The Great Fifty Days of Easter

The Monday after Easter was a welcome rest for me from the hectic pace of Holy Week.  Life as a priest falls into certain rhythms, and Easter Monday provided some time to be home savoring the blessedness of our Parish Life.  I've read with great interest about the Amish and Easter Monday; it is not the time spent hunting bargains or half-priced candy.  Amish businesses are closed and the Amish spend the day visiting with family and friends.

In the Anglican tradition, my family is celebrating the Great Fifty Days of Easter.  It was St. Augustine who said, "We are an Easter people and Alleluia is our song."  Each day, we look for joy, and signs of resurrection all around us (although as I pen these words, it is rainy and chilly and winter seems to be hanging on!) Perhaps your family (however you are configured) would like to celebrate these Great Fifty Days, too.  They begin with the Great Vigil of Easter and continue until the Feast of Pentecost (following the liturgical calendar)  Here is a website, while Roman Catholic in its orientation, may give you some food for thought!

http://wau.org/resources/article/re6_family_50_days_easter

Enjoy!

Next year following Easter Sunday, the Day of Resurrection, I think I'll take a cue from the Amish, and instead of just resting, or catching up on duties I didn't get done during Holy Week, I'll take Easter Monday and visit--with family and friends.  It will be a nice addition to our Fifty Day celebration.

Blessed Eastertide!

The Pope of Hope...

     Yesterday's announcement of a new Pope caught me off guard.  The early morning news reports suggested that it might be as late as Monday of next week before white smoke would rise over Vatican City.  A quick chance glance at Facebook changed my afternoon: HABEMUS PAPEM !!!!  White smoke!
      Several folks gathered around my computer, watching a Live Stream of news from far away--waiting as we so often find ourselves doing in this life.  Waiting for word of the new Pope, finally unveiled--Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio, from Argentina--presented to the world.  He chose the name Francis I.  At first, I spectulated it was taken for St. Francis Xavier--a Jesuit--same order as the new Pope.  But as day turned into night in my setting, I learned he chosen his name for Francis of Assisi.  And I went to bed feeling hopeful!
    The Pope of Hope, I've dubbed him!  I haven't listened to news today or crused the internet.  Instead, I've focused on his first few acts--the choosing of his name and his asking for a blessing from the people. Deep humility?  O, I so hope! Francis of Assisi was a reformer who wanted to bring the people back to the joy of knowing Jesus.  May his name sake bring about reform in our day.  May there be dialog among people of many denominations and faiths.
      Last evening, the Parish where I serve as an Associate, and our local Methodist church gathered together for an already scheduled service of Eucharistic sharing--Episcopals and Methodists linked together by the Wesley brothers (who never stopped being Anglican priests, I hasten to add!).  Yet, we were all struck by the events of the day and recognized in the end, we are all united in Christ.
     This being Lent, I feeling a little like I want to do Stations of the Cross this Friday.  Our parish does not have Stations except for Good Friday.  In the Spirit of Francis of Assisi, and Francis I, I may join in our local Catholic church this Friday--to walk the pilgrim way.
           Our prayers are with you, Francis I.  Peace and all good!

They call themselves covered Christians . . .

'...any woman who prays or prophesies with her head unveiled disgraces her head—it is one and the same thing as having her head shaved. ⁶For if a woman will not veil herself, then she should cut off her hair; but if it is disgraceful for a woman to have her hair cut off or to be shaved, she should wear a veil. '  From I Corinthians 11

Many years ago, I fancied myself with a veil; I had longed to be a sister with All Saints Sisters of the Poor http://www.asspconvent.org/.  A very wise Mother Superior suggested that I receive a college education before returning to convent life--and, as the saying goes, the rest is history.  I met and married a wonderful man,  adopted a beautiful daughterafter many struggles to have children and later became an Episcopal priest.  Many years later, my beloved All Saints' Sisters left the Episcopal Church for Rome http://catholicreview.org/article/life/10-episcopal-nuns-in-archdiocese-of-baltimore-to-join-catholic-church, which is a profound loss for the Anglican communion!  But I've thought about that veil for a long time.

The lessons and love learned in the Catonsville setting never left me, and I recall the desire to wear a veil continued long after the reality of being a sister left.  For years, I wrestled with the length of my hair--the only Bible my husband ever quoted me was that "it is disgraceful for a women to have her hair cut," sweet man that he is!

For several years now, I have studied Headcoverings--I've read countless blogs, articles, and studied numerous documents and paintings.  And I have noticed an amazing number of Christian woman who post on line who are also intrigued by headcovering--and many who do.  Mennonites, Amish , Hutterites and some other Christian women wear a variety of prayer caps.  There are many good websites that may be consulted for patterns.  At one point in my walk with the Episcopal Church, hats and chapel veils were popular.  But for many reasons, hats and chapel veils are rarely a part of the wardrobe.  This history of Headcoverings is a fascinating study. 

Wearing a biretta at a Tea in Meridian, MS

As a priest, I do not cover my head-- and I am not likely to, unless I wear a biretta http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biretta.  I often do wear a headband or barrette. And as you can see from a few pictures, I've donned a hat or two in my ministry!   But I continue to find myself drawn to headcovering for some strange reason.  I am so grateful for the women in my life who do "cover" and for those who allow me to be a part of their lives. For many, it is out of deep religious conviction that they cover; they are women of faith--albeit different from my own--yet we share a common bond in Christ Jesus.  I'll continue to read and explore and listen!  God is always inviting us!

My Fruit of the Spirit Hat from a preaching series
on the Fruits of the Spirit

"Veiled" at Vacation Bible School

2013 is inching its way toward us--talk of falling off the fiscal cliff continues; we lived through the Mayan Calendar discussion (and the end of the Twinkie!).  Christmas day has come and gone, and Christmastide is well under way.  2013--a new beginning.  St. Benedict said, "Always we begin again."

Again this year, I invite you to choose a companion to travel with you in the New Year.  I have selected two--Julian of Norwich and Thomas Merton.  The life of a priest is often filled with busyness and doing; my soul longs for a more contemplative approach to my work.  I hope you, too, will choose companions to learn something about them, to learn something from them, to learn ...

In 2013 I continue my quest with the Anabaptist tradition, too.  Thinking of Plain dress--modesty--living more simply; living more deeply.  I am grateful for the many blessings in my life that come from such an eclectic mix of friendships.

May you 2013 be filled with exploration, peace, love and joy.  As we begin again...

Self control

What ever happened to self control?
The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

I have been deeply disturbed the past few days about the increasing violence in our world, and most specifically, the violence that has erupted over a film/trailer posted on the Internet.  For the past few days I've pondered self control.  Often associated with dieting (and oh my, how I have battled weight in my life time), self control really applies to much of our daily living.

As an Episcopalian, my church has often been the subject of much misinterpretation and often under attack.  I'm not writing to debate my denomination; I think I'm here to stay.  However, I've never felt the need for violence when someone speaks unkindly, or makes fun of my denomination.  Hurt--yes, I've often felt hurt; violence doesn't serve us well. It was Gandhi who said, "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind."  I'm not called to agree; I am called to love.

Many years ago a good friend of mine who is a Mennonite said to me, "Isn't it wonderful that God allows us to worship him in so many different ways."  I have never forgotten her words.  I remain grateful for the many people in my life who are dedicated Christians who do worship in different ways from me and many who also feel quite differently from me on various social  and religious subjects.  But my life would not be complete if there were no longer in my life.  Similarly, I am grateful that I have folks in my life who are of another faith--they had zest to my life.  Often inspired by St. Francis' words, "Preach the Gospel at all times; if necessary use words" I find it a joy to share my faith with them.

Join me in praying for our world.  Let us pray for self-control and let us work for peace. 

Burning hearts . . .

I love rummage sales and thrift stores; in some ways it is a hobby.  Over the years I have found some wonderful things for my home as well as some savvy gifts for friends and family. I've been inspired ever since I first read Living More with Less by Doris Janzen Longacre.
http://www.heraldpress.com/titles/livingmorewithless/


This past Saturday, after an early morning trip to our local farmers market,  I made my way to a local church's rummage sale.  Arriving later in the morning that I had intended, I made my way around the room feasting my eyes on the treasurers that remained from the early crowd.  I didn't see much, until a box of picture frames caught my eye.  There I discovered a lovely print of the Walk to Emmaus. The colors were beautiful and it was very tastefully framed.  Thinking it might be more than I normally allow myself to spend on my hobby, I decided to see what the treasure might cost.  The price turned out to be $2.00!  Needless to say, I came home with the framed print in hand.


To my amazement, the colors of the print coordinated beautifully with our living room furniture.  My husband graciously hung the print for me--every time I go down the hall I catch a glimpse of it.  Several years ago, I read about a monastery where a painting of the  Annunciation (Angel Gabriel's encounter with the Virgin Mary) was placed on the ascending staircase that led to the monks' cells.  Each time they climbed the stairs, they were confronted with Mary's YES and subsequently with their own.  The placement of my Emmaus print reminds me of how our Lord often walks with me, even when I don't recognize it.  In the company of others, in the breaking of the bread, God is revealed.  I don't know the artist of the painting; but I am inspired by the Grand Artist.  Thanks be to God.


They said to each other, ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?’  Luke 24:32

Tending . . .

In a phone conversation with a dear friend recently, I was reminded that it has been some time since I've posted on my blog.  In many ways, I am still sorting out this "blogging" world.  And lately, I have been tending things: my cutting garden, my vegetable garden, my little flock, and tending to the cure of souls.  Blogging hasn't been a high priority.

The call from my friend, however, sparked something within me.  In a recent publication I read that several states have dropped handwriting as an educational requirement.  Saddens me to read this, especially as a former teacher.  It is not surprising in some ways; our world is moves swiftly with computers, cell phones, etc.  But to give up handwriting seems unwise.

I am grateful for my fifth grade teacher, Mr. Harry Broadus, for giving me the gift of penmanship. A wonderful and resourceful teacher, he gave me the thirst for reading, writing and . . . well maybe not arithmetic! (I've often laughed and said I became a priest because I couldn't do math!).  Our daily handwriting lessons fostered a love of letter writing.  In Junior High School, I began to correspond with a girl in England--we wrote to each other for many years.

Today, I am blessed to have an Amish pen-pal.  I enjoy the use of email and Facebook (not on Twitter yet); but I love opening my mailbox, pulling out a letter from my Amish friend, and sitting down with a cup of coffee to savor the joy of her life.  To read about Amish frolics and quilting bees, to hear about her gardening efforts, and stories of traveling by buggy all told in her hand writing means that she made time to write me. Taking time to read her letters means that I must slow down; something I often need in this busy life.

I'm not likely to give up using my computer and modern means of communicating; but I will be tending the art of pen on paper for many days to come.  Handwriting doesn't need to by a dying art.