Twelve Down And Two To Go

We have survived the hype surrounding both the movie release of Harry Potter And The Order of The Phoenix and the book release of Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows. I must confess, however, that my friend Rachel and I went to see the movie the day after it was released (in a multiplex theater that was about one-third full). We also both finished the book within three days of its release. Rachel received her ordered copy on Saturday and finished it early Sunday afternoon. I picked it up late Sunday afternoon and finished it Monday night (well, actually, the wee hours of Tuesday morning).

Did they live up to the hype? Perhaps. Order of The Phoenix was not the best movie I have ever seen, but it was certainly far from the worst. And Deathly Hallows was a fitting end to the series. I will not write much about the book, as I still see multiple copies in the hands of people on the train during morning and evening rush hour, in restaurants, in parks, at the beach... I will say that I thought it could have been "tightened up" a bit, especially in the long middle section. I felt it suffered from trying to fill in too many details from the whole series to the detriment of the plot of the final installment itself. I will also say that given all the hype surrounding the death of "major characters," I was surprised by who was actually killed off and who was not. In spite of that, I still enjoyed it immensely. I will say no more for the duration.

So the series has come to an end, but there are still two movies left to be made and released. Two more opportunities for the media to hype the Harry Potter...ummm...phenomenon, for lack of a better word. I am looking forward to the last two movies, because I am interested in how the directors will choose to handle them--what will they choose as important, what will they cut out, how will they use special effects to bring the printed word to the screen, and how much will the actors have grown and changed since the last time we saw them on the big screen?

So the series has come to an end, but that does not mean we, and others, will not continue to enjoy it in the future. All we have to do is make a short trip to our own bookshelves or down to the library to visit Harry, Ron, Hermione and the others at Hogwarts any time we please.

Peace,
Jeffri

Common Prayer?

Since my July 19 post "Education In The Episcopal Church," I have been pondering what it is that holds us together as Episcopalians. What is it that we need to teach our children and people coming into the Episcopal Church about being Episcopalian--sort of an "Episcopalian 101" followed by an "Anglican 101." Being the incorrigible researcher that I am, I headed right for the books.

Since I was contemplating an "Episcopalian 101," I first went to the Episcopal Church's "official catechetical guide," Called to Teach And Learn. Skimming through it during my lunch break, I came across this passage:

Fundamentally, Anglicans are Christians who worship according to some authorized edition of the Book of Common Prayer and are in communion with the See of Canterbury (the seat or jurisdiction of a bishop). We are a worldwide Church comprised of many diverse cultures. Whenever we are found, our identity is as a community of practice. We are bound together by our liturgy. To put it simply, we are best understood as a “prayer book tradition.” Orthodoxy, for us, is right worship. Theological and ethical issues are resolved through decisions concerning liturgy rather than doctrine. (p. 64)

Well, that's all well and good, I thought to myself, but if I remember correctly, the Prayer Book was mandated by Parliament first at the direction of Edward VI (or, more correctly, his Regents' Council) and followed by his Tudor and Stewart successors, with the exception of Mary I. Back to "the library" to find some books on the history of the Prayer Book.

Further reading confirmed my understanding of the mandating of the Prayer Book through successive Acts of Uniformity. Even the beloved-by-conservatives "classic" 1662 Prayer Book was imposed on the Church of England by the Act of Uniformity of May 19. 1662. I did learn something new about the usage of the Prayer Book at the local level during the reign of Elizabeth I from William Sydnor's The Prayer Book Through The Ages.

After these [legislative] failures, Puritan opposition became more secret in its methods. The disloyalty to the Prayer Book, both as to services and ceremonies, continued. Emasculated editions of the Prayer Book appeared and were illegally used in secret.

The Elizabethan compromise, on a middle ground between the fanatical Puritans and the embittered Romans--known as the Elizabethan Settlement--was never fairly accepted. The 1559 Book was used in mutilated form. (p. 35)

Not only have political concerns influence the contents of the Prayer Book through its different editions, people have been picking and choosing from it and using alternative forms of the Eucharist for almost as long as it has been in existence. Which makes it all the more amusing when the Prayer Book Societies in various provinces argue vehemently for the "purity" of the 1662 or 1928 Prayer Books.

So are we truly "bound together by our liturgy?" Is that really what defines us as Episcopalians and Anglicans? In some ways, it is. Whenever I have contemplated leaving the Episcopal Church for a more "liberal" denomination, one of the things that keeps me from jumping ship is the liturgy. But in other ways...

So what should be included in an "Episcopalian 101" curriculum? What is it that is important for every Episcopalian to know? Any ideas? Thoughts? Suggestions?

Peace,
Jeffri

Witch Hunts

Over the past couple of days there has been a marked increase in visits to my blog. My Site Meter tells me that most of the visitors came directly from this StandFirm post. So, while I said I was not going to check the dreck at StandFirm, I figured I ought to at least see what was being said about my blog there. Here is relevant section of Jackie Bruchi's post:

Why one intrepid blogger even called us Witchhunters! One wonders if the writer of the post was actually trying to give a hattip to Greg for his pivotal role in shining light on the connection of Raven Kaldera and Macha NightMare, Bill (Oakwyse) and Glyn (Glipsa) Melnyk and Maury Johnston/Shadwynn to the Episcopal Church. Not to mention the outrage when this story shone down on the inventory at The Episcopal Bookstore. Let’s just ignore the irony that a hunt inside The Episcopal Church did, in fact, turn up witches (and druids and Muslims.)

Actually, I was not intending to give Greg [Griffith] a hattip. My point was that while these folks, who seem to have appointed themselves as the Reasserter Inquisition, may have legitimate concerns about practices by a handful of members of the Episcopal Church, the manner in which they "shed light" on them is snide, sarcastic, strident, and downright nasty. In other words, witch hunts in the most negative sense of the term. Here is the definition of witch hunt from my dictionary:

witch hunt (wǐch' hǔnt') n. An investigation carried out ostensibly to uncover subversive activities but actually used to harass and undermine those with differing views. (The American Heritage College Dictionary, 4th ed.)

The Reeasserter Inquisition's intent is to do more than shed light. In fact, shedding light is secondary. The very tone of their posts and comments is clearly meant to "harass and undermine those with differing views."

Which brings to mind Joseph Welch's question to Senator McCarthy: "Have you no sense of decency, sir? At long last, have you left no sense of decency?"

Peace,
Jeffri

Martha Mode

When Robyn hired me to be her Program Assistant, the office was two-thirds of the way through the planning process for the "Will Our Faith Have Children?" conference. In seven months over 600 people would be descending on a Chicago suburb to participate, and there was a lot of work for me to do as one of the key logistics people involved in the planning and implementation of the event. However, Robyn told me that I would be able to hear the terrific keynoters, participate in worship, and perhaps attend a couple of the sessions.

We arrived a couple of days early to set up and be on site to greet speakers, guests and participants when they arrived. Once the conference started, there were all sorts of glitches to work out and details to follow up on. I was so busy that the hotel staff would chase me down and make sure I ate. By the second day of the conference it was quite clear that I would not be able to participate in any of it, and I had become quite frustrated.

At one point I had to run up to my room and grab a folder with some notes. When I got off the elevator I met one of the women--a nun--who had come to staff the Peace Village that was set up on the mezzanine of the second floor. She asked me how I was enjoying the conference. I explained that I had not participated in any of it, as I was too busy running around trying to make sure everything was running smoothly for the attendees. Some of my frustration must have leaked out--I am not always good at schooling my emotions. She took both my hands in hers and said, "Sometimes we have to be Martha, and this is just your turn." She gave me a smile and a silent blessing and then went on her way.

That simple statement put the whole conference--and my job--in a whole different perspective. Someone has to do the hospitality work in order for the Marys to be able to participate in the teaching and learning. Not that we should complain about it, just recognize that sometimes we have to do the work, and sometimes we get to listen and learn. Now whenever I am planning a meeting or conference, I tell Ruth-Ann, my current boss, "Okay, time to go into 'Martha Mode.'"

I have not been keeping track of the lectionary readings (today's can be found here), so the story from Luke caught me by surprise. Often when I hear or read it, my first reaction is to look at Jesus and say, "Excuse me? You think the food is just going to walk itself to the table? Or were you planning on repeating your little stunt at Cana? Do you honestly think these people are going to be able to concentrate on what you're saying if their stomachs are all grumbling from hunger?"

But, as someone said during today's "conversational sermon," Martha is doing the work grudgingly. And someone else added that work can be done prayerfully, or even be prayer. In other words, things have to be done, but they don't have to be done the way Martha was doing them.

Lois ended the sermon by leaving us with three questions and a small gift. The questions are:

What would my day be like if it began with sitting at the feet of Jesus?

What would I have to do/want to do in order to sit at the feet of Jesus before every decision? Before everything I did?

What can we--the church--do to help you?

And the gift? A simple phrase from the contemplative tradition:

Jesus, Son of God, have mercy.

Peace,
Jeffri

Education In The Episcopal Church

[Note: This is a slightly revised version of a comment I left on this post at Father Jake Stops the World.]

I believe that one of the root causes of our current troubles in the Episcopal Church is our lack of education. I do not mean to suggest that Episcopalians are uneducated people. However, over the last 20 years or more we have not done a good job of teaching our younger generations or those coming into the Episcopal Church (from other denominations or from among the "unchurched") what it means to be an Episcopalian. What is our history? What is our theology? What do we believe? What does it mean to have bishops? How is our church governed?

I also think that there is an appalling lack of biblical literacy in the Episcopal Church. By literacy I do not mean memorizing long passages of Scripture or the entire Bible. The stories are important. The histories are important. The Gospels and the Epistles are important. But we also need to know how the Bible came to be. What shaped the book we know today? Why is it still important to us as Episcopalians--not to mention as Christians--today? How does it continue speaking to us today?

Nor do we teach about the Book of Common Prayer. The prayer book is what binds us together as Episcopalians--and as Anglicans. What is so special about the prayers and liturgies it contains? Why do Anglicans continue to use various versions of it some 460 years after it came into being? What is its history? How has it changed over the years? Why is it important to us as Episcopalians?

And we need to educate ourselves about ourselves. Who is sitting in the pews now? Not 50 years ago during the great, near-mythical "heyday" of full churches and overflowing Sunday Schools, not 40 years ago during the civil right era, not 30 years ago when so much energy was focused on prayer book revision and the ordination of women, not 20 years ago, not 10 years ago, not even 5 years ago. Who is in our churches NOW? It makes no sense to plan a large Sunday School program for a parish with five children and the rest of the congregation full of "widows and orphans," all of whom are over 40. Or to plan prayer services and bible study groups during the day when 95% of the congregation is made up of commuters who often do not arrive home until well after 6:00 p.m. Who is here now, and what do they/we need? What are the skills we have now, and how can we use them to reach out to the greater community?

The Episcopal Church does not mandate a curriculum to be taught in all Sunday schools across the whole church. I do not think that doing so resolves the issue. Nor does it address the issue of educating newcomers or continuing education. However, we must educate ourselves and our future generations about what it means to be a part of the Episcopal Church.

Thoughts? Ideas? Suggestions?

Peace,
Jeffri

Commuting 201 - Flooding And Explosions

Yesterday morning it rained. Hard. It wasn't raining that hard in Norwalk when I got on the train, but the skies were getting ominously darker. The train made pretty good time until we were about halfway through the Bronx, when we came to a complete stop and sat for about 20 minutes. No explanations, no apologies, nothing. We just sat. Eventually, we started on our way, crossed into Manhattan and down under the streets. Once in the tunnel we stopped a couple of times and sat for a few minutes. Again, no explanations or apologies. It was not until we pulled in to the platform over half an hour late that the crew informed us that there were flooded tracks in the Bronx, and we stopped to wait our turn to get through.

One of my coworkers endured the brunt of the track flooding. He stood on the platform of his station in the Bronx in the rain for over an hour waiting for a train. Even the scheduled trains did not stop.

Once I left Grand Central Terminal to walk to the office--a two block walk up East 43rd Street--I could see why things might have been bad in the Bronx. It was raining so hard that water was not just running down the gutters of the streets, but up and over the sidewalks, ankle deep in some places. Many of us spent the morning walking around in stocking feet while our shoes dried.

By the time we left at the end of the day, some subway lines and Long Island Railroad lines were still being affected by flooded, even though the expected afternoon rainstorms never materialized. The Metro North lines seemed to be fine, and I caught the 5:23 train back to Connecticut.

About 40 minutes later a steam pipe near 41st and Lexington exploded. By all accounts it was a scary mess. The same coworker who had been caught in the storm in the morning was at the gym at Grand Central. They evacuated the building, and he did not get home until after 10:00 last night. It is a miracle that more people were not killed or injured.

I had gone out to dinner with a friend and remained blissfully unaware of the disaster until I turned on the radio this morning. In fact, I didn't know it happened last evening until I flipped open my cell phone to check for messages. The screen read "4 Missed Calls Mom." Obviously, she wanted to know if I was going to work this morning, so I called her to let her know I was on the train going in. Form all the news I'd heard so far, it appeared that our building was not in the "frozen zone," was not blocked off, and had power.

Wrong.

Mom had called four times LAST NIGHT trying to find out if I was okay. I was flabbergasted, because I had the phone with me all evening, and it was on. Only after I arrived at the office did I realize that the ringer was turned way down, and I obviously had not heard it ringing.

So, I knew that it would take a little longer to get to work because of closed streets. Little did I know. By the time we arrived this morning, they had actually opened a couple more exits. However, subways, while running, were still not stopping at Grand Central, so many more people were heading for the outside exits than would be otherwise. We could exit on Vanderbilt, the north side of the station, and walk over to 45th. However, at Lexington, the wouldn't let us continue East on 45th, so we had to go up to 46th. Yet once I got to 3rd Avenue, I could walk south all the way to 43rd. All of that because the block between 3rd and Lexington is closed off...as is Lexington for several blocks north, but not as many south. I'm sure there's a reason for the way they've cordoned off streets, but it doesn't seem to make much sense. It took almost 20 minutes to walk to the office. You can see the route I walked on the map below. The office is marked with an "X" and the explosion site with a circle.

All morning news reports and City bulletins said there was no asbestos in the air, but it was not very reassuring to see emergency crews (though not all of them) wearing ventilator masks. Later in the day we received reports that there was indeed a minuscule amount of asbestos in the air, but we should not worry because health problems come only from prolonged exposure. Another one of those "we don't want to alarm you, but [insert information here], so don't worry" communications.

It is likely that traffic--both vehicular and pedestrian--will be disrupted for days, if not weeks. If nothing else, it means I will get my morning walk in getting from Grand Central to the office.

Peace,
Jeffri

When The Silly Season Isn't

My college friend Jane used to refer to the weeks between July 4th and Labor Day as "the Silly Season." Although things of importance do happen throughout the Summer months, they often happen with less regularity. As a result, news broadcasts turn to all sorts of "fluff" stories. You know the ones I mean. The newest arrival at the local petting zoo; a nearby farmer's unusual crop or oversize produce; someone trying to break the world record for pole sitting. Anything to fill up airtime and keep reporters busy.

We are experiencing our own "Summer lull" in the hallowed halls of the Anglican Communion. The major Synods are over, and even those that took place after July 4th produced little of substance in the wider scope of things. Of course, there are the Covenant response process and the Listening Process, but neither of those is supposed to be completed until later in the year, and nothing of substance is likely to appear before the Fall. And while many will spend the Summer speculating, there will be no real news from the Bishops of the Episcopal Church until their September meeting in New Orleans.

Many Anglican blogs, both liberal and conservative, have been taking the time to look critically and constructively at the proposed Covenant. As one might expect, there is not a lot of agreement, but good conversations are happening. In other places, the lack of "hard" news has resulted in some pretty nasty postings and comments. Someone pointed me to a couple of David Virtue's "satires" on his Virtueonline.org. I stopped reading David's dreck a long time ago, unless someone noted something they thought I ought to look at. A quick scan of his recent "satires" showed that none of them were as venomous as he can sometimes be and that there was not really anything of note that merited serious attention.

One conservative site that I have been reading regularly is StandFirm. I think they have some sort of system set up whereby they constantly monitor the web 24 hours a day, because news of things Anglican will often appear there before anyplace else. Now and again posters there have insightful commentary and critiques. Sarah Hey's "Little Stone Bridges" series and Matt Kennedy's ongoing series of reflections on the 39 Articles are two examples. However, when there is a lull they seem to delight in creating a tempest in a teapot. The two most recent examples are the news from Seattle about the Rev. Ann Reading and a post by the Rev. Elizabeth Kaeton. I am not going to discuss the "rightness" or "wrongness" of the actions of either of these women. That has been done ad infinitum elsewhere. What continues to amaze me is the vehemence with which the majority of regular posters and commentors of StandFirm pursued both these women in what can only be described as witch hunts.

Looking back over the posts of the last couple of years, and scanning some of the comments, I find that such witch hunts are not uncommon at StandFirm. Many of these folks have appointed themselves keepers of Anglican Orthodoxy, and the result reminds me of the Spanish Inquisition. It is probably long past time for me to refrain from visiting StandFirm regularly. Why should I make myself ill reading the dreck there? I am sure that if there is anything worth reading, other blogs I read regularly will note it, and I can go check out those particular posts.

Peace,
Jeffri