Shuffle Meme
Published on 16 May 2008 at 11:23 am.
4 Comments.
Filed under Quizzes.
OK, I got this from the great Thaddeus. I’ve seen several of these but never know any of the songs on them (largely because most of my friends are way cooler than me when it comes to music). However, it’s still fun and I have nothing else to post. I’ll keep up with what people get off this list both here and where it’s cross-posted in my Facebook notes.
Oh, and I’m not editing this at all, you are getting a real honest look at what’s been accumulated in my music library over almost 10 years. It is a testament to the fact that I almost never delete music once it’s been added. Have fun!
Rules
1. Put your music library on random.
2. Post the first line from the first 40 songs.
3. Delete the songs when someone guesses correctly.
Guess in the comments!
Search engine (ie. Google) is cheating!
1.
2.
3.
4. It’s her hair and her eyes today that just simply take me away.
5.
6. Take your side, explain your rights, breathe life in silent types.
7. O little one sweet, o little one mild, thy Father’s prayer thou has fulfilled.
8.
9. As your children gather in peace, all the angels sing in heaven.
10.
11.
12. The morning is dead, and the day is too, there’s nothing left here to greet me, but the velvet moon.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21. Throwing candy out to the crowd, dragging down the main,
22. Howard, the strangest thing has happened lately.
23. Sometimes my life just don’t make sense at all, when the mountains look so big
24. Walking with you is not without hazards, tripping, this traveler’s curse.
25. When Jesus Christ was yet a child, he had a garden small and mild.
26.
27.
28.
29. Gotta change my answering machine, now that I’m alone.
30. I said what you wanted to hear and what I wanted to say, so I will take it back.
31. She should have stayed away from friends, she should have had more time to spend,
32.
33. Creep down to the waterline, you’re twisting away.
34.
35. I’m writing you catch up places I’ve been.
36. Death whispers words of defeat in my ear, my God I draw near.
37. Picture this: late last night, all alone, what a fright, cuz I want you to know.
38.
39.
40.
Journey On
Published on 13 May 2008 at 11:01 am.
1 Comment.
Filed under Misc Journaling.
My vacation is nearly over. I’ve not worked for a week, having spent the past several days with my family, Bethany, and Bethany’s parents. Now I’m sitting in Bethany’s apartment, completely caught up on e-mail and most of my favorite recreational activities (i.e. Apple Movie Trailers).
The Commencement service at All Saints’ Chapel on Friday was absolutely terrific. My entire family came down, resulting in me needing almost double the maximum amount of alloted tickets. Thankfully there were extras (my fellow graduates were both gracious and generous) and everyone was able to sit in the reserved section of the chapel. There were several aspects of the service itself that were profoundly moving, a few of which I’ll mention here.
First, the preacher for Commencement was Archbishop Desmond Tutu. You can imagine how exciting that was. His sermon was powerful, powerful, powerful. You could hear a pin drop in the chapel as he softly urged us to do God’s work in the work, insisting God could not clothe the naked, feed the hungry, or do the rest of God’s mission without our help. You can watch a the video of Archbishop Tutu’s sermon here.
Also, exciting was to have our Presiding Bishop both as concelebrant at Eucharist and as the one who gave the final blessing at the end of the service. I’ve have written many glowing things about her, clearly revealing the deep respect I have for her. Seeing her in person was amazing. After the service my family all travelled up to Nashville to meet Bethany’s family, so we did not go to Baccalaureate on Saturday to hear her preach. However, the video of that sermon is also available online.
Now I have one of those early summer lulls. The joy of finishing my third (and last?) degree and spending so much time with Bethany and our families is barely receding as preparations for the end of June begin to rise. Bethany and I have much to do in that time, not the least of which is to find an affordable flight into Reagan International so we can look at places to live. However, it’s all still very exciting. And in a month and a half I’ll be leaving Tennessee, just a little over a year after my surprise move to the state. I don’t think I could have imagined that my life would look so different in just twelve short months.
But things change.
Sometimes even for the better.
I’m a deacon with a real salaried job starting in just a few weeks. I have a thesis being hardcover bound as we speak and I know how to sing the liturgy. I have a lovely fiance. Cappy has weathered another surgery and is healthier and happier than ever. The path that I had imagined for my life as an Episcopal clergy person was always a bit fuzzy, but now as I begin to take these first few steps, I think the journey will be good.
O God, our heavenly Father, whose glory fills the whole creation, and whose presence we find wherever we go: Preserve those who travel; surround them with your loving care; protect them from every danger; and bring them in safety to their journey’s end; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Done.
Published on 30 Apr 2008 at 6:01 pm.
4 Comments.
Filed under Anglican Thoughts.
Today at 4:55 PM I set the requisite copies of my STM Thesis on the desk of the assistant to the director of the Advanced Degrees program.
Earlier this week I had turned in the rest of my coursework for the semester. Thus, setting that thesis on the assistant’s desk completed the requirements for my Master of Sacred Theology.
*Big sigh of relief.*
I worked hard on this thesis, reading almost everything Ramsey has written, certainly everything I could get my hands on. From that I constructed his theology of the church and then applied that to the past 50 years of Anglican Communion polity. Here is the abstract:
In recent times, particularly within the past 50 years, the Anglican Communion has seen profound changes in its ecclesiology and polity. Some have argued that these changes have been the result of fundamental changes in doctrine or practice, usually citing either the ordination of women to the priesthood and episcopate or the increasing recognition of the gifts of gay and lesbian Christians, particularly in Holy Orders, in the church. Many of these changes are not natural developments but, rather, are theologically problematic deviations from the historical traditions of Anglicanism.
At the same time, perhaps the most respected articulator of Anglicanism for the twentieth century was Michael Ramsey. Though the choice of him to succeed Fisher was protested by some, the vast majority of Anglicans today revere him as a doctor of the church and a bishop of God’s people who resisted party affiliation, instead crafting an approach to theology that was profoundly (and sometimes surprisingly) evangelical, catholic, and liberal.
Central to Ramsey’s approach to theology was the gospel of Jesus’ life, death, burial, and resurrection. He believed that this gospel was the revelation of the very nature of the divine life. Even more than that, the glory of God was revealed in Jesus’ self-emptying and his sacrificial life and death. Since this is the revelation of the triune God, it must influence Christian theology at every level. Indeed, he insisted that all changes made in the church, for whatever reason, must occur alongside of a careful study of the gospel and the way in which it shapes our understanding of the Christian community.
The careful theological reflection that should always be a part of the life of the church is the first to be influenced. Since the gospel teaches the importance of dependence upon that which is greater than the individual, Ramsey commended the historically Anglican “three-legged stool” of Scripture, tradition and reason. Furthermore, he argued that these three legs must be understood comprehensively, with careful attention paid to the place of each.
Next, the gospel of Christ implies a certain order to the church, one that displays the dependence of each part upon the whole. For Ramsey this is found most fully in the traditionally catholic structure of the historic episcopate. Within that structure Eucharist and Orders function as symbols and avenues of Christian unity. Throughout it all, the gospel creates a picture of the church that has concern for the suffering, the small, and those who might not otherwise have a voice. It seeks to continue the ministry of Christ in healing a broken world, indeed believing that the glory of Christ transforms the very nature of suffering so that it also becomes an avenue of redemption.
This doctrine of the church, shaped by the Gospel of Christ, as articulated by Ramsey, issues a profound critique of many of the developments within the Communion. It critiques the changes in Communion authority, the ways in which some have re-invented the concept of catholicity, and, most strongly, all three drafts of the Anglican Covenant published so far. In all of these developments, many of them motivated by fear, Ramsey’s ecclesiology suggests that instead of being safeguarded by our own created structures, the church is safeguarded by the glory of Christ.
For those who are interested, I’ve posted the thesis online. Perhaps I’ll formally publish it in the future, but I don’t mind y’all getting it for free:
Now I’m going to go home and be completely unproductive for a whole evening. I’m all out of single-malt scotch, but I think I hear some Seagram’s VO calling my name.
Indelible and Ontological
Published on 22 Apr 2008 at 12:52 pm.
9 Comments.
Filed under Ministry.
indelible: cannot be removed, washed away or erased; “an indelible stain”
ontological: a branch of metaphysics dealing with the nature of being
On Sunday I woke up rather early and took my time getting ready. Shower. Shave carefully. Brush, floss, swish. I put on my black trousers and a striped dress shirt and then slid on my black suit coat. I took my white clerical collar and gently placed in the breast pocket of my black clerical shirt on the hanger. I then took the two hangers, folded the alb and shirt over my arm and headed out the door to church.
It’s pretty common in seminary, as so many of our eyes are focused on impending ordinations, to half-joke about the indelible ontological change that occurs in ordination. The traditional view of the sacrament of ordination is that it effects an indelible and irrevocable change, leaving a permanent mark upon one’s soul. In recent times, some have argued for a more functional approach to ordination that it exists only tasks ordained persons perform. However, there are many who would rather return to the traditional concept of ordination, myself among them.
I’ve written about it in a couple of papers and touched on it in a few different posts (see, for example, the paper I wrote last semester: Living Symbols of the Triune God: The Sacrament of Orders). I’ve talked about how it is because of the weakness of humans that ordained ministry requires a sacramental infusion of grace. I’ve written about the way in which God’s grace burns the soul of the ordinand, as the church gathers and prays for that person and her or his life of ministry.
I’ve written about it, I’ve joked about it, but I don’t know what I expected to actually happen on Sunday.
The service began well. I wasn’t able to sing the opening hymn, St. Patrick’s Breastplate because every time I tried my voice cracked. The presentation was great fun. The lessons powerful and I thought it a great coincidence that the reading from Acts was the story of the stoning of the first deacon. Fr. Scott’s sermon was powerful, artfully explaining why I was being ordained a deacon first and ending with a charge that I remember that I am first and foremost a waiter, that the skills I honed at Carino’s are actually foundational to ordained ministry (the sermon audio is available online).
Then, at the appropriate time in the service I stood up and walked alone to stand in front of the bishop. After I made my vows I walked up the steps and knelt on a kneeling cushion in front of the bishop as he began to pray,
O God, most merciful Father, we praise you for sending your Son Jesus Christ, who took on himself the form of a servant, and humbled himself, becoming obedient even to death on the cross. We praise you that you have highly exalted him, and made him Lord of all; and that, through him, we know that whoever would be great must be servant of all. We praise you for the many ministries in your Church, and for calling this your servant to the order of deacons.
Then Bishop Ohl placed his hands on my head, his large banjo picking hands almost completely covering my head, squeezing down through my curly hair.
Therefore, Father, through Jesus Christ your Son, give your Holy Spirit to Jared; fill him with grace and power, and make him a deacon in your Church.
And I felt it. I don’t know what it was. But I felt it. It felt perhaps like nails running up my soul, like in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader when Aslan cuts the dragon skin off of Eustace. It felt like a mother’s hands, as you watch her fold a child’s clothes, softly running then along the folds. It felt like small flames slowly working their way up the thicket of the things inside of me. It felt like a trowel in the hands of a devoted gardner, carefully creating furrows in the rich soil so that seeds may grow into strong plants.
I caught my breath and tried to hold back tears as he continued,
Make him, O Lord, modest and humble, strong and constant, to observe the discipline of Christ. Let his life and teaching so reflect your commandments, that through him many may come to know you and love you. As your Son came not to be served but to serve, may this deacon share in Christ’s service, and come to the unending glory of him who, with you and the Holy Spirit, lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever.
The curious feeling of painful loving touch continued as my mind felt along with the bishop’s prayer. Make him modest and humble. Please, Lord Jesus, I prayed. Strong and constant. Please God, I cannot do this on my own. Let his life and teaching so reflect your commandments. I bit my lip, keenly aware of my shortcomings.That through him many may come to know you and love you. Teach me to know and love you. Help me know and love you. May this deacon share in Christ’s service. Oh God, the very thought frightens me.
As the assembled congregation loudly proclaimed their assent in the prayer through a powerful “amen,” I tried to continue to kneel without falling over.
Then I felt Bethany’s hand on my shoulder. It was the lightest and most soothing touch, like balm over a raw wound. I could hear her unfolding the stole as she placed it over me, carefully arranging it so that it was straight and then touching my back once more. I don’t know how intentional her touches were, but they were like a rush of clean water. I no longer had trouble kneeling, the feeling of being winnowed died away and a felt of wholeness slowly surrounded me. The bishop helped me to my feet and then I stood hand in hand with my best friend as he introduced me as the newest deacon in Christ’s church and Bethany as my fiance, to everyone’s applause.
I awkwardly smiled (I strongly dislike my smile) and looked over at Bethany. “Are you OK?” she asked. “Yes, I am,” I said, smiling back at her and squeezing her hand.
The bishop offered the peace and the service went on. I sat down during the announcements and then he welcomed me to the altar with a move of his hands. Kevin, a seminarian at Austin who also came from Heavenly Rest, had graciously agreed to serve as the deacon in the liturgy. The two of us stood at the altar with Mtr. Mary as she told us what to do. “Take off the burse and put it here…the wine will go here…this wine over here has already been consecrated, you can leave it…these are the gluten free wafers, they go here.” It was a very full altar.
Then the bishop came up and we all faced the people, Kevin and I with our hands clasped in front of us and the bishop with his outstretched to the people. “The Lord be with you,” he called out as the people responded, partaking in that ancient dialogue where we promise to lift up our hearts to the Lord our God. We all turned around, facing east, and he commenced with the proper preface. I remembered Fr. Turrell’s advice and gazed at the elements, almost wondering if I could see a change take place in them. I was grateful that this parish celebrated facing east (with our backs to the people), not only because I felt more like one of the people, facing the same direction, but also because then they couldn’t see the anxiety painted on my face.
As we settled into the prayer, however, my spirit calmed once again. Before I knew it we had genuflected a couple times and reached the invitation. He handed me the paten and Keving the chalice. We once again turned to face the people. He stretched out his hands, gesturing to the consecrated elements as the deacons on either side of him held them up, “The gifts of God for the people of God.” I smiled a little as I looked at the many people who are close to me that had gone out of their way to come to this service (one of my friends from Nashville even flew in for it!).
Then we turned around and began communing. I noticed the bishop immediately communed Kevin and I, then the priests (Scott and Mary). Then he handed me the paten, “Would you commune me please,” he asked in his soft Oklahoma accent. I smiled as I handed him a wafer. “The body of Christ, the bread of heaven,” I said as I placed it in his hands. “Amen,” he said softly.
After the choir was communed, the second person at the altar was Bethany. I held back tears as I offered her the chalice, “The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation.” She took it the chalice and sipped as I wondered if she saw the tears well up in my eyes. I continued to serve the chalice to parishioners I had grown accustomed to seeing. I communed a gentleman who was a regular usher at the 8:00 AM liturgy I used to attend when I was still working for a Church of Christ. Shortly after that there was an older man from the “Brotherhood of Saint Andrew,” the group of men with whom I used to eat an early on Tuesday mornings.. I communed Tim, the professor I worked for at ACU who had become a trusted friend and mentor, and then communed his wife. As the line reached an end the I turned and the bishop gestured for me to follow him. I smiled, glad he was granting me this request I had made earlier.
We walked out from the altar, down the steps and over to the congregation. We crossed the aisle and go up the side to a pew a few rows back. Fr. Jim slowly stood up as the bishop handed him the bread, grasping this old priest’s hands as Jim smiled back at the bishop. The bishop moved aside and I offered him the chalice. He took a small drink and then whispered me a congratulations, telling me how proud he was of me.
We returned to the altar area and finished clearing everything off. I knelt next to Fr. Scott as we prayed the postcommunion prayer. He realized that they had forgotten to print the prayer that the parish uses for the sending forth of lay Eucharistic ministers. He rose and went to the altar, handing the small black boxes to two parishioners and then began the prayer, “In the name of this congregation we send you forth bearing these holy gifts,” the congregation quickly joined in, apparently not needing it printed in front of them. The bishop offered a blessing and we all came together at the altar, reverence, and turn. The crucifer walked in front of us, flanked by torchbearers, the followed by the choir. Then Kevin and I walked out through the chancel. After we passed the first pew, Fr. Scott stopped and gestured for Bethany to join the procession. At the back she stood with me while we finished the hymn. I try to maintain my composure, not wanting my voice to crack as I said the last words.
The hymn ended and I took a deep breath and then called out, “Alleluia, alleluia, let us go forth into the world, rejoicing in the power of the Spirit.” I smiled as I listened to the response, “Thanks be to God! Alleluia, alleluia!”
Prelude to Ordination
Published on 19 Apr 2008 at 5:31 pm.
2 Comments.
Filed under Ministry.
I’ve finished most of my work for school. I love that feeling when you’ve almost completed a degree, when you’re able to look back and realize that all that work has led to something concrete. It’s a good feeling.
Yesterday Bethany and I flew to Abilene. We had a few flight troubles, but nothing major and were only about 15 minutes late for meeting some friends of mine at Carino’s. After dinner we went to a martini bar where I filled in as a bartender a few times when I lived here. The music was loud and we had to lean in close to talk as we walked up to the bar.
We picked up some of the menus; they were new since I last worked there. The bartender came over and asked what we’d like and we each ordered our martinis. When he finished mine and put it in front of me he paused, “Didn’t you used to do Nine O’Clock?”
I smiled, “Yes, I did indeed.”
“I used to go, back when I was a freshman.”
“That’s great. It’s funny, I used to work here.”
We both smiled at the curious way that lives intersect.
And that was all. That was the extent of the conversation. Though I would have loved to sit down with him, to get his name and hear his story, the band was loud and he had other guests to take care of.
But it was nice. It was nice that the evening I flew back to Abilene for my ordination I was able hear that someone remembered that I shared in that ministry of Nine O’Clock 3 years ago. All that work back then, much of it difficult and hard, led to something concrete.
Tomorrow morning Bethany and I will head to the Church of the Heavenly Rest for the rehearsal. At 10:45 the choir will start singing, the clergy start processing, and I’ll walk in that line with a simple alb, a reminder that my fundamental ordination occurred when my grandfather plunged me under those waters. Later in the service the bishop will lay hands on me and pray that God’s spirit will fill me with grace and power and make me a deacon in God’s church. Bethany will come up and put my deacon’s stole on me and I’ll begin my ordained ministry in that order that is utterly committed to serving others.
I think this is an entirely good and appropriate place to start—in an especially servant-oriented order that should undergird and surround the rest of my life of ordained ministry.
I’m trembling a little to think of it, the weight of those hands pressing down upon me as the prayers of all those assembled bear me up, reminding me that it is only through the prayer and support of Christ’s church that I can do more than fall on the ground.
It’s been a busy weekend so far, going places in Abilene, showing both Bethany and our friend who came with us from Nashville (Courtney) around where I’ve lived. But the whole time I can hear the voices of Fr. Bob and Fr. Scott whispering in my ear: empty yourself, make room, prepare, reflect. God has winnowed my soul over the past years, and this particular seed which the Spirit will softly sow tomorrow definitely has broken soil in which to grow.
So as the hot West Texas wind blows through my bushy curls, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, I know that the prayers offered on my behalf tomorrow are quite desperately needed. And I’m grateful for them.
Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross. Philippians 2:4-8
Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. John 12:24
Make him, O Lord, modest and humble, strong and constant, to observe the discipline of Christ. Let his life and teaching so reflect your commandments, that through him many may come to know you and love you. As your Son came not to be served but to serve, may this deacon share in Christ’s service, and come to the unending glory of him who, with you and the Holy Spirit, lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever.
