Calendar convergence alert: Today is not only the observance of Veterans’ Day. In the church calendar, today we observe the feast of St. Martin of Tours, soldier and saint from the 4th century. We give thanks for veterans on this day. I invite you to use the prayer for heroic service printed in the column on the left as a way to honor them.

I also invite you to consider the witness of Martin. I was introduced to his story in my first church, which bore his name. Legend has it that one winter day as he was riding on his horse, making military rounds, he came across a beggar, freezing in the snow. Martin took his sword, sliced his own cloak in half and gave it to the beggar. In a dream that night, Christ appeared to Martin. Christ was wearing that cloak, thanking him for it, demonstrating the truth that Christ is present in all persons, even when Christ comes well disguised.

The symbol for Martin is a goose. Why, you reasonably ask? After his military service, Martin became a priest in the south of France. He was apparently good at it. So good, in fact, that the people of that region elected him bishop. Martin, clearly a person of wisdom, heard the news of his election and ran in the opposite direction. He hid in a barn. As people were searching for him, the geese in the barn began honking, giving away his hiding place. Next thing you know, Martin is wearing a miter.

The story of Martin has become important to me, for a few reasons. Maybe you’ll find it helpful too. His call began with service. He met Jesus in a simple act of grace, service without expectation of reward. As I travel around the church and ask folks what helped them grow spiritually, what may have jump started their own spiritual journey, I often hear that it had something to do with a simple act of service.

If we are ever wondering how to move forward in faith, if an encounter with Christ seems remote, perhaps starting with service is the way to go. Lord knows there are no shortage of opportunities. I have found in my own life, when church work and priesthood seems overly weighted with meetings and administration, when ego invades sermon preparation, when reasons I pursued ordained ministry seem obscured in the past, an intentional act of service, often offered with a degree of anonymity, can help get me back on track.

There’s a wonderful aspect of surprise in all of this, reflected in the reading from Matthew’s gospel often associated with the feast of St. Martin. (See excerpt above.) Those who stand before the king are commended for feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the prisoner. Much to their surprise, they are told that they met the King in those expressions of love.

Martin’s story also says something to me about call, with that rather goofy symbol of the goose. Couldn’t a soldier saint have merited a more noble symbol? The goose says that a frequent sign of the authenticity of a call is the sense that God must have the wrong number. Throughout the Bible, call story after call story repeats this theme: You can’t mean me. There’s a dose of healthy humility in there. There is also a sense that by God’s grace, we can all be useful in God’s work in the world. What’s the saying? God doesn’t call the qualified. God qualifies those God calls.

Spend some time today (especially if you have the day off) giving thanks for  veterans who have ventured much for the liberties we enjoy. In a season when liberties seem increasingly in jeopardy in many parts of the world, we remember struggles that have safeguarded the dignity of every human being. And while you’re at it, give thanks for St. Martin, soldier and saint, who shows that any one of us can meet Jesus any old time.

When I was in college, I went through a period of estrangement from my father. My folks had recently divorced and I was not particularly well equipped to handle that. After a while, it became clear that shutting down the relationship was not the best way to go. I invited my father to come to my college to take me to dinner or something. I waited for him at the gate of my ivory-tower campus with more preppies per inch than any place I’d ever been before.

As I waited with apprehension, a young man approached me and started to talk. He may have been homeless. He was unshaven. Clothes were a mess. He could have used a shower. I was pretty sure he was from town and not a student. My defenses were up. I waited for him to hit me up for money. That didn’t happen. We chatted for a minute or two. Then he asked if he could pray for me. He put his hands on my forehead. All I can say was that I felt power. And then he was gone.

Every now and then someone asks if I believe in angels. I don’t always tell the story, but as I fashion an answer, I remember my encounter with this mysterious person. Maybe it was just some crazy religious zealot who happened to show up. But at a moment when I needed a message that I was not alone, I got that message loud and clear. And when I get asked if I believe in angels, I think of this scruffy guy, who looked a lot different than Fra Angelico imagined angels. I answer that I believe in angels. Can’t explain them. But I do believe.

Angel means different things to different people. That person is an angel = pure goodness. I’m no angel = I have messed up. You’re an angel = you did what I wanted you to do. But the translation of the word is simple and expansive. It means messenger.

The Bible is full of stories of angels who show up at key moments to deliver important messages. Sometimes it takes something extraordinary to deliver a message with full force. An angel bars Adam and Eve from the garden, sending the message that they can’t stay in paradise any more. Abraham and Sarah entertain strangers and come to find out they’ve hosted angels who tell them that in their advanced age, they will be parents. They had thought such a thing was laughable. An angel wrestles with Jacob before he experiences reconciliation with a brother he had cheated. An angel comes to Mary to tell her that her young teenage life was about to change, big time. One or two of them break the news that the crucified Lord was not really dead. And on the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels, we read about angels who fight for right when the world seems to be falling apart.

Maybe we could use some angels right now.

Artists have fun with imagery of angels. This cartoonist enjoys the work of imagination, wondering what they look like. But the real point is that the Holy One seems to find all kinds of ways to get a message across. I take it as a way for us to realize that the gate of heaven is closer than we think, as we read in the book of Genesis (see citation above).

On this feast of St. Michael and All Angels, maybe you can summon up a story about angels. Or maybe you think this is crazy talk. But if you’ve had occasion to get a message from beyond, give thanks for it. Celebrate it. And keep your eyes opened, because you may well have the opportunity to entertain angels without even knowing it.

A minister was once asked if he believed in infant baptism. He answered: “Believe in it? I’ve seen it!” I sort of feel that way about angels.

-Jay Sidebotham

After one of those tragic incidents in which a small child was left too long in a hot locked car, a commentator, fumbling for words in a moment of unspeakable sadness, said something like this: “To avoid this happening, leave something important next to the car seat where the child is.” Okay, I am increasingly forgetful and often distracted, but I was not the only one to wonder: What could be more important than that child in the car seat? A smart phone? A lap top? Lunch? Gym clothes? A Starbucks card?

What is important?

I’ve been going to yoga classes pretty often, hoping to build spiritual and physical strength and balance, an uphill climb. I’m glad to hide in the back row and I’m reluctant to practice if parishioners are present. Last Wednesday morning, I went to a class. I was the only student to show up. I told the teacher she must have something more important to do than just teach one student. She insisted on having the class. Though I didn’t know her, apparently I was important enough to her.

Later that same day, I was celebrant at our weekly noonday eucharist. Only one person showed up. He told me I didn’t have to do the service. He was sure that I must have something more important to do, partly because I can project an image of someone who is really, really busy. His response made me more committed to leading the service, trusting that Jesus meant it when he said he was present when two or three were gathered. In that moment, I could think of nothing more important to do.

Again, what do we consider important? What is worth doing? What matters? Do we even ask those questions, or do we just tackle the to-do list on auto-pilot, without thought for priority or purpose? These are questions each one of us can ask in our own spiritual journeys, where the tyranny of the urgent often suppresses the meaning of the important. They may be questions that get ignored, especially early on Monday morning.

They are questions for the church to consider, especially with the publication of new statistics that show our congregations dramatically shrinking. It would be easy for church folk, for church leaders, to anxiously panic our ways into all kinds of programs. If we just offered better coffee. If the music were just more snappy. If we started talking about politics or stopped talking about politics. We often think that what is most important in the church is more people in the pews, more names on our mailing lists, more pledging units gathered in our annual campaigns. But maybe a more faithful route is to think about growing hearts, one person at a time.

One of the learnings from the research behind RenewalWorks is that leaders of vital congregations focus first on growing hearts, and not on growing attendance or number of pledging units. That’s a counter-cultural way to live. But I have a feeling it’s the way set forth by Jesus.

He told stories to that effect, like a parable about a crazy shepherd who left 99 sheep to go find one stupid lost sheep who chose to wander. That little stupid lost sheep was important.  In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus noted all the things we worry about: what we should eat or wear or what college we get into or how fast we are promoted compared to our collegemates or co-workers. He said: Seek first the kingdom of God, and all these other things will be added unto you. Seeking first the kingdom of God was important.

We all have lots to do.  We’re all busy. Some of what we do is important. Some of it, not so much. May we be given grace to focus on what is most important, which might well be growing in love of God and neighbor.

-Jay Sidebotham

 

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Leading for Discipleship: A conference especially for those who have worked with RenewalWorks Sept. 30-Oct. 2 Wilmington, NC

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If it isn’t true, it ought to be.

I find myself saying that about a number of things, and including the origins of the word “orientation.” Maybe some wiser reader can confirm or debunk, but I’ve been told that the word finds its origin, at least in part, from baptismal services in the first centuries of the church.

These services were held on Easter eve, and they went on for a long time. The liturgy included long lists of renunciations, renouncing every imaginable kind of evil in the cosmos, in our social systems, in our hearts. They also included long lists of affirmations, positive and hopeful statements about how the baptismal candidate intends to live. In the Episcopal liturgy, knowing that many Episcopalians don’t have the stomach for really long liturgies, the number of renunciations and affirmations has been reduced. There are three of each. You can find them on page 302-303 of the Prayer Book.

But here’s the deal. I’m told that way back when, in the course of those early liturgies, the renunciations were said in darkness of night, facing west, the place of darkness, the place where the sun disappeared, a place that at that time people imagined was inhabited by barbarians and stupid people.

When they were through with the renunciations, the candidate would pull a 180 and turn to the east. If the timing of the liturgy was right, the sun was just cracking the horizon. With that turn, the baptismal candidate would turn to the light. That was their new orientation, as in facing the orient, the east. It was about choosing a direction. It was about turning to the light.

The word ‘orientation” has many meanings in our culture. It speaks to human sexuality, as we are called to respect the dignity of every human being. It speaks to the way a home or office building is situated on a plot of land. And in September, as schools and churches start, it speaks of programs of initiation and information and explanation, by which people are oriented, by which they can be told how to move in a forward direction.

If this baptismal stuff is true, it speaks of direction, and how we as people of faith are to orient our lives. I thought of this in particular on Saturday when in the daily readings assigned by our church, we read Psalm 139. It made me recall my orientation to seminary a few years ago. We were gathered as an entering class to learn about our three year course of study at Union Seminary in New York. We were excited to be there, a place whose history was marked by theological giants. We were on hallowed ground. We anticipated deep, rigorous, erudite study.

In the course of that orientation, we were addressed by the Rev. James Forbes, preaching professor who went on to serve as Senior Pastor at Riverside Church.  He told us he had orienting advice for us. Since I had been out of school for a while, and was not sure I had the academic chops to cut it, I was all ears.

He said in this orientation session: “I have just one word of advice for you: Memorize Psalm 139. It will change your life.” And I thought, “That’s it?” I grew up in a church where we engaged in lots of bible memorizing and little serious biblical scholarship. I thought he’d tell us to study hard. Memorize?

He told us to let this particular psalm be our guide. Let it orient us, in heart and mind. I did commit it to memory at the time and still remember a lot of it. A chunk of it is included above. I commend it to you. Let it guide you this week and beyond. Let it orient you with the promise that God goes with you, knowing you better than you know yourself. Take some time this week to think about how your spiritual life is being oriented, in which direction you are headed. Like those early Christians on Easter morning, turn to the light, remembering what Jesus said: “I am the light of the world.”

-Jay Sidebotham

 

Register Now!

Leading for Discipleship: A conference especially for those who have worked with RenewalWorks Sept. 30-Oct. 2 Wilmington, NC

Click here for registration and more info