing both a personal and professional relationship with Bishop Field. Right now, I am working on the transition to retirement on 30 June, and he is very busy getting to know the daily life and needs of his new diocese. All will happen in God's good time. Personally, I am content in the moment.

Love in Christ,

Fr. Fred+

The Duchess: Life in the Moment

It is Thursday late morning. Following my years-long pattern, the bed is made, kitchen clean and another cup of coffee made. It is my "day off" (yet to be really defined in parish ministry). After some thought, I decide to settle into the chair in our master bedroom, computer comfortably placed on a pad and resting on my lap, and the chair swiveled to face the large window that looks into the southeast portion of our backyard.

My ears catch the faint sound of a "tinkle" and soft padding. Our 13 year old Schnoodle (Schnauzer/Poodle mix), Duchess is easing into the room. We have had her as part of our family since she was about six weeks old...born on 6 November 1997. She was a Christmas gift for our girls....especially our, then, ten year old daughter, Madeline. Madeline, therefore, got the honor of naming our newest family member. Thus Duchess Magnolia Mann was grafted into our household. Very quickly, due to her personality and wonderful character, she became known to us as "The Duchess." "Anybody seen where The Duchess is hiding out this morning?" would be a good example of how any dialogue about her would begin. "Did The Duchess do this?" as a tipped trash can would be found with contents strewn about. Chances were better than 95% that she had, in fact, committed the crime.

At thirteen years old, The Duchess still commands the domestic scene. She has energy, presence and a hugely engaging kind of personality...eyes bright, tail constantly wagging, and body always poised for whatever action may take place. The only notice we have of her being a "senior dog" (as our Vet calls her) is that she takes a few more naps during the day. She has always been able to sleep the instant she lies down (a trait I envy in her). However, she is never so asleep that she can't rise to a moment of human movement, an outdoor sound or some change in the environment imperceivable to the rest of us. In fact, she has been known to emit a low, gutteral growl even before she opens her eyes and lifts her ears. Make no mistake: with an almost blurring speed, she can go from dead sleep in our master bedroom suite to the front door, at the other end of the house... full run and husky bark (for her size)...completely on the job.

Back to the moment. I am settled in my chair in our master bedroom...laptop keys quietly tapping...and I catch the tinkling of her collar "bling" (two tags) and the padding of her paws on the carpet...as she makes her way into the room. Her goal is always to be where either Denise or I have come to rest. After some sniffing about, she springs lightly up on our bed and begins a methodical searching about. There is The One spot that will be perfect for settling down. It turns out to be the corner nearest to where I am sitting in the chair.

This is not quite enough. Remember, I have long since made the bed. Some of my military training remains with me (actually more than some I think). A bed is not simply "made." A bed is "triced up." It's a Navy term for a very tightly made bed that will defy coming apart in rough seas. It's not that bad now, but there are no wrinkles in a bed that I have made. Just trust me on this.

This effort is of no matter to The Duchess. Finding her spot for a nap, she begins a methodical pawing at the comforter until she has created what amounts to a nesting area. After one final inspection of the wad of material now assembled at the corner of the bed, she literally plops the 21 pounds of her royal pulchritude into the midst of this crafted area of our bed. She looks at me non-chalantly but with a glimmer in her eye; yawns widely; tucks up her legs; puts down her head; and, within the space of two of my breaths, she is breathing the deep breaths of a dog asleep.

I continue my quiet typing. I am never quite still. For most of my adult life, I have had a benign form of myositis. It is simply a neurological state of muscles getting restless due to unnecessary nerve activity. Simply, I change positions often. As I shift my body, while continuing to type, the chair makes a slight creaking sound. True to form, The Duchess opens the one eye that can look directly at me. Observing my continued presence, she is almost instantly back in sleep mode. This probably happens about every five minutes. She doesn't miss a cue. Then, for no reason I have perceived, she raises her head suddenly, ears up and forward, eyes wide and focused. She stairs out the window or toward the door for up to a minute. Satisfied that all is as it should be, she yawns, makes several mouth sounds, puts her head down and is instantly asleep. In some of those "come alert" moments, I will speak to her. "Everything okay old girl?" I will softly question. She gives me a reassuring look and a quick wag of her tail and moves back toward an effortless sleep.

For The Duchess, life is lived not observed. She is usually in the bedroom while I make our bed before leaving for work. Observation has been made. But it is also a comfortable place for Herself to take a nap. Naps mean creating comfortable accomodations. For The Duchess, a tight, wrinkless comforter is not accomodating. She wants ridges.

She does not reflect the attitude we often take as we grow older: I've done my bit, I am retired. There is no complaining or blaming or justifying. When the need is there, she responds with all the gusto she has. She is a creature of community. When Denise and I are in separate parts of our home (there are three finished levels of our house), The Duchess believes her job is to insure we get back together. She is a born hunter and herder. She will make all kinds of very obvious and persistent attempts to get us to go with her to where the other of us happens to be.

The Duchess does not take herself too seriously. In fact, she doesn't take herself seriously at all. One great example happened this past summer. Denise and I were taking Duchess on one of our early evening, long walks. We have a pleasant 2 mile circuit that goes through our fairly large neighborhood (Canterbury Estates...fitting for an Episcopal Priest, eh?) and includes a large park and two ponds. The Duchess is in dog heaven...sights, smells and sounds engage every moment of her steady, energetic jaunt as she keeps her retractable lead line at its full extension ahead of us. She gives regular, over-the-shoulder glances to make sure we are still connected and responds readily to one of us saying "this way," when we are making a turn down another street. As I mentioned, her breed is hunting stock. Her nose is always near the ground and piloting her is like flying a kite at zero altitude....constant back and forth movements, as her olfactory radar analyzes the ever-changing spaces around her.

We were about a block from our house this summer evening mentioned above. It was near the end of our long amble. One of our neighbors on the street behind us had moved a Mexican clay oven from his back patio to the front of his house. It stood on its short iron stand in front of the support column that separates his two car garage bay doors. In the gathering dusk, it did look a bit like a short, pot-bellied human. Our neighbor had placed what looked like a pan on top of the chimney, which could have resembled a hat I suspect.

Duchess was busy analyzing the ground ahead of her. As we were navigating the sidewalk in front of that driveway, The Duchess suddenly looked up and directly at the Mexican clay oven. Immediately, she tensed and let out several sharp barks...communicating surprise, alert and something like, "I've got you covered mom and dad." Just as suddenly as she had gone into fight mode, she realized that it was not a person and, in fact, it was not alive at all. There was a split second of what we might call embarassment at making such an error. That disappeared immediately, and The Duchess simply ambled on, with her nose back to the business of taking in her environment. It was what it was. Nothing more.

Our pets do, indeed, reflect God's Love and Grace. They can also be true "sacramental moments," if we are but willing participants. What traits have been reinforced for me by The Duchess? Life is to be lived, not observed. Don't be afraid to get comfortable in your space. Rest well, but have a sense of your surroundings. Be present to your environment, because so much more is going on than meets the eye or ear. Never, never take yourself too seriously. If possible, don't take yourself seriously at all. When a mistake happens, a simple "oops" or apology will suffice, then move on without taking it with you. Live life fully...doing what you do best...and doing it with passion and gusto. Retirement? We don't need no stinkin' retirement. For us, it is a change in life and, hopefully, earned retirement income. But much more life needs to be lived. Get to it. Play hard and often. Above all, be your true self. It is, after all, who God created you to be. Sleep is good. Sleep unfettered by pre-occupation is even better.

Oops, The Duchess just jumped off her nesting area on the bed and has headed out of our bedroom. I know this signal. Time to go outside. After all, a girl dog has to do what a girl dog has to do. Gotta run.....

Love in Christ Jesus,

Fr. Fred+