Dear reader,
Are you
Under 35
and
looking for a place to worship God in the Christian tradition?
Nothing and no place working for you?
Want to be part of creating a place and a worship that makes your soul sing?
Contact me now at rector@graceb2u.com
I want to open a new congregation and I want you to be part of making it happen - for you.
revLois Keen
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
Monday October 20 Take This Bread
Tonight is book group at Grace Church in Norwalk. We'll be discussing the book by Sara Miles take this bread (the title is actually all in lower case letters, not a typo). Against the backdrop of this book, we'll be asking the following questions:
Who are the hungry, and for what do they hunger?
Have the ideas in this book altered your understanding of the sacraments and how we celebrate them?
Who is NOT called to ministry?
Has this book altered your comfort level of who and how you are in this life?
These questions have intrigued me for a month, since I first saw them. I wonder how the people in the book group will answer them? I do know the book has piqued interest in beginning anew the food pantry at Grace, but without the regulations. And the part where the author's food pantry distributes the food from the altar and worship space of her church has caught interest.
I know I'm not telling you anything about the book, and honestly, I'm only halfway through it. But I know this much about what I've read so far: Sara Miles is an activist who once worked in restaurants, and who once was a journalist in Nicaragua during the wars there. Never baptized or raised as a Christian, she found herself one day at St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco. When the invitation was issued to receive the bread and wine, the communion of Jesus's Body and Blood, Sara went up and received for the first time and her whole life changed in the moment when she put the bread in her mouth.
I'm hoping that this book will encourage - as in, give courage to - the people at Grace who have read this book to go and do what Sara eventually did at St. Gregory Nyssa. I will support them totally. They will have no work to do to convince me to let them distribute food to the hungry from the altar. I'll help them move it to the floor to make it easier. I'll be there with them as often as I can be.
A bishop is quoted in the book as saying, "There's a hunger beyond food that's expressed in food, and that's why feeding is always a kind of miracle."
Who are the hungry? All of us, every one of us. For what do we hunger? For touch, for community, for some sign we are not alone, even for someone on whom to vent our anger and our frustrations and rage, all part of the desire to know we are not alone.
Who is not called to be a minister? No one.
Has the book altered my comfort level of who and how I am in this life? No - it's kept alive the activist in me that is still trying to find out how, and with whom, I can go out and be and do and lead people into the ways into which I want to go.
Have the ideas in the book altered my understanding of the sacraments and how we celebrate them? No - They confirm and affirm my vision of the sacraments. There is a story of St. David of Wales, that he would go into a farmhouse, in his non-clergy type clothes, and take bread from the kitchen, and wine from the cellar, and sitting at the kitchen table with the household, make communion with them with the stuff from their own home. I have done this as often as I can in my ministry, and I thirst to do it more, to open to people the vision that their own dining table is the place where Christ is met and shared. That anytime bread is broken, anytime and anyplace, with or without special words, Christ is made visible.
I wonder how many households I could get to host an evening in Lent, of companionship followed by Eucharist around the dining room or kitchen table, with the leftovers of snacks and drinks still there? I wonder how many people would come? I wonder what people would think of it? And if they would understand - every table presided over by them is the Lord's table?
Am I going to far to say that? I thought about that before I wrote it the way I did. I believe it. I believe it is true. I wish I were not so encumbered by the need to earn my living at being a parish priest, and I wonder how far I can, without losing my job, stretch past fulfilling the expectations of the congregation I serve to doing, to being about doing the things toward which I am agonizingly pulled.
Perhaps more about this at a later date. Meanwhile, what are your answers to the original four questions above, whether or not you have read the book take this bread?
Who are the hungry, and for what do they hunger?
Have the ideas in this book altered your understanding of the sacraments and how we celebrate them?
Who is NOT called to ministry?
Has this book altered your comfort level of who and how you are in this life?
These questions have intrigued me for a month, since I first saw them. I wonder how the people in the book group will answer them? I do know the book has piqued interest in beginning anew the food pantry at Grace, but without the regulations. And the part where the author's food pantry distributes the food from the altar and worship space of her church has caught interest.
I know I'm not telling you anything about the book, and honestly, I'm only halfway through it. But I know this much about what I've read so far: Sara Miles is an activist who once worked in restaurants, and who once was a journalist in Nicaragua during the wars there. Never baptized or raised as a Christian, she found herself one day at St. Gregory of Nyssa Episcopal Church in San Francisco. When the invitation was issued to receive the bread and wine, the communion of Jesus's Body and Blood, Sara went up and received for the first time and her whole life changed in the moment when she put the bread in her mouth.
I'm hoping that this book will encourage - as in, give courage to - the people at Grace who have read this book to go and do what Sara eventually did at St. Gregory Nyssa. I will support them totally. They will have no work to do to convince me to let them distribute food to the hungry from the altar. I'll help them move it to the floor to make it easier. I'll be there with them as often as I can be.
A bishop is quoted in the book as saying, "There's a hunger beyond food that's expressed in food, and that's why feeding is always a kind of miracle."
Who are the hungry? All of us, every one of us. For what do we hunger? For touch, for community, for some sign we are not alone, even for someone on whom to vent our anger and our frustrations and rage, all part of the desire to know we are not alone.
Who is not called to be a minister? No one.
Has the book altered my comfort level of who and how I am in this life? No - it's kept alive the activist in me that is still trying to find out how, and with whom, I can go out and be and do and lead people into the ways into which I want to go.
Have the ideas in the book altered my understanding of the sacraments and how we celebrate them? No - They confirm and affirm my vision of the sacraments. There is a story of St. David of Wales, that he would go into a farmhouse, in his non-clergy type clothes, and take bread from the kitchen, and wine from the cellar, and sitting at the kitchen table with the household, make communion with them with the stuff from their own home. I have done this as often as I can in my ministry, and I thirst to do it more, to open to people the vision that their own dining table is the place where Christ is met and shared. That anytime bread is broken, anytime and anyplace, with or without special words, Christ is made visible.
I wonder how many households I could get to host an evening in Lent, of companionship followed by Eucharist around the dining room or kitchen table, with the leftovers of snacks and drinks still there? I wonder how many people would come? I wonder what people would think of it? And if they would understand - every table presided over by them is the Lord's table?
Am I going to far to say that? I thought about that before I wrote it the way I did. I believe it. I believe it is true. I wish I were not so encumbered by the need to earn my living at being a parish priest, and I wonder how far I can, without losing my job, stretch past fulfilling the expectations of the congregation I serve to doing, to being about doing the things toward which I am agonizingly pulled.
Perhaps more about this at a later date. Meanwhile, what are your answers to the original four questions above, whether or not you have read the book take this bread?
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Remember...
Today was the 10th anniversary of the death of Matthew Shepherd. Matthew was an Episcopalian. He died, tied to a fence on a hill on the high plains overlooking Laramie, Wyoming. He had been beaten and left on that fence all night. He was murdered because he was gay.
I was in Laramie in 2002 for the Episcopal Youth Event. Some of us made a pilgrimage to the site of Matthew's death. Of course, even then, it had been made impossible for people to reach the fence, or the area where the fence stood. A gate kept us from going any closer than the roadside; houses were being built up around the area. Some day the place will disappear.
Many in the world would like us to forget what happened in Laramie. Many would like Matthew to disappear forever. I ask, on behalf of our gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered brothers and sisters all over the world, do not ever forget that hate kills; it has the power to kill the body as well as the spirit of the hated, and to kill the soul of the hater. I ask that our LGBT brothers and sisters never be allowed to disappear from our hearts and minds, until the day when it is safe for them to live as they want in this world, just as those of us who enjoy the unwarranted privileges allowed to heterosexuals get to live - without even thinking about it but taking our way of life for granted.
[Warning to comment posters: Only supportive comments will be posted. I feel no obligation to post, or even read, comments from those who do not agree with me on this issue. I ask, instead, for blessed Matthew to pray for you.]
God's Peace to all.
I was in Laramie in 2002 for the Episcopal Youth Event. Some of us made a pilgrimage to the site of Matthew's death. Of course, even then, it had been made impossible for people to reach the fence, or the area where the fence stood. A gate kept us from going any closer than the roadside; houses were being built up around the area. Some day the place will disappear.
Many in the world would like us to forget what happened in Laramie. Many would like Matthew to disappear forever. I ask, on behalf of our gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered brothers and sisters all over the world, do not ever forget that hate kills; it has the power to kill the body as well as the spirit of the hated, and to kill the soul of the hater. I ask that our LGBT brothers and sisters never be allowed to disappear from our hearts and minds, until the day when it is safe for them to live as they want in this world, just as those of us who enjoy the unwarranted privileges allowed to heterosexuals get to live - without even thinking about it but taking our way of life for granted.
[Warning to comment posters: Only supportive comments will be posted. I feel no obligation to post, or even read, comments from those who do not agree with me on this issue. I ask, instead, for blessed Matthew to pray for you.]
God's Peace to all.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
In Memorium Paul Newman
The checkered flag is at half staff here at "Ramblings..." in honor of the death, this morning, of Paul Newman. Paul's love of road racing, and his participation in the sport, is legend among those of us who ourselves love the sport and/or who love driving really fast around a closed track under controlled, supervised conditions.
I was at Lime Rock race course on the day Mr. Newman took his last ride around the track. In fact, it was on my track day. We gladly gave up some of our time out there to let his car follow behind the pace car for a few laps. Newlin refused to take photos - it seemed a violation of privacy. He wanted also to remember Paul Newman as he was, dressed, helmeted, behind the wheel of his Datsun 200sx in which he won all eight races he entered in 1979 in that car, or his later Corvette.
For photos, see http://www.newman-haas.com/
For the skinny on how Paul Newman got into racing, and his early years, see
http://www.datsunhistory.com/Sharp.html
(hope the links work. Otherwise, put Newman Sharp racing for the history link, or Newman Haas racing for the photos, in your search engine.)
Rest eternal grant to him O Lord, and may light perpetual shine upon him, and may there be abundant road racing in his new life.
I was at Lime Rock race course on the day Mr. Newman took his last ride around the track. In fact, it was on my track day. We gladly gave up some of our time out there to let his car follow behind the pace car for a few laps. Newlin refused to take photos - it seemed a violation of privacy. He wanted also to remember Paul Newman as he was, dressed, helmeted, behind the wheel of his Datsun 200sx in which he won all eight races he entered in 1979 in that car, or his later Corvette.
For photos, see http://www.newman-haas.com/
For the skinny on how Paul Newman got into racing, and his early years, see
http://www.datsunhistory.com/Sharp.html
(hope the links work. Otherwise, put Newman Sharp racing for the history link, or Newman Haas racing for the photos, in your search engine.)
Rest eternal grant to him O Lord, and may light perpetual shine upon him, and may there be abundant road racing in his new life.
Monday, September 15, 2008
The Rambler is Home
Well, vacation is over. It's funny, I want the posts on this blog to be decent, at least, literature, not simply posts for the sake of posting. At the same time, while I haven't made the time to formulate what I want to write here upon my return, I feel a responsibility to post something so you won't lose interest!
First, vacation was excellent. Newlin and I camped out three times - twice at Housatonic State Park, which I just love, right down there on the river, and once at Cascade in New Hampshire, also on the river, which is lovely, but the campground itself is a bit creepy. Oh, by the way, I'm talking about tent camping, not camper camping, cooking on a white gas stove on the picnic table, making tea on a really cold wish-I-had-my-gloves morning so I can warm up my hands.
The first day we were at Housatonic, we had just pitched the tent and gotten everything inside, and were arranging our space, when the rain came. It didn't pour, it deluged, if I may coin a verb. And it deluged for over an hour. When it finally stopped, the campground was water logged. There was three inches of water in the fire ring. We survived.
The next night, it rained all night long, but this time we didn't wake to standing water in the campsite. So, better. And still I love camping. Maybe for me it's a reminder of playing at camping when we were kids, even though we never really camped out overnight, tying together all our tricycles and wagons to form a "wagon train" and traveling what I recently found was only a few yards down River Road to the side of the Passaic River in Millington New Jersey to "camp out". Regardless of discomfort, the camping part was the best. On second trip to Housatonic we woke to a great horned owl hooting across the river. In my book you can't beat that!
Now to the good stuff: Yes, I did drive Lime Rock Race Track! Wow, what a great day, a great experience. Now let's face it - I was driving a Saturn, so you know I was not nearly as fast as the Ferraris that were on the track with me, but I was faster than the driver of the Lotus, which should have been faster than me and everyone else, but we were all novice drivers so you have to make allowances.
I learned stuff about myself; I learned stuff about my car. What I learned most was I can trust both of us - myself and my car. Cool.
And as I write this, I realize there's no way I can describe the experience, and maybe I don't even want to try. I'll say this, though, I may just want to do that again someday.
I've been back a week. Lots to do last week to catch up, and wonderful first Sunday back. Now I return to my routine: office at 10 a.m., Starbucks at 2 p.m. with a doctor's appointment at 1:10.
This week I have an MRI - this is to check to see if the breast cancer has returned. I've already seen my radiation doc - she's leaving so I don't know who I will see at my six month check up. I see my GP today, my chemo doc next week. The MRI is being done at my surgeon's request. It's the month for follow ups.
I find I resent the amount of time I have to spend with doctors post-cancer. I also hate it when people try to change the way I feel about it by saying such unhelpful things as "You survived! It's good to have them keep checking so they can catch anything else early." blah blah blah. Do me a favor: If you run into me, and I choose to share my anger at the, don't try to make me "feel better" about it because your attempts just make me feel a. guilty b. pissed that I shared anything with you c. even more angry because you just don't get it. Thanks for helping me by honoring my feelings just as they are instead of trying to turn them to what you think are the appropriate feelings, because, my friends, there ain't no such thing as appropriate feelings. There are just feelings.
Except for all the doc visits reminding me of last year's hell, I'm feeling pretty good, looking forward to the months to come at Grace Church, and slowly getting the yard and gardens back in shape after four weeks of neglect. But more on that later.
For now, this will have to do. Be talking at you later! Peace.
First, vacation was excellent. Newlin and I camped out three times - twice at Housatonic State Park, which I just love, right down there on the river, and once at Cascade in New Hampshire, also on the river, which is lovely, but the campground itself is a bit creepy. Oh, by the way, I'm talking about tent camping, not camper camping, cooking on a white gas stove on the picnic table, making tea on a really cold wish-I-had-my-gloves morning so I can warm up my hands.
The first day we were at Housatonic, we had just pitched the tent and gotten everything inside, and were arranging our space, when the rain came. It didn't pour, it deluged, if I may coin a verb. And it deluged for over an hour. When it finally stopped, the campground was water logged. There was three inches of water in the fire ring. We survived.
The next night, it rained all night long, but this time we didn't wake to standing water in the campsite. So, better. And still I love camping. Maybe for me it's a reminder of playing at camping when we were kids, even though we never really camped out overnight, tying together all our tricycles and wagons to form a "wagon train" and traveling what I recently found was only a few yards down River Road to the side of the Passaic River in Millington New Jersey to "camp out". Regardless of discomfort, the camping part was the best. On second trip to Housatonic we woke to a great horned owl hooting across the river. In my book you can't beat that!
Now to the good stuff: Yes, I did drive Lime Rock Race Track! Wow, what a great day, a great experience. Now let's face it - I was driving a Saturn, so you know I was not nearly as fast as the Ferraris that were on the track with me, but I was faster than the driver of the Lotus, which should have been faster than me and everyone else, but we were all novice drivers so you have to make allowances.
I learned stuff about myself; I learned stuff about my car. What I learned most was I can trust both of us - myself and my car. Cool.
And as I write this, I realize there's no way I can describe the experience, and maybe I don't even want to try. I'll say this, though, I may just want to do that again someday.
I've been back a week. Lots to do last week to catch up, and wonderful first Sunday back. Now I return to my routine: office at 10 a.m., Starbucks at 2 p.m. with a doctor's appointment at 1:10.
This week I have an MRI - this is to check to see if the breast cancer has returned. I've already seen my radiation doc - she's leaving so I don't know who I will see at my six month check up. I see my GP today, my chemo doc next week. The MRI is being done at my surgeon's request. It's the month for follow ups.
I find I resent the amount of time I have to spend with doctors post-cancer. I also hate it when people try to change the way I feel about it by saying such unhelpful things as "You survived! It's good to have them keep checking so they can catch anything else early." blah blah blah. Do me a favor: If you run into me, and I choose to share my anger at the, don't try to make me "feel better" about it because your attempts just make me feel a. guilty b. pissed that I shared anything with you c. even more angry because you just don't get it. Thanks for helping me by honoring my feelings just as they are instead of trying to turn them to what you think are the appropriate feelings, because, my friends, there ain't no such thing as appropriate feelings. There are just feelings.
Except for all the doc visits reminding me of last year's hell, I'm feeling pretty good, looking forward to the months to come at Grace Church, and slowly getting the yard and gardens back in shape after four weeks of neglect. But more on that later.
For now, this will have to do. Be talking at you later! Peace.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Time for a Vacation
Two days until vacation begins - one and a half if the last reference on a potential nursery worker comes in today! - but who's counting?
Last year I continued to work throughout months of chemotherapy. When vacation came, I still had to report to the infusion unit every week for chemo, and although the taxol didn't cause the nausea the previous chemo drugs did, it was taking a day longer each week to recover from the ill effects of that drug, and there was less and less food I could stand the taste of, so my vacation was simply a time for chemo when I didn't have to serve the church.
I did get a new camera that summer, and spent time getting to know it. Newlin even used some of my photos on his website, tracktimephotos.com (I think that's right!), and one young man bought the CD of the photos I took as he drove his ferrari out of the garage at Watkins Glen for his first time ever on the track. Last year I learned that I am a natural at taking panning shots of cars driving fast on a road course. And last year I had my second experience as a passenger in a high performance car going fast around a road track. Last year it was a ferrari, and the track was Watkins Glen, on the day, the very day, before my last ever chemo infusion.
So last year's vacation wasn't a total washout. But this year, I really need this vacation. And of course the gospel for last Sunday, my last one in church until September, began, "[Jesus] withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick." !!!!!
Well, as I wrote previously, during my week as chaplain to Arts Camp at Camp Washington a couple of weeks ago, I was renewed in my writing, drawing and painting. When I got home, I found that week had fed me more than I had thought. I rose early and wrote all sorts of things. I produced a number of pastels - a medium I have seldom used - on a theme I have not yet exhausted. And I'm really looking forward to vacation to do more of that sort of thing.
It will begin with three days on the banks of the Housatonic River, camping in a tent, and becoming a vegetable. On Wednesday I have my first track day as a novice driver at Lime Rock, with SCDA. Then up to Watkins Glen to shadow Newlin as he works various track events for driving clubs. There will be a trip to New Hampshire International Speedway in the middle of the month - more camping by a river - and ending the four weeks at Watkins Glen, giving the invocation for the annual reenactment of the first ever road race on the streets of Watkins Glen, to kick off the vintage auto weekend. Newlin's working on getting me listed as "crew" for one of the teams - I'd be doing photography.
So, four weeks of doing things I love, vacating my mind, turning everything on this end of the world over to God and the people of Grace Church and having fun.
Did I mention the bag of books I'm taking along to read as well? Oh yes, this is a true vacation.
This blog will be in hiatus. Feel free to leave comments. I'll read them when I return. See you in September!
Last year I continued to work throughout months of chemotherapy. When vacation came, I still had to report to the infusion unit every week for chemo, and although the taxol didn't cause the nausea the previous chemo drugs did, it was taking a day longer each week to recover from the ill effects of that drug, and there was less and less food I could stand the taste of, so my vacation was simply a time for chemo when I didn't have to serve the church.
I did get a new camera that summer, and spent time getting to know it. Newlin even used some of my photos on his website, tracktimephotos.com (I think that's right!), and one young man bought the CD of the photos I took as he drove his ferrari out of the garage at Watkins Glen for his first time ever on the track. Last year I learned that I am a natural at taking panning shots of cars driving fast on a road course. And last year I had my second experience as a passenger in a high performance car going fast around a road track. Last year it was a ferrari, and the track was Watkins Glen, on the day, the very day, before my last ever chemo infusion.
So last year's vacation wasn't a total washout. But this year, I really need this vacation. And of course the gospel for last Sunday, my last one in church until September, began, "[Jesus] withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick." !!!!!
Well, as I wrote previously, during my week as chaplain to Arts Camp at Camp Washington a couple of weeks ago, I was renewed in my writing, drawing and painting. When I got home, I found that week had fed me more than I had thought. I rose early and wrote all sorts of things. I produced a number of pastels - a medium I have seldom used - on a theme I have not yet exhausted. And I'm really looking forward to vacation to do more of that sort of thing.
It will begin with three days on the banks of the Housatonic River, camping in a tent, and becoming a vegetable. On Wednesday I have my first track day as a novice driver at Lime Rock, with SCDA. Then up to Watkins Glen to shadow Newlin as he works various track events for driving clubs. There will be a trip to New Hampshire International Speedway in the middle of the month - more camping by a river - and ending the four weeks at Watkins Glen, giving the invocation for the annual reenactment of the first ever road race on the streets of Watkins Glen, to kick off the vintage auto weekend. Newlin's working on getting me listed as "crew" for one of the teams - I'd be doing photography.
So, four weeks of doing things I love, vacating my mind, turning everything on this end of the world over to God and the people of Grace Church and having fun.
Did I mention the bag of books I'm taking along to read as well? Oh yes, this is a true vacation.
This blog will be in hiatus. Feel free to leave comments. I'll read them when I return. See you in September!
Friday, August 1, 2008
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