Author: MASadmin

Chestnut Hill Baptist Church

Chestnut Hill Baptist Church

My wife’s grandfather’s sister was married here in 1957. She married the pastor’s brother who was attending Eastern Baptist Seminary at the time.

Throw a rock and you’ll hit a clergy person, or a saint, in my created family it seems. I have yet to discover any recent clergy person’s in my family of origin but I finally learned the name of the saint in my bloodline. His name is Saint Camillus de Lellis and he is one of the patron saints to nurses. The most common response I hear when I share this guy with folks is that they notice that he was 6’6″. They then notice me. They ask: “What happened?”

Sunday School Stratification: The Santa Question

Last Sunday was a wild day at my field education site. The sexton, two pastors, the CYF director, all three music directors, and a big chunk of the leaders of the church were gone (one of the musical directors was getting married!). The one remaining pastor, her partner, and I were left in charge. Things went well, I think. I only forgot to uncover the baptismal font (and prepare water for it) during the 9 am service (which I also was an assistant minister for) and I was able to get help to cover for me during Sunday school. And my helping clean up broken glass during the 11 am service was a hit – they really liked when I genuflected before the altar while holding a broom. But between the 9 am and 11 am service is when Sunday school is scheduled. After I readied the altar for the next service, I wandered into the Sunday School classroom with a half hour of time left. I was worried that the kids were driving the new teacher up the wall. Luckily, that wasn’t happening. I was relieved.

The kids (between the ages of 4 and 9) were talking about the story of Thomas. Being the fantastic Lutheran Christians that they are, when the kids were asked if they had ever NOT believed in God, they all said “no.” But, organically and without and prompting from us, the conversation quickly turned into whether they believed in fairy tales and myths. One young lady brought up the Loch Ness monster which immediately led to one of the older kids using the dreaded S word.

She started talking about Santa.

She said she never believed in Santa Claus, though some of her kids thought so. And when she talked about watching her mom wrap presents, she was immediately interrupted by one of the younger kids who shouted, loudly, “HOW ELSE DO THE PRESENTS GET INTO THE HOUSE?” The floodgates opened. The older kids began talking about parents wrapping presents, the younger kids countered with presents appearing in the middle of night because the parents were asleep. And all I could think was “no way – they’re not finding this out at church today.” I quickly blurted out a question to all the kids. They stopped talking, looked at me, and answered me. I asked them if they had friends who told them that God wasn’t real. Being in a city filled with opinionated adults and children sometimes helps. The conversation quickly shift back to the story of Thomas. I have no idea if I saved the day (it’s possible that the arts and crafts that followed also helped) but I haven’t stopped thinking about that moment since.

Even with really young kids, there really is a stratification built on the topic of Santa. I’ve been aware of the social, racial, language, and just plain age differences between the kids but I never, for a moment, thought about Santa. But the fact that Santa came up during the chat about Thomas makes perfect sense. Besides Christmas, there is no other time when Santa would come up.

I’m not sure how other churches, pastors, or vicars would have responded when this happened. I guess, since Santa has never been a problem for me, I will always side on “wait till they’re older” when it comes to the Santa Question. I don’t recall when I ever discovered that [SPOILER ALERT] Santa wasn’t real but I am sure I heard it from my friends. And maybe hearing it at Sunday School would be the best and safest place for that to happen. But I don’t think that’s the “counter-cultural” aspect of the church that needs raising up in Sunday School. Telling kids to love, to believe, and that God loves them – even if they don’t understand what that means – I think helps. I know I could have used that growing up. But Santa? I’ll leave that to the kids on the playground. I have enough of a hard time dealing with a disciple who denied Jesus, a guy who betrayed him, a guy who had to stick his finger in Jesus’s side, and a church history of deprecating women – and trying to explain all of that to kids who know more than most people give them credit for – than having to talk about Santa. And I think answering the Santa question might even be too easy for the church. It’s easy to try and destroy Santa while ignoring even more important questions later. It allows the church to focus on “myths” while propagating myths about sex, about the role of women, about minorities, and about reality. Those things matter more than Santa.

Happy Birthday to Me

Yesterday was my birthday. I had a fairly great day (all things considered). I would like to share some highlights with you, if you don’t mind.


This isn’t me. It’s a male model.

In my Lutheran Confessions class, I sit in the very front row, right next to Dr. Wengert. Like usual, I was being used as an example in the class (I don’t remember if he was drowning me with wine, over feeding me with bread, or listening to see if I’m alive, or whatnot). But then Dr. Wengert noticed my shirt. He took a moment to comprehend it, thought it was “something” and when informed it was my birthday (it was shouted out from the back of the room), Dr. Wengert sung me a lovely happy birthday song that he learned at camp. Only one other seminarian knew it. It involved death, dying, and hope that this might be my last year alive. So, for all future seminarians, if you would like to throw Dr. Wengert, buy your t-shirts from threadless; cookie loves milk is a good one.

During lunch at the refectory, the entire lunch crowd sung happy birthday. The table of all male faculty and staff didn’t seem very into it at first. However, by the end of the song, they were lovingly harmonized with the entire room. Well done sirs, well done.

After lunch, and before my liturgy small section, Dan let me do a shot of lemoncello that he had made. Class went very well after that.

Casey said, throughout the day, that it was my birthday.

Many staff members and students thought I was five years younger than I truly am. They said I aged well. They do not realize that I have a beauty routine to keep looking young – and my hip and happening sense of style probably also threw them.

I really loved eating my birthday chorizo burrito. It made everyone else at dinner jealous.

And my favorite bit was opening my birthday present while skyping with K, and hearing the dog barking in the background.

K also sent me almost two dozen e-cards throughout the day; all were from some e cards. This was one of my favorites:

What every Seminarian is dying to know: who wore what at the Royal Wedding

Did you sleep through today’s royal wedding? I did. I somehow even slept through my phone’s constant ringing as K sent me live text messages about the event (she was watching it in another state). I was happy to get some sleep but as I stumbled to my computer and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I realized there were three things I missed. One: what was Kate wearing? Two: what was the Archbishop wearing? Three: what was the sermon like? Question one was, by far, the easiest to answer. But for us seminarianzillas, what the bride wore isn’t the be-all of the event. There are more important fish (and chips) to fry.

First, Kate Middleton wore an ivory and lace gown designed by Sarah Burton at Alexander McQueen. I liked it quite a bit but she’s a bit behind the times – my bride beat her to the punch by a year.

Second, Archbishop Rowan wore a Pugin Style Cope made by Watts and Co. of London. My birthday is coming up if anyone wants to get me anything (hint hint).

Finally, the Archbishop’s sermon is on youtube. For those of you who prefer your sermons in textual form, below is a transcript copied from the Diocese of London’s website.

“Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.”

So said St Catherine of Siena whose festival day this is. Marriage is intended to be a way in which man and woman help each other to become what God meant each one to be, their deepest and truest selves.

Many people are fearful for the future of today’s world but the message of the celebrations in this country and far beyond its shores is the right one ‚Äì this is a joyful day! It is good that people in every continent are able to share in these celebrations because this is, as every wedding day should be, a day of hope.

In a sense every wedding is a royal wedding with the bride and groom as king and queen of creation, making a new life together so that life can flow through them into the future.

William and Catherine, you have chosen to be married in the sight of a generous God who so loved the world that he gave himself to us in the person of Jesus Christ.

In the Spirit of this generous God, husband and wife are to give themselves to each other.

The spiritual life grows as love finds its centre beyond ourselves. Faithful and committed relationships offer a door into the mystery of spiritual life in which we discover this: the more we give of self, the richer we become in soul; the more we go beyond ourselves in love, the more we become our true selves and our spiritual beauty is more fully revealed. In marriage we are seeking to bring one another into fuller life.

It is of course very hard to wean ourselves away from self-centredness. People can dream of such a thing but that hope should not be fulfilled without a solemn decision that, whatever the difficulties, we are committed to the way of generous love.

You have both made your decision today ‚Äì “I will” ‚Äì and by making this new relationship, you have aligned yourselves with what we believe is the way in which life is spiritually evolving, and which will lead to a creative future for the human race.

We stand looking forward to a century which is full of promise and full of peril. Human beings are confronting the question of how to use wisely the power that has been given to us through the discoveries of the last century. We shall not be converted to the promise of the future by more knowledge, but rather by an increase of loving wisdom and reverence, for life, for the earth and for one another.

Marriage should transform, as husband and wife make one another their work of art. It is possible to transform so long as we do not harbour ambitions to reform our partner. There must be no coercion if the Spirit is to flow; each must give the other space and freedom. Chaucer, the London poet, sums it up in a pithy phrase:

“Whan maistrie [mastery] comth, the God of Love anon, Beteth his wynges, and farewell, he is gon.”

As the reality of God has faded from so many lives in the West, there has been a corresponding inflation of expectations that personal relations alone will supply meaning and happiness in life. This is to load our partner with too great a burden. We are all incomplete: we all need the love which is secure, rather than oppressive. We need mutual forgiveness in order to thrive.

As we move towards our partner in love, following the example of Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit is quickened within us and can increasingly fill our lives with light. This leads on to a family life which offers the best conditions in which the next generation can receive and exchange those gifts which can overcome fear and division and incubate the coming world of the Spirit, whose fruits are love and joy and peace.

I pray that all of us present and the many millions watching this ceremony and sharing in your joy today will do everything in their power to support and uphold you in your new life. I pray that God will bless you in the way of life you have chosen. That way which is expressed in the prayer that you have composed together in preparation for this day:

God our Father, we thank you for our families; for the love that we share and for the joy of our marriage. In the busyness of each day keep our eyes fixed on what is real and important in life and help us to be generous with our time and love and energy. Strengthened by our union help us to serve and comfort those who suffer. We ask this in the Spirit of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Rowan Williams: a letter to a six-year-old

When a six year girl wrote a letter asking who invented God (it seems it was a class assignment), her father followed up by sending the letter to a variety of religious institutions in the United Kingdom. The Archbishop of Canterbury wrote the following response:

Dear Lulu,
Your dad has sent on your letter and asked if I have any answers. It’s a difficult one! But I think God might reply a bit like this ‚Äì
‚ÄòDear Lulu ‚Äì Nobody invented me ‚Äì but lots of people discovered me and were quite surprised. They discovered me when they looked round at the world and thought it was really beautiful or really mysterious and wondered where it came from. They discovered me when they were very very quiet on their own and felt a sort of peace and love they hadn’t expected.
Then they invented ideas about me ‚Äì some of them sensible and some of them not very sensible. From time to time I sent them some hints ‚Äì specially in the life of Jesus ‚Äì to help them get closer to what I’m really like.
But there was nothing and nobody around before me to invent me. Rather like somebody who writes a story in a book, I started making up the story of the world and eventually invented human beings like you who could ask me awkward questions!’
And then he’d send you lots of love and sign off.
I know he doesn’t usually write letters, so I have to do the best I can on his behalf. Lots of love from me too.
+Archbishop Rowan

I don’t think it’s half bad though I’m not sure if at six, I would have understood what he wrote. Or maybe the lack of dinosaur references would have bored me. Either way, I think it’s a good letter for the audience Archbishop Rowan was writing for – moms and dads.

Sometimes, Easter comes too early

I’m going to be honest, I sometimes think that Easter comes too early.

Well, I don’t mean too early as in too early in the calendar year (I could have used the break a few weeks ago!) but I sometimes feel that that the Easter Vigil comes too quickly. Good Friday is possibly my favorite liturgical service of the year (with the Easter Vigil a close second) and I sometimes wish to have the opportunity to savor Good Friday more. It’s a strange idea I guess but there always seems to be a rush to Easter. There’s a need to dress the church for the big reveal, not to re-enact what happened 2000 years ago, but rather to proclaim what the church should always proclaim: that Christ is Risen, here and now. Lilies need to be bought and placed around the altar. Candles need to be prepared. Baptism candidates need to buy new white clothes. The wooden cross that is brought into the hall is quickly replaced with the movement towards the resurrection. And I understand why that happens; I get it. But sometimes, it just feels too fast. And I think I feel that way because the Good Friday liturgy has always grounded Christ in Jesus for me. The Good Friday has always made Christ feel more real, more human, and seems to liturgically proclaim Christ’s dual-natures in a way that is only matched by the Christmas Eve Vigil (depending on the church of course).

Good Friday helps me to grab onto and lay witness to a human Christ in the midst of suffering; a Christ who is human not because he was only flesh and blood but because he lived as a human, breathed as a human, walked, talked, wept, ate, hungered, and suffered like a human. Jesus of Nazareth – the crucified one – is here a lived experience, a true human being. For me, abstract Christologies languish under the liturgy of Good Friday. And human life isn’t necessarily one where the suffering is restored only a moment later. Sometimes the suffering lingers. Sometimes the suffering appears as if it will have no end. So I worry that the rush to Easter will miss Christ in by pushing past Jesus’ humanity and head straight into the ascension.

If this sounds a tad confused, or if it sounds like I’m missing a few things, it’s because this has been running through my head for awhile and, the closer holy week became, the more overloaded with material I became. Now, right before the beginning of the three days, my head feels a tad full and I’m sure these thoughts are starting to come out my ears. But I just can’t seem to come to an entirely comfortable place with this quite yet.

For my introduction to liturgy class, we will be attending a paschal retreat in a few weeks where we will do the Three Days liturgy in one day. It will be held in an old lutheran church and I will cantor Psalm 22 during the Good Friday part of the day. This week, in my Old Testament course, we just so happened to talk about Psalm 22. My professor brought up the idea that, since the Psalms were Jesus’ prayer book, Jesus’ use of “My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?” is not just one line but a reference to the entire Psalm. The Psalm is one of abandonment, of suffering, and of a transition into a restoration that is not elaborated or explained. The restoration just happens. There is a tension inherent in the text at this point and this tension is engulfed by silence. The pleading turns to thanksgiving, the description of death turns into a boasting of life. To quote a professor, “It’s gorgeous.” But I worry about that silence. I worry that, if it is ignored, skipped, or pushed through, that the prior 2/3rds of the Psalm will be forgotten. I worry that getting to the resurrection before the cross is a problem. And that silence, that transition – a transition that comes in the middle of a verse in the NRSV – if it’s not paid attention to, part of the praxis of the church is lost.

I’m not really a fan of the idea of Jesus’ cry from the cross being read in light of the entire Psalm 22. I’ve heard it preached in such a way that abandonment of Jesus by God is ignored and we are pushed straight into the new dawn. And I get why that happens. I think it’s natural to want to get to that promised day as quickly as possible and to move past the suffering and into joy, health, and well being. Even though we live in that present day, our life in the world isn’t all roses and joy either. I think the suffering of Haiti, of Japan, of the countless marginalized people in the world, is a sign of our reality. I get that the realization of that hope is needed, wished for, desired, and wanted. In the midst of suffering, isn’t that what all want to be as quickly as possible? But what happens when it doesn’t come quick? What happens when that silence seems to last for much longer than a moment? What if we, our loved ones, our neighbors, our friends, our assembly are stuck in the middle of that verse? The hope for that transition is real and it’s part of our proclamation but I can easily see the restoration being spoken at the expense of the living with those in that silence. In this era of the Risen One, that hope is still there and it needs to be proclaimed and shouted from the roof tops. But it can’t become so loud that those in the silence, those who suffer, those who feel abandoned, those who are oppressed and persecuted, are left voiceless. I feel there’s a praxis in that moment of silence and in the liturgy of Good Friday that can easily be inadvertently overshadowed by the glitz and glam of Easter.