Many of us have seen fewer visitors to our Resource Centers. We are called upon to be out and about with those we serve, bringing resources (and our expertise) to the local congregation. We are learning how to put our collections online, develop more comprehensive websites, and engage in social media. And more of the resources, especially curricula and faith formation materials are available digitally – either downloadable or totally online.

In September 2009, CNN published a story, “The Future of Libraries: With or Without Books”:

“Books are being pushed aside for digital learning centers and gaming areas. ‘Loud rooms’ that promote public discourse and group projects are taking over the bookish quiet. Hipster staffers who blog, chat on Twitter and care little about the Dewey Decimal System are edging out old-school librarians.”

The Digital World

The relevant Resource Center of the future will be a marketplace for ideas. Forward-looking directors (and their judicatories) will create a conversational loop with its clientele. Being active on Facebook, Digg and Twitter they will share the latest news, resources and trends in ministry. As digital books replace traditional printed publications, the role of a Resource Center Director will be one of discernment and vetting much more than in previous decades.

As Phyllis Tickle states, we are entering into a new Reformation[1]. The cultural changes brought about by the Gutenberg Press had an enormous impact on Christianity. That new way to interact with a surplus of content never before accessible to the common masses is not that different than what we are experiencing today. Today social interaction is a form of content itself. It is up to Resource Centers to take an active role in the creation and collaboration within this ethereal user generated content. Our role is to offer our expertise and guidance in how congregations and individuals interact with all that is now offered via the web (and more), much of which is not in keeping with our traditions and theological perspectives.

Many of us are digital immigrants (those of us born in the era of rotary telephones and manual typewriters) who are trying to catch up with “digital natives” (those who have always had desktop and palm-sized computers).[2] John Roberto of Lifelong Faith Associates has spent a great deal of time and energy in recent years imagining what faith formation would look like if our churches fully embraced using 21st century technology. One of the ways he has shown how this can be done is through “curating” resources via the Faith Formation Learning Exchange. I have also tried to build such a resource site through my work with Building Faith: An Online Community for Christian Formation Leaders. 

What does this mean for today’s Resource Centers?

Today’s Resource Center needs to be agile and collaborative. We need to be in partnership with our ecumenical brothers and sisters. We need to be in touch with the local congregation by building relationships and offering easy access to new ideas and materials that have been vetted by experts – us! And we need to keep abreast of what excites people, how they learn in today’s world and what the trends are in the world around us that has such an impact on our church.

One of the resolutions to come before the 77th General Convention of The Episcopal Church in Indianapolis this July will ask the church for funding to create such an “Online Resource Center” in order to “Build the Continuum.” During its work over the past triennium, The Standing Commission on Lifelong Christian Education and Formation saw the increase of decreases – churches and dioceses cutting back on budgets and positions that help “resource” the church. The local congregation now depends on volunteers already strapped for time to search out curricula, best practices, training and ideas. If The Episcopal Church wanted to support folks in their ministries, providing an online clearing house of vetted links, resources and networking options would provide the vehicle for such collaboration.

What will the future hold? 

• Investing in the Future (rowsofsharon.com)

Partly because I’m not very good at following through with them. Yes, I always say I will lose weight, exercise more or keep up with the laundry and cleaning better. Today I’ve noticed an extra number of joggers on the roads and many folks posting what their resolutions are going to be on Facebook. And I’ve learned there is a App to make sure you stay on track with your resolution.

I’m wondering if I should resolve to post more regularly here. That’s a tough one; I already blog daily at Building Faith and weekly at The Prayer Book Guide to Christian Education. With editing manuscripts and writing educational program materials, that’s a lot of writing. So, I’ll probably pass on this as a resolution.

However, this afternoon I cleaned up my office. AKA moving around file folders, straightening up books-to-be-read stacks, and filing receipts and clips I’ve torn out of magazines for some future reference. I rediscovered a number of books that I’ve picked up on my travels. I’m a sucker for book stores at conferences. I’ve started a few, but got sidetracked with other reading material. And my Kindle often takes precedence if I’m traveling (or looking for mindless entertainment).

In looking back at 2011, I’ve read plenty of books. Lots are work-related (I wrote the study guide for several*, so I really did read these) and definitely have a theme to them.

• Love Wins: A Book About Heaven and Hell by Rob Bell
• Christian Formation 2020 by John Roberto
• Formational Children’s Ministry by Ivy Beckwith
• Child by Child: Supporting Children with Learning Differences and Their Families by Susan Richardson (as editor)
• Conversations with Scripture: Daniel by Edmund Desueza and Judith Jones*
• Conversations with Scripture: Judges by Roy Heller*
• Tweet if you ♥Jesus: Practicing Church in the Digital Reformation by Elizabeth Drescher
• What Episcopalians Believe: An Introduction by Samuel Wells*

28th Sunday after Pentecost

1 Thessalonians 5:1-1                        Matthew 25:14-30

Today’s Gospel Lesson is the parable of the talents. Let me ease your minds upfront; I’m not going to talk about money, our economic situation, Occupy Wall Street or our investment portfolios. But I am going to address the feelings we may have in this world at the moment. And I believe it is the root of what Jesus is asking us to sit up and pay attention to.

All of today’s readings contrast hope and fear, and abundance and scarcity, as spiritual issues that shape our personal and corporate behavior.  Do we see the world in terms of what we lack or in terms of possibilities for growth and transformation?

I returned home on Thursday from an intense 48-hour gathering of over 80 Episcopalians who came from all over the Episcopal Church. All orders were represented: lay folks, deacons, priests and bishops. A multitude of Episcopal networks were represented: camps and conference centers, youth ministers, Christian educators, policy makers, school administrators, seminary professors, musicians, and liturgists. We represented the diversity of region, economics, ethnicity and theology of our church. And it is one of the first gatherings I have attended in a long time that was filled with the equal participation of young adults – those between the ages of 18-30. And how life giving it was to have their voice along with those of us aging and graying folk. Besides our commonality of being Episcopalians, we all had a passion for Christian formation. We were invited to participate in a Faith Formation Summit entitled, “Building the Continuum.”

One of the goals of the gathering was to analyze the present realities and future uncertainties in the church and the world and envision potential futures for Episcopal faith formation in a diversity of settings over the next 5-10 years. Our focusing question was, “How might Christian lifelong faith formation over the next ten years affect the renewal and transformation of the Episcopal Church in a 21^st century world?”

It was a timely question, because just as in our readings for today, we are concerned with the future – of our community, our families, and our church.   Resources for children, youth and Christian education continue to be marginalized on the congregational, diocesan and church-wide level. We see it in how budgets are put together and how they are cut when income goes down. We see it in how much we invest in our teachers and their training. We see it in how we welcome the child in our midst in all that we do – not just Sunday School. How do we invest in these human resources?

So much of our conversation at this gathering was how our churches are living in fear. Recent demographic studies have shown the membership of mainline denominations is aging and decreasing. Young adults are not attending church. Families are so busy that going to church is low on the priority list – sports, school, vacations, and simply downtime now fill the Sunday morning time slot.

In such a reality, how are we helping all our church members engage with the world with Jesus eyes? How are we engaged in bringing about God’s kingdom to those who are crying to be healed in a hurting world? How can we look outward when we are worried about survival?

Today’s Gospel urges us to be risk-takers with our investments. And one of the greatest investments we have is our children. They offer possibilities that are beyond our imagination. They give us a glimpse of what God calls us to be and do. Their sense of awe and wonder of the world around us cause us (if we are paying attention) to stop, listen and hear their words of prophecy.

Do we see the world in terms of what we lack or in terms of possibilities for growth and transformation?

One of the scenarios about the Episcopal Church of the future that was developed at the gathering was one we titled, “Episcopal Christian Country Club.” This church was focused on itself, its immediate neighborhood and membership, church activities, its building and identity. It is trying to maintain itself as to what it was 50 years ago and so has become insular, aging, using its resources (financial and human) to maintain itself.  It is a church living in a world of scarcity, fear and isolation. This scenario is one in which the church will die. And in my travels around the United States, it is a growing reality. Those that choose to retain their identity in what once was instead of what could be. Living in a world of scarcity without wanting to take new risks. It’s the third servant who buried what was given to him.

Another scenario that was a polar opposite is a church that is totally engaged with the world, embracing technology for the building of community. This is the church that is open to the extravagance in our lives, one that is focused on God’s mission of abundance. It involves all sorts of possibilities. It moves us from seeing life only in terms of the bottom line or our current perception of our resources as barely adequate to support our needs. It involves children, youth and young adults as co-contributors to the church’s mission.

We can see this in the feeding of the five thousand: the disciples complain that they only had five loaves and two fish, which, of course, can’t feed five thousand. But Jesus believed in a deeper reality, which included God’s lively energy, the generosity of the crowd, and divine-human abundance hidden in apparent scarcity.

The spiritual gifts of love, forgiveness, faith, hope, trust, compassion and active care need to be invested and used in the service of others. And those who take the risk of investing those gifts do receive in abundance. More will be given to them. But for those who have not risked the investment of those gifts but have buried them in the ground, even the gifts they have will be lost.

One example is our children. How we invest in them in our churches will also determine our future as a church. If we invest ourselves in mentoring and accepting the children in our midst and helping them grow in knowledge and love of Jesus, they will continue to pass on their faith.

But it is not by sharing bible stories and coming to church. That is important, but investing in them by showing them what a life of following Jesus is really all about. Not just talking the talk, but walking the walk.  The investment envisioned by Jesus is an investment in the priorities of the kingdom of God: giving to those who are hungry, thirsty, sick and in prison as in the parable that follows the one in today’s reading.

Noted preacher Fred Craddock writes about today’s parable: “Take account of the high risk activity of the first two servants. They doubled their money entrusted to them, hardly a possibility without running the risk of losing the original investment . . . the major themes of the Christian faith – caring, giving, witnessing, trusting, loving, hoping – cannot be understood or lived without risk.”

As we are liberated from our own fears our presence will automatically liberate others.  Don’t worry about the future. Take risks. Live in abundance and hope. We are children of the day, called to walk in the light, trusting in God and one another. As part of the body of Christ, we are an interdependent community in which our joys and sorrows, successes and failures are woven together. We can choose what the future will be by how we choose to engage with it.

We have everything we need to be faithful to God and live abundantly.  Share it with joy – from generation to generation.

© Sharon Ely Pearson, preached at St. Mark’s Episcopal Church, New Canaan, Connecticut ~ November 13, 2011. 

Watch this video to learn more about “Building the Continuum”:

Related articles

• The 22nd Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 28 Year A – November 13, 2011 (prayerbookguide.wordpress.com)

What percentage of a church’s budget should go toward children and youth ministries?

When the budget gets cut, why is the Christian educator on staff the first to go?

Does your church pay its Sunday School teachers?

These are just a few of a myriad of questions that have recently been part of discussions on some Christian Education association list-servs. No matter the denomination (NAECED – Episcopal, APCE – Presbyterian, AUCE – United Church of Christ, CEF – United Methodist, or LACE – Lutheran), the common thread is that while Christian education and formation are valued, those that are called to this ministry are often given lip service when it comes time for the rubber to hit the road .  .  . the budget. What will it cost?

Yes, some traditions (the Roman Catholic Church for CCD classes which tend to be more formal and “required” and Synagogues for their formation programs of young people) charge tuition. And often their teachers are paid (or receive credit against their assessment / tithe to the church.)

But, what does this say about how we value volunteers, professionals who have credentials in the field, and the notion of passing on the faith from one generation to another?

I don’t have the statistics handy to prove my point. I do have plenty of anecdotal facts that show the importance of putting Christian formation at the top of the budget process. Churches who have “let go” of their Christian educator due to budget constraints hope that volunteers will take up the slack. Not. We are no longer living in the 50’s when “Mom the Volunteer” had all the time in the world while the kiddos where in school to bake brownies, attend the Women’s Auxiliary, and prepare craft projects for 30 first graders. Families are stretched and they have lots of choices. Including putting food on the table.

Countless churches have seen families with children drift away upon the release of the Christian educator. The behind the scenes personal touches, the planning and intentionality of the Christian Ed program wane. The stuff that a staff person does on Monday – Saturday (and perhaps a day off?), not including at least 4 hours on a Sunday goes unseen by many.  Families go in search somewhere else, they show up for Christmas and Easter, or they drop out completely.

The one that makes me scratch my head the most is paying folks to teach Sunday School. Putting an ad in the newspaper for someone to come teach on Sunday morning. Yes, they will show up (hopefully prepared). But are they part of your denomination? Do they KNOW what they are teaching about and believe it throughout their being? Are they part of your faith community and have an investment in building a relationship with those they share their OWN faith with? (Which is what I believe the job description of a Sunday School teacher should be.)

I’m going to take the liberty and share some of the comments from the list-servs that really bring it home:

• Did Jesus pass the hat after passing around the loaves and fishes?
• Did Jesus turn away anyone who could not “pay” for his teachings?
• Do we want to pit funding for Outreach, Music, Worship, Fellowship and Education against each other? (Actually that is what happens in lots of churches. What would Jesus say to that?)
• Do clergy charge for hospital visitations and pastoral calls?
• Do we charge admission to worship?

Yes, education is costly. But without education, it is more costly. In today’s world, adults need to learn God’s Story just as much as the five-year-olds. Without investing in Christian formation, we will cost the Church a future.

What brought me to Holy Cross was the annual Retreat with Adults Who Work With Youth, led by Jenifer C. Gamber, author of My Faith, My Life and musician Fran McEndree. Being able to reconnect with others whose passion is youth ministry was my primary goal, the second being some time away for personal reflection and rest. I received both. (You can also check out participant and photographer George Reiner’s blog for another perspective of the retreat and life at the monastery).

Outside of our plenary gatherings and group meditations, I spent my time in my little room (one might call it a ‘cell’) reading, writing, and yes, sleeping. I realized the rhythm of the day in a monastic community fit me well, and I grew more and more comfortable sitting in the chapel in silence, being summoned five times a day by the tolling of bells.

The day begins with Matins at 7:00am, followed by a silent breakfast. The Holy Eucharist is celebrated at 9:00am and the day then commences with whatever one might choose to do. At noon, we gathered again in the church for Diurnum (Midday Office) followed by lunch. The first part of the meal is eaten in silence, as one of the brothers reads a chapter from a book. While there I learned a little about how the Puritans (and others) determined whether the Sabbath was to be on Saturday or Sunday – a random piece of information. The work day closes with Vespers at 5:00pm. Compline is sung at 8:30pm in anticipation of God’s care through the night, followed by silence until we join together again at Matins in the morning.

Entering the “great silence” for about 12 hours brought new meaning to the opening sentences of Matins, which we also say in Morning Prayer at the Invitatory:

• Officiant: Lord, Open our lips.
• People: And our mouth shall proclaim your praise.

The services were all chanted, and we were invited to participate in singing (quietly), allowing the brothers to hear each other as they seek to sing with “one voice.” With candles and incense, one can really enter another dimension in time and space.

A treat was being at Holy Cross on the Feast Day of St. Michael & All Angels, September 21st. Brother Andrew’s sermon was particularly thought provoking:

Next year will be my fiftieth anniversary of ordination – fifty years of pastoring, praying and preaching.  And this is the first time I remember preaching about the angels!!!

That feels odd because Scripture is full of angels… from the Garden of Eden to the garden in Revelation.  Angels with Abraham, angels with Lot, Gabriel, Michael, Raphael, Uriel.  Hosts of them at the Birth of Jesus.  They appear to kings, to the poor. They glorify God in heaven and tromp the earth.  They are fearful and beautiful.  Some are righteous and some are crooked. They bear good news and they mutiny and rebel.

How come I’ve never preached on them?  Well, we’ve become so rational and so intellectually elite that we scorn such quaint ideas.  Unless, of course, we’ve gone off the deep end and into that place where people see angels everywhere… guarding their cars, in the garden like gnomes and fairies, or hovering over babies.

We don’t become angels when we die; they don’t get their wings when a bell on a Christmas tree rings; Della Reese and John Travolta are not angels! Nor do we become angels when we die.  Cherubs were never babies.

We’ve given up the angels!  We have let them go to those we call superstitious or the naïve.  We have turned them into shadows of themselves and stolen their power.  The mystery and beauty have become suspect.

But Scripture shows us beings with power.  Maybe that’s why we don’t mention them. We don’t quite understand what they’re all about.  They’re messengers. They speak for God…and so we fear them.  Each instance of their appearing seems to be imbued with awe.  They don’t look different, but their power and presence means that they usually have to start their messages with “Do not be afraid.”  Fearful and wonderful!

I think most faiths have the equivalent of our angels – beings from the heart of the Divine power who testify and challenge and protect the created universe.

It’s sad that we ignore them and I miss them.  Especially now, I miss them.  Now when other powers are rampaging in rage and arrogance and blindness through the world.  

Michael, Archangel, we need you!  We need your righteous sword that will cast down injustice and war-mongering. Defy tyrants.  Stand in darkened rooms where children are raped and protect them. Raise your hand against wife beaters and bullies. Give power to the weak; strength to the afflicted.

Gabriel, Archangel, who stood before the Maiden and announced a Savior, speak again!  Speak of the One who comes to dark and empty places in the human soul. Call us back! Proclaim the freeing Word that gives hope to the hopeless and joy to the mourners. Announce the coming of the One who restores and makes new.

Raphael, Archangel, spread healing in famine ridden Africa and in Asia; and in our military hospitals, in half-way houses, and under the bridges where homeless people shelter. Fight for an end to endemic illnesses; bring nourishment to the people starving needlessly. Teach us to spend our resources on life not on death.

Uriel, Archangel, you stand in God’s Presence where there is only Light.  Shine Light in our darkness.  This world is subsumed by the darkness of greed in business, in government.  Light must shine on the needs of the poor; on prisoners and addicts.

Angels in all your hosts, strengthen our voices to glorify the Redeemer, to speak to and for the lonely and voiceless.  Guard our children, cradle the sorrowful.  Shine, for God’s sake shine!

Now maybe that’s too outlandish for belief.  Maybe I’m verging too far on superstition.

But I don’t care. If you don’t believe in the angels, then for Christ’s sake become one.  Become a healer, and a proclaimer; become a warrior against hunger and hopelessness and evil.  Be a Light Bearer in the darkness around us.

Do that for Love’s sake and, believe me, you will find yourself on the side of the Angels…you will be Messengers of God, bearers of good tidings, protectors and lovers of God and God’s people. And the angels will rejoice!

That’s probably good enough!

Amen.

Peaceable Kingdom (Edward Hicks, 1780-1849)

Today is the 10th anniversary of the tragic day that all of us over the age sixteen will remember for the rest of our lives. I have avoided (as much as possible) all the television coverage and visual reminders replaying those moments over and over again. The individual postings of friends and family on Facebook to “Never forget,” “These colors don’t run,” and “Do you remember where you were when . . .” have filled my screen – so I am avoiding Facebook today too (for the most part).

This morning we attended services at St. Matthew’s Episcopal Church in Wilton as we would any Sunday we are in town. It was a Sunday when many have come back to church following summer vacations as school has now started. Christian education programs will begin next Sunday, so all were worshipping together today.

Our rector, Mary Grace Williams gave a homily directed to the children, although we all know that adults glean just as much out of these moments as the kids do. I watched some of the younger ones watch her, and nod that they didn’t remember what had happened, let along had been born yet. She spoke of sadness and hope, not having an answer, yet having a place to go when things are beyond our understanding. Family, friends, and our church communities.

It is in such communities that we need to be fed and nurtured to put on the true “armor of God” as Paul states. Not putting on weapons for war or defense, but “weapons” of hope and love that will ultimately conquer all. Lighting candles, the words in one verse of a hymn we sang (by James Quinn) told me what we are to be about:

Where all is doubt, may we sow faith; where all is gloom, may we sow hope; where all is night, may we sow light; where all are tears, may we sow joy. 

Those of you who did go to church today probably noticed how applicable our readings were. I’ve already blogged about that on Building Faith and The Prayer Book Guide to Christian Education‘s blog page. Today our prayers and music also expressed our sense of remembrance, but gratefully more about looking to the future, hope, and the sense of God with us at all times, all places, and under all circumstances.

I have several plaques and icons in my office here at home of St. Francis. Together we said the prayer attributed to St. Francis:

Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

The Hymnal 1982 was easily left open to two hymns about Christian Responsibility – #593 (Lord, make us servants of your peace of which one of the stanzas is found above) and #594 (God of grace and God of glory). Both are messages to hold onto for today.

God of grace and God of glory, on they people pour thy power; crown thine ancient Church’s story; bring her bud to glorious flower. Grant us wisdom, grant us courage, for the facing of this hour, for the facing of this hour.

Lo! the hosts of evil round us scorn thy Christ, assail his ways! From the fears that long have bound us free our hearts to faith and praise: grant us wisdom, grant us courage, for the living of these days, for the living of these days.

Cure thy children’s warring madness, bend our pride to thy control; shame our wanton, selfish gladness, rich in things and poor in soul. Grant us wisdom, grant us courage, lest we miss thy kingdom’s goal, lest we miss they kingdom’s goal.

Save us from weak resignation to the evils we deplore; let the gift of thy salvation be our glory evermore. Grant us wisdom, grant us courage, serving thee whom we adore, serving thee whom we adore. 

For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

It’s been two years since I spent 8 days disconnected to the world.  It was a time I was also most connected to the earth. No phone, no e-mail. No electricity or plumbing. Water. Rock. Sand. Open sky. I was an insignificant fleck in the midst of something too large to fathom.

Along with my husband and our two 20-something children, we were on an adventure of a lifetime. We were rafting down the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon.  Along with nine other adults and two guides, we embarked at Lee’s Ferry just over the border from southern Utah onto one of the Colorado’s tributaries. It looked like an ordinary river with some interesting cliffs springing out of the ground. After stopping under a shaded outcropping of rock for introductions and safety instructions, the water began to have a life of its own. From then on it was water, shale, limestone, sandstone, and more water. Colors and shadows changed with every turn. Silence, except for the water lapping onto the sides of the pontoons. Or the screams of all of us as we hung on for dear life going through a rapid, to come out at the bottom laughing and shivering from the frigid waters that drenched our skin.

August 9, 1869 – “The river turns sharply to the east and seems enclosed by a wall set with a million brilliant gems. On coming nearer we find fountains bursting from the rock high overhead, and the spray in the sunshine forms the gems, which bedeck the wall. The rocks are covered with mosses and ferns and many beautiful flowering plants.” Major John Wesley Powell from his exploratory expedition journal into “. . . the Great Unknown.”

Layer after layer we went back in time as we floated farther into the Canyon. The dark contorted rocks of the Inner Gorge are the ancient, highly metamorphosed remains of even older sedimentary and igneous rocks. How ancient? Detailed studies of radioactive elements reveal that the Canyon’s oldest rock, the Vishnu Schist, was metamorphosed some 1.7 billion years ago. I couldn’t help but think, “In the beginning, God created . . .”

The rhythm of the water and the lights of the heavens marked our days and nights. We were up at sunrise and usually in our sleeping bags soon after the light left the canyon. Meals were prepared wherever we found a flat place to “park” and set up camp. Lying on my back, with my glasses on, I fell asleep under the Milky Way with more stars than I had ever seen before; I was in a living planetarium.

Each morning we awoke to the sound of birds, sitting up in our bedrolls to discover the tiny tracks of the ringtail cats that had circled us while we slept on the sand. The early sunshine glowed red off the canyon walls; shades of orange on what had been pink the evening before. What would this day bring? What part of creation would we experience for the first time?

Although most of the Grand Canyon is dry and arid, it teems with life. Day hikes into side canyons gave us opportunities to discover tree frogs, sand verbena and evening primrose. Every crevice, every rock and every stream opened up God’s creation to us in new and unexpected ways. Tiny desert flowers and cacti of all varieties grew out of the rock. Small streams trickling down the side of cliffs would host moss and fern. Mule deer and Desert Bighorn Sheep were common sights, once hunted by the native peoples of the Canyon, the Hualapai. Today their descendants, the Havasupai Indians, try to live by the traditional concept of harmony with all life. They want to preserve the natural beauty of their homeland, believing themselves to be inseparable from the land. Could I live here forever?

A week later, the canyon walls began to lower, and we began our entrance into Lake Mead. On the last day of our voyage, civilization began to creep back . . . helicopter tours circling above us, catching a glimpse the ‘viewing bridge’ placed over a side portion of the canyon for tourists. The Canyon was behind us, but the dust remained in us – in our shoes, our clothes, under our skin. The dust of the earth of which we were created.

In Acts, Paul speaks to the Athenians about God as creator of all, and of the irrelevance of temples that cannot contain the divine reality. We had been in a temple made by God. All of creation is God’s temple. Paul harkens back to Genesis, and the creation of the world. Such is the Grand Canyon. Impossible to be made by human hands, but filled with life where many would say it could not exist. Ever changing, slowly through the millennia.

We are just a small part of God’s immense, indescribable creation. The “Great Unknown” might be around the next corner or river bend, where we can see God working in us and around us and through us. Water. Rock. Sand. Sky. Such is the stuff of life. Such is the stuff of the Creator.

Proverbs 7:1-4       John 3:11-21

“My child, keep my words and store up my commandments with you; 
 keep my commandments and live, keep my teachings as the apple of your eye; bind them on your fingers, write them on the tablet of your heart.”

Passing on the Christian faith from generation to generation is at the heart of the life and work of the Christian church. But this fundamental task requires much more than passing on biblical and doctrinal information. Passing on the Christian faith to others involves the work of the Holy Spirit, who gives birth to trust and confidence in the creative, redeeming, and renewing power of God.

We are called to be witnesses to the Good News of Jesus Christ. We are called to tell God’s story as we share our own faith stories through our teaching, mentoring, and ministering with and for children, youth and adults in our church communities. And in the year 2011, this is not an easy task. We find ourselves in a culture that is not always open to hear the radical message of Jesus: to wear our faith on our sleeve, our hands, our hearts – outwardly as well as inwardly.

As it was and is to our Jewish brothers and sisters, the Shema is at the core of their relationship to God . . . to love God with all our heart, with all our soul, and with all our mind. Marking it on our foreheads and our doorposts. It was probably the underpinnings of Jesus’ religious education as a child in the home of Mary & Joseph. As Jesus grew to adulthood, he deepened and broadened that commandment to include and love your neighbor as yourself. And perhaps almost 400 years ago, Jeremy Taylor, for whose life we mark today, grew up with the same mantra as a child.

Bishop Taylor is remembered as one of the “Caroline Divines,” those Anglican theologians and writers of the mid-seventeenth century who wrote with great passion and belief. He wrote what we might call a manual of Christian practices entitled, “The Rule and Exercises of Holy Living”, published in 1650. Some of his chapter headings resonate as timely topics for us today: Care of our Time, Holy Living, Purity of Intention; the Practice of the Presence of God; Christian Sobriety; Of Christian Justice; of Christian Religion. Some of the actual writings are a bit puritanical, but he spoke to the centrality of putting God at the core of who we are. Isn’t that what we are called to do today?

In many ways, Jeremy Taylor lived in a time similar to ours. Yes, he didn’t have globalization, an unstable stock market, Facebook, sports on Sunday, or a culture that spoke of being “spiritual, but not religious.” But he did live in a time in which the Church (which was also the State) was caught in a political as well as religious struggle. The son of a barber, who somehow was educated at prestigious schools and ordained at the ripe old age of 20, he was known for his preaching. But was also known as a spiritual guide and director, someone people came to see from far and wide for advice and counsel.

The period of history in which he lived was not one of stability. The mid-1600s was a time when the Church was caught in the midst of a Civil War in England. Soon after he was ordained, he was chaplain to Archbishop William Laud and King Charles I. Soon the Puritans came into power forming the Commonwealth; those who were supporters of the king’s cause and the episcopacy found themselves imprisoned. It was an unsettling time full of risk of death for many, depending on “what side” you were on – whether it was with the Puritans or the “papists.”

The context of our Gospel today is also one of tension and taking sides. The verses before our reading is of Nicodemus coming to see Jesus in the middle of the night. What we just heard was Jesus’ response to him. It is a message of light found in the midst of darkness, of new life and new sight. Following Jesus brings us clarity of vision. We are called to be witnesses for Christ.

Taylor was a witness for Christ, and was repeatedly imprisoned for it. Would we follow in his footsteps in our proclamation of the Gospel? How are we imprisoned within ourselves by being hesitant in sharing the Good News of Christ?

A quote that is attributed to Jeremy Taylor is one that we can carry with us today. “A religion without mystery must be a religion without God.” It is what I believe those in our communities (within and outside the church) are hungry for – mystery. We can find just about anything we need to “know” by googling it. But we seek that mystery – that wonder, awe, and mystery that Nicodemus was searching for.

Knowing Christ, we have the peace that passes all understanding. The Christian hope that we will be reconciled to God in Christ. In the meantime, we are called to preach the Gospel and go about the work of reconciliation in the world. Like Nicodemus, and perhaps Jeremy Taylor, we know our days are numbered – but our time is not the same as God’s time. We seek rebirth. We seek to be the apple of God’s eye. And through Jesus we know we are. We are loved. It is what we hope for our children, and our children’s children.

One of the prayers for the Visitation of the Sick as found in the Book of Common Prayer (p 316 in the 1928 American edition) was written by Taylor. It reads as follows:

O God, whose days are without end, and whose mercies cannot be numbered; Make us, we beseech thee, deeply sensible of the shortness and uncertainty of human life; and let thy Holy Spirit lead us in holiness and righteousness all our days: that, when we shall have served thee in our generation, we may be gathered unto our fathers, having the testimony of a good conscience; in the communion of the Catholic Church; in the confidence of a certain faith; in the comfort of a reasonable, religious, and holy hope; in favour with thee our God, and in perfect charity with the world. All which we ask through Jesus Christ our Lord.  Amen. 

Homily preached by Sharon Ely Pearson at Christ Church Cathedral, Lexington, Kentucky at the joint Christian Formation Day  of the Dioceses of Lexington and Kentucky. August 13, 2011

The sheet is wrinkled
The pillow is damp
My legs twitch and itch
as a heat rash begins as air bubbles churn through my empty stomach

I should have made a list.
What did I forget? What do I want to forget?
You can do it. Don’t think.

Concentrate on breathing
In and out
What phone calls need to be made tomorrow?
How am I going to make all these deadlines?
There is no balance. All is out of whack.
Control is an illusion.
Did I put the casserole I made in the freezer
or is it rotting on the kitchen counter?
Why did I say, “Yes”?
Things done and left undone
Let it be.

Breathe.
In and out
Scratch.
Toss.
Turn.
Throw off the blanket.
Maybe a drink
Maybe some Tylenol
Now hives. Time for the Zyrtek
1:30am

Creaking down the hall touching each floorboard that is not tacked tight
The glow of the dishwasher ‘done’ light illuminates the kitchen.
Water drunk. Drugs taken.
Make a list? Triage tomorrow?
Instead, sit in front of the glow of Cities and Knights
One game, two
2:15am

Don’t bump into the luggage in the hall
Toe joints crack
Same wrinkled sheets
Lay back
A steady pattern of breathing from the next pillow
Lay still
Things done and left undone
Let it be.

My mother, Trinette (b. 1926)

Mother’s Day will soon be here. I am not a big fan of “Hallmark Holidays,” although this one began out of a different tradition. According to “Mothers Day Central” (yes, there is a website called this), celebrating mothers can be traced back to Egyptian, Roman and Greek eras in history.

A later incarnation of a holiday to honor Motherhood came from Europe. It fell on the fourth Sunday Lent (the 40 days of fasting preceding Easter Sunday). Early Christians initially used the day to honor the church in which they were baptized, which they knew as their “Mother Church.” This place of worship would be decorated with jewels, flowers and other offerings. Today we often call this “Mothering Sunday” in the High Anglo tradition.

The first North American Mother’s Day was conceptualized with Julia Ward Howe’s Mother’s Day Proclamation in 1870. Despite having penned The Battle Hymn of the Republic 12 years earlier, Howe had become so distraught by the death and carnage of the Civil War that she called on Mother’s to come together and protest what she saw as the futility of their Sons killing the Sons of other Mothers. She called for an international Mother’s Day celebrating peace and motherhood through a Mother’s Proclamation.

In 1907, Anna M. Jarvis (1864-1948), a Philadelphia schoolteacher, began a movement to set up a national Mother’s Day in honor of her mother, Ann Maria Reeves Jarvis. She solicited the help of hundreds of legislators and prominent businessmen to create a special day to honor mothers. The first Mother’s Day observance was a church service honoring Anna’s mother. Anna handed out her mother’s favorite flowers, the white incarnations, on the occasion as they represent sweetness, purity, and patience. Anna’s hard work finally paid off in the year 1914, when President Woodrow Wilson proclaimed the second Sunday in May as a national holiday in honor of mothers.

Mother’s Day can be a difficult day for many. For those who never knew their mothers. For those who cannot have children. For those who had abusive mothers. For those whose mothers have recently died. This year, I will have “one less mother,” as my mother-in-law passed away 8 days ago. My own mother is not the person who she once was, having lost much of her memory and skill of years gone by. I’m a mother of two children who have left the nest, so I won’t be seeing them this Sunday. (I hope they call – hint, hint, if either of you read this).

I offer this prayer, which perhaps can pertain to all of us – who are children of God, the mother and father of us all:

A Prayer for Mothers by Rick Morley

On this day when we remember our mothers, let us offer our prayers to Jesus, the son of Mary.