Freedom's Prayer

Most of my writing this summer has been in and out of an attention on the First Amendment and those stories that inform us regarding the special place "the church" occupies in our civil life.  As I said earlier our responsibility to speak as a church in that broader civil discourse is based on an authority derived by our constituent citizens/members, thanks to the First Amendment.

A disestablished church is only that.  It still gathers, instructs, invokes, comforts, counsels, feeds, trains and worships.  In our case, most of what was the Church OF England in the colonies remained and became the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of America.  Disestablished but reorganized and distinguished from its past of a Crown's endorsement and Parliament's direction.
Perhaps no denomination demonstrates more clearly the difference our First Amendment intends.

From the preface of the first BCP 1789:

But when in the course of Divine Providence, these American States became independent with respect to civil government, their ecclesiastical independence was necessarily included; and the different religious denominations of Christians in these States were left at full and equal liberty to model and organize their respective Churches, and forms of worship, and discipline, in such manner as they might judge most convenient for their future prosperity; consistently with the constitution and laws of their country. 

The attention of this Church was in the first place drawn to those alterations in the Liturgy which became necessary in the prayers for our Civil Rulers, in consequence of the Revolution. And the principal care herein was to make them conformable to what ought to be the proper end of all such prayers, namely, that “Rulers may have grace, wisdom, and understanding to execute justice, and to maintain truth;” and that the people “may lead quiet and peaceable lives, in all godliness and honesty.”

 It's a wonderful history and beginning and it echoes the hopes held before independence was won.  The end -- read intent -- of all prayer from the Church for its nation should be for those in authority, now held through election to "have grace, wisdom, and understanding to execute justice, and to maintain truth."

Given the contentions that drove colonists to rebel we should be mindful that the intent that the people “may lead quiet and peaceable lives, in all godliness and honesty” goes much deeper than those same aspirations might today.

But how deep those aspirations go is entirely up to us and it will not do for us to settle into our privileged comforts as long as there is poverty and suffering around us.  It is this very disestablishment that expects us all to speak toward our "governors" so their understanding can "execute justice and maintain truth."

Yes we do our part from our own godliness and honesty.  Think Panda Packs.  But our prayers are meant to be heard especially those for our "Civil Rulers."  Our prayers and our voices are meant to be heard especially when we see injustice twisting our commonwealth into classes of rich and poor or dishonesty sinking our government into parties of power and suppression.

Our current BCP provides an alternative to the proper Collect for Independence Day.  Maybe we can help it be heard:

Lord God Almighty, you have made all the peoples of the earth for your glory, to serve you in freedom and in peace: Give to the people of our country a zeal for justice and the strength of forbearance, that we may use our liberty in accordance with your gracious will; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. (BCP, p. 258)

Belonging's Localities

“If you go to Atlanta, the first question people ask you is, "What's your business?" In Macon they ask, "Where do you go to church?" In Augusta they ask your grandmother's maiden name. But in Savannah the first question people ask you is "What would you like to drink?”
― John Berendt, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

I've always had an interest and respect for "local custom" just like author Berendt shared.  Not only does it provide a shortcut to understanding, with it dangers of stereotyping and prejudice, but it also helps to navigate the world in and between these environs.

In most cases local custom is the property of those "landed" gentlepersons or long-time residents who can answer Augusta's question for instance with Walton or Fannin. But ownership is not so strictly defined such that a little mystery can't also be engaged in the protection and maintenance of those customs.

My respect for local custom has matured while being a priest in the Episcopal Church.  With our Book of Common Prayer much of what I do is "prescribed." But I have yet to serve -- especially in worship leadership -- the same way in two places.

Just like Berendt's cities each parish has its customs and ownership of those customs is just as mysterious.  Advent has it's local customs, too.

For instance, our practice of kneeling for the Collect of the Day at the beginning of Sunday's Eucharists is not one I've seen anywhere else in the church.  The only source I can imagine would have been from those days of re-founding that relied on lay leadership and Morning Prayer according to the 1928 BCP would have had just about all prayers prayed while kneeling.

Somehow that practice has survived into these years of priests present every Sunday, a "new" prayerbook, and several "stints" of service by the same priest inclined toward their own habits and standards.   The cloud of mystery fades and most often I see Graham Ponder in vestments saying "The Lord be with you."

My favorite "local custom" was the one of providing a small glass of vodka on the credence table as an antiseptic aid to cleaning the vessels after communion.  I'm NEVER saying where I encountered that "mystery."

I'm sure there'd be no complaint if one were asked Macon's question in Atlanta or Savannah's in Augusta.  But these customs are local for a reason.  There are stories to be told. There is an aspiration or hope behind them.  There are memories and griefs shared.  At their best they are empowered as much by love as fear, as much to invite as to exclude.

It's not easy but belonging means living through some "bad" answers and waiting for a turn to ask the question back of the "gentry" so they can tell their stories, too.  So when we ask Advent's question -- I don't know what it is -- let's hope for belonging to be answer.

Forgiveness' Freedom

It was 18 years ago.  That means there are first year college students who have known no other world but the one punctuated for us by those planes and those towers and mostly those lives lost.  I'm still frightened by the memory.

What an incredible imagination, hardly anything but evil could have schemed so well to accomplish such a horror.  It seems our national defenses overt and covert are still learning how to deal with the "bin Ladens" who remain and continue to scheme.

There is no way to isolate the actions mass or singular of any terrorist.  Sadly it is not always their evil that begins the bombing, the shooting, the kidnapping.  They will almost always have some sense of injustice, some other's evil to redress that ends in what seems like a constant horror now.

Some of what I see now is a gift from God.  That is my having a perspective that protects me from a confusion of my own ego, my faith, and my citizenship.  I am not the one from whom forgiveness comes for those murderous acts.  But I surely have what God provides through me.

I wish this were case for all of those who lost a beloved family member or friend in the attack and its aftermath but for me one gift of forgiveness is that it frees me a little from the horror and it's haunting.  I do not have to remain afraid or only see those actors as of an evil for which we have no protection.  The gift extends and makes it possible to think about why it all happened.  Because God is the source of love and freedom I don't have to be afraid.

And so I'm asking a hard question; one that still triggers fear in many of the people I love. But here it is: what have we learned about ourselves, our nation, our culture, our place in the world that could be deemed an injustice permitting that retribution or even more so needing God's forgiveness?

I'm not asking about our response, most of it was heroic and courageous.  Some of it was misguided.

I'm asking about who "we" were to the world before those cells were empowered, before those passports were stamped, before those flying lessons were taught, before the tickets were bought. And I'm asking about who we can become.

Because of who God is I'm not afraid to ask.  Because of who God is I know I can still make a difference in that world and do more than push my chest out in a bravado that too often imitates patriotism.  I can forgive. 

And after that,  I can look for those ways we set a stage; not by ourselves but still with a presumption that all we did was meant for good.  Or at least enough "for good" that it covered our sins.  As if that's how goodness works.

Because of who God is I know that forgiveness exists, that it works, that it works for me, and for us too.  God is the source of love and freedom and because of who God is the whole world can be forgiven.  Without that forgiveness we may never really know why.

The Road's Freedom

Most of you know that I am making my way to Bozeman, MT this week to visit with my daughter and her beau as she begins her third year of college studies now a Montana State Bobcat.  She has made this part of the world as much her home as any having worked her fifth summer at Yellowstone.

I've made a trip like this three times.  Once in the famous "platform Saab," my first Prius, my second Prius and now my third (last?) Prius.  I've posted my itinerary on the parish Facebook page.  Wednesday is the longest haul from Black River Falls, Wisconsin to Theodore Roosevelt NP in far western North Dakota.

I travel without the benefit of the radio.  Silence or talking to myself is the mode.  A bunch of what happens is straight up prayer.  God gets to hear everything with every emotion and every "tone" of voice.  I've even had to pull off to let the tears flow.

There's something about being by myself, with just enough occupation on the road and my driving to minimize those distractions that plague my hyper mind.   Walking my labyrinth does the same for me.

The freedom of those miles that I love has much less to do with distance or only being encumbered by an itinerary but much much more with a sense that it's just me and God.  Sometimes I let God have a say. (winking emoji) To me that means I've got a lot less in the way.  Things like self defense or trying to win an argument.

Every time I've gone on one of these trips I've come back with some clarity or understanding that I had not packed.  I'm getting to where I intend for that happen.  I don't want to jinx it so I'll stop. (same emoji)

Some of my sense of freedom is that I am with God on this road.  It connects me to the first name for those crazy Christians: the People of the Way.  It's still true that when we are moving forward WITH God we share a freedom like no other.

I'll be back September 13 excited about the road WE are on and how God is with us.