I had a Kingdom of God moment on Sunday. These “Kingdom” moments happen when I see something that I’d only expect to see in heaven. A lot happened on Sunday so it’d be easy to point at a variety of things that would be a Kingdom moment. We had a well-attended Christmas brunch, we had one service for the entire congregation, we had Morning Prayer with Holy Communion, and we even had music from the school Chapel service. Any one of those things could be a Kingdom moment. For as great and amazing as it all was, my Kingdom moment was seeing Hector Vasquez sitting with Wilma Hunter. Although this might seem trivial to some, for me it was a big deal.
If you attend our 8 am service, you probably know Hector. He attends faithfully with his lovely wife, June; and their daughter-in-law, Celia, is one of our lectors. He always has a smile and a warm handshake. For those that attend our 10 am service, you probably know Wilma Hunter. She arrives early, helps out in the Narthex with bulletins, sits near the front of the church, and always wears a beautiful hat. I love both Hector and Wilma. They are important people to me personally and to the congregation as a whole. As far as I know, they do not know each other. But, to my surprise on Sunday morning, there they were sitting side by side. I never thought I’d see them together in worship until we are all at worship in God’s heavenly kingdom. Maybe this is one of the great things about the Christmas season – gathering friends and family that are not often (or ever) in the same room. One of my favorite Christmas day experiences was when both of my grandmothers were together. Usually we’d split our time, or the holidays, between the two of them, but for one grand Christmas, they were together. As we enter the fourth Sunday of Advent with anxious preparations for Christmas, let’s remember that one special element of this season is about gathering together. After all, without gathering of friends and family together, December 25 could be just another date on the calendar. -Fr. Marshall Our manger scene is coming to life. Each week new pieces are added. Two weeks ago, when the scene went up, we had a problem. I walked into the greening of the church and heard a voice crying out, “The Baby Jesus is missing!” (So much for making straight the path and creating a wide highway for the coming of our Lord.) Questions came from all corners – where could he be, where did he go, who packed him up, who would want to take him, what are we going to do? Unlike the grumpy Santa Claus in “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” who was quick to cancel Christmas because of one bad weather report, I was not ready to cancel Christmas because we couldn’t find an eight inch statue. I knew the Holy Spirit would light our way (and I have a connection in Tijuana who could pick up a replacement in a pinch). Still, some time went by without finding him and I was getting a little worried.
This is not the first time Jesus has been lost. King Herod went looking for him and came up empty. Angry residents of Jesus’ hometown wanted to throw Jesus off a cliff for proclaiming a lesson from Isaiah that we are reading this Sunday. Jesus eluded them by disappearing into the crowd. Two unaware disciples on the road to Emmaus walked and talked with the resurrected Christ. When they realized it was Him, Jesus vanished. And even his mother lost him, twice. Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to Jerusalem when he was twelve years old. After days of celebration in the Holy City, the caravan back to Nazareth started without Jesus. By evening, Mary and Joseph realized Jesus was seriously missing so they headed back up the mountain to Jerusalem until they finally found him in the Temple teaching religious leaders. The second time mother Mary went to the tomb and found it empty. But then the Newly Resurrected appeared and gave her joy and comfort. I talked with someone recently who has lost a sense of Christ, the Holy One. I thought about the missing statue and said Jesus has funny ways of disappearing and reappearing. It is the Incarnate One who called us to seek, knock, search and find. Maybe our spiritual journey looks like a holy game of hide and seek – sometimes it’s Jesus who hides and calls us to seek him out and other times it’s us who’ve tried to hide from him. The voice of the Great Shepherd, never discouraged, calls, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Hidden behind our manger are cardboard boxes. The first item packed every year is the baby Jesus and everything else is packed on top. After searching every nook and cranny in the church, hall and office, like Mary and Joseph looking for Jesus, the seekers returned to the Nave and the box that holds Jesus. At the very bottom, swaddled in protective wrapping, was the missing statue. What was lost had been found! Maybe this is the point of Advent. After searching all over for the meaning of Christmas, perhaps we are called to return to the origin of it all, the simple truth of a family huddling together around a new born child, while stars, angels, and shepherd cried out with joy for the new born King. May you find what has been lost as you search deep inside your spiritual self and find a child, whose name is Wonderful, Counsellor, the Mighty God, the everlasting Father. The Prince of Peace. -Fr. Marshall I have participated in three Safety Commission meetings so far in my stint as a commissioner. I can sum up my experience with this phrase: people like to park in front of their homes. Or, another way to look at it is like this: people don’t like strangers parking in front of their homes.
There are two neighborhoods in Chula Vista that are having large problems with public parking. One of them is across the street from Southwestern College. Residents are fed up with college students trolling their neighborhood for free parking. I heard stories at Wednesday’s meeting about residents who have to carry their groceries for three blocks because of student parking. Another couple has elderly parents that don’t visit because they’d have to walk too far. One resident has a licensed extra car that he plants in front of his home. When he comes home with groceries, he double parks the extra car, unloads his truck, and then plants his car back in front. This “extra” car would be called a “snow car” in North Idaho – a rusted-out junker that is used only when it snows. A snow car prevents the good car from getting bumped in icy conditions and also saves the good car from getting rusted out from salt. In this case, the “snow car” saves a parking space and the owner doesn’t mind when others bump into it when they parallel park. Occasionally at our home in San Marcos, one of the teen-aged friends of our neighbor would park their car in front of our house. Our cars were parked in the garage and along the side of it so we never used the curb parking along our cul-de-sac, anyway. But, I didn’t like it when others did. And, I have to admit, one day when I saw a teenager driving up (more heard the young driver than saw) I quickly parked my car in front of our home. And, since I’m confessing, our next door neighbor had three drivers, five cars, two boats and one 26’ camping trailer. And, none of the cars could fit into their over-stuffed garage. One day, a rare event happened; a spot opened on the street in front of their house so I took it. I felt bad about it but then they parked a boat in front of our house, so I guess we called an unspoken parking entente and never ventured a car in front of each other’s homes again. I wonder what is it about human nature that makes us protective of a public parking space in front of our home? Did native Americans get upset when a neighbor parked a horse in front of their teepee? From the way some residents described the college students who park in front of their homes, there are some similarities – loud sounds, strange smells, and occasional use of the street as a bathroom; but a horse won’t give you the finger if you tell it to leave. What is a good Christian response to this dilemma? How are we to treat a stranger parking in front of our home? When Jesus said to love our neighbors as ourselves, was he including their parked cars? Unfortunately, he probably was. -Fr. Marshall Some time ago, while I was working for an insurance company, I came up with many conclusions about human nature, one of which is this: two people can witness the same accident but describe two totally different events. The mind can do funny things when forced to remember a traumatic occasion. One such account from a female client I remember indicated that the vehicle that backed into hers had to have been upside-down to match the physical damage. When asked by the adjuster, “Ma'am, was the vehicle that struck yours upside-down?” the claimant replied, “Of course not.” But she stuck to her account, anyway. I do not mean to suggest she was lying; no, she was simply retelling the accident as she recalled it.
The three-year Lectionary schedule changes now from reading the Gospel According to Matthew to Mark. So, we are saying good-bye to Matthew and “hello” to Mark. There is at least one big difference between these two Gospels. The narrative of salvation history (Christ was born, Christ died, Christ has risen and will return again) remains the same. But the stories are told a little differently from each other. Matthew is wordy and goes to great lengths to explain. Mark is concise and to the point. Matthew recalls in depth Jesus’ birth through the life of Joseph. Mark doesn’t even mention the nativity. Matthew describes how Jesus made appearances after death, ascended into heaven, and commissioned the disciples to teach and baptize to the ends of the earth. Mark’s version more or less ends with the tomb. For those who are familiar with poetry, Matthew wrote an epic poem about Jesus while Mark wrote a Haiku. You can read Mark’s Gospel in one sitting. It’s fast paced, riveting, and, well, short. It would be a mistake, however, to judge Mark by size alone. He employs a writing technique that I call missional interruption. It fits the life of Jesus because he was always on the move and got interrupted along the way. Each interruption ends up being a key educational point. For example, in Chapter 5, Jesus arrived on the shore to find a crowd assembled to hear him. As he began to speak, he was interrupted; a synagogue leader, Jairus, begged Jesus to heal his daughter. Jesus left the crowd to go to Jairus’ home. Along the way, a woman who had suffered hemorrhages her whole life said to herself, “If I simply touch his clothes, I will be made well.” She interrupted Jesus again and received healing; as he did so often, Jesus took the opportunity to teach his disciples a lesson about faith, then healed Jairus’ daughter, and then returned to preach. Whew! What a day. Mark’s account can be viewed as Jesus-the-multi-tasker. Maybe that is a good lesson for today’s ministry – be prepared to multi-task! There are four witnesses, or accounts, of Jesus’ life and ministry in the New Testament. Each one is a little different from the others but each maintains a central theme of salvation. Speaking from an insurance perspective, it is remarkable (and highly unlikely) to find four separate accounts of any set of events, let alone the entirety of Jesus’ life, that are so similar. I consider us lucky that the Church fathers didn’t compile all four accounts into one narrative which was one theory of how they should be presented. Instead, they accounts were kept separate. So, let us gather together and welcome Mark’s account into our spiritual lives for the next year. Welcome, Mark! -Fr. Marshall This past summer, the Marshall family traveled to the Seattle area to celebrate my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary. Our trip took us through one of Washington’s famous ferry systems. It was the first ferry ride for the kids. They loved it. If you are not familiar with Washington’s ferry system, it is based on the fact that Puget Sound is too deep for a bridge between the mainland and nearby islands. Most ferries are car carrying behemoths that appear to swallow cars and then spit them out at the next stop. If only Jonah had had the luck to catch one of these ships instead of being swallowed by a large fish.
In early August, any trip to Whidbey Island will be pleasant and ours was no exception. The boys got out of the car and ran up to the observation deck. We watched as the ferry churned the deep blue salt water into a foamy thundering swirl of white water as we pushed away from the dock. Twenty minutes later, the ferry reversed its engines and gently settled into the destination dock. It is an impressive thing to experience. Here is a picture that was snapped by a friend of a family member at another time. An October storm brought winds above 50 mph and heavy seas. The ferry is over 300 feet long, 78 feet wide, and weighs 4,954,000 pounds, unloaded. It can carry 130 cars on two levels and 1200 passengers. This storm created a battle between ship and sea. During storms, the crew plots a less vulnerable course but at a certain point the captain has to steer into the storm to get to the dock. This picture shows the ferry taking a wave right over the bow undoubtedly washing the cars in sea water and perhaps freeing them from their blocks. It must have been a frightening ride that day. Does the picture remind you of storms that you have gone through in your life? If this were a parable, I’d say that the mission of Christ is the 4.9 million pound ship and challenges in life are the eight foot waves. The ship is going to win and it will get to shore. But sometimes, riding on the ship we know as Christ’s mission means getting a little wet. For us deckhands on the SS Mission Ship, we can’t always see the shore and sometimes the waves feel like they are battering us down. But the captain, seated high up, keeps his eyes on the dock, always mindful of our safety and our destination. As is written in Deuteronomy, “Be strong and courageous; do not be afraid, for the Lord goes with you; he will never leave you or abandon you.” (31:6). -Fr. Marshall I’m writing today in defense of cavemen. I think they get a bad rap. Negative human emotions and instincts inevitability get pushed back on cavemen. Why do boys fight – because of their caveman instincts. Likewise, personality traits that involve basic, self-serving instincts are blamed on our caveman roots. Social scientists say a man who sits on the couch after work and stares at the television does so because of caveman instincts – he leaves the cave in the morning to hunt and when the day is over brings home his gatherings and slumps down in front of the fire. Were there no cavemen who helped out washing dishes and caring for children?
We recorded one segment of a nationally televised morning show about a new archeological dig. Ethan is interested in archeology so we thought he’d enjoy the story. Prior to that, however, they had a psychologist talk about the general feeling in the country that we are busier now than ten years ago. The psychologist pointed to the recession-economy and how many workers are busier than prior to the recession. Talk about ultracrepidarianism, the psychologist’s specialty was cognitive brain functions, not on the macro-economic pressures on the U.S. workforce. And, he left out technology over the past ten years--specifically, the rise of smart phones, social media, and the portability of view-on-demand prime time television shows that have taken over down time. But, I digress. His finding is that Americans take less time to reflect and think and that we are busier than ten years ago. The interviewer asked, “Why do you think that is, doctor?” He replied, “I think it has to do with the caveman brain. In order to survive back then, the caveman had to constantly fidget and do things. We are simply following in our caveman footsteps.” Really, cavemen were fidgeters, restless and impatient? I don’t think so. Besides, even if that were true, wouldn’t we have evolved out of that pattern? No, says the psychologist, he thinks that the busier cavemen succeeded more, would therefore be superior to the others, and eventually took over. I had the pleasure of meeting some quite senior native Americans whose tribes live in the plains states. It’s well-known that Pacific Northwest Indians had plenty of downtime because of the abundance of seafood. They could be sedentary instead of nomadic. In the plains, however, Indians had to be mobile, flexible, and ingenious. The plains Indians I talked to were peaceful and well-rested. Their parents were nomadic and taught them the ways of the tribe yet they were not fidgeters or restless. They knew how and when to work hard and then how to rest and relax. This is in contrast to the psychologist’s ultracrepidarian assumptions about cavemen life. I wonder if the same psychologist would say that Ethan’s enthusiasm for archeology thus has to do with caveman roots, too. Nonetheless, we seem to be busier than ten years ago. I think worship of God in the Episcopal tradition is a bulwark against increasing busyness. The time we spend in worship leaves room for thought and reflection. We can leave our busyness, our fidgeting nature, and our anxieties at the door. When we enter into worship of God, we are told in Scripture to “be still, and know that I am God.” (Ps 46:10) As the escalating busy season of Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s looms ahead, let us take time for worship, reflection, prayer, and peace. -Fr. Marshall I am fascinated with words. I like to study root words, origins, and when they were first used. Words are important because they can bring together or divide, inspire or sadden, begin wars and end wars. The first recorded act of God was using words (Let there be light). Jesus is called Logos, which in Greek means... you guessed it – word.
Luckily for me, I occasionally read books that require a dictionary. In the book, Think Like a Freak, the authors, Levitt & Dubner, used this word, “ultracrepidarianism.” It describes someone who offers opinions and advice on matters outside of his or her knowledge. My dictionary used one form of the word in this sentence, “The play provides a classic portrayal of an ultracrepidarian mother-in-law.” The word, with traditional Greek and Latin roots, is broken down in this way: Ultra (beyond) and Crepidam (sole of a sandal). It comes from a Latin phrase from Pliny the Elder, “ne supra crepidam sutor judicare” which means, “let the cobbler not judge above the sandal.” Maybe you’ve met an ultracrepidarianist or perhaps have fallen into the lure of ultracrepidarianism. How easy it is to “judge above the sandal.” I was thinking of this after I freely gave advice to a friend on what the Chargers should have done to avoid losing so badly last Sunday. Clearly I was dispensing advice on a matter outside of my knowledge. Imagine how frustrating it was for Jesus when dealing with ultracrepidarianists. Jesus, the WORD, knows Scripture, knows God, knows the foundations of the world and can even read minds. Nevertheless, leaders of the day would routinely challenge his knowledge. Yet, the nature of Jesus is to be kind. When dealing with challenges, like, “Is it lawful to pay taxes,” or “Whose wife will she be in the resurrection,” Jesus responds with truth and compassion. Unlike Jesus, I get mad at people who condemn others. For instance, some Christians insist they know who is going to heaven and especially who is not. That is an ultra-ultracrepidarian statement. At the risk of slipping into ultracrepidarianism, I think that is clearly judging above the sandal and certainly giving advice outside of one’s own knowledge. The Scriptures, after all, clearly announce that no one knows when Jesus will return and likewise no one can judge who not be in Heaven. I hope that all followers of Christ know his love and trust in his grace. That is certainly knowledge that we can give freely to all without any fear of judging beyond the sandals because we received that Good News from the best authority ever known. -Fr. Marshall Do you know the pumpkin parable? I first heard it on Sunday morning. I have elaborated on it and want to share it with you.
There once was a farmer who loved his farm. He grew corn, potatoes, tomatoes, squash, strawberries, chickens, sheep and pumpkins. Every day he would walk through his garden to watch over his plants and feed his animals. One day, some people from the near-by village stomped through his garden and uprooted some of his plants. They threw squash at the chickens, chased the sheep out of their pens, and rolled some large pumpkins on to the dirt paths after writing bad words on them with mud. The next morning, the saddened farmer began to clean up. As he fixed the chicken coop and replanted the squash and tried to stand the corn upright, he realized the towns people who had destroyed things were strangers who saw no value in his farm. For that reason, the farmer, who was a good man, set out to make friends with them. First, the farmer took some of pumpkins inside his home where he washed them, removed the tops, the seeds and the rest of the insides. After a while, the seeds were dry and he roasted and salted them. Later, he cut up the fleshy shell and baked pies, cookies, sugar loaf bread, and taking some brown sugar, mixed it with the orange pulp, and molded it around leftover marshmallows. The farmer made so much food that it overflowed from his kitchen into the dining room and out onto the porch. He then took some of his favorite pumpkins, hollowed them out, cut eyes, noses, and smiling faces. Those pumpkins he placed on his porch as an invitation to the townsfolk. As evening fell, he took candles and placed them inside so they would glow. When the people from the village walked by, they saw the lights and came closer. When they smelled the pies and sweet breads, they came even closer. The farmer invited them into his house and they enjoyed a meal together. The next night, the farmer saw a glow from the village. As he walked through the darkened streets, he saw people with pumpkins on their front porches and strangers giving each other greetings and sweet treats. He went home to his farm, sat on his porch, and smiled. -Fr. Marshall The school virtue for October is faith and hope yet how does one demonstrate faith and hope? Faith is belief in something that cannot be seen. So the pedagogical question for the month is this: how does a priest/teacher like me demonstrate what cannot be seen?
At summer camp, we did activities which facilitated trust and faith in one another. My favorite is the “Trust Walk” where one camper is blindfolded and another camper leads the blind person around. The blindfolded camper needs to put faith in the other person and believe in something that cannot be seen. Watching, I could usually tell when faith was established because the shoulders of the blindfolded person would relax and a smile would appear. This is difficult to recreate in a sermon during chapel. So Wednesday, I went with a different faith exercise that involves science and someone maybe getting wet. The exercise involves a student, a clear plastic cup, water, and a cardboard circle a little larger than the cup opening. You can try this at home. Fill the cup more than half full, place the cardboard cutout over the top of the cup and then quickly turn the cup upside down. What we expect is that the water will pour out into the sink (or onto the student’s head). But science takes over and the air pressure in the cup holds the cardboard lid to the cup. The theological message might be that we expect the water to spill out, but it doesn’t because of a principle of science that we cannot see, just like the prophet Elijah. He prayed for rain, without a cloud in sight, and kept praying. His faith, and God’s promise made the unbelievable and unseen into reality. During the sermon, however, I was in a different place. I was nervous that this might not work. Test after test it worked but I had doubts that I could do it successfully in front of an audience. And, because of my lack of faith, it failed and the student’s head got wet. Technically, it was the protective Santa hat that got wet so I tried again, this time over the bucket I brought just in case. I failed. I less more water in the cup, put the lid on and flipped it over and failed again. By now the students were laughing and my student/volunteer was getting more and more nervous. But then I heard something like a voice over my left shoulder that said, “Pour more water in the cup.” I didn’t listen, and in fact filled the cup even less than before. It failed, again. Again, I heard, “Pour more water in.” And, this time I thought, but if it’s not working with this much water, why would pouring more water in make a difference; it’ll make it worse. But, I had a moment of faith. I filled the cup more than three-quarters full, took a breath, and flipped it over. And, it worked! The students cheered with amazement. I then held it above my volunteer’s head and danced around with it. The cup, upside down, with nearly a full cup of water, was being held in with a flimsy cardboard lid – defying the law of gravity. This was an experience of faith for me. I had to believe, without seeing, that the exercise would work. This was a message for me and I hope the rest of the students learned something, too. It took a dose of humility, but, when it comes to faith, a little cup of humility leads to a large dose of belief. -Fr. Marshall In the ever-changing world of San Diego radio, my (formerly) favorite radio station has slowly changed its format. Luckily for me, a “new” radio station formed which plays my favorite hits from the 80’s. And, on Sunday morning, they play repeats of Casey Kasem’s Top 40 countdown. This past Sunday the countdown was from October 16, 1982. As I drove to church, I got to hear numbers 39, 38, and part of 37 on the countdown list.
Because of this “new” format, I’m able to hear hits that I grew up with. It’s funny to hear them with my older ear. This morning they played, "Time After Time." by Cyndi Lauper. The song reminded me of my high school jazz band. We were good, for a high school band, and our director, Mr. Williams, took us on tour around the school district. Once, while we played for an elementary school, our director announced the next song, “Time After Time,” and the children suddenly sat up and cheered. Alas, it was not the song by Cyndi Lauper, but was, instead, an old jazz standard by Sammy Cahn that gained popularity when it was sung in a movie It Happened in Brooklyn, with Frank Sinatra, in 1947. When Mr. Williams heard the cheers, he turned to us and said (and I am not kidding), “Wow, a bunch of Cahn fans; great.” We all had a good chuckle about that. After the performance we told him about the Top 40 hit by the same name, of which he was unaware. Mr. Williams then told us all the songs that Cahn wrote, including, “High Hopes,” “My Kind of Town,” “Come Fly With Me,” and “Let It Snow Let It Snow Let It Snow.” Yesterday on the radio, while listening to Lauper’s “Time After Time” I suddenly figured out what she was talking about. Although it is easily the 200th time I’ve heard that version of the song, I suddenly realized that Lauper believed that she was a difficult person unworthy of love. In spite of that, my earlier interpretation was that her boyfriend gave her unconditional love in spite of her low self-esteem. But now, in 2014, hearing a song that is thirty years old, I no longer think it was her boyfriend she was singing about. I think it was the grace of God. Here is the chorus line, “If you’re lost you can look and you will find me, time after time. If you fall I will catch you, I will be waiting, time after time.” Mother Teresa wrote that God must rewrite Scripture every night. She wrote this because the same Bible passage she read at night will have a different meaning to her in the morning. I too have had that experience. Maybe it’s not Scripture that changes, but it is us who matures and reads it differently. Regardless of who Lauper was singing about, one thing is for certain. Listening to that song again, in one sense for the first time, this priest was reminded of God’s unfailing and never-ending love. No matter how far away we walk, no matter how lost we are, no matter how far we fall, God will find us, time after time. -Fr. Marshall |