My parents have passed a lot of wisdom on to me. One bit of wisdom emerges from this question: “Would anyone notice from a passing horse?” If I had a bad hair day, or if a car splashed mud on my pants walking to school, I’d be asked that question – would a person on a passing horse notice? I took that phrase to mean two things: first it was pretty unlikely that someone traveling by on a horse would even notice my mud-splashed pants or hair style; and, second, people are really caught up in their own lives and what they might think was earth shattering really had very little importance in the scheme of things. To get to the point, horses have blinders and so do people; they probably wouldn’t notice trivial things so why get upset about them?
The second bit of wisdom -- “What difference does it make?” If I was deciding between two high school electives, they might ask, “What difference does it make?” I’ve come to realize my parents were trying to instill in me some perspective: what difference will it make in your life and what difference can you make in others’ lives if you do this or that. “Should I try out for football or stay in band,” I’d ask. What difference did it make? I dropped football and kept up with music. Later on, I got paid to play the trombone and I think performing made people happy. No one would have paid me to play football and probably no one would have enjoyed watching me play. This week my daily Lenten practice (found at d365.org) included this: “What difference does your being a child of God make in the way you live your life together with God and others?” I have been pondering this question from my own personal perspective. Being a child of God, what difference do I make in my life with God and others. In the next couple of weeks, the Church calendar celebrates the lives of many saints, including John and Charles Wesley, the martyrs Perpetua and Felicity, Gregory – Bishop of Nyssa, Gregory the Great, Bishop Cyril, and Saint Joseph. These are giants in the life of Christianity. Google search any one of them and you’ll see that their lives as children of God made a difference to God and others. Does one need to be a “saint” to make a difference to God and others? I don’t think so. We have a parishioner who when younger (like, in her early seventies) used to fill her car up with expired food from the grocery store and drive it to a local food bank. She’s a child of God and, I can say with certainty, she made a difference to God and others. This past week, a parishioner found herself holding the hands of a co-worker to pray for his sick mother. Additionally, some folks from church this past Wednesday made a big spaghetti dinner for the homeless shelter on F Street. And yet another visited someone in the hospital and truly made her day; and, on the same day, a parishioner drove some folks to church who needed a ride. What a wonderful example they are this Lenten season for being children of God and making a difference for God and others. -Fr. Marshall We did it. The 41st convention of the Episcopal Diocese of San Diego came to Saint John’s and it was a big hit! Because of who we are as a parish, I knew we were going to hit a home run. I also knew that we would be welcoming, hospitable, and enthusiastic about our ministry. What I didn’t know was that the home run we were going to hit was going to clear the fences, go over the street, and take out a window a block away. But that’s exactly what happened. Every person that I talked to on Friday and Saturday thanked us for hosting. They said our volunteers were helpful, kind, enthusiastic and really liked being here. Visitors told me they were over whelmed with an abundance of hospitality, coffee, water, directions, and most importantly, smiles. From the time our visitors began to drive into the parking lot to be greeted by the Men of Saint John’s, to when they walked onto campus at any of the three open gates, to when they needed a bathroom, or something to drink – they were overwhelmed by smiling and eager people.
This past weekend, diocesan leaders took me off to the side and told me that, “Saint John’s has set a new standard in welcoming and hospitality. You have set the bar for every forthcoming diocesan event.” I heard this more times than I can count. And now, nearly a week later, I am hearing phrases like, “The best, ever.” As we prepared for convention, I didn’t tell you that at the last two diocesan conventions lots of things went wrong; we ran out of coffee, poor signage made confused delegates late to workshops and meetings, the lunch was sub-par, there was no area to chat, and people left after their meetings instead of staying to fellowship with one another. I doubted we would have such difficulties at St. John’s because we are a place where people jump in when they see problems and fix them. But here’s the deal; we didn’t have to be that good. I can ask for volunteers and put people into situations where they are comfortable, but I can’t make them smile or go the extra mile like you all did. You’ve heard the phrase, “You can take a horse to water but you can’t make it drink.” Along the same lines, I can ask Bill Cheney to serve coffee, but I can’t make him smile. The smiles he gave us over the weekend were entirely his. Likewise, Wilma and Josie, along with the rest of our concierge team, were scheduled to be at the welcoming table. They can be scheduled but no one can force them to be enthusiastic about Saint John’s and the convention. That part they did all on their own. During the Eucharist service, ten minutes into communion, we had chalice bearers returning to the altar with empty chalices. Marge and Gretchen jumped into action. I asked each one to specifically be there – Marge on the altar and Gretchen running the sacristy – but I can’t make them smile and help each chalice bearer. They did that all on their own. This is why I wanted the convention at Saint John’s. I wanted to share you with the diocese. The delegates and visitors desperately needed to see a group of parishioners who, when the going gets busy and potentially stressful, respond with smiles and enthusiasm. And, you did just what I knew you would do, simply be yourselves. Thank you for being you and serving God with smiles and enthusiasm. -Fr. Marshall If you’ve been to Saint John’s recently, you undoubtedly have noticed our front entrance has received a most unappreciated and smelly bird dropping paint job. A Friday afternoon power washing cleans most of it off but the same ugly pattern reappears on Sunday morning. At one of the most important weekends in the history of Saint John’s, we’ve got a bird dropping problem. We’ve been pondering what to do. How do we get rid of these birds?
Recently, we’ve discovered more about the source. It is not a group of birds. One very pretty, white chested, hawk-like animal with dark brown wing feathers that stands almost a yard tall, flies in as the sun is setting and then is gone before 6:30 in the morning. Late Wednesday afternoon, Jon Fry took some very detailed pictures of this bird-dropping-machine. He posted it on Facebook to see who could name it. We then talked about non-lethal ways to remove it, like shooting off fireworks, cutting down the tree (or just the top third), or shooting water at it. That was Wednesday night. Thanks to the magic of the internet, we awoke on Thursday morning with good and bad news. The good news first: we found out what it is, an Osprey hawk. The bad news – it is a “sensitive species” and is protected. These endangered birds have a zone of protection so that we cannot remove the branch, scare it away, or, as we have joked, even think a negative thought about it. Since we were here first and for some reason this Osprey decided to land here, we don’t need to change our operation, but we can’t scare it away, either. My mom had a coffee mug that read, “It’s hard to soar like an eagle when you let the turkeys get you down.” The Saint John’s mascot is an eagle and our song is, “On Eagles’ Wings.” Perhaps the easiest thing would be to change our mascot to the protected Osprey. But, in all seriousness, this is a classic example of life. During an important time in the history of the church and school, we get pooped on. And, we find out, there’s nothing we can do to stop it. Or is there. We can let the turkeys get us down, or we can embrace this bird-gift. Our Head of School helped change my thinking. He has talked to the students about how special we are to have this endangered bird finding refuge at Saint John’s. Ironically, it mirrored my Annual Meeting address – Saint John’s is a refuge for many who have been turned away from other churches or faith traditions. We are a center of healing and it shows through what we do in our shared ministry. Apparently that center of healing applies to God’s animals, too. I guess that is not such bad news after all. -Fr. Marshall A sports columnist once pondered whether sports could exist without fans. Certainly, professional sports needs fans. But I’m wondering today about fan-atics – people who have extreme enthusiasm for their team, their town, and sometimes for the players themselves. When I think of fanatics, I think of Raiders fans who dress up in wild costumes and attend every game (regardless of how well the team is playing). One Chargers fanatic dresses up like a lightning bolt, regardless of how hot the day might be. Fanatics also number among the season ticket holders who have attended every game since the formation of the team though, I suppose, not all season ticket holders are fanatics.
Fanatics spice up the experience of watching the game but they can also destroy the image of a town and ruin a good ball game with foul-mouthed comments and unruly—and often drunken – behavior. Many of us have heard stories about fanatics in Philadelphia who booed Santa Claus and even the all-time great baseball player, Ted Williams, was booed in Boston. In locker rooms around the Pac 12 collegiate conference, it is well known how nasty the home town fans at BYU can be. On the flip side, I’ve written before about how courteous Chargers fans are. At a Monday night football game at Qualcomm Stadium, I was standing in a long bathroom line behind a Chargers fan and a Broncos fan. When a space opened up, the Chargers fan invited the Broncos fan to go into the bathroom first. The Church has fanatics, too. You may have heard of the term, “Jesus freaks,” usually ascribed to people who are so fired up about the Gospel, they tend to overlook common courtesies. These fanatics can be so unruly and black and white in their presentation of the Gospel, that they actually turn people away from the faith. And then there is the church that protests funerals for members of the armed services and hold up signs that I don’t want to repeat. Their fanaticism is going a long way from Jesus’ command of love. The Episcopal Church has its fanatics, too, but thankfully they are not as visible as the others described. They are like the decades-long season ticket holder who attends every Sunday service, rain or shine; church fanatics teach Sunday School, serve in leadership positions, or are passionate about caring for the poor. Some of my favorite Episco-fanatics are the ushers. The word “usher” comes from the Latin root “ostium” (sometimes spelled “ustium”) which means a door or the mouth of a river. They are the keepers of the doors and overseers of the mouth of the river of life. The fanaticism of ushers is marked by zeal to arrive early, prepare the doorway, welcome and assist all who enter, and then clean-up and close the doors when the service is over. We might call ushers the iconic-Episco-fanatics, the alpha and the omega of every service. I wonder: where would the Church be without its ushers and other fan-atics. How could we serve without their fanaticism for Christ and welcome to all. -Fr. Marshall Episcopal kids are smart. It’s true, they are. There is something special about a child raised in an Episcopal church and also those who attend Episcopal schools. They are taught to think, reflect, ponder, question, believe, serve and love. They’re also observant. Very observant. I can’t change one thing in the church without one of our kids asking me what I did. They see and know our liturgy better than many adults. They can recite the various Eucharistic prayers, the creed, and many other common phrases and prayers. Our kids know when I change the proper preface; even though they don’t know it’s called a proper preface. (If you don’t know what it is, just look on the middle of the page 367 and then turn to page 377 in the prayer book)
But there is a downside to this “smartness” and it’s probably not the one you are thinking. Since Episcopal kids are observant, faithful, ask questions, and know the words and lifestyle of our faith, they use that as their measuring stick when looking at us adults. They listen to what we say, watch how we behave, and see how we treat others and then compare that to our shared faith and practice. Was it just me, or did you also feel a shiver go down your back? A book about teens and their faith was published while I was in seminary. It was based on a comprehensive study of teens across all faith traditions. Christian teens that self-identify as Episcopalian scored quite well across the entirety of the test – from being able to elucidate their faith to actually participating and living it out. The teens of the Episcopal Church stood out and represented our particular faith tradition very well. However, there is one question that they ranked near the top that does not sit well with Episcopal adults. The question was about how well their parents live out their faith tradition. We ranked near the top of all faith traditions of not living our lives like what we profess with our lips. Ouch. I attended a symposium with the authors the book. During the question and answer section, the Episcopal contingent asked for some clarity around that painful response from our own children. Luckily, the authors let us off the hook a bit. They said that if teens of other Christian traditions knew their own faith tradition, specifically the baptismal covenant, as well as the Episcopal teens do there would be very little difference between the Episcopal parents and the parents of the other traditions. It felt like a backhanded compliment. The good news, our kids know our faith. The not-so-good news, it is visible to them when we don’t live up to what we profess. -Fr. Marshall I am not a good speller. I blame my 7th grade teacher because she didn’t focus on spelling. In her words, “Someday you will have computers spelling for you.” Prior to 7th grade, however, spelling bees were agony for me. Public speaking comes rather easily to me, but public spelling does not. At my 6th grade spelling bee, I intentionally misspelled the first word so that I could sit down. My teacher, Mr. Winters, looked disappointed, but allowed me the intentional fail.
Flash forward thirty five years; my son, Ethan, is preparing for his 6th grade spelling bee. He has been diligently reading through the list for over a week now. This morning, in the car on the way to Saint John’s, he practiced the huge volume of words, three at a time. It seems as if my 7th grade teacher’s prediction is only partially true. Computers do help us spell but spelling is still a part of school curriculum. The virtue for the month at Saint John’s School is doing our best, both for the Lord and ourselves. Ethan has the option to not do his best and to follow his dad’s footsteps of intentionally failing the 6th grade spelling bee. From his diligent preparation, I can tell you that, although he is not comfortable standing up and spelling words in front of a crowd, he’s going to give it his best shot. This past week, we heard in Sunday’s Gospel lesson about Nathaniel proclaiming that Jesus is the Son of God. Jesus smiled (at least I imagine him smiling) and said, “Truly, you will see greater things than this.” Nathaniel, in my opinion, was uncomfortable about proclaiming about who Jesus was. I think his proclamation took him out of his comfort zone which is perhaps why Jesus said he’ll see greater things than this. As I listened to Ethan spell, “infringing” “endeavor” “ipso facto” “guffaw” and “veracity,” I wondered what would have happened if I had practiced and did my best in the spelling bee. It also got me thinking that we never heard about Nathaniel’s friends. I bet that he had some, yet none of them said Jesus is the Son of God. Imagine what would have happened if they did. Truly they did not see “greater things than this.” I wonder if God is calling you out of your comfort zone. I wonder if you take God up on the calling, what greater things you will see. -Fr. Marshall In my junior year in high school, our symphonic band received perfect scores and thus won a state competition. It took a lot of practice, dedication, hard work and commitment to be perfect. The piece with which we won the event was particularly difficult and required that each section watch the director and listen to the others.
We were locked in a dead heat against a rival high school which had just performed their final piece and performed it very well. Our director, Mr. Harper, told us in our warm ups prior to performing that he had a trick up his sleeve. During band practice in preparation for the competition, Mr. Harper had us play different parts of the piece without looking at the music in order to teach us to listen to one another. He knew we could do it because his pep band leader (me) led the band in a two-minute version of the song during a time out during a home basketball game. We didn’t have the music at the game. During our warm-ups, Mr. Harper instructed us to sing through the music in double time. He then felt we were ready to perform it without the notes in front of us. Five minutes later, we processed into the auditorium. We pulled out the music, set it on the stands, and sat down. He raised his baton, turned it once in a circular motion, and we turned our music stands away from us so that the music was facing the audience. The five judges had our full sheet music in front of them and while the entire audience had our music in view, the performers were left without the notes. There was a rush of voices and then silence from the crowd as they waited to see if we could perform without music. Mr. Harper smiled warmly and confidently at us, like a cat who had just caught a bird. He waved his hands and off we went. … and we were perfect. That night, I had a dream. I was in the most magnificent symphony orchestra I could ever imagine. We were playing in the throne room of God. The music was unlike anything I have ever heard on earth. Every instrument was in tune, from the tympani to the chimes to the strings to the piccolos. We were technically correct but, at the same time, we were playing with more passion than I have ever experienced. By far, this was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard in my life. I was in the orchestra for God. After I awoke, I realized that what we played for the judges in the high school band competition sounded like an AM radio station played on an old transistor radio compared to what I heard in heaven. I shared the dream with Mr. Harper. He told me that we strive to be on earth what God has in store for us in heaven – perfection. Maybe this is what Jesus meant when he said for us to be perfect as our Father in Heaven is perfect. That we strive to be better than what we are, to reach higher and higher, to try to be perfect maybe to prepare ourselves for what God has in store. -Fr. Marshall I think it is time for English to create a new word.
I have heard that English has the biggest vocabulary, the most words, of any language. A Russian tutor said that English has twice as many words as Russian but is half as specific. In other words, the argument goes, it takes us twice as many words to say the same phrase in Russian. This particular tutor wondered how scientists using such a diverse and clunky language could get us to the moon first. The virtue for Saint John’s School this month is “pride.” Some clever and attentive students have commented that they thought pride was a sin; therefore, how can it be a virtue. In typical Anglican fashion, I answered yes to both – it is a sin and it is a part of the virtuous life. C.S. Lewis (not a fan of pride), wrote in Mere Christianity, “The utmost evil is Pride. Unchastity, anger, greed, drunkenness, and all that, are mere flea bites in comparison: it was through Pride that the devil became the devil: Pride leads to every other vice: it is the complete anti-God state of mind.” Obviously, this is not the form of pride we are teaching and encouraging at school. We are teaching the virtue of doing one’s best, putting one’s best effort forward, taking pride in one’s school work, homework, extra-curricular work, and church work. We are lifting up the virtuous side of being proud of one’s school, church, faith tradition, and family tradition. At the same time, we are not placing one set of traditions over others. I don’t think we have a word for that kind of pride so maybe English needs a new one. I know a talented student who is quite good at softball. During practice she hits the ball with skill, tenacity and ferocity. But, during a game, she looks like she’s never been at bat before. When confronted with this paradox, she says she doesn’t want to show off. I find that very interesting and, in an odd way, consistent. But in my opinion, Jesus calls us into a life where we do our best with whatever gift or skill our Creator has given us. Unfortunately, we don’t have a word for it. In St. Paul’s first and second letter to the Corinthians, he warns against pride and also shares his boasting about their faithful work. A careful reading of the Greek makes it seem like Paul is dancing around “pride” as no word in Greek defines how proud he is of them and how he wants them to continue doing what God has blessed them to do. Even if there is no word for it, I think we should have pride in what God has blessed us with, pride in accomplishing good things for God’s Kingdom, and pride in the faith tradition we have inherited. -Fr. Marshall My dad is a good baker. His specialties are bread, jelly, and pizza dough. Dad is a retired High School biology teacher. His love and appreciation for the physical sciences comes through in his baking. A recent conversation with my wife about memorable school lunches got me thinking that I ate a lot of homemade bread. I don’t know if it was all the time, or just once in a while, but I did eat Dad’s made-from-scratch bread and occasionally some jelly. Another memorable lunch is when I brought left-over home-made pizza. I enjoy cold pizza to this day. Yet, the memory of a school lunch with Dad’s pizza reigns over any left-over pizza to this day. Dad taught Christi how to make his pizza dough, and, at the risk of offending my father, I like her dough the best. I guess that means dad is an even better teacher than baker.
Out of all of Dad’s baking accomplishments, none can be better than his Christmas stollen bread. Dad is not German, but somehow he figured out how to bake it. He found the right sweetness, a good blend of nuts and fruits, and the perfect texture. You can eat it thick-sliced toasted, thin sliced with salted butter, or just simply sliced. Once a year, our kitchen would turn into a stollen factory. The sweet smells of those days are with me today. Dad would bake the bread and then give it to friends and family. Once dad showed up to a Christmas choir practice without the bread and we were worried they’d go on strike until they got their Christmas bread. Once my brother got his driver’s license, we became the deliverers of many bread loafs. My favorite delivery was the year he bought a convertible. This was no ordinary convertible; it was a baby blue 1978 Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight. Although a two-door, it was longer than our VW bus. The gigantic 8 cylinder engine had so much torque, it could accelerate at the same speed with six friends in the car as it would with a solo driver. It came equipped with an 8-track player and a Neil Diamond cassette the previous owner left under the seat. Just before Christmas, my brother and I were given our lengthy stollen delivery list and we set out. It was a cold day, below freezing but dry (rare for Western Washington). We put on our heaviest winter coats and Santa hats, and took off into the frigid and sunny afternoon with the back seat of his car full of brightly wrapped loaves of bread. Convertibles in Washington State are rare. When it’s twenty degrees, and two teenagers wearing Santa hats with huge grins on their faces, and driving one of the biggest cars on the road with the top down, singing, “Forever in blue jeans,” people noticed. I can’t tell you how many people shouted, “Merry Christmas” to us as we drove along. As the day turned to night, we had made all our deliveries and found several loaves leftover in the back seat. Driving down the streets of Tacoma, we looked for people who needed Christmas cheer. And we did – pedestrians just minding their own business turned to hear the convertible (and Neil Diamond) approaching. I would jump out of the car, hand the stranger a loaf of bread, and say, “Merry Christmas.” The last person I handed a loaf to said, “Man, what are you guys, the two Kings riding in a convertible?” I nodded my head and we drove off singing, “I’m a Believer.” -Fr. Marshall This past week, a television special aired called, “The Secret Santa.” The show was a thinly veiled faux investigation report on searching for the real Santa. Shows like this are gaining in popularity and I must admit to watching at least one episode of Finding Bigfoot; which I think should be called, “Looking for Bigfoot” as they never seem to find him. Incidentally, I think I ruined the show for Ethan when I said, “You know, if Bigfoot was actually found, it would be on the news and not revealed on Animal Planet many months after the discovery.” Still, it’s entertaining to watch grown adults wandering around in the woods at night scaring each other.
Nevertheless, I think the Spirit of St. Nicholas, which is akin to the spirit of giving, is alive and present. This spirit, however, is not easily captured on camera. Maybe that’s by design because we enter this Christmas season by faith not by sight. Recently, a parishioner shared a story with me about the spirit of giving that he wants shared. He was at a grocery store and was purchasing a large amount of food for the holidays. The customer next to him said, “I’d like to purchase your groceries.” Preparing for a sales pitch or some sort of fraudulent act, our parishioner politely declined. The customer continued talking with him and said, again, that he’d like to buy his groceries. After thinking about it, our parishioner took the stranger up on his offer. I think, frankly, it was an act of the Holy Spirit for him to accept the gift because he’s not one to be easily convinced. He and his wife are quite generous but perhaps hesitant to receive from others. The grocery bill came to around $219. The kind stranger reached into his well-worn wallet and pulled out all the money he had. It came to $200. He asked our parishioner if he could cover the remaining $19 and change. After the exchange, our parishioner asked the stranger what he could do for him. The only request was for prayers. At our 8 am service, we prayed, and prayed earnestly, for this kind stranger. Was this stranger Santa? Or, was this the spirit of giving as shown in the life of St. Nicholas? If you read the story above closely, you’ll notice I prefaced it with the fact that our parishioner wanted it shared. Reading between the lines, one could assume that I’ve been told stories of the spirit of giving that are not to be shared. I can’t even tell you if that is a correct assumption, but I think your heart knows. Despite commercialization and television dramatization, this is a magical season. There are many wonders that occur and some of them come in forms of gifts. Whether it is a generous stranger that offers to pay for groceries, or a kind stranger that says words of hope to someone hospitalized over Christmas, or a mysterious wrapped package found under the tree, the spirit of giving is alive and well. May the Giving Spirit bless you and your family this Christmas season, -Fr. Marshall |