Cat in England

July 4, 2018
Girton Parish, UK

Alas, my friend Blogger, I have returned with another entry.

In 2014, when I first met Diana, on Iona, in Scotland, we chatted for just a bit, "where are you from" (she from England) kind of stuff.  But, something made us trade email addresses, prayers etc.  Last summer, Bill and I met up with her again on Lindesfarne Island on the opposite coast at the place where Scotland and England come together.  She had just been ordained a deacon and we had just left our group from Iona.  It was then that she invited me to her priestly ordination.

Long story short/er, I came here to preach at her first Eucharist.  The twists and turns of our lives are never predictable.  I was to leave Heathrow Airport and take a couple of trains to Cambridge and hopefully arrive before midnight on the Saturday night before her first service.  I guess security is getting tighter everywhere because it took an hour and a half to get through.  I called Uber.

So after getting side swiped by a bus during my Uber ride, locked out of the guest house I was staying in, and sleeping on the Vicar's couch, Sunday morning arrived with great haste.  The vicar's family awoke to a strange woman with a strange accent wandering around the house.  They were delightful people and their Sunday morning drill of her leaving, while her husband got their little boys ready for church was warmly familiar.  In the column of "its a small church," they know Jesse Zink quite well.

Diana, me, Mandy

It was a beautiful day, Diana's sister and daughter were there, the parish showed up in a big way, and we celebrated the 67th wedding anniversary of Nora and Albert with a champagne toast.  That particular Sunday saw visitors from Kenya, Netherlands, Germany, and the U.S.  Diana broke the bread like she had done it  a million times before.  My sermon was well received.

Evensong at Ely Cathedral

Many people wondered where I was from and I realized that Brits are like other Americans who wonder where in Boston is Massachusetts located.  People are all the same.

Since I have been here Diana has taken me to Ely Cathedral for Evensong according to the 1662 Book of Common Prayer, we went punting on the river, I have wandered around Cambridge University.  But, for all you Granchester fans - we had dinner in Grantchester and then we went to the church where the fourth season is currently being filmed. Everyone was gone for the day, except the location director, who secretly let me in to see the church.  No, the Vicar was not there he is staying somewhere near Cambridge.

One last thing;  Last night I watched the FIFA game England against Columbia and had a great time with a few people I have never met.  I think I could become a fan. Go England!

Grantchester Church

Tomorrow morning I fly to General Convention in Austin Texas and  promise to write more about that experience.

JONATHAN MYRICK DANIELS

Saturday, August 12, 2017

The Rev. Catherine A. Munz
St. John’s Northampton

LAST FRIDAY EVENING, MY FRIEND, DIANA BUTLER BASS, WHOM SOME OF YOU MET A FEW YEARS AGO WHEN WE ALL WORSHIPED AT FIRST CHURCHES.

DIANA, POSTED A PLEA ON FACEBOOK.  THAT  CAME FROM ANOTHER FRIEND OF HER’S WHO WAS TRAPPED IN A CHURCH, SURROUNDED BY POLICE, WHILE HOODED KKK MEMBERS RALLIED AROUND THE OUTSIDE OF THE CHURCH WITH LIT TORCHES.

A SCENE FROM 1963?  NO, CHARLOTTESVILLE, VIRGINIA 2017.ESCALATING YESTERDAY.

______

AND JESUS  (IN TODAY’S GOSPEL) SAID:  “Come.” 

So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” 

AT ABOUT THE SAME TIME THAT CHARLOTTESVILLE, WAS RACHETING UP A SMALL GROUP OF PEOPLE GATHERED,  AT THE  The David Ruggles Center for History and Education IN FLORENCE.  WE WERE THERE TO REMEMBER JONATHAN MYRICK DANIELS.

THE ANGLICAN CHURCH STOPPED CREATING SAINTS AFTER THE REFORMATION,

EXCEPT THOSE WHO ARE IN THE BIBLE.  INSTEAD WE HAVE CREATED FEAST AND FAST DAYS. WHERE WE REMEMBER PEOPLE WHO HAVE MADE IMPORTANT WITNESSES TO THEIR FAITH.

JONATHAN MYRICK DANIELS, IS REMEMBERED EVERY YEAR ON AUGUST 14TH.

I SPEAK OF HIM TODAY, AS SOMEONE, WHO LIKE PETER,  HEARD JESUS SAY “COME, JOIN ME, GET OUT OF THE BOAT.”

JONATHAN  WAS BORN IN KEENE, NEW HAMPSHIRE - IN 1939. HIS PARENTS WERE CONGREGATIONALIST.  SOMETIME, IN HIS TEENS HE JOINED THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH 

WHERE HIS BOY SCOUT TROOP MET.        HE WAS EVEN AN ACOLYTE!

HE DID WELL IN SCHOOL, GRADUATED FROM VIRGINIA MILITARY INSTITUTE,

AND STARTED AT HARVARD WITH THE INTENTION OF STUDYING  ENGLISH LITERATURE.

TOWARD THE END OF HIS FIRST YEAR,  AT AN EASTER SERVICE, AT CHURCH OF ADVENT, IN BOSTON, HE HAD A CONVERSION EXPERIENCE THAT CALLED HIM 

TO SEEK ORDINATION.  A YEAR LATER HE STARTED AT EPISCOPAL THEOLOGICAL SCHOOL IN CAMBRIDGE.

WHAT MADE HIM INTERESTED IN RACIAL JUSTICE  - WE’LL NEVER KNOW FOR SURE.

BUT HE JOINED THE NAACP EARLY ON, AND THEN THE CIVIL RIGHTS MOVEMENT.

AT ONE POINT HE SAID “ I BEGAN TO KNOW IN MY BONES AND SINEWS THAT I HAD BEEN TRUELY BAPTIZED INTO THE LORD’S DEATH AND RESURRECTION. . .  WITH THEM, THE BLACK MEN AND WHITE MEN (NOW I WOULD ASSUME WOMEN TOO), WITH ALL MY LIFE … WE ARE IN INDELIBLY AND UNSPEAKABLY ONE.”

WHEN MARTIN LUTHER KING JR.  ASKED STUDENTS AND CLEGRY TO JOIN HIM IN SELMA ALABAMA,TO HELP REGISTER BLACK PEOPLE TO VOTE JONATHAN FELT A STRONG CALL OF HIS OWN. CONVINCING THE SEMINARY TO GIVE HIM A SHORT LEAVE OF ABSENCE.

ONCE DANIELS GOT TO ALABAMA, HE MOVED IN WITH A BLACK FAMILY, WORKED WITH THE LOCAL EPISCOPAL CHURCH FOR INTEGRATION OF THE CHURCH,  BY TAKING YOUNG BLACK PEOPLE TO CHURCH WITH HIM.  THE CHURCH WAS NOT WELCOMING.

HE WORKED TO ASSEMBLE LIST OF FEDERAL, STATE, AND LOCAL AGENCIES 

THAT COULD PROVIDE ASSISTANCE FOR THOSE IN NEED. HE TUTORED KIDS. HELPED POOR PEOPLE APPLY FOR AID, AND REGISTERED VOTERS.  

AFTER HELPING THE EFFORT FOR A SHORT TIME, HE WENT DEEPER IN HIS INVOLVEMENT.HE RETURNED TO SEMINARY TO ASK FOR AN EXTENSION, WHEN HE SAID : “SOMETHING, . . .HAPPENED TO ME IN SELMA, … 

I COULD NOT STAND BY IN BENEVOLENT DISPASSION ANY LONGER WITHOUT COMPROMISING EVERYTHING I KNOW AND  VALUE.

THE IMPERATIVE WAS TOO CLEAR THE STAKES TO HIGH, MY OWN IDENTITY WAS CALLED TOO MARKEDLY INTO QUESTION.”   

EARLIER THAT AUGUST (1965) THE VOTING RIGHTS ACT WAS APPROVED BY CONGRESS.

ON AUGUST 14 DANIELS JOINED A GROUP OF  29 PROTESTERS AT FORT DEPOSIT ALABAMA TO PICKET STORES LABELED “WHITES ONLY”.”   ALL OF THEM WERE ARRESTED AND TAKEN TO NEAR BY HAYDENVILLE. THE NEXT DAY 5 JUVENILES WERE ALSO ARRESTED.  THE REST OF THE GROUP WAS HELD FOR SIX DAYS, REFUSING BAIL UNTIL EVERYONE COULD BE RELEASED.

FINALLY, ON AUGUST 20TH, EVERYONE WAS RELEASED, WITH NO AVAILABLE TRANSPORTATION TO GET THEM BACK TO SELMA.  IT WAS A HOT DAY, AND WITH A LONG WALK AHEAD, JONATHAN, A CATHOLIC PRIEST, RICHARD MORRISROE, AND TWO TEENAGED GIRLS, WENT TO A STORE TO GET SOMETHING COLD TO DRINK. 

WHEN THEY ARRIVED, A MAN NAMED TOM COLEMAN WAS THERE WITH HIS SHOTGUN, 

BARRING THEIR ENTRANCE.  WHEN HE AIMED IT AT ONE OF THE YOUNG TEENS, RUBY SALES,  DANIELS PUSHED HER TO THE GROUND  THE GUN WENT OFF, KILLING HIM IMMEDIATELY.

THEN COLEMAN AIMED AT THE OTHER GIRL, JOYCE BAILEY, THE PRIEST PUSHED HER DOWN, AND WAS SHOT - BUT NOT KILLED.

COLEMAN WAS INDICTED FOR MANSLAUGHTER, THE ATTORNEY GENERAL OF ALABAMA 

THOUGHT THE CHARGE SHOULD HAVE BEEN MURDER.  

BUT THE LOCAL TRIAL JUDGE REFUSE TO WAIT FOR THE REV, MORRISROE,TO  RECOVER ENOUGH TO TESTIFY.

COLEMAN CLAIMED SELF DEFENSE, WAS ACQUITTED BY AN ALL WHITE JURY 

(BLACKS COULD NOT YET VOTE,THEREFORE WERE NOT ALLOWED ON THE JURY).

COLEMAN NEVER SPENT A DAY IN JAIL,  AND HE NEVER REPENTED.

COLEMAN LIVED TILL HE WAS 86, AND DIED IN 1997.  

SINCE THAT TIME, IN 1991 THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH DESIGNATED JONATHAN MYRICK DANIELS AS A MARTYR, AND AUGUST 14 AS HIS DAY OF REMEMBRANCE.

THE DIOCESES OF ALABAMA  AND THE CENTRAL GULF COAST HAVE A YEARLY PILGRIMAGE IN HAYDENVILLE TO COMMEMORATE DANIELS AND ALL THE MARTYRS OF THE CIVIL RIGHTS MOVEMENT.

KEENE, NEW HAMPSHIRE HAS NAMED A SCHOOL AFTER HIM.

THERE ARE MANY OTHER MEMORIALS IN HIS NAME.

_____

I HAVE BEEN PLANNING TO TELL YOU THIS STORY FOR A FEW WEEKS NOW.  I DO IT EVERY YEAR AT THE WED. SERVICE.

IT HAS BEEN 52 YEARS SINCE JONATHAN DANIELS DIED,  AND AS MUCH AS WE WOULD LIKE TO SAY  “IT’S ALL BETTER NOW, - IT’S NOT” THE LAST TWO DAYS IN CHARLOTTESVILLE VIRGINIA TELL US THAT.

YET, THERE ARE VICTORIES:

RUBY SALES, WHOSE LIFE WAS SAVED BY JONATHAN DANIELS WENT ON TO ATTEND EPISCOPAL DIVINITY SCHOOL. SHE is the founder and director of the Spirit House Project,  DEDICATED TO JONATHAN DANIELS. She is one of 50 African Americans to be spotlighted in the new Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington, D.C.

____

YESTERDAY’S EVENT AT THE DAVID RUGGLES CENTER IN FLORENCE. THE SOCIAL JUSTICE COMMITTEE OF THE DIOCESE SPONSORED THE TIME OF REMEMBRANCE AS WE WALKED AROUND FLORENCE.

WE TALKED ABOUT DANIELS, AND SOJOURNER TRUTH, AND HOW FLORENCE MA., WAS A PART OF THE UNDERGROUND RAILROAD.THERE WERE ABOUT 20 OF US,  ALL OF US LEFT SAYING “I DIDN’T KNOW THAT.”

I STAND IN AWE OF THE COURAGE SO MANY CIVIL RIGHTS WORKERS HAD.  PEOPLE RISKING EVERYTHING FOR THE RIGHTS OF OTHERS.

NOT JUST WHITE PEOPLE,  BUT PEOPLE OF COLOR,  BUSINESS OWNERS, HOMEOWNERS AND VISIONARIES.

I WONDER IF I COULD EVER HAVE THAT KIND OF COURAGE.

WHEN JESUS TELLS PETER TO GET OUT OF THE BOAT,  PETER SINKS AS SOON AS HE THINKS HE THINKS HE CAN WALK ON WATER ON HIS OWN STEAM.  AND MAYBE THAT IS THE TAKE AWAY FROM THIS GOSPEL.

I DON’T KNOW THE SOLUTION TO RACISM IN OUR COUNTRY, BUT I KNOW THAT 

1, WE CAN’T DO IT WITHOUT GOD.

2. WE CAN’T DO IT WITHOUT EACH OTHER.

3. WE CAN’T DO IT STANDING STILL, WE HAVE TO STAND UP TO IT.

AND LASTLY WE CAN’T DO IT WITHOUT THE COURAGE TO GET OUT OF THE BOAT.

LET US PRAY:

O God of justice and compassion, you put down the proud and mighty from their place, and lift up the poor and the afflicted: We give you thanks for your faithful witness Jonathan Myrick Daniels, who, in the midst of injustice and violence, risked and gave his life for another; and we pray that we, following his example, may make no peace with oppression; through Jesus Christ the just one, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

 WIKIPEDIA INFORMED SOME OF THE FACTS ON JONATHAN DANIELS.  ALONG WITH HOLY WOMEN, HOLY MEN,  (ESPECIALLY THE COLLECT AT THE END)

FOR MORE INFORMATION ON RUBY SALES GO TO http://spirithouseproject.org

FOR MORE INFORMATION ON TOM COLEMAN GO TO http://www.nytimes.com/1997/06/22/us/thomas-coleman-86-dies-killed-rights-worker-in-65.html  

Jonathan Daniels quotations taken from sermon offered by the Rev. Harvey Hill 

. . .bread and friends in Finland. . .

Bread and welcome

Most people don't view someone's summer vacation as stimulating reading.  Yawn. . .

This is more of a "homecoming" kind of vacation.  After graduating from high school, I left home to be an exchange student in Finland, that was (ahem, and cough, cough) 44 years ago, at the ripe old age of 17.  One might have lost touch with those shy Finnish people.  Gosh, I have lost touch with so many of my old high school buddies and almost all of my college buddies, save a precious couple of them.  No, this is different, it was like leaving a piece of my heart when I left Finland.  The network of depth, honesty, and love has gone much deeper. 

I love sharing this trip with Bill, we started our relationship as high school friends - in my year book, he wished me well on my travels.  After our marriage, and a few years later he made his first trip to Finland, we were expecting our first child.  Now, years later he is here again, learning new Finnish words.  This visit, he has already met most people at least once.  Places of the heart are filled with love transferred to and from deep relationships.  Meeting new friends, and literally old friends,  in new homes and old places.  

In town, we walked by a bakery with the door open and the iconic smell of pulla wafted onto the street.  Pulla is the bread of coffee shared.  Pulla is the item most homes had on hand for any guest who may drop by.  Many people baked their own pulla when I was 17;  I have learned, but time usually prohibits.  Now, (and back then) it was a staple in any bakery. The smell of cardamon, cream, and sugar says "welcome home" as best anything could.  

There is something about sharing bread with people that is as old as time itself.  We do it in our homes all around the world, we share it when we enjoy coffee or tea, we do it in church,  it usually is delivered to the table shortly after we sit down in a restaurant.  The top picture is one of just the flat rye breads available in one of the first grocery stores we visited this trip.   The other is of a pulla bun.  

Next week the Church will begin a 5 week series of readings about bread.  "I am the bread of life", feeding of five thousand, God revealed in the breaking of bread. . .  From those who relish a basket of garlic knots to those who share pulla, bread is the food of love and homecoming. 

Uniform

Last April Bill and I were driving home from Pittsburgh, where our granddaughter celebrated her 2nd birthday.  We stopped at Sheetz to get gas and breakfast.  Sheetz is a great place to get fast food (if that isn't an oxymoron).  It was early in the morning and the building was full of uniforms.  It was odd, first I saw the tell-tale signs of one of the religious communities that are so much part of PA.  Men in black hats with wide brims, a small curl sticking out from underneath those hats, simple clothes, made from simple patterns, probably hand sewn denim. No buggy, not sure what sect, but you can see them frequently in rural PA.  Then there were several men in red shirts, with some gas company logo on the breast pocket.  Sheetz has their own distinctive uniform too.  Then there was a State Police officer, and a delivery man, both in their own uniforms.  I suppose one could say that Bill and I were in the uniforms of weary travelers - sloppy, comfy - but no, that was just us.

Later I went, in uniform, to  the installation service of the new pastor at First Churches in Northampton.  I sent a message to find out what the dress code for participants was.  The answer was funny. . . apparently my non-Episcopal friends were joking around that if there were to be a contest for the best dressed, the Episcopalians would win!  So much for our  Church uniform, sounds like envy to me! 

What is the uniform of a Christian? 

Some might refer to the whole armor of God from Ephesians 6:10-17.  But seriously are you ready for the breastplate of righteousness and the belt of truth around your waist?  I had a professor in seminary who did not believe in wearing the cross around our necks, for he felt it was an instrument of capital punishment.  Episcopal monks and nuns use their habits as a uniform.   While Roman Catholic nuns were shedding their habits, Episcopal nuns were taking them on as a proud statement of identity.  Clergy sometimes joke about driving in a collar - do we drive the same in and out of uniform?

This Sunday we will join with 5 other congregations, again at First Churches for a wild celebration of ecumenism with Diana Butler Bass as our preacher.  I have been amused at all of the discussions on what to wear.  What is it that our uniform says?  While one choir wants to wear their robes another does not.  While some want to process others think it is too formal.  

Funny how our identity is tied to our uniforms.  I make no statement regarding the value, or lack- there-of when it comes to uniforms.  But what does a progressive Christian look like? 

Ambient noise

Ginger my dog and me at 3 yrs

Communication. . . World problems could be solved, relationships saved, information transmitted, and yet it's so difficult to achieve.   A few years ago a member of the congregation came into have a chat.  She was very upset about a perceived wrong, - "but how am I suppose to know that?"  Calmly I explained that the information was explained at our congregation's Annual Meeting.  "Oh, I don't go to those things."  I explained that it was also in the Annual Report, and that I mentioned it in a letter written to the congregation.  As one might guess, she had read neither.

A few years back, I heard that marketing experts say we must be contacted about a product at least six times before the information sinks into our consciousness.  Although that may be true.  If the information is important enough - say like the million dollars I think I should win - well, I guess you wouldn't have to tell me six times.

I am blessed to have some deaf people in my life, one of whom reminds me that hearing people don't listen or communicate very well.  I have no basis of experience to know the truth of that accusation, but I have been aware that ambient conversation and noise are lost on deaf people who have no idea what is being said around them.  To understand me, a deaf person must either look at my mouth with great intention, or try to understand what I am attempting to say with my limited sign language.  "listening" is more intentional when you choose to "hear."

When I think about how many things I heard yesterday - and have already forgotten it is sad.  But, isn't it amazing how many years the story of Jesus has managed to survive?  He was so counter-culture with the way he stood up for the poor, sick, lame, mentally ill, women, children and slaves, and how his sacred power - still does.  Jesus put his message, ministry, and faith, in fisherman, tax collectors, and the unclean, they were his inner circle.  Seriously, who wants to hear stories about a man who loved the unlovable and invisible?

Yet, right now, in the middle of our Easter season, the story continues. How does anyone communicate love in a way that people are still telling the story 2000 years later?  Frankly it's worth so much more than a million dollars (not that I would turn down the million).  Keep telling me the stories of Jesus, 6 times - today, and 6 more tomorrow.  Tell me to stop listening to the ambient noise of my cluttered life.

The story can change the world.  But in the meantime make me look at your lips moving.  Move your hands around, do whatever you need to do to help me - so that I can tell the story to someone else.

Visited

Sally (name changed) 90+ years old, just home from the hospital is grieving the loss of her sister. I visited her last week, she was in bed recovering from a bout with COPD. Clearly beloved by her family, with her hospital bed on the first floor, surrounded by her things, paintings, and other things to bring physical comfort. "My sister died, she was younger by several years," she told me. "Not fair, I'm the oldest, I thought I got to go first." We chatted for a while, and she told me about her sister.


For years people have told me about being visited by loved ones after they die. Loved ones seem to return in dreams, by scent, and other creative ways. Today in church our preacher even mentioned something to this effect in her sermon. It's as if they return to let us know that they are all right, or maybe they just stay until we are ready to let them go. She pointed out to us the sacredness of these experiences that few of us feel comfortable talking about. Yet, as a priest, someone who is privileged to hear what some fear to talk about, I hear this a lot. Our preacher pointed out that we need spiritual friends and a community where it is safe to talk about these holy experiences.


I took a chance and asked Sally "has your sister visited you in your dreams?" Her eyes got wide and she looked at me with that, "how did you know?" look. "Yes, she has," she whispered, "and she told me she is o.k." I told Sally that I was happy that her sister was able to tell her that she is o.k.


This afternoon I called a friend whose mother just died. They were very close. Her mother was a wonderful woman. I dreamed she come to a meeting I was in with a plate of cookies-that we were trying to politely decline. Are cookies fattening even if they are dream cookies? Anyway, her mother said, "you just have to have some sweetness in life." Of course she is right.


I wonder about these 'near life' experiences. They are sacred, holy, and a blessing. Do they happen to everyone? I could tell that both Sally and my friend were glad I brought it up. When loved ones die, we really do like to talk about it to people who won't think us nuts.



What do you think? Have this ever happened to you? I'm listening.