Following Evening Prayer on Fridays, three of us started going for supper and enjoying some end-of- the-working-week fellowship (although all three of us are retired).
The numbers gradually grew and even some who originally declined our invitations started to attend. It might mean a “cheap-and-cheerful” meal at a local cafeteria, an all-day breakfast at a diner, or a more substantial meal, but the common denominator is that it suits everyone and that after the meal it most often includes going back home for yet more fellowship.
Last Friday evening was typical. It happened to be CP’s birthday and he had invited some friends to Evening Prayer thinking that perhaps we could go to IHOP for celebratory pancakes. Meanwhile CM had called me to suggest a pot-luck at their home. Long-story short – a quick change of plan and fifteen of us (that includes CM’s dog Sammie) enjoyed a great evening which included a hilarious ping-pong (mis)match between Gail and CP, heaps of laughter, loads of love, and great food.
Fellowship and hospitality are essentials of Christianity. I thank God I’m a Christian.
--Mick
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
A Busy Breakfast - January 26th, 2010
A busy breakfast fellowship followed Morning Prayer this morning after we had celebrated the life of Timothy and Titus, faithful followers of Saint Paul. Just as I was locking up the church, M came over and explained he needed to get back to Raleigh after receiving some medical treatment. He was obviously anxious and declined breakfast, but was grateful for the help we gave him to get home.
Courtney, Dave and Gail had breakfast well under way by the time I got back into the parish house. B, a regular, who now has his own accommodation, brought M for breakfast. M who has been staying with B, was obviously so grateful and was busy organizing his and B’s grocery list - another case of “the poor helping the poor” - certainly a reminder to us all. Will, who had attended Morning Prayer, popped in to say hello and drink his daily OJ, while big S, as usual, managed to put a smile on everyone’s face – a wonderful gift of his.
The very faithful Dave and Tony were, as usual, deep in conversation while Jodi was organizing her two-year old's breakfast of Cheerios.
Tuesday breakfast is always fun and could never be dull, especially with Courtney and Gail in form. At the 194th Annual Convention of the NC Diocese last weekend, Bishop Curry continued and expanded his “All Are Welcome” theme from last year. I thought of his words as I buttered my toast, drank my coffee and enjoyed the fellowship of our brothers and sisters. I felt welcomed by all those present. Praise God.
--Mick
Courtney, Dave and Gail had breakfast well under way by the time I got back into the parish house. B, a regular, who now has his own accommodation, brought M for breakfast. M who has been staying with B, was obviously so grateful and was busy organizing his and B’s grocery list - another case of “the poor helping the poor” - certainly a reminder to us all. Will, who had attended Morning Prayer, popped in to say hello and drink his daily OJ, while big S, as usual, managed to put a smile on everyone’s face – a wonderful gift of his.
The very faithful Dave and Tony were, as usual, deep in conversation while Jodi was organizing her two-year old's breakfast of Cheerios.
Tuesday breakfast is always fun and could never be dull, especially with Courtney and Gail in form. At the 194th Annual Convention of the NC Diocese last weekend, Bishop Curry continued and expanded his “All Are Welcome” theme from last year. I thought of his words as I buttered my toast, drank my coffee and enjoyed the fellowship of our brothers and sisters. I felt welcomed by all those present. Praise God.
--Mick
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Coming home
We had been living in North Carolina for about fifteen months, had purchased our new home, settled down and managed to get all our affairs in order - well at least that's what I thought. We had new places to discover, a new life style to get used to and even a slightly different vocabulary to cope with.
However, we both realized that there was something missing, or rather I did. Gail had known what it was for some time. It took a little longer for the penny to drop as far as I was concerned, but at last it did. God was missing, no doubt about it.
We decided we needed not only God but to be surrounded by members of God’s family. So the search was on and we began to “shop for a church”. An awful thing to say I think, but in effect that's what we did. Of course, we didn't have to shop for a god - God had always been with us, although perhaps I had forgotten it. One August Sunday morning we attended Holy Eucharist at a small (very small) urban church in West Durham. St. Joseph's is known locally as "the little church with the big red doors". We walked through those doors and both of us felt immediately at home. I was raised an Anglican, Gail, Roman Catholic, so the Episcopal Church of America's liturgy, using the Book of Common Prayer, was familiar to us.
Between then and now my life has changed. I have met, got to know and trust, become friends with, many people. Many more than I ever had time to get to know while I was "busy" building a life, raising a family, working from dawn to dusk to keep us in so-called comfort. I suppose that's a real plus for becoming a senior. Retiring and having time to mix more with people from outside of your normal work environment and "social circles".
Did I find time to stop and ask a homeless guy if he needed any help? GUILTY!
Did I really mean it when I asked how a work colleague's sick relative was? GUILTY!
Did I really stop and think what I could do today to make a difference to someone else and not me? GUILTY!
Is it incredible how I traveled 4,000 miles to "come home"? ABSOLUTELY!
Is it incredible how the Holy Spirit guided Gail to persuade me to move from Europe to North Carolina? ABSOLUTELY!
Is it incredible that I have met so many of my brothers in sisters in Christ, whether they live in a 5-bedroom suburban house, a one bedroom apartment or on our church parking lot, who share love, trust and respect? ABSOLUTELY!
Who am I kidding? There is nothing incredible about it at all. I may have forgotten God for many years while I was trying to live life, but, He never forgot me! I was ALWAYS part of God's plan. I just needed that gentle push on the shoulder to “come home” to the family of Christ.
--Mick
However, we both realized that there was something missing, or rather I did. Gail had known what it was for some time. It took a little longer for the penny to drop as far as I was concerned, but at last it did. God was missing, no doubt about it.
We decided we needed not only God but to be surrounded by members of God’s family. So the search was on and we began to “shop for a church”. An awful thing to say I think, but in effect that's what we did. Of course, we didn't have to shop for a god - God had always been with us, although perhaps I had forgotten it. One August Sunday morning we attended Holy Eucharist at a small (very small) urban church in West Durham. St. Joseph's is known locally as "the little church with the big red doors". We walked through those doors and both of us felt immediately at home. I was raised an Anglican, Gail, Roman Catholic, so the Episcopal Church of America's liturgy, using the Book of Common Prayer, was familiar to us.
Between then and now my life has changed. I have met, got to know and trust, become friends with, many people. Many more than I ever had time to get to know while I was "busy" building a life, raising a family, working from dawn to dusk to keep us in so-called comfort. I suppose that's a real plus for becoming a senior. Retiring and having time to mix more with people from outside of your normal work environment and "social circles".
Did I find time to stop and ask a homeless guy if he needed any help? GUILTY!
Did I really mean it when I asked how a work colleague's sick relative was? GUILTY!
Did I really stop and think what I could do today to make a difference to someone else and not me? GUILTY!
Is it incredible how I traveled 4,000 miles to "come home"? ABSOLUTELY!
Is it incredible how the Holy Spirit guided Gail to persuade me to move from Europe to North Carolina? ABSOLUTELY!
Is it incredible that I have met so many of my brothers in sisters in Christ, whether they live in a 5-bedroom suburban house, a one bedroom apartment or on our church parking lot, who share love, trust and respect? ABSOLUTELY!
Who am I kidding? There is nothing incredible about it at all. I may have forgotten God for many years while I was trying to live life, but, He never forgot me! I was ALWAYS part of God's plan. I just needed that gentle push on the shoulder to “come home” to the family of Christ.
--Mick
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Breakfast on the Feast of St. John the Evangelist 2009
We feasted St. John the Evangelist first with Morning Prayer that Robin led and then with a well-attended breakfast. A few of the guys were waiting in and around the parish hall even before I got over there.
Tony has been joining us just about every morning, and he’s very much at ease in this environment. A former Roman Catholic (can you ever really be “former” Catholic?) he spent years in Washington and Baltimore working with the poor, living in a monastic community and discerning a call to become a Franciscan. He’s got a great spirit and it's fun having him around.
We went through a pot and a half of coffee right away (which always makes me happy for some reason). As we all settled into our raisin bran, grits-chicken-cheese-egg casserole thing or regular scrambled eggs, Glenn, who lives in a tent nearby and begs at the freeway exit ramp, asked me if I watched any good football yesterday. “Nope, did anything interesting happen?” “I dunno,” he replied, “my TV in the woods doesn’t work so well.”
Skeet proceeded as usual to construct his scrambled egg sandwich. I’ve seen him eat two of those things plus cereal. We have this brand new toaster that actually beeps when the toast is done like a washing machine or something. It’s a good idea except that nobody ever realizes what the noise is until the toast is cold. Toasters popping are supposed to sound like “ching ching”, someone commented, not like a truck backing up. When Skeet realized that Sammie’s chin wasn’t perched on his lap looking cute in the hopes of a handout he looked around asking “Where’s my girl? You aren’t mad at me is you?”
--Colin
Note to readers who may wonder: Sammie is a Golden Retriever.
Tony has been joining us just about every morning, and he’s very much at ease in this environment. A former Roman Catholic (can you ever really be “former” Catholic?) he spent years in Washington and Baltimore working with the poor, living in a monastic community and discerning a call to become a Franciscan. He’s got a great spirit and it's fun having him around.
We went through a pot and a half of coffee right away (which always makes me happy for some reason). As we all settled into our raisin bran, grits-chicken-cheese-egg casserole thing or regular scrambled eggs, Glenn, who lives in a tent nearby and begs at the freeway exit ramp, asked me if I watched any good football yesterday. “Nope, did anything interesting happen?” “I dunno,” he replied, “my TV in the woods doesn’t work so well.”
Skeet proceeded as usual to construct his scrambled egg sandwich. I’ve seen him eat two of those things plus cereal. We have this brand new toaster that actually beeps when the toast is done like a washing machine or something. It’s a good idea except that nobody ever realizes what the noise is until the toast is cold. Toasters popping are supposed to sound like “ching ching”, someone commented, not like a truck backing up. When Skeet realized that Sammie’s chin wasn’t perched on his lap looking cute in the hopes of a handout he looked around asking “Where’s my girl? You aren’t mad at me is you?”
--Colin
Note to readers who may wonder: Sammie is a Golden Retriever.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Lessons, Carols, and Fellowship
Last evening Gail and I attended the annual Advent Festival of Lessons and Carols at The Episcopal Center at Duke University. A bit early for carols? Of course, but this regular event is held early as it's the last chance the students get to sing carols and enjoy Christmas fellowship before the festive break.
We have attended this event for the past three years and enjoy it immensely. After the service, we tucked in to wonderful food, hot cider, mulled wine. Sharing food is a crucial part of hospitality and hospitality is a crucial part of Christianity.
After dinner, we settled down, with the huge log fire roaring, to sing carols by request. I'm pleased to say that members from St. Joseph's were there in force, probably sang the loudest, and, as usual, were the last to leave. St. Joe's also provided three of the four musicians, with Lyn seemingly never tiring on the organ, Alison contributed with her wonderful flute playing (and voice) whilst David was our great guitarist.
Thank you Karen (interim Chaplain), the vestry and board at ECD for continuing this wonderful tradition.
--Mick
We have attended this event for the past three years and enjoy it immensely. After the service, we tucked in to wonderful food, hot cider, mulled wine. Sharing food is a crucial part of hospitality and hospitality is a crucial part of Christianity.
After dinner, we settled down, with the huge log fire roaring, to sing carols by request. I'm pleased to say that members from St. Joseph's were there in force, probably sang the loudest, and, as usual, were the last to leave. St. Joe's also provided three of the four musicians, with Lyn seemingly never tiring on the organ, Alison contributed with her wonderful flute playing (and voice) whilst David was our great guitarist.
Thank you Karen (interim Chaplain), the vestry and board at ECD for continuing this wonderful tradition.
--Mick
Journeying home: right here, right now
The following is a sermon preached by Fr. Chris Tessone at St. Joseph's on the 2nd Sunday of Advent 2009. The texts are Baruch 5:1-9, Philippians 1:3-11, and Luke 3:1-6.
I grew up in a part of Illinois called “Little Egypt” that is famous for growing one thing very well: corn. Our region in Southern Illinois got the name in the 1830s, when there were several years of bad harvests in a row in other parts of the state. People traveled to Southern Illinois to buy corn, just as Joseph’s family traveled to Egypt in the Hebrew Bible during the years of famine in Canaan. Growing up, there was corn everywhere—corn out back behind the church I went to as a child, corn along the interstates leading up to Chicago and St. Louis when we traveled, even fields of corn next to the Wal-Mart we shopped at. I think you’re getting the theme—if there’s corn there, I feel at home!
When I first went away to high school, I worried about how much I would miss home. School was hours away in the suburbs of Chicago, far away from my friends and family. I wasn’t sure whether I would feel comfortable in a big city. But as we drove through the city limits into Aurora, I saw a sign that read “population 140,000,” and then…fields of corn leading up to the school. Despite being hundreds of miles away from Little Egypt, right away this new place did feel a little like home.
Although the homecoming Baruch writes about involves far more pomp and circumstance, the home God welcomes the people of Israel back to is no less foreign to them than Aurora, Illinois was to me nearly fifteen years ago. Baruch, who was the prophet Jeremiah’s secretary, is writing during the exile of the Israelites to Babylon. From where they sit in exile, the land God promises to them is not just someplace where the work is a little easier, someplace warmer and a little sunnier. It is the home every one of God’s children dreams about. It’s a universal hope. It’s the “salvation of God” proclaimed by John the Baptist in today’s Gospel.
The problem for us is that this promised land has no concrete existence. It seems to us, just as it must have seemed to the Israelites hearing Baruch’s vision, that in the world we live in, there is no place where, in the prophet’s words, “the woods and every fragrant tree have shaded” us, where the very mountains and hills are made flat so we have level ground to walk on. This fantastical destination may seem to have no concrete existence in our experience—so how can we have faith that when we arrive at our destination, it will indeed be home?
The lectionary forces us to confront these questions now because we are in Advent again, at the symbolic beginning of our journey to the Kingdom we celebrate on Christ the King Sunday. We need to ask ourselves about the path that connects the life we lead right now, on the Second Sunday of Advent in 2009, to the universal homecoming that Baruch describes in today’s reading.
In the Epistle reading, Paul gives us an answer. The concrete path to the universal home of all of humanity is the local Church. He writes to the Philippians that the bonds of love and fellowship he has with them give him confidence that God will bring the work of the Gospel to completion in them and their community. He points to concrete practices of care for neighbor—in both good times and in bad—as a path to knowledge of God and blamelessness before God. This is the charge we receive from Paul and all the early Mothers and Fathers of the Church—incarnate the universal Church precisely where you are by practicing the Christian faith as you’ve received it. As St. Luke tells us in Acts, we do this through teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in prayers.
What this means is that the Catholic Church we confess each Sunday in the Nicene Creed springs up out of local dioceses—out of gatherings of Christians around the world, advancing the work of the Gospel and loving their neighbors whether they are friends or enemies. The universal Church appears out of thin air in the church buildings of those dioceses—and in hospitals, prisons, and schools—first and foremost because God makes the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ present in them in the Eucharist, but also because that Body and Blood make other miracles happen. The Eucharist and the proclamation of the Gospel lead us to feed and clothe each other. They help us pray for each other when we are sick and wounded. They teach us to rejoice with one another when we are happy, as we do countless times each year in celebrating marriages, anniversaries, and births, and they make us console one another when we hit life’s low points.
Every such encounter with the living God in these concrete little places lights the path to the home we are all looking for. In doing these practices, we take away each other’s doubt about what lies at the end of the road. Just as importantly, if we do the work of the Gospel here in our own time and place, when someone else stumbles across the way of Jesus Christ, they can see what lies at the end of the road more clearly, too. That is why the Church is not merely a collection of sinners looking for their own individual salvation—the Church helps us receive the saving power of Jesus Christ because in the Church we strive to minister God’s grace to one another in everything we do. Two heads are better than one, as the saying goes, but many hearts working together are absolutely crucial for the Church to do its mission in the world.
So the Church year is beginning again, and in our readings at the Eucharist and in the Daily Office we are meditating on what the coming Messiah promises. But while it may be tempting to meditate too long on just where the path we’re taking may lead, today’s Gospel reading reminds us of the urgency of our journey. “Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low,”…but not after all of us have passed on from the earth, or in ten years, or even just after Christmas. Now. The vision of a new world that connects Isaiah to Baruch to John the Baptist is an urgent one. It’s the vision of a world that is coming to life right this very moment. We are empowered by the Holy Spirit to see that new world and to journey home to the new life we’ll find there…and the first step begins here, now, in this Church of Jesus Christ.
Thanks be to God.
I grew up in a part of Illinois called “Little Egypt” that is famous for growing one thing very well: corn. Our region in Southern Illinois got the name in the 1830s, when there were several years of bad harvests in a row in other parts of the state. People traveled to Southern Illinois to buy corn, just as Joseph’s family traveled to Egypt in the Hebrew Bible during the years of famine in Canaan. Growing up, there was corn everywhere—corn out back behind the church I went to as a child, corn along the interstates leading up to Chicago and St. Louis when we traveled, even fields of corn next to the Wal-Mart we shopped at. I think you’re getting the theme—if there’s corn there, I feel at home!
When I first went away to high school, I worried about how much I would miss home. School was hours away in the suburbs of Chicago, far away from my friends and family. I wasn’t sure whether I would feel comfortable in a big city. But as we drove through the city limits into Aurora, I saw a sign that read “population 140,000,” and then…fields of corn leading up to the school. Despite being hundreds of miles away from Little Egypt, right away this new place did feel a little like home.
Although the homecoming Baruch writes about involves far more pomp and circumstance, the home God welcomes the people of Israel back to is no less foreign to them than Aurora, Illinois was to me nearly fifteen years ago. Baruch, who was the prophet Jeremiah’s secretary, is writing during the exile of the Israelites to Babylon. From where they sit in exile, the land God promises to them is not just someplace where the work is a little easier, someplace warmer and a little sunnier. It is the home every one of God’s children dreams about. It’s a universal hope. It’s the “salvation of God” proclaimed by John the Baptist in today’s Gospel.
The problem for us is that this promised land has no concrete existence. It seems to us, just as it must have seemed to the Israelites hearing Baruch’s vision, that in the world we live in, there is no place where, in the prophet’s words, “the woods and every fragrant tree have shaded” us, where the very mountains and hills are made flat so we have level ground to walk on. This fantastical destination may seem to have no concrete existence in our experience—so how can we have faith that when we arrive at our destination, it will indeed be home?
The lectionary forces us to confront these questions now because we are in Advent again, at the symbolic beginning of our journey to the Kingdom we celebrate on Christ the King Sunday. We need to ask ourselves about the path that connects the life we lead right now, on the Second Sunday of Advent in 2009, to the universal homecoming that Baruch describes in today’s reading.
In the Epistle reading, Paul gives us an answer. The concrete path to the universal home of all of humanity is the local Church. He writes to the Philippians that the bonds of love and fellowship he has with them give him confidence that God will bring the work of the Gospel to completion in them and their community. He points to concrete practices of care for neighbor—in both good times and in bad—as a path to knowledge of God and blamelessness before God. This is the charge we receive from Paul and all the early Mothers and Fathers of the Church—incarnate the universal Church precisely where you are by practicing the Christian faith as you’ve received it. As St. Luke tells us in Acts, we do this through teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in prayers.
What this means is that the Catholic Church we confess each Sunday in the Nicene Creed springs up out of local dioceses—out of gatherings of Christians around the world, advancing the work of the Gospel and loving their neighbors whether they are friends or enemies. The universal Church appears out of thin air in the church buildings of those dioceses—and in hospitals, prisons, and schools—first and foremost because God makes the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ present in them in the Eucharist, but also because that Body and Blood make other miracles happen. The Eucharist and the proclamation of the Gospel lead us to feed and clothe each other. They help us pray for each other when we are sick and wounded. They teach us to rejoice with one another when we are happy, as we do countless times each year in celebrating marriages, anniversaries, and births, and they make us console one another when we hit life’s low points.
Every such encounter with the living God in these concrete little places lights the path to the home we are all looking for. In doing these practices, we take away each other’s doubt about what lies at the end of the road. Just as importantly, if we do the work of the Gospel here in our own time and place, when someone else stumbles across the way of Jesus Christ, they can see what lies at the end of the road more clearly, too. That is why the Church is not merely a collection of sinners looking for their own individual salvation—the Church helps us receive the saving power of Jesus Christ because in the Church we strive to minister God’s grace to one another in everything we do. Two heads are better than one, as the saying goes, but many hearts working together are absolutely crucial for the Church to do its mission in the world.
So the Church year is beginning again, and in our readings at the Eucharist and in the Daily Office we are meditating on what the coming Messiah promises. But while it may be tempting to meditate too long on just where the path we’re taking may lead, today’s Gospel reading reminds us of the urgency of our journey. “Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low,”…but not after all of us have passed on from the earth, or in ten years, or even just after Christmas. Now. The vision of a new world that connects Isaiah to Baruch to John the Baptist is an urgent one. It’s the vision of a world that is coming to life right this very moment. We are empowered by the Holy Spirit to see that new world and to journey home to the new life we’ll find there…and the first step begins here, now, in this Church of Jesus Christ.
Thanks be to God.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
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