Where has the time gone?

It's that time of year when the days are getting shorter, the nights longer, the day sky bluer, the evening sky darker, and at sunrise one can see the Morning Star, Venus, hanging near the new moon as it rides away before the exploding reds and orange of dawning day. And it is that time of year that reminds me that I ain't gettin' any younger.




And it's not just the changing season that is reminding me.  I have been receiving invitations to the weddings for the children of friends and relations far and wide.  The kinder still look like pre-teens to me, but most are young professionals in their late twenties and early thirties who have established themselves in fulfilling jobs and are now rather independent adults. Some of them, including several of my own offspring, have advanced to the stage of buying homes and having children of their own. 


Wait...When did this happen?  Wasn't it last week that they were taking swim classes and dance lessons?  Wasn't it yesterday when they were deciding on a college to attend?  Where did the time go? Well...time marched on, and we all went with it.




And time provides us with quite a ride.  It takes you to unexpected places with interesting twists and turns. You take a job; you rent an apartment; you marry or not; you buy a house or two in your journey; you take a new job or promotion; you move or stay. Family and friends marry or not; some marry more than once. Some may remain single by choice or chance. Some become single again due to a death or divorce. Several move away; you loose touch. Children move out. They marry or not.You downsize. Time continues to roll by you.




Soon you are at the age of retirement.  If able to make that step, you either embrace it or hate it. It is better to embrace and like it; you earned it. Use your retirement to explore and do new things.And time continues to fly by.




Winter will soon be upon us yet again.  Yet it does not remind me so much of the passage of time as does the Fall. Perhaps it is watching the falling leaves in my neighborhood that makes the passage of time all the more visible.




Winter brings its own joys: holiday time with those we hold dear; a feeling of general goodwill across the city. Holiday lights and parties abound and keep us active throughout the cold of December and January.




And time moves forward, and we do too, at least for the time being.


For another take on time:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bnZdlhUDEJo

Francis flip-flop

New York in particular, and the USA in general, has just spent a week in full papal sighting mode. Friends working and living in Manhattan who normally complain about the closure of streets and tightened security for Presidential or other diplomatic sojourns, were literally gushing poetic about Pope Francis I and his visit to our fair city.






New York is not new to papal events, John Paul II and Paul VI both came to our town.
Back in my high school days, Paul VI's arrival at JFK International Airport had all of the Catholic High School students, and several elementary schools with in the Diocese of Brooklyn lined up on the Van Wyck Expressway waving and enjoying a day without classes. For those of you from out of town...New York City is divided into two dioceses in both the Episcopal Church and the Roman Catholic Church...this is because Brooklyn and Queens were part of the City of Brooklyn until the city was united into one municipality on January 1, 1898. The Brooklyn Bridge was the symbolic point of that union as the mayors of both cities strode to the middle and shook hands. When one lands at JFK, one is in either the Diocese of Brooklyn...Roman Catholic, or the Diocese of Long Island...Episcopal.  Manhattan, the Bronx, Staten Island and assorted counties north of the city are in either the Archdiocese of New York ( RC) or the Episcopal Diocese of New York(self explanatory).
So Francis straddled two separate dioceses with two separate sets of clergy in his visit to my home town.






Francis had several special New York moments: he addressed the United Nations; he visited a Roman Catholic Elementary School in Spanish Harlem, he drove through Central Park and waved to thousands, and finally, he said Mass at Madison Square Garden, a venue that has seen its share of famous personages from Bruce Springsteen and George Harrison to the L.A. Lakers. Roman Catholic parishes had lotteries for tickets, as did the city of New York and St. John's University, one of the largest Catholic universities in the nation.


The Pontiff spoke in both English and Spanish...depending on his audience.  The best news coverage was really on Telemundo, the Spanish language network, and his Spanish, I must say, was impeccably Latin American, which was good for me since I am trying to master the language before a trip to Cuba in February...I think I should thank Il Papa for easing my way into Havana, but I digress.






Everyone loved him, until today....






It seems the Pope had a brief meeting with Kim Davis, the Rowan, Kentucky county clerk, who was recently jailed for refusing to issue a marriage license to a gay couple in violation of
the Supreme Court decision that made same-sex marriage legal in all fifty states. This is, of course, a 'hot button' political issue for many in the media. This evening many in the media who previously gushed and swooned over the Pontiff and his entourage, are now weeping and wailing over their disappointment over this perceived slap in the communal US face. And even though I personally agree with the Supreme Court, I can certainly understand that Francis has the freedom to meet with whomever he chooses during his personal 'down time'.




Just to remind everyone out there: Jesus ate with tax collectors and sinners; he performed miracles on the Sabbath; he interacted with women and Samaritans; he threw the money changers and sacrificial salesmen out of the temple; he rattled the cages of the Pharisees and Sadducees; he cured Gentiles; he had a radical ministry.




So, what do we have here?  A Pope who is doing what a pope is supposed to do.  Stop framing his actions with your personal political agenda...he answers to a different authority.  Can we just respect that, even if we do not agree with his decision on this one?

The art of waiting

Over this past week I experienced the need to learn how to graciously and patiently wait for something.  During a routine medical exam, I was told I needed to have a CAT scan done because something did "not look good". Humm...what does that mean? I wondered to myself, but not quite out loud.  I waited with batted breath as the Physician's Assistant handed me a prescription and told me I should call as soon as I got home and make an appointment which is what I did. And, oh, I needed to know that they would only call me if I had to come in.  If everything was okay, I would get NO CALL!
Then I did something I often do when I am in a medically induced state of confusion, I called my sister. 
Now, you may wonder why I did that.  She happens to be an independent contractor who advoctes for orphan drugs and has a plethora of contacts in the medical field not only in the US and Canada, but also abroad.  I called her when a colleague's niece had a balance problem and was later admitted into a trial study at Columbia-Presbyterian that enabled her to have a normal life.  I also contacted her when a friend's granddaughter who lived in Switzerland, was diagnosed with a rare disorder.  She hooked them up with a doctor in Europe who helped this girl who was only 12 at the time, live a normal and healthy life.  I understand she recently graduated from college. My sister, of course, had a list of specialists for me to call if necessary. She also encouraged me to request copies of my prior test results which I did as soon as I walked into the lab to have the second test.
After the test, and while sitting in the car, I read the results of the first test...not that I had any idea of what I was reading. One thing I know after twenty-five years in the education game is that all professional fields have their own professional jargon, and only the insiders actually understand the gobbledygook. But we also have the internet now to help us become even more confused.
Talk about too much information!  I was more confused than ever. Take my advice here: don't get bogged down on the internet.  You will only wind up more confused than ever.
The one practical thing I did was make an appointment with my doctor to renew some prescriptions and to go over the test results...all of which I had sent to him.

Anglican Prayer Beads

The two things that kept me centered during that time was meditation and prayer. I have been practicing meditation in one form or another for several years now since taking a course on meditative practices at General Seminary.  And recently I received a gift of Anglican Prayer Beads from the Youth Group at my parish in New York.  Similar to a rosary, but not as Marian centered, the repetitiveness of the prayer cycles had a calming effect and brought clarity to my jumpy mind.

And in the end...everything was fine. Just have to have one more follow up in six months.  My primary care doctor, who has been my doctor for around twenty five years, put my mind at ease and chastised me a bit for trying my hand at self-diagnosis.

Oh, the office that insisted I get the tests?  They never called.

Ephesians

In my various travels, I have had the privilege of visiting the ancient city of Ephesus located near Izmir in Turkey near the Mediterranean Sea. It was built in the 10th century by Greek colonists. During the Greek era it was one of the twelve cities of the Ionian League. The city flourished after it came under the control of Rome in 129 BC. Ephesus had an estimated population of 33,600 to 56,000 people in the Roman period, making it the third largest city of Roman Asia. This number was deduced from the number of seats in the amphitheater and public latrines that were uncovered during recent excavations.                                      

Temple of Artemis at Ephesus

The city was known for the Temple of Artemis one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. It was destroyed in 268 AD by invading hordes of Goths. Today one of its pillars and pieces of a carved frieze remain, other pieces are either at the Archeological Museum at Istanbul or in that institution holding many pilfered items, the British Museum in London…You can see the Rosetta Stone, Cleopatra’s sarcophagus and huge pieces from the Parthenon from Athens, and they have no intention of returning any of it, but I digress.

Only 15% of the entire Ephesus archeological site has been excavated, but even as it is, in this incomplete state, it holds much significance for Christians. Ephesus was one of the seven churches of Asia that are cited in the Book of Revelation. The Gospel of John may have been written here. 

Mary's House Ephesus

A few miles from the archeological site is a lovely stone house said to be the house in which Mary, the mother of Jesus, lived as she was being cared for by St John the Evangelist. It has become a place of pilgrimage for many Christians who leave prayer requests stuck in a wall as you leave the property. I am not sure of the validity of Mary’s place, but I understand three  recent Roman Catholic popes have visited it…which does give it its own special kind of imprimatur.

The most interesting Christian resident of Ephesus has to be St Paul, the author of the letter which we have been reading throughout the summer. Paul was born in Tarsus also located in modern day Turkey but closer to Syria along the Mediterranean coast. While living in Ephesus Paul worked at his craft, he was a tent maker by trade, and proclaimed the good news of Jesus Christ, a pastime that got him into trouble with the local statue makers who depended upon the cult of Artemis for a living.  They made good money selling various sized statues of Artemis to locals and tourists who come to the massive temple dedicated to Artemis.  He was prevented from speaking at the amphitheater there by a rowdy crowd of artisans who were Artemis fans, and he later spent some time in the local pokey for his outspokenness.

Paul wrote his letter to the Corinthians while in Ephesus; this letter was written while he was imprisoned in Rome. The gist of this letter is rather general in tone. Many biblical scholars feel the pervading theme of this work is the Church as the Body of Christ. I think my favorite description of this letter is from the New Testament scholar Daniel Wallace, who pragmatically stated it as “Christians, get along with each other!”

Additionally, I was struck by the 17^th through 20 verses that say:

” be filled with the Spirit, as you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves, singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts, giving thanks to God the Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

This passed Thursday I shared with my boss the various encounters I had commuting by ferry and subway to downtown Brooklyn:

 A mother and daughter arguing on the boat about the suitability of both her boyfriend and the girlfriend of a non-present brother/son.

“You’re always criticizing me! You never criticize him!”, the daughter shouted and pouted as she banged her fist on the seat.

“I am concerned about you making bad choices.”, the Mom replied with a furrowed brow.

My next encounter was with an elderly man with whom I shared the elevator at the Court Street subway station who began singing an improv'd riff on a well-known children’s hymn: “Yes, Jesus loves me! Yes, Jesus loves you!”

My boss told me that I had to think of these encounters as a sign from heaven; I thought about it, and so I did.

I began to think of it in the context of Deacon Novella’s sermon last week in which she spoke about the cycle of loss and the all too easy way of dealing with loss by attacking each other, and the upcoming Vacation Bible School, making them mental book ends for continued contemplation.

I know that we are in the midst of change, change we did not want or expect, and many are unable to see the road we are on, let alone trying to get the road map.  There is no road map. This is frightening and scary to be walking into the unknown, but we can do this if we work with each other, depending on the gifts we all bring here working together as the body of Christ.

I know that next week when Vacation Bible School is being held, this space will be filed with moments of laughter, moments of joy and many moments of children singing and making melody to the Lord, not just in their hearts, but with their voices.

Let us pray that their joy-filled spirit can help us at this time of unanticipated change; that all of us can and will everyday give thanks to the Father for everything that was done for us in the name of our Lord, Jesus Christ.  AMEN

 

 

 

Selfies and Stickies

Over the past few weeks I have seen many, many folks taking self portraits with their electronic devices. Most of these are with cell phones, those ubiquitous  individual, hand-held communication devices that have become the bane of our existence. They contain the phone numbers of our closest friends and acquaintances, as well as business partners and co-workers. We use them as alarm clocks, watches and locating maps to assist with driving directions.  We can check on our baby sitters, review our portfolios, check our daily walking mileage, send silly personal text messages, or review e-mail. These objects can remind us to pick up our dry cleaning, assist in ordering take out, and help one to purchase anything from a hot latte to a baby grand piano, and we can do this all on a screen that fits into the palm of our hand. Who ever dreamed that this would be possible even ten years ago?


But this sudden craze of constantly taking photographs of oneself at all sorts of places and at all times is more than annoying.
As I live in a town that is a tourist magnet, it has become almost impossible to avoid visitors who are wont to stop indiscriminately along highways and byways to snap a shot of themselves with a landmark or two. Stopping in front of St Paul's Chapel on Broadway, halting traffic in the theater district to get a photo of oneself and Sponge Bob, tipping the Staten Island Ferry precariously to the port side to make sure every tourist on board gets a self photo with Lady Liberty, these are just a few of the more annoying "selfie" moments I have personally witnessed.




And oh, those clueless visitors with those stick things that they swing around in extremely unsafe fashion in galleries and on broad avenues. I recently witnessed an Italian gentleman actually talking into his cell phone whilst it was in that sticky thing taking a personal call and stopping all foot traffic in a major tourist attraction. The end of that stick was swinging back and forth as he walked and talked and attempted to dodge other tourists in his way.  He had men, women and children of many nationalities scurrying for safety in the overwhelming heat and blistering summer sun.


I have heard that many major museums both here and abroad have outlawed these obnoxious extensions....bravo to them!


I understand that a restaurant chain in Manhattan did a study comparing the time needed to serve customers in our present time and ten years ago.  It actually took 35% longer to seat, serve and bus tables because customers were busy taking photos of the menus, the food and themselves eating what they were served. Narcissism at its best.




So, I guess you might say I am not a big fan of these "selfies" and "stickies"...if you are taking up valuable time taking picurtes of yourself in front of...you fill it in: the Empire State Building, the Eiffle Tower, the  Tower of London, the Hagia Sophia, the Sphinx, the White House, or the Brooklyn Bridge, you have missed the time to actually appreciate the place for what it is instead of a background for self-indulgence.

Transitions

A week ago this evening, a dear friend and colleague died unexpectedly while out of town. He leaves behind a wife and teen-aged daughter who must both mourn his untimely passing and imagine how to rebuild their lives on a different path...an unwanted, but necessary, transition.




Transitions happen to all of us: we move into a new home; we graduate from school; we take on a new job or project; we retire from full time employment; we loose a spouse, a parent, a friend. All are times of transitions; some expected and greatly anticipated; others not so much.  These "others" are times of unrest and trepidation.  They are thrust upon us unawares without preparation or forethought.






Most of us like to be prepared. We save for a rainy day or retirement.  We go to preparation classes for College Boards, GMATS, GRE's and LSATS. We practice over and over again for organ, piano or violin recitals. We memorize times tables so we can be swift and accurate in computations. Yet we still fear being unprepared.




So we pray, as we do in the Great Litany of Lent as it appears in the Book of Common Prayer: From all oppression, conspiracy, and rebellion; from  violence, battle, and murder; and from dying suddenly and  unprepared, Good Lord, deliver us.




But are we ever really prepared for these transitions? At what point does one become an adult?  Upon turning 18? Or when one begins paying rent and monthly bills? Or is it when work and family responsibilities force one to curtail the partying cycle of those halcyon student days? Or perhaps when time and fortune force transition due to the loss of a loved one, especially a parent or grandparent. 


When that ephemeral layer of older generations that hangs above our heads begins to disappear, and we realize that we are now what Great-Uncle Harry was before us...we are now the top of that layer and once we are gone, all memory of those who went before us, at least in our family and social circles will disappear when we ourselves pass on.



And we need, at any point in our own life cycle, to realize that transitions will always happen.  They are part of this human experience and should be embraced for what they are.  We have little control over them, but we can learn to accept that they will indeed happen.

Weaing Clericals

One thing that I do that separates me from most people is that at times I wear a clerical collar. I don't do this as a fashion statement.  I do this because I really am an ordained person.  In April of 1997, The Right Reverend Richard Grein, Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of New York put his hands on my head and called upon the powers that be to make me a deacon in the church.  And after that, my world view changed completely. An outward sign of this change was that, on occasion, I would wear the outward sign of that ordination: a clerical collar.
The clerical collar was invented around 1840 by the Rev. Donald MacLoud, a Presbyterian minister in Glasgow. It was later adopted by most Christian groups as well as Orthodox Churches. Originally made of starched cotton, in our times, clerical collars are made of flexible washable plastic...which can sometimes crack in very cold climes or just encourage profuse sweating in areas that are overly warm. Most attach with removable collar studs front and back.  I prefer a Velcro "dickie" that fits under most of my clothing making it both portable and flexible.

Roman Collar

There are two common kinds of clerical collars: Roman and Anglican. The Roman collar is the model preferred by most Roman Catholic clerics and most Lutheran pastors.  It features a white "tab" that visibly joins a rounded black collar. 

 The Anglican one, my personal preference, is a white band that circles the throat.

Anglican Collar

When I am in collar to say that I often am the object of second and third glances would be an understatement.  I am used to it at this point, and just go about whatever it is I am doing. Often people do not know how to react to a woman in a clerical collar. It is not so with the guys.  One is never far off the mark if one refers to said individual as "Father" or "Pastor", but many are tongue-tied when faced with a woman in clericals.

I have been called "Sister" more often than not.  On one particular occasion, I was slated to officiate at a relative's wedding in the US Virgin Islands.  My sister was my traveling companion, and as we entered the jaunty car to get to the venue, the driver turned to her and asked: "Is she a Sister?"

To which my quick witted companion replied: "She is a sister, but she ain't no nun." 
He then drove us to the wedding spot in complete silence.
People are often more polite and tend to watch their language when I am in my collar...that also means I need to be thoughtful about what I say, and sarcasm and flippant remarks...something I am wont to do, need to be curtailed.
Back in the 70's at my local Roman Catholic Church, we were assigned two transitional deacons who were there to work with the youth and get some hands-on experience.  My brother shortened their title to "Deak", and it stuck.  One went on to become a priest, the other left to marry a girl he meet. We referred to Father John by the nickname "Deak"until his unexpected and untimely death.
In my current assignment my rector and his wife refer to me as "Deak".  I am sure John is getting a good laugh at that one.
Today I was at a community event that required me to identify as clergy and I wore my collar.  I sat in the warm summer sun giving out apples, oranges and pears to over 100 children and their parents.  Many are recent immigrant families from Mexico and Central America, so I got to practice my Spanish as well.
 I offered an orange to a gentleman who was with his wife and grandchildren. After he took the orange, he took a close look at me and asked," You a minister?"
To which I replied,"Yeah, what gave it away?"
"I'm Sicilian, but I can tell by that thing you're wearing around your neck."
I smiled at him, but thought to myself:"Ya think?"