An All American Labor Day

An All American Labor Day

“O Danny Boy

The pipes, the pipes are calling

From glen to glen

And down the mountainside”

Cindy McCain held it together until that song. And then she broke down. And so did I. The quiet dignity of a service from the National Cathedral, the honor and integrity of our call to higher service, reflected as it was in the life of John McCain. Meghan McCain, Henry Kissinger, Presidents George W. Bush, and Barack Obama were all able to articulate something we needed to hear. Their soaring rhetoric made us one even if for only a few hours. 

For one brief shining moment we saw a Nation One. We put aside our partisanship and our divisions. We honored a man who is a man of honor. 

But also on this weekend, we celebrated the life of Aretha Franklin. What a woman! Talk about an American Original! What more fitting way to recognize Labor Day weekend in these United States of America but to give thanks to God for these two great gifted American icons who reflect that which is best about us.

A war hero and the Queen of Soul. 

The soul of America, something very, very restrained at the National Cathedral, and the boisterous bellowing joy of Gospel music. Black America and White America reaching out to one another, embracing one another in a manner utterly unlike the confrontational style and violence that has far too often marred our history. 

In one brief shining moment we got a glimpse of who we can be when listening to the soul song of our better angels. A soul that is not black or white, rich or poor, native or foreign born but the human soul song that unites us and makes us one.

It was a respite this Labor Day weekend; a brief and shining moment. The soaring rhetoric and exquisite music from Washington DC and Detroit Michigan so different in idiom, yet so unique and so American. The creative energy of Aretha Franklin the exquisite precision of the Cathedral’s Choir, pipe organ, the Naval Academy Glee Club, and “Danny Boy” sung by Renee Fleming. The music of America so different and so much of same human soul.  

Race ethnicity, gender, orientation, class, nationality…

John McCain and Aretha Franklin spoke and sang to us all a love song of life.

Like the Song of Solomon sings from today’s First Lesson.

"Arise, my love, my fair one,

and come away;

The flowers appear on the earth;

the time of singing has come,”

Our readings today speak the kind of intimate love that we know about in family, politics and music. John McCain loved a good fight but then immediately could reach across the aisle in collaboration and friendship. Aretha Franklin fought for us too and then could reach across the racial divide in Gospel soul songs. Both feisty and ebullient; one of a kind, full of joy and wonder; American Originals.

This weekend we soared on the wings of their oratory and their music. 

It is a tribute to John McCain that when his last breath was taken two of his most ardent opponents would bid him farewell. One Republican one Democrat. One white one black. And all who listened; “One Nation under God indivisible with liberty and justice for all”…no exceptions. A soaring, uplifting weekend. 

This is who we can be. I think this is who we really are. 

Like John McCain, yes we speak forcefully, sometimes angrily.

But then we move on to set that aside the anger, forgive and reconcile and find a way forward, together.

Like Aretha Franklin, we can see injustice and yet set our lives to the cause of Civil Rights, equality and justice, whatever race or gender, orientation or human condition. And then, O my how she could sing and inspire our souls to lift us up to higher ground. 

We are in danger if we forget how to do that. 

John McCain and Aretha Franklin are gone now and who is there to fill the void?

It has been said that we are right wingers and left wingers. 

And everybody in between. Many of us can be downright outspoken. 

If we are divided by that, we become unable to function.

Gridlock may set in. We’re grounded! 

The symbol of this great nation is the soaring American Bald Eagle.

It takes two wings for that bird to fly.

The wing span of that Eagle can extend to almost 8 feet. 

If that bird doesn’t have both wings, if that bird cannot get off the ground it is in mortal danger. 

It makes me mindful of Ben Franklin’s ascerbic comment on what our national bird should be. He suggested the turkey. Its not too bright, it will never get off the ground, and its only good for dinner once or twice a year.

Imagine the eagle though. As the Psalmist sings; “I will raise you up on Eagle’s wings!” ~Psalm 91

One brief shining moment this weekend our spirits soared at the National Cathedral and at the Greater Grace Temple in Detroit.

I thought of both John McCain and Aretha Franklin when I read today’s Epistle from James, the beloved brother of our Lord; 

“Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.” Their gifts, generous and gracious indeed came down from Father of lights and my God how they did shine!

In today’s Gospel of course it was the Pharisees and scribes who accused the disciples of dishonoring the traditions of faith. They did not wash their hands and and they did not honor external signs of the faith of our ancestors. But Jesus was onto them; Look, he said; “it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly.”

Yep, he was onto them.

No this weekend we celebrate two Great Souls who lifted us up, far up from the folly of foolishness.

How then shall we be when Tuesday comes and the Labor Day weekend is over. Back to the same? …or shall we move America on to the soaring symbol of who we saw ourselves to be at the inception of the Republic.

Earth bound turkeys?

Or soaring Eagles?

That choice is ours to make every day of our lives.

In the Name of God; the Most Holy, Undivided, and Everlasting Trinity.

Amen.

Fr Paul

A Prayer for James

I Gave My Heart

The Sacred Journey brought us together for Jimmy's funeral. I was more than a priest yesterday. I gave my heart to my family. I shared my faith. As we stood at the graveside I took a handful of sandy soil and made the sign of the cross and read the appointed words and paused as the Spirit moved in our hearts and the wind blew through the trees.

I have always loved these stirring words of faith from the Book of Job.

I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord;
he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live;
and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.
I know that my Redeemer liveth,
and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth;
and though this body be destroyed, yet shall I see God;
whom I shall see for myself and mine eyes shall behold,
and not as a stranger.
For none of us liveth to himself,
and no man dieth to himself.
For if we live, we live unto the Lord.
and if we die, we die unto the Lord.
Whether we live, therefore, or die, we are the Lord's.
Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord;
even so saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labors.

And then there were the words from Isaiah; a vision of the Messianic Banquet. Our family loves a good Thanksgiving feed. What family doesn't? Imagine God's Banquet Table.

Isaiah 25:6-9

On this mountain the LORD of hosts will make for all peoples 

a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, 

of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear. 

And he will destroy on this mountain 

the shroud that is cast over all peoples, 

the sheet that is spread over all nations; 

he will swallow up death forever. 

Then the Lord GOD will wipe away the tears from all faces, 

and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth, 

for the LORD has spoken. 

It will be said on that day, 

Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us. 

This is the LORD for whom we have waited; 

let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.

Then I shared what I had crafted by way of a Prayer for James.

A Prayer for Jimmie

Gathered here today we bring before You all the things we do not and cannot understand,

And we remember that moment of Grace when in the last moments of Your life, You stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross so that everyone might come within the reach of Your saving embrace,

And even in those last moments of despair and abandonment you were able to say;

“Forgive them Father, they just don’t know what they are doing!”

Now we commend Jimmie to Your never failing love
Knowing that You wipe away the sin and sorrow of his heart and ours.

Knowing that You are wiping away the tears from his eyes and ours,

Knowing that You are doing better things for him and us than we can desire or even pray for.

This is the reason for our faith and our enduring love.

And we press on the best way we know how, doing the work that God has given us to do; to care for and love one another

In the Name of Jesus Christ we pray.

Amen.

I asked for God's blessing on us all.

We gathered then at the Town Hall.

There were lots of people to greet. 

And then home again.

Such is the Sacred Journey the Holy Pilgrimage we are on.

Toward you.

Bless us we pray in every step we take.

Amen.

Fr Paul

The Gospel at a time of Death Part II

Today I preached this sermon in response to the news that Fr. Cal Adams had died just Friday morning. His funeral is Saturday December 1 at Christ Church, Reading at 11am. It is an irony of sorts that at the time he died, I was preparing to commend my Aunt Peggy to God's keeping. God rest their souls.

My Heart Therefore is Glad

My Spirit Rejoices

My Body Also Shall Rest in Hope

~Psalm 16:9

By now most of you have heard the news but in case you have not, I must tell you this. After a long and difficult illness, Fr Cal succumbed and now lies in death. There is a deep and profound sadness that nows falls upon us like a pall falls over a casket.

“But my heart is Glad!”

How can I be glad at a time like this? Just last Sunday was Membership Sunday, and Jim Eliot stood at the podium of a parish luncheon and he told us the story of how he, Jim Hollenbach and Cal Adams partnered and together the three of them build the Keystone Villa.

“My Spirit Rejoices!” 

How can my spirit rejoice at a time like this? Well it can because of a man like Cal Adams because he went on from there and built the Learning Center

“And my Body also shall rest in hope?” 

How can my body rest when there is so much life in the church? The Parish Life Center arose from the ground. For 20 years Cal baptized your children, he married your sons and daughters, he visited your sick, he buried your dead. And he laughed and cried with you. He led your vestry, loved your youth, and when necessary, he fought for the right and the good things for the church he loved.

Oh yes, his Body shall rest in hope. When Jesus' disciples admired the Temple in Jerusalem as you and I admire the great cathedrals in Britain or Europe or The National Cathedral or even our own cathedral in Bethlehem PA, Jesus said of them all, not one stone will be left on another until all shall be thrown down. In John’s Gospel, he goes on to say; “Destroy this Temple and I will rebuild it again in three days” John 2:19. 

The Temple he was referring to, of course was his own body. He was referring to Cal’s body. He was referring to all those who commit themselves to Jesus as Cal did to build a place where human needs of every age and condition can be tended to within the community of the church.

“I know that my Redeemer lives and I know too that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. And even though this body be destroyed yet shall I see God whom I shall see for myself and not as a stranger."

Job suffered terribly in his life and yet these words came from him in the 25th Chapter of the Book that tells the story of his life. So too for Cal. So too for me. So too for you!

What an irony that as Cal lay near death, I would be gathering with my family on the North Shore of Massachusetts. We would gather to celebrate the life of my Aunt Peggy, 94 years of age. But not everyone is granted long life, so sadly. 

I called to mind my dad who died at the age of 37, and even more cruelly, he died two days after Christmas when I was just a boy eight years of age.

I know I've told this story before, but I'm going to tell it again. My poor wife has heard this story and others more times than we can care to count.

I remember clearly the tears that filled my eyes as a child. It was a Sunday, and when I came home from church, my mother told me the news. I went out to play ball with my friends. It was an unusually warm day as I recall. I just didn’t understand that the word death meant I would never see him again. In fact, I can remember running to the window to see if he would drive up in his pride and joy; his wonderful white 1951 Chevrolet. O what a time we had, dad and me. Sometimes we went to the race track, or to Howard Johnson’s for an ice cream or drive all the way to Beverly from Somerville to see his family. 

But he never came again to see me. At church I would say that prayer; “Our father, who art in heaven.” And when I said those words I would look up to the clerestory of that beautiful church and I could not see either father, and I wondered long and hard where they were. Many’s the night I’d cry myself to sleep and listen to squeal of trolly cars on iron rails and the bells from St. John’s church as they called out into the night.

Otherwise there was only silence in answer to my prayer. 

Then one summer Sunday on the way home from church, I pulled a leaf from an old hedge along a rusty old chain link fence. As I pressed my thumb into the life blood of that leaf, I heard something speak in my heart...no voice...just a sense...but I gave it a voice. Because, whatever it was that spoke in my heart, it spoke clearly; “Don’t you know there’s a special place in my heart for your dad?” I stopped dead in my tracks. I said it again, and then I said it right out loud; “Don’t you know there’s a special place in my heart for your dad?

There were those who said my dad couldn’t go to heaven because he didn’t go to church. And in fact the only time I ever heard him use our Lord’s Name was when he lost a bet at Suffolk Downs.

But now this something spoke in my heart and I ran home as fast as I could and Ma was standing at the stove presiding over her favorite cast iron skillet, and she was peppering some delectable to taste.

I tugged at her apron string and asked her if there really is a God.

“Yes” she said, “of course there is!”

So then, I said, 

“Is there a heaven?”

“Yes” she said, “of course there is”...somewhat irritably now. After all this was not a good time to do theology. There were mouths to be fed.

But I had to know. And I pressed the issue;

“Is my daddy there?”

She did hesitate I must tell you in all candor. After all, more than once she said that it was the Irish that ruined Boston. That will tell you what she thought of my dad, the separation and divorce from my mother. She did hesitate. After all, the prospect of a Yankee from Maine spending and eternity with an Irishman from Boston must have given her pause.

But what she did then, I will never forget. She got down on her knee, held me close, and it is as if I can still smell her hair as she held me close in the nape of her neck.

“Of course he is”

That night my heart was filled with joy and it was as if that Silence now became a Presence and it wiped away my tears with the Love that only God can give.

My dear friends; for me heaven is a wonderful banquet. Just as the Scripture says it is. And on that day God will remove that shroud that covers all nations, and God will wipe the tears from all our eyes”. 

Is there a God? 

Of course there is.

Is there a heaven?

Of course there is.

Is Cal there? Is my Dad there?

This I can tell you without hesitation; of course they are!

It is because of this that I became a priest. So that I could spend a lifetime bringing this news to the bereaved, the poor and to all who are in any need whatsoever, just like Cal did!

In a curious kind of way, it was because of my dad’s death that I became a priest. It was all that fun and all that love that led me to Jesus. And it is a vision of heaven that I have for my family, your family and Cal’s family and all the uncles and aunts; that crazy quilt of characters;  that countless number, all of us gathered at the mountain of God, around God’s banquet table.

Is it so?

Of course it is!

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

And may Peace be upon him,

Fr. Paul

The Gospel at a time of death

The following is what I shared with my family at the time of my Aunt Peggy's death.

Aunt Peggy

January 4, 1918--November 10, 2012

Family and friends gather at times like this and we gain strength from one another as we commend our beloved to God’s keeping. This year mark’s my 40th anniversary as a priest of the church. I have read the burial office about 1000 times for a thousand loved ones. It is never easy to do so and especially when it comes to my own family. 

Mums asked me to bury her when the time came. I was much younger and a strict trinitarian. Mums was a Unitarian Universalist, and I felt obligated to tell Mums that if I read the burial office for her I would have to use the Trinitarian formula. Mums looked severely at me and yet with eyes filled with laughter; “You go ahead and bury me by any formula that makes you happy!” 

I buried my mother and uncle, uncle Jim and also officiated at the wedding of Jon and Jen Moulton, participated at the wedding of Jay & Julie Kersting.

Sad times and happy times. This is what it is to be family.

My happiest memories though were the many Thanksgiving dinners at the old homestead at Uncle Jim & Aunt Martha’s home and also with Alan and Joanna. We have had some wonderful times. More than once I brought a tag along friend with me to feast with the family and they were dazzled by what was set before them, as I was.

Whatever the situation, there was always a warm welcome here and the embrace of human warmth that made our hearts fill with love. I do love you all very much.

And I remember Karl and Aunt Peggy and Carolyn. Each of you, each of us very special in our own way. A crazy quilt of charachters we are, God love us all. Peggy’s love for my uncle and her fierce care for his diabetes, as well as her love fierce care and love for you to Carolyn are to be treasured. It is a kind of love that was and continues to be ever close.

But the spread on those many Thanksgiving days. What a spread! Especially the pies! I really liked those pies. No one could make a pie taste better except maybe my maternal grandmother, Ma....

So then there is this; a vision of heaven if you will. Much like the Messianic Banquet that I read about a few minutes ago from the Prophet Isaiah. He saw a vision of heaven much like a gathering of a throng no one could number from all the tribes of earth gathered at God’s Banquet Table.  There God removes the shroud that covers all humanity and even more mercifully and lovingly he wipes the tears from every eye.

I remember clearly the tears that filled my eyes as a child when my father died on December 27th 1953. It was a Sunday, and when I came home from church, my mother told me the news. I went out to play ball with my friends. It was an unusually warm day as I recall. I just didn’t understand that the word death meant I would never see him again. In fact, I can remember running to the window to see if he would drive up in his wonderful white 1951 Chevrolet. O what a time we had, dad and me. Sometimes we went to the race track, or to Howard Johnson’s for an ice cream or drive all the way to Beverly from Somerville to see Mums and Daddy Bill and all the aunts and uncles and cousins up in this neck of the woods. I loved it.

But he never came again to see me. At church I would say that prayer; “Our father who art in heaven.” And when I said those words I would look up to the clerestory of that beautiful church and I could not see either father, and I wondered long and hard where they were. Many’s the night I’d cry myself to sleep and listen to squeal of trolly cars on iron rails and the bells from St. John’s church call out to the night.

Otherwise there was only silence in answer to my prayer. 

Then one summer Sunday on the way home from church, I pulled a leaf from an old hedge along a rusty old chain link fence. As I pressed my thumb into the life blood of that leaf, I heard something speak in my heart...no voice...just a sense...and I gave it a voice. Because whatever it was that spoke in my heart, spoke clearly. It said; “Don’t you know there’s a special place in my heart for your dad?” I stopped dead in my tracks. I said it again and then I said it right out loud; “Don’t you know there’s a special place in my heart for your dad?

There were those who said my dad couldn’t go to heaven because he didn’t go to church. And in fact the only time I heard him use our Lord’s Name was when he lost a bet at Suffolk Downs.

But now this something spoke in my heart and I ran home as fast as I could and Ma was standing at the stove presiding over her favorite cast iron skillet, and she was peppering some delectable to taste.

I tugged at her apron string and asked her if there really is a God.

“Yes” she said, “of course there is!”

So then, I said, 

“Is there a heaven?”

“Yes” she said, “of course there is”...somewhat irritably now. After all this was not a good time to do theology. There were mouths to be fed.

But I had to know. And I pressed the issue;

“Is my daddy there?”

She did hesitate I must tell you in all candor. After all, more than once she said that it was the Irish that ruined Boston. That will tell you what she thought of my dad, the separation and divorce from my mother. She did hesitate. After all, the prospect of a Yankee from Maine spending an eternity with an Irishman must have given her some pause.

But what she did then, I will never forget. She got down on her knee, held me close and it is as if I can still smell her hair as she held me close in the nape of her neck.

“Of course he is”

That night my heart was filled with joy and it was as if that Silence now became a Presence and it wiped my tears away with the Love that only God can give.

Carolyn, family and friends; for me heaven is a wonderful banquet. Just as the Scripture says it is. And on that day God will remove that shroud that covers all nations, and God will wipe the tears from all our eyes”. 

Is there a God? 

Of course there is.

Is there a heaven?

Of course there is.

Is Aunt Peg there?

This I can tell you without hesitation; of course she is!

It is because of this that I became a priest. So that I could spend a lifetime bringing this news to the bereaved, the poor and to all who are in any need whatsoever.

In a curious kind of way, it was because of my dad’s death that I became a priest. It was all that fun and all that love that led me to Jesus. And it is a vision of heaven that I have in my heart: Mums and Ma and Daddy Bill, Martha & Jim, Karl and Peg, Dad...and then there will be my mom, feisty as ever, and all the rest, cousins, uncles and aunts countless in number all of us gathered at the mountain of God, around God’s banquet table.

Is it so?

Of course it is!

By the way, I was ordained on June 24th, the feast day of John the Baptist...come to find out; that was my dad’s birthday! 

OMG! Maybe, just maybe, it really is all true!

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Blessings on us one and all,

Fr. Paul