dual personalities

Tag: Episcopal Church

All shall be well

by chuckofish

What could be better than Julian of Norwich and the Moody Blues on Friday?

It was Julian’s day on the Episcopal Calendar yesterday. I am a big fan. She is “venerated” in the Anglican and Lutheran churches, but has never been officially beatified by the R.C. church. Oh, really, you say?

Anyway, she was born in England about 1342 during the time of the Black Death. When she was thirty years old, she became gravely ill and was expected to die. Then, on the seventh day, the medical crisis passed, and she had a series of fifteen visions, or “showings,” in which she was led to contemplate the Passion of Christ. These brought her great peace and joy.

Julian on the west front of Norwich Cathedral

Julian on the west front of Norwich Cathedral

She became an anchoress–a person called to a solitary life, but one that was not cut-off from the world, but one anchored in it. Her life was one of prayer, contemplation and counseling, a life highly thought of by people of the time. Her home was a small room, or cell, attached to the Church of S. Julian, Bishop of Le Mans, just off one of the main streets of Norwich. The results of her meditations she wrote in a book called Revelations of Divine Love.

And from the time that [the vision] was shown, I desired often to know what our Lord’s meaning was. And fifteen years and more afterward I was answered in my spiritual understanding, thus: ‘Would you know your Lord’s meaning in this thing? Know it well, love was his meaning. Who showed it to you? Love. What did he show you? Love. Why did he show it? For love. Keep yourself therein and you shall know and understand more in the same. But you shall never know nor understand any other thing, forever.’

Thus I was taught that love was our Lord’s meaning. And I saw quite clearly in this and in all, that before God made us, he loved us, which love was never slaked nor ever shall be. And in this love he has done all his work, and in this love he has made all things profitable to us. And in this love our life is everlasting. In our creation we had a beginning. But the love wherein he made us was in him with no beginning. And all this shall be seen in God without end …

Immagine

I have read her wonderful meditations and let’s just say there was a whole lot of hi-lighting going on.

I have a busy weekend planned. How about you?

Oh, sweet and blessed country, The home of God’s elect! Oh, sweet and blessed country That eager hearts expect!*

by chuckofish

Well, I got a little weepy in the car yesterday morning on the way to work. I had just heard from a friend that another friend’s mother had died. The friend was at our reunion this weekend and her mother had died the day after she returned to Virginia. Listening to Steve Earle’s Pilgrim was just a little too much for me.

Harriet and I met in the three-year old class at Sunday School and went to school together starting at age four. She is my oldest friend.

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Sometimes I would go home with her after church because she was an only child and needed some company. So I have known her mother a long time. Her father was much older, a dignified, shadowy figure in the background, around whom we had to be quiet. But her mother was quite a gal.

Unlike other mothers of that period, she always wore pants–grey flannel pants with a blue oxford shirt. It was like a uniform. She wore a navy blue dress to church. She was from Texas and spoke with a distinctive accent. She was a small woman, but she knew how to shoot, and God help the person who broke into her home or threatened her child. She was tough–Barbara Stanwyck tough.

Furthermore, she was an M.D. at a time when there weren’t a whole lot of female doctors. She had worked in a M.A.S.H. unit in Korea**. She had seen it all.

After the war, she got married and had a child, and she retired from doctoring. She moved into a house in suburban flyover-ville and lived a presumably quiet life. But what do I really know? To me, she was a pillar of the Altar Guild.

All through high school I sat with her in church every Sunday, because my own mother skipped church and prepared her Sunday School lesson in her classroom. I logged many an hour with Harriet and her parents in the third row from the back, Epistle side.

This past weekend we were talking about people’s mothers and how you always knew the ones who didn’t really care about you and the ones who probably didn’t even like you at all. I knew Mrs. T liked me. She liked me a lot.

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Here is a picture of Mary T (still wearing grey flannel pants) in 1985. She is pictured with her first grandchild, along with my daughter on my mother’s lap–all four named Mary.

* Jerusalem the Golden by Bernard of Cluny, Hymn #309 (Lutheran Worship Hymnal)
**I am not sure of my facts here, but it had to be Korea (not WWII) because of her age.

“If I dressed like that, I’d have to kick my own ass.”*

by chuckofish

class photo

So I survived my reunion.

I must say, it was even fun. (The wine flowed freely.)

Friday night we all got together for a gabfest. The decibel level was out of this world. There was cake too!

cake

On Saturday two of my good friends ventured down to my flyover town and we ate lunch outside at a restaurant across from the train station and watched the trains go by. Then, at their insistence, we went to Ted Drewes for concretes which they do not have back east.

teddrewes

They were impressed, of course.

Saturday night we MI gals celebrated together with our Country Day compatriots (40 years ago the  two schools were happily separate) at the beautiful and palatial home of one of their classmates. It was a fun party too.

Even the OM had fun. And why wouldn’t he?

OM

The OM enjoys the highly stimulating environment

He had more fun than last year at his own reunion.

In other news I went to church and got to read the first lesson, which was a good one from the book of Acts in which Peter exhorts the Jews to repent! Right up my alley. Afterwards the boy came over and we caught up. Then I talked to daughters # 1 and 2 on the phone–more gabbing!

I worked in the yard and my little pumpkin project seems to be moving forward.

pumps

I hope the marigolds will scare away nibblers.

How was your weekend?

•Happy Gilmore (Adam Sandler)

Oh me of little faith*

by chuckofish

Then the same day at evening, being the first day of the week, when the doors were shut where the disciples were assembled for fear of the Jews, came Jesus and stood in the midst, and saith unto them, Peace be unto you.

John 20:19

This Sunday’s Gospel reading was the scripture where Jesus does not bother to use the door which is locked anyway.  He just appears to 10 of the remaining 11 disciples. This is mentioned very casually. No one really makes a big deal of it. Because they don’t, one thinks it is probably just what happened. At least I think so.

The disciples, huddled in their locked room after everything that has happened, are both afraid and ashamed of their fear and their behavior in general.  We should try to remember the disciples when we are fearful and anxious. They were not paragons of strength. Far from it. Some of them were not even very smart. (Think of Peter.) They were just like us.  After this visit from Jesus, however, when he breathes on them and they receive the Holy Spirit, they seem to have gotten their collective acts together. It took a second visit for Thomas, because he missed the first and refused to believe without “touching and seeing”.

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Jesus says, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

We all have our doubts, and that’s okay. Doubts, Frederick Buechner says, are “the ants in the pants of faith. They keep it awake and moving.”

Well, my mind wandered during the sermon on this scripture, but this is what I was thinking.

Meanwhile this weekend I enjoyed the spring weather by working in the yard. I also went on a birthday outing with my best Grace girlfriends. Our fearless leader and party planner Carla reasoned that, because we never have room for dessert when we go out to lunch, we should just go out for dessert. Brilliant! So we ventured downtown to a place famous for its ice cream concoctions and had sundaes. When was the last time you had a sundae? I cannot begin to remember when that was. It really was a treat.

icecream

Art deco walls at the "Fountain"

Art Deco walls at the “Fountain”

We also went to the main branch of the downtown library which has been recently renovated.

Notice the 250th birthday cake in front and the spire barely visible behind of our Episcopal Cathedral

Notice the 250th birthday cake in front and the spire of our Episcopal Cathedral barely visible behind the library.

Intrepid explorers that we are, we had a super fun time.

I also re-read “The Snow Goose” a very short novella by Paul Gallico about  a lonely hunchbacked artist who participates in the evacuation of Dunkirk in 1940 and the snow goose that watches over him. It gave me chills.

the snow goose

If you are looking for something to pick up and read at one sitting, I highly recommend this marvelous book.

Have a good week!

* Nickle Creek

Same old story

by chuckofish

Jim Trainor on Easter…

“I believe the story. With my head, looking at the evidence and thinking logically as a person who was a research physicist for twenty-five years, I believe it. And after listening to the testimony of people – from beggars to kings — through all the ages who had concluded that the story is true, I believe it. And at the innermost levels of my heart, where the deepest truths reside but are not easily put into words, I believe it is true.

“And that is why I know that I will see my mother again someday. It’s not just wishful thinking, some little tale I’ve fooled myself with because I can’t face the cold hard facts of life. Yes, I will see Della Mae, and I am convinced that it will be a day of great victory and joy. St. Paul says that it will be like putting on a crown, and St. John says that it will be a time when every tear will be wiped away from my eyes. That’s what will happen someday to me. But what Jesus did affects me right here today also — I know that this Jesus who overcame death and the grave has promised not to leave me here twisting in the wind. He is with me every day, through his Spirit, to guide me, comfort me, embolden me, and use me for his glory and to serve his people, right here, right now.”

Read it all.

Re-blogged from TitusOne Nine, the weblog of the Rev. Canon Dr. Kendall Harmon

O sacred head, sore wounded*

by chuckofish

And so we enter Holy Week.

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At our church we “re-enact” the Passion Drama during the service on Palm Sunday. Usually I am assigned to be a minor character like a serving girl (“You also were with Jesus the Galilean”) or the Centurion (“Truly this man was the Son of God!”), but this year I was not included at all. (My friend Carla and I joke about this because between the two of us we have been lay readers for nearly half a century, but we are no closer to being the Narrator or some named part than Joyce Meyer. Carla was a serving girl this year.)

I was a lector, however, and got to read a rousing lesson from Isaiah: “The Lord GOD helps me; therefore I have not been disgraced; therefore I have set my face like flint, and I know that I shall not be put to shame; he who vindicates me is near…” and so on. I do love Isaiah.

Sunday night I was planning to watch The Robe on Netflix Watch Instantly,  but we couldn’t get it to work, so I watched a large part of Franco Zeffirelli’s Jesus of Nazareth instead. I highly recommend it. It reflects, of course, the Roman side of the story and does a nice job of letting them off the hook. But Robert Powell is really great and so are the supporting players. Laurence Olivier as Nicodemus is one of my favorites.

During the week I will continue to read and watch appropriate fare, i.e. I abstained from watching Dancing With the Stars and their Disney-themed episode last night. Believe me it was not much of a sacrifice.

I have signed up to participate in the Good Friday Vigil following the Maundy Thursday service. I will be “waiting in the garden” from 5:00–6:00 a.m.

Window in Christ Episcopal Church, Poughkeepsie, NY

Window in Christ Episcopal Church, Poughkeepsie, NY

I have done this before and it is really quite a meaningful exercise. You are alone (with one other person) in the semi-dark of the spooky downstairs chapel with nothing to do but “stay awake for one hour” (see above window) and pray and meditate on Jesus and his sacrifice. This is right up my alley and better than the very public display of look-at-me-washing-someone’s-feet that is Maundy Thursday. To each his own.

Do you have any special plans for Holy Week?

* Traditional Hymn, attributed to Bernard of Clairvaux, trans. by Paul Gerhardt and James W. Alexander–We sang it on Palm Sunday which made me happy, especially my favorite verse:

What language shall I borrow to thank Thee, dearest friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never outlive my love to Thee.

Lazarus, come forth!

by chuckofish

Sunday’s gospel lesson was John 11:1-45 which is a long lesson, the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead. Our associate rector gave a really good sermon comparing the tomb of Lazarus to ourselves when we lose interest in life, when we are no longer fully alive. Our savior does not come into the tomb with us, but stands at the door and calls us to come out. I thought that he made a good point.

This made me think of the famous painting, the Light of the World by William Holman Hunt:

Hunt_Light_of_the_World

This is an allegorical painting illustrating Revelation 3:20: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any man hear My voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me”. The door in the painting has no handle, and can therefore be opened only from the inside, representing (according to Hunt) “the obstinately shut mind”.

Here are some artistic representations of Jesus calling Lazarus forth:

A 3rd century version

A 3rd century version

Giotto's version

Giotto’s version

Rembrandt's version

Rembrandt’s version

Carl Heinrich Bloch's version

Carl Heinrich Bloch’s version

Vincent Van Gogh's Lazarus

Vincent Van Gogh’s Lazarus

None of them do much for me. These images are, however, as Frederick Buechner says, “the wordless, eloquent, tongue-tied, clumsy, joyous and grieving cry of centuries” trying to depict the un-depictable.

But to get back to what I started to say…We must come forth and live our lives and do the work we are meant to do.

Robert Powell as Jesus calls Lazarus forth

Robert Powell as Jesus calls Lazarus forth

Thoughts? Discuss among yourselves.

For whom the bell tolls

by chuckofish

donne01

Yesterday the poet and Anglican priest John Donne (1572 – 31 March 1631) was commemorated on the Episcopal calendar. He is one of England’s finest poets and was one of the best-known preachers of his day.

When all is done, the hell of hells, the torment of torments, is the everlasting absence of God, and the everlasting impossibility of returning to his presence…to fall out of the hands of the living God, is a horror beyond our expression, beyond our imagination…. What Tophet is not Paradise, what Brimstone is not Amber, what gnashing is not a comfort, what gnawing of the worme is not a tickling, what torment is not a marriage bed to this damnation, to be secluded eternally, eternally, eternally from the sight of God?

–From a sermon to the Earl of Carlisle in 1622

He is known equally for his love poetry:

Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines, and silver hooks.

and his metaphysical verse:

No man is an island,
Entire of itself,
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thy friend’s
Or of thine own were:
Any man’s death diminishes me,
Because I am involved in mankind,
And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls;
It tolls for thee.

I suggest you take some time today and read some John Donne. You’ll be glad you did.

“I am two fools, I know,
For loving, and for saying so
In whining poetry;
But where’s that wiseman, that would not be I,
If she would not deny?
Then as th’ earth’s inward narrow crooked lanes
Do purge sea water’s fretful salt away,
I thought, if I could draw my pains
Through rhyme’s vexation, I should them allay.
Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce,
For he tames it, that fetters it in verse.

But when I have done so,
Some man, his art and voice to show,
Doth set and sing my pain;
And, by delighting many, frees again
Grief, which verse did restrain.
To love and grief tribute of verse belongs,
But not of such as pleases when ’tis read.
Both are increased by such songs,
For both their triumphs so are published,
And I, which was two fools, do so grow three;
Who are a little wise, the best fools be.”

― John Donne

Almighty God, the root and fountain of all being: Open our eyes to see, with thy servant John Donne, that whatsoever hath any being is a mirror in which we may behold thee; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Home again, home again

by chuckofish

I am home from my short, easy-breezy trip back east. I was smart this time and came home on Saturday so I had Sunday to de-compress and settle back into my world once again before heading to a jam-packed day at work on Monday. (And I also got a chance to clean up the house after the OM was alone for 4 days.)

Darling daughter #2 posted yesterday about my visit and she hit all the high points. We had a super fun time in and out of the City and in the suburban sprawl around it. We did what we love to do: estate-saled, looked at art, shopped at IKEA, went out to eat with her friends, drank wine, walked and talked.

Mmmm--diner food

Mmmm–diner food

But as a mother it is mostly wonderful to see where one’s beloved child lives and spends her time. Now I can picture where she is sitting when we talk on the phone. I know how she has arranged her things.

jewelry

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dog

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Her apartment is a block away from the picture-perfect U of Maryland sorority houses and also the Episcopal Church where my flyover friend Becky lived as a child when her father was the rector there.

church

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I saw her office in the English Department at school.

office

I guess only a mother (or parent) can understand how important all of this is. I feel the same way after visiting daughter #1 in NYC–relieved that she has made a home for herself and that she has nice friends and that she has carried something of her flyover home to her new abode.

Sigh.

'The Open Window' by Pierre Bonnard (1867-1947), The Phillips Collection

‘The Open Window’ by Pierre Bonnard (1867-1947), The Phillips Collection

And I have a magnet to remind me of my visit.

magnet

Just as I am

by chuckofish

While organizing a whole mess of some old photos, I found this great one of my dual personality when she was on a dig in Jordan back in the 1980s. I think it was when she was getting a master’s in archaeology at Mizzou, before she went on to Yale, but if I am wrong she can set us straight. She was always much less timid than I, more like our mother. Being in the desert with a camel (and without a hairdryer) would not have fazed her much.

sarah and camel

Anyway, I spent my weekend per usual. I went to the book sale at the Unitarian Church, braving the Prius-filled parking lot in order to search through their treasure trove of books. Their thinking may be a little to the left of whoopee, but they are good readers.

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I went to three estate sales and got a few more books and then I came home and worked in the yard for awhile. It was a beautiful day–the sun was shining, the sky was blue and the daffodils were poking up.

Bed 1

By Sunday, the temperature had plummeted, the wind was howling and it was sleeting, but I forged on to church nevertheless. I sat with my good friend Marty. It always amuses me to remember that her son was the coolest guy in school forty years ago and wouldn’t have known me from Doris Day, but it is proof positive that all things come to those who wait, if not in a semi-skewed fashion. It is the skewed part that is the point.

God does have a sense of humor and so should we.

Write deeply upon our minds, O Lord God, the lesson of thy holy Word, that only the pure in heart can see thee. Leave us not in the bondage of any sinful inclination. May we neither deceive ourselves with the thought that we have no sin, nor acquiesce idly in aught of which our conscience accuses us. Strengthen us by thy Holy Spirit to fight the good fight of faith, and grant that no day may pass without its victory; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

–C. J. Vaughan

Have a good Monday!