God and Election Day

Every four years, our nation holds an election for president.  It’s always a time of soul-searching.  We may have passions about one candidate or another, or about one political or moral agenda or another.  Before any one of us steps into the voting booth, my hope is that we take a moment to pray about the decision that we are making.  The question before any of us is not what we prefer individually, or how we might want to further a personal agenda or emotion.

            The question always is:  Where is God in this choice?  What would Jesus do?  In the end, for the Christian, a voting decision is not personal or political.  It is theological.  So we ask:  in my vote, how do I help to further God’s intent for this nation at this time?

            As a priest, I have been pressed on this point by people from both ends of the political spectrum.  I recall, as an election day approached, being asked directly, “Who do you think God wants to be elected?  I never answer such a question, since any specific statement that I might make could well be proven wrong.  And what would that say about my insight into God’s will?   I also have my own preferences among a slate of candidates.

            Blessedly, a long time ago, when I served as a seminarian assistant at Christ Church, South Pittsburg, Tennessee, I faced a wrenching dilemma in October and November.  You see, the town is six miles from the Tennessee Alabama border.  The church included members from both states.  College football is a passion for members, and Jesus is the quarterback for one team or another at any time.

            On the Sundays when the Tennessee Vols played the Crimson Tide of Alabama, men and women came to me and asked, “Who do you think God wants to have as the winner?”  I took the question back to seminary at Sewanee and asked a wise old priest, “How do I answer the question?”  He thought for a moment and replied, “Just tell them, ‘I prayed about it and God told me, May the best team win.’”

            God does not favor one team over another, nor does God bless one political party over another.  God gives us freedom to choose and to act.

            Even if parishioners in South Pittsburg were divided on the Sunday before the game, they always reconciled the Sunday after.  In a wonderful Christian spirit, they would say to one another, “Well, that’s what happened this time.  We’ll make it right next time.”  No matter what the outcome of this election, I hope that will be a part of our national mind going forward.

How Do You Spell Relief?

As I watched this morning’s news on ABC, I was delighted to see that the network was sponsoring a day-long relief effort for the victims of Superstorm Sandy.  So many millions of people remain without power and suffer through cold nights as befit November in the northeast.  There also has been a shortage of fuel and food.  It’s hard to watch people go without in this disaster.  At the same time, there have been so many challenges in transportation, especially when it comes to food and fuel.
           The partner nonprofit relief organization working with ABC has been the American Red Cross.  I was a board member of the Central Illinois Chapter as our region navigated the 1993 floods along the Mississippi River, and went into the area around Quincy, Illinois to help with flood relief.  I was working with the Episcopal Diocese of Quincy, so I had the unexpected blessing of being fed by Red Cross as I helped to build a food storage pantry at the local Salvation Army.
            From that disaster, and other, smaller events like tornadoes in nearby communities, I saw the power of relief efforts.  I also had to come to grips with the strange reactions to requests for help on the donor and the recipient.  In Quincy, a regional grocery store donated canned goods from the warehouse.  Two semi-trailers arrived laden with many items—but many of them were dented or damaged.  The intent to help certainly was there—but to provide only those goods that were unable to be stocked on store shelves.  Aside from appearance, the cans had to be inspected for any accidental piercing.  I did find several, and had to discard them.
             I recall relief efforts after the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001.  Some residents of our Chapter area gave $25.00 donations.  In return, the donors wanted a precise accounting that all of the money went to help someone—and they wanted thank you notes from notes from those people.
             Most people give in trust and faith that the funds move out of their control.  My wife and I have given to Red Cross for relief in Sandy’s wake with no expectation of any thank you notes.  We’re just glad to help.  There are so many other worthy groups, sacred and secular, who are doing specific outreach.  We’re glad that they are there.  Had things been just a little different, we could have sustained a lot of damage here in coastal Virginia—and we would have been in line for help while coming to terms with what we could have lost.
            Then my thoughts turn to the Cross.  There, Jesus Christ died, once for all, to reconcile us to God.  As St. Paul often says, there is nothing we could have done to deserve this divine intervention in and helping us to move out of the eternal disaster facing us in our human destiny.  Every day I give thanks for this amazing relief effort.  I spell relief, in practical ways, in A, American Red Cross or E, Episcopal Relief and Development.  But I spell spiritual relief in J-E-S-U-S-C-H-R-I-S-T and P-R-A-Y-E-R.

Fierce Wild Priest

How curious it is that, for centuries, the Church has observed both the Feast of All Saints and the Feast of All Souls.  As I read the New Testament, all saints have souls, and all souls are saints.  Traditionally, however, saints are thought of as those who have gone the extra mile, done the greater thing, suffered the greater humiliation in every age for the sake of Christ.  The rest of us, in that sense, have merely been faithful and grace-filled.

            The explanation in Lesser Feasts and Fasts confirms that all are saints, and states further that All Souls Day came into being as a way that the Church remembered “that vast body of the faithful who, though no less members of members of the company of the redeemed, are unknown in the wiser fellowship of the Church.  It was also a day for particular remembrance of family members and friends.”

            In Morning Prayer, the New Testament reading has been from the Revelation to John.  Recently the passage was from the seventh chapter, in which John witnesses the innumerable souls of the faithful being welcomed into the heavenly place and joining with the twenty-four elders, the four living creatures and the myriads of angels in the work of all creation:  to worship God with unfailing devotion. 

            Maybe I am Protestant at heart in believing that the celebration of all saints is the best and most biblical way to be the Church Expectant.   In almost every church I have served, there has been an All Saints Pageant on the Sunday following the designated day.  Every child “adopted” one of the great saints of the Church and wore an outfit identifying that holy one. 

In one particular congregation, the practical decision was made to include adults in the parade, as the number of children was rather small in that aging group.  The parade was profound—for now it was more than cute—it was real.   The music minister and I decided to put the familiar and traditional hymn “For All the Saints” at the close of the service.  This procession was set to the traditional English children’s hymn, “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God.”

The second verse made it clear that all souls are saints. “They loved their Lord so dear, so dear, and his love made them strong; and the followed the right for Jesus’ sake the whole of their good lives long.”

But the teens in the pageant made a great and deliberate error when some loudly, “And one was a soldier, and one was a beast, and one was slain by a fierce wild priest.”

In the children’s sermon, I faced the music, so to speak.  When I asked them what they thought of the hymn, one of the little ones bellowed, “Are you that fierce wild priest?”  I reflected for a moment and, smiling, I said, “Only when I have to be.”

And then I reminded them—and all who were listening—of the importance of the final words in that verse, words that ought to stick to us in thick and thin:  “And there is not any reason—no, not the least—that I shouldn’t be one, too.”  Sometimes, any of us may need to be fierce and wild in our Christian witness.

Reforming the Spirits

When the Church settled on November 1^st as All Saints Day, the world settled on the eve of that sacred celebration as All Hallows’ Eve.  We know the day now as Halloween.  (Business journalists say that Halloween has become the second most profitable holiday for retailers  Christmas remains the at the top—Santa wins).

Why is Halloween so popular?  And why is this Night of the Spirits set on October 31^st?  Think about the word.  Halloween actually is Hallowe’en, a shortened version of the formal title from the older English name for the day:  All Hallows’ Eve.  “Hallow” is related to the word “holy.”  It’s the night before the ancient Christian feast of All Saints Day, which has been observed on November 1^st since the eighth-century tenure of Pope Gregory III.  One year, on November 1^st, he dedicated the Chapel of All Saints of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome.  In early medieval Europe, regular Christian folk continued ancient traditions of ancestor worship and the thrill of contacting and confronting the spiritual world—especially the darker side.

In other words, before celebrating holy and heroic women and men with deep faith in Christ, we human beings ought to get out of the way the encounter with the evil spirits.  So many secular 21st century people have lost any notion of just how holy the saints are, and just how wicked the realm of evil is—and it is real.

We need to develop discernment.  Right now, as I write this blog, I overhear on the television in the next room one of the ghost-hunter programs.  The value of the program is that investigators like you and me can discern the existence of lost or trapped spirits. Thank heaven, these hunters have not met terrible evil nor suffered terrible harm or injury.  But they experience it.  As a Christian, I know that the real day, the better celebration, is the living witness of the saints.  I use this day to prepare my soul and spirit to encounter the hallowed ones of Christian history who inspire (breathe life into) my life today by their glorious witness and presence.

                                                                                  

Praying Through Hurricane Sandy

Last night, as I prepared to sleep, I reflected on the ferocity of Hurricane Sandy as it passed this region.  My wife and I sought to be prudent in preparation.  We laid in supplies of food and water.  We checked our batteries in the flashlights and made sure that our crank-up radio was charged up in case the power went out.  We filled sandbags, lugged them home, and placed them at all openings on the ground floor.  The wind began to howl, and the rain pelted our windows.  We prayed for the integrity of the seawall up the street, so that the tides would not overtake us and others as they had done before.  And we waited.

            Very little happened.  The tides stayed in the bay.  Flooding from rain water stayed on nearby streets.  Trees and their limbs stayed intact.  With but a brief interruption, the power stayed on.  Even the mail was delivered, proving the truth of the myth that, despite storm and night, the mail must come through.

            So many others further up the coast were not spared the wrath of the storm.  My heart and soul goes out to those who have lost so much.  Life is risky—most of the time, calculated risk, but acceptance and a wager that our choices about where and how we live will bring blessing rather than distress.  Some even are proud and dare the forces of nature to confront them.

            On that last point, as an aside, I wonder whether, when the Boardwalk is rebuilt in Atlantic City, Donald Trump will sneer at any storm and build the Trumpwalk….

            Every life in every day presents us with changes and chances.  How do I view this condition in my own life?  I confess that, whether I am prudent or proud, I cannot control my life or this world.  God alone can provide for me and preserve me no matter what.

In my bedtime reflection, as I said Compline, I turned to a prayer in which one confesses human limits and real humility.  "Be present, O merciful God," I prayed for Cindy and me and all others in struggle with the storm, "and protect us through the hours of this night, so that we who are wearied by the changes and chances of this life may rest in your eternal changelessness; through Jesus Christ our Lord."  To which we all must say, Amen.

Vacation as Teacher

Vacation.  I have been on one for the first time in a while.  The experience has been good and refreshing.  Now I sound like I’m repeating the ad slogan long ago for Coca-Cola.  I’ve had time to enjoy one or two of those along the way.

            Most people these days think of “vacation” as a necessary evil.  Many consider a vacation to be time-consuming, tiring and expensive.  After all, we have to “do something” in that time.  We’re not very good about disconnecting and relaxing.

            The word is misunderstood.  It comes from the Latin word vacare.  That’s where we pick up the term “vacant”—a vacant apartment ready to rent, which is empty and open, or a vacant stare, suggesting an empty mind in the other person.

            In this period, I’ve learned again what it is to have vacant time.  I don’t map out every moment of the day, nor do I have to answer each and every phone call.  It is empty time.  Reading and walking and being fill the moments.  A couple of days ago, I walked down the street with my dog to the seawall looking across the bay to watch a cruise ship pull out of the port.  Time passed as the ship turned around below the Norfolk skyline.  After the groaning of the ship’s horn to bid farewell, I then heard a young voice on the ship’s audio system as she cried, “WELCOME TO YOUR VA-CA-SHUN!”   And the people on deck cheered wildly.

            I cheered, too.  The Spirit of God can communicate in odd ways, through a cruise director on a ship heading off, or in the silence of these moments.  Empty can be a good thing—because God can fill me and feed me in my open time.