I gave my 6th graders a test. We are studying the virtue of faith. The Gospel lesson we studied was about Jesus calling Peter which teaches us how faith is life giving but can look foolish to others, especially those who don’t have much of it. According to Matthew, Jesus said, “Follow me and I will make you fishermen for people.” Hearing these words, Peter and his brother Andrew immediately left their nets and followed Jesus.
The test for the students comprised two questions. First, “Why did Peter’s faith look foolish to some people?” and, second, “How might your faith look foolish to others?” By and large, the students answered the first question with very similar answers saying people probably thought he was a fool for leaving his business, the nets, fish, and boat behind. The second set of answers, however, was anything but uniform. One student wrote that some people think it’s foolish for a Roman Catholic boy to study at an Episcopal school. (Personally, I think it’s a wise thing to do, but I digress.) Another student wrote about our Day of the Dead celebration and how remembering the dead might seem foolish and strange to some other people; in her words, “They say, ‘like they’re dead, so who cares.’” Another wrote about money and how giving it to a church could look foolish. The wisdom of our students amazes me. Needless to say, they all passed. The first ethic of Middle School, I have learned, is to avoid looking foolish. And so, I figured the students would be able to empathize with Peter because he must have known what he was doing would look foolish to a lot of people in his community. Consider what Peter may have gone through at the local hang out spots – the questions and ridicule from his friends for leaving his fishing business to follow a man who wasn’t even a certified Rabbi. The students were not quite willing to dismiss Peter’s actions out of hand so they asked, “Why did Peter follow Jesus?” I tried to explain that he heard the voice of God but they didn’t connect very well with that answer. Changing tactics, I asked them this question, “What are you willing to look foolish for?” That question wasn’t on the test. And I did not require them to answer. The silence that followed wasn’t because they weren’t thinking; it arose from a sincere evaluation of their beliefs and social standing. That is tough stuff for kids who do not want, above all, to look foolish and I was proud of them. After a sputtering and awkward conversation, I can tell you one thing for sure: Middle School students at Saint John’s, in their multi-faceted, demanding, and fast-paced lives, are not willing to look foolish for much. But, they will for one thing – love. Yes, they are willing to look foolish for love. Whether that love is for the pop band, One Direction, or for their devotion to a particular sports team, or even for their family, they will look foolish for love. I say this because perhaps more than faith, love is worthy enough for us to look foolish to our peers. And now I wonder, was it faith in God that made Peter immediately follow Jesus, or was it his love of God? Regardless, when the test of faith came to Peter, he chose love, faith, and even to look foolish. Published
There’s something I want to share with you but have been reluctant to do so. You see, I’ve been published. I enjoy writing but I’ve always wondered if I’m good at it. Although I received an “A” in High School AP English, I got back my first college paper without a grade. The professor said it was not good enough to grade. It was my first introduction into competitive academia. I attacked the subject with a fierce intensity and was able to squeak out a “B” grade and some newly found humility. Upon entering seminary, I again found myself in a competitive academic graduate school in Berkeley. Most of my classmates had advanced degrees and several had been published. I wondered what I was doing there and if I could survive. Graduating with a 3.5 GPA helped me understand that perhaps God had put a theologian’s mind in me. But then came the ordination process and more humility. The diocese required that I write on a number of subjects because a reviewer had made the assertion that perhaps I was not a good-enough writer. I was given two mentors – one for theology, a cantankerous and tetchy old priest who knew how to write about theology for the Church, the other for writing who is a deacon and professor at Gonzaga University. They both believed in me and were confident in my call to the priesthood. And, they were mad, not at me, but at the process. With the same fierceness that I discovered as a freshman in college, my team and I went to work. They didn’t want praise from the diocesan reviewer. No, they wanted silence, for him to become dumbstruck and silent with awe. Now that I reflect on it, I never actually heard what the reviewer thought. The result, however, was a bunch of happy people on the diocesan committee that enthusiastically recommended me to priestly ordination. My team told me to continue writing, which I did. Each week I wrote an article that I eventually called a Reflection. A good friend of mine, Tim Hunt from Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, a funny and jovial retired English professor, took me under his wing and to this day continues to edit my reflections. Starting at Saint John’s, Fr. Jack Tolley read my weekly reflections and contacted a major publication called Forward Day by Day. He suggested they publish some of my stuff. They reviewed it but turned me down. More humility; nevertheless, the managing editor put me in touch with one of her editors who was putting together a book with daily reflections about seeking God. I sent her some samples. She asked for five reflections and then continued to ask for submissions. And, as the book was going to print, I found out that she had published eleven of my reflections. I was reluctant to share this with you because I expected there to be a snag in publication of the book; just like in college and just like in my ordination process. But there wasn’t. I guess after feeling for such a long time that I couldn’t write, to finally see that I can requires me to think differently about a part of myself. And that part I still have not accepted. You see, somewhere deep inside me is a fierceness, like a chip on my shoulder, but it’s being replaced by a sense of God and of teamwork. I would not be published were it not for Jack, Tim, and my ordination team. I am grateful for them and in humility for the lone reviewer who asserted I can’t write. Although now deceased, I can imagine he is smiling in heaven. They saw in me what God has been trying to draw out, a witness of God’s love and grace, which can speak, in writing, to God’s people. And now, on a weekly basis, I endeavor to write in a spirit of humility so that you may experience what God is trying to draw out of all of us. - Fr. Marshall Faith
The virtue for this month at Saint John’s School is faith. I think all priests are familiar with the topic of faith but recently I’ve been pondering what faith is like when seen as a virtue. In our Anglican tradition, virtues help shape our moral life and acts. The Religion Department is teaching our students that virtues are ways of behaving even when no one is watching. At Saint John’s, we pass along the virtues that Christ taught us even if sometimes those virtues go against the tide of culture. At our Wednesday chapel service last week, we celebrated the Three Kings and their worship of the Christ child. But, because of our faith-virtue-theme, I changed the first lesson from our ordinary lectionary reading to Hebrews, chapter 11. In this extraordinary chapter, the author wrote the well-known phrase, “Faith is to be sure of the things we hope for, to be certain of the things we cannot see.” The author used Abraham as an example of being certain of the things we cannot see. Faith made Abraham obey God who called him out of his own comfortable lifestyle to leave his country. It was faith that led Abraham to give up his palatial house and live in tents in the wilderness. Confident of the hope from God, by faith Abraham lived in the wilderness and waited for the city of God. For Abraham, faith was a virtue – something to be lived out, even against the tide of culture. I suspect that when Abraham was packing up and ready to leave his wealth and comfort behind, his friends and relatives must have thought he was crazy, like Noah’s neighbors probably thought when they saw him building an ark. This is just not what someone of his age and societal statue would do. In a very real sense, Abraham walked away from his retirement plan, his health care benefits, golf cart and private golf course, his dream house and all the other things he built up from his career. He did this by faith. So did the Three Kings. They had faith of things they were certain of but could not see. The Three Kings/Wise Men/Magi, left their comfortable homes and literally lived in tents as they sought the Christ child. And, if you’ll let me walk out on a theological limb for a moment, the Word; that was with God, and was God, by whom all things were made; the Word left the comforts of the living Trinity and became flesh, born in a humble dwelling to humble people. Now that’s faith! I was visiting with a parishioner who had been pretty darn sick but was on the mend. Confident in hope of God for healing and restoration, the parishioner was expecting to attend church on Sunday. It was visible faith; she certainly lived faith as a virtue and she belonged in our Chapel Service last Wednesday as an example to the kids just like Abraham, Noah, the Three Kings, and the Living Word. My visit to her reminded me that, although I am pleased that she is healing well, we are living in tents of flesh – as described by Saint Paul in his second letter to the Corinthians. But as our earthly tent diminishes, we can have confidence and faith in the resurrection and in our true home, the one with God that is not made by human hands, but rather is prepared for us through God’s grace - the home that we are sure of but cannot see. We’re getting a Postulant which may sound like an invasive medical procedure, but is actually good news for Saint John’s. A Postulant is someone who is seeking ordination. Our Postulant’s name is Phil Loveless and he is seeking ordination to become a deacon. Postulant Loveless is in his second semester at the School for Ministry. His time with us, in an internship through the diocesan school, will be from late January until May. I am very excited to introduce him by telling all kinds of details of his life but somewhat reluctantly I will hold off and let him do that himself. As you can tell, I am very excited about entering this new phase of ministry at Saint John’s.
Phil, I believe, is called to be a deacon. Deacons are ordained ministers whose primary responsibility is to tell the world about the Church and the Church about the world. As priests are associated with the church, deacons are associated with the outreach ministries of the church. The New Testament Book of Acts reveals that shortly after Christ’s ascension into heaven, the twelve apostles became overwhelmed with work. They raised up seven deacons to assist them. Those deacons were primarily responsible for feeding the poor and taking care of widows. (Acts 6) Since then, deacons have been critically important in the Church for outreach, like taking communion to people who are sick and distributing food to the poor. This is part of how deacons bring the Church to the world. I remember well my time as a postulant. During seminary, I served at Christ Episcopal Church in Alameda. In many ways, it was like being a student teacher. Although I had a project to work on, I was under close supervision by the priest and my field education supervisor at school. The same situation will pertain to Phil who will be under my supervision as well as his field education professor at the School for Ministry. Postulant Loveless’ project is a vital one to our ministry at Saint John’s. He will be heading out into our Chula Vista community on Sunday mornings to see what families with children do if they are not in church. Phil will scout out parks, the mall, and other places where families might be. We will develop a survey for him to ask willing participants. The survey will tell us what families are looking for to nurture their spiritual lives. After gathering that information, he will work with us to develop a program to assist young families in their walk with God. The structure of his morning will be like this. He will worship at our 8 am service where we will send him out. Then, after spending time in the mission field, he will return to join fellowship after the 10 am service. I am excited and nervous at the same time. Phil will be joining a loving and supportive Saint John’s community which excites me since we have so much to offer him. He will be doing work that I think is vital to Saint John’s and to the diocese. The discoveries he makes could be implemented in our diocese and then perhaps in other dioceses around the country. At the same time, I am nervous because I don’t know what he is going to find and like most people I have some fear of the unknown. For instance, what if his survey shows that participation in youth sports is significantly more important to Chula Vista families than growing spiritually. Such a finding would make church growth pretty tough. But more information, rather than less, is always good and that knowledge diminishes any uncertainty I might have. I shared my fear with Phil at our last meeting. He chuckled and said, “Then we can simply adopt some youth teams and become their chaplains. We’ll pray with them before the game and then reflect with them when it is over.” He explained that we’ll bring the church out to families. Sigh. When will I realize that I will probably learn more from Phil than he will learn from me. This guy has a lot of wisdom and we can always use that. Please join me in welcoming Postulant Loveless when he begins his work with us. May God bless him, his ministry, and may the Spirit who makes us one, bring the Good News to families who have no church home. - Fr. Marshall Parishioner Anne Lambrecht’s mother, Nancy Marrow, will be laid to rest on Monday, January 6, in Maryland. Her ashes will be inurned at the Naval Academy. I helped Anne plan an order of service which an Episcopal deacon will perform at her retirement home. Nancy, a dyed-in-the-wool Episcopalian, would appreciate the service that we created for her.
An interesting aspect of this funeral service is that it falls on the actual date of the Feast of the Epiphany. I’ve been pondering what it means to be buried on the Epiphany. What connections, if any, exist between the feast day and the celebration of Nancy’s life? We celebrate, on the Epiphany, the revelation of Christ to the Gentiles. Namely, the Magi bearing gifts, traveled from afar to worship the new born child. You’ve probably heard a Christmas carol with words such as those. “Epiphany” means a moment of sudden understanding or a revelation. I have often wondered whether or not the Magi knew what they were getting into. There were no cell phones or Twitter accounts or even telephones (you may have to explain that term to the younger children). They were led by a star, not a GPS. Traveling into a foreign country, they continued until they met, with some resistance at the door, Jesus’ mother, Mary. Once she understood in her heart that they were not there to purchase Jesus, but rather to pay him homage, they were allowed entrance. I think at that moment, they had an Epiphany, the sudden realization that God had been born into human flesh. It was something that their ancestors had longed for, and now, they were present to witness it. Wham-o! It was a sudden moment of understanding – God so loved the world that he sent his only son. And when we think of the world, it also means you and me, individually, that God loved so, so much. Wham-o! It could hardly have been more startling; they must have realized they had inadvertently become a part of history and would never be forgotten. By the way, if I could rename certain Church days, I’d rename Epiphany to Wham-o. Believe me, unlike Epiphany, Wham-o sings well and rhymes with a number of Latin/Italian phrases, but I digress. A lot has been written about Steve Jobs and his death. One such account discusses the look on his face right before he died. It was as though he was seeing beauty for the first time. His expression was similar to how youngsters look when they walk into Disneyland for the first time. It was a wham-o experience. Nancy, I believe, had a couple of experiences in her life that were truly sudden moments of understanding of God’s love and grace. I’d be willing to bet that the first time she held her daughter, Anne, in her arms, she felt the beauty and wonder and love of God. But wait, says God, there’s more. Watching Anne and her brother grow and mature, truly by forces beyond her ability and control, I imagine she had another epiphany, at least one more. And then, much later on, she got to hold her granddaughter. Many grandparents tell me that they came to understand God’s love in a sudden and overwhelming moment when they held their grandchild for the first time. Wham-o. Despite these moments, nothing could prepare Nancy for the glories that are to come. She did not want restorative care after she suffered a stroke last month. I am certain that Nancy trusted in God’s grace and in the heavenly place prepared for her and thus decided to let go. Her daughter and granddaughter grown and independent, her time had come to make a journey and follow the star of Christ. Nancy now waits with all others who have followed that same star, waiting also for us to follow. Which we will. I am certain of that, too. - Fr. Marshall |