Sermon for the Requiem Mass for Adolf Scott

St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

November 11, 2015

Tobit 1.16-22

+ This evening we are doing something that is not unusual for us to do here at St. Stephen’s. We are welcoming someone into our midst that we did not previously know and will probably never know, at least on this side of the veil, so to speak.

Tonight, we are praying for and commending to God this person, Adolf Scott. And after we are done here at this altar, after we have commended him to a God of love and mercy, we will process out and we will bury his ashes in our midst.

We know nothing about Adolf. We don’t know when we he was born, when he died, what kind of life he lived. We do not know he if he was a good person, or a terrible person.

Ultimately, none of that matters. What matters tonight  is that we are welcoming him here in our midst and we are providing him with some dignity in his death.

One would think that is not such a hard thing to do. But, surprisingly, simple acts of kindness and mercy are sometimes so few and so far between in this world, for the dead and for the living.

In the Church, we have a long tradition of actually doing something regarding mercy. Anyone of us raised in the Roman Catholic tradition will remember something traditionally called the corporal acts of mercy.  They are...

+ To feed the hungry;

+ To give drink to the thirsty;

+ To clothe the naked;

+ To harbor the harborless;

+ To visit the sick;

+ To ransom the captive;

+ To bury the dead.

We, as a congregation of St. Stephen’s, as followers of Jesus, have tried to do every single one of these corporate acts of mercy in our collective ministry here.  Throughout our almost 60 years, we have worked hard to do these seemingly basic acts.

And when we first envisioned our new memorial garden a few years ago, we made clear then that the memorial garden would be a place not only for the burial of only St. Stephen’s members.  We also saw it as a place for the interment of for all those who needed a respectful and dignified burial.  Because, like visiting the sick, and giving drink to the thirsty, and feeding the hungry and clothing the naked, burying the dead is a very basic act. It is something that is needed. Every person deserves a proper burial.

We do these acts not because we want or need a pat on the back. We do them not because we think they’ll get us in the good graces of God, or provide us with an easy ticket to heaven. We do them, because doing them brings about good in this world. And when good comes into this world, we believe God is present.

God is present with us this evening. We are seeing God present in this act of mercy, and even in this person of Adolf Scott.

Earlier this month we celebrated the feast of All Saints. On that feast, and as we do often on Wednesday nights here at St. Stephen’s,  we talked about the saints being “witnesses” to the Gospel of Jesus. There is a long tradition, going all the way back the beginning of the church, of naming those people who were witnesses of perseverance in God’s ways. We look to them as examples of how to live our lives as Christians.

Sometimes, however, when the bones of these early saints were found in the catacombs, there was no way to identify them. In those cases, a saint’s bones were often label “incognito.”

Now, some people cringe at such things. How, they wonder, can someone “witness” to us incognito? However, if we look back honestly over the history of the church, it is filled with these incognito saints, people who have come and gone almost unnoticed among us, and they yet by their quiet presence have embodied faith in a real and profound way.

Well, Adolf Scott is sort of our own saint incognito.  We don’t know if he believe in God, or was a Christian, or anything. To be honest, none of that matters right now. What matters is that God is, even now, able to work in this situation.

God is here, in the act of mercy we are doing, in the fact that Adolf’s ashes came to us, in the witness of his presence with us this evening and in the years to come.  Some of the greatest and loudest statements of God’s mercy come not in sermons or evangelizing on the streets. Sometimes the loudest statements of God’s mercy and our own mercy to others comes in the starkness and  quietness of an abandoned urn of ashes.

In the face of that witness, there is not much more I can say.

Sometimes, the only response is with poetry. I very rarely inflict poems on you. But I think, tonight, it’s about all we can do.

This is entitled

Incognito

Who knew

what passion

these bones knew?

what struggle

brought them

to this ignoble end?

what longed-for glory

remained

in the end

elusive?

what fire

burned within

this long-gone flesh

as it flared

and glowed

and died?

What lies

before us now

speaks. It

sings

to us

in words

only those

reduced to the

barest elements

can produce. They say,

let these bones

you have crushed

revive. Let them

rejoice

one day

as they rise up

from where

they were laid.

And on that day--
that glorious

and wonderful day--

let them

sing

with a joy

that can

not ever--

in any way--
end.  

Poster for the (delayed) book launch

Here's the poster for the staged reading of my one-act play, "The Bishop Comes for a Visit," being presented at the Spirit Room in Fargo on Dec. 10

All Saints

November 1, 2012

Revelation 21.1-6a

+ As most of you know by now, Bishop Michael Smith published a letter this past week for the diocesan newspaper, The Sheaf. Since most of you have seen it I won’t re-read it. If you would like to read it, you can read it on the congregational blog. But the gist of his message was that his pastoral provision in this diocese for those congregations who want to provide all people with the rites of the Church to all people equally will be offered a bishop other than himself, if we so decide as a congregation.

I know that it was a difficult decision for him to make and that he came to that decision after much personal searching.

Of course, personal searching is something we know well, as a congregation here at St. Stephen’s. We too have been on a similar, though entirely different, path than Bishop Smith. We also have been weighing these same issues.  We also have been struggling with how our congregation is going to respond and proceed. This letter has now placed before us a juncture in our journey that we cannot now avoid. We have been heading toward this juncture for a very long time. It has been a hard journey at times.

What lies before us now is a decision we all must make. Shall we continue on one path as we have, or shall we venture down another? Whichever direction we take, there will be consequences to our actions.

Each action, as we all know, will have its own set of consequences. And, as Christians, as educated, dedicated, rational people, we know that we must weigh those consequences carefully and in a spirit of prayer and discernment.  And then we must proceed accordingly.

None of this easy. Sometimes in our pursuit of what we feel is right, relationships are broken. Our convictions often force us to choose a path that is not the easy, well-lit path.  But we must choose the path that is right for us.

My father was fond of a saying that I have tried to live out in my own life:

“Do the right thing—even when no one is looking.”

For us, on this All Saints Sunday, we, as saints of God, are being called to do that as well. We must do the right thing—even if no one else is looking (which it sort of feels like sometimes). Sometimes, we do feel alone in this journey. Sometimes we feel as though we are the only ones struggling the way we are with these issues.  

But, to remember what we are celebrating today is important.  A saint, we must remember, is viewed as a “witness” to Jesus and his Gospel. And, today, on All Saints Sunday, let me tell you: we are being called to be witnesses to that Gospel of Jesus, as we understand it.

But even more than that, like the saints who have gone before us, we are also sometimes called to suffer for the sake of that right thing, of being witnesses.  That also is what makes up saints. As we proceed in our discernment of how we are going to respond to Bishop Smith’s offer of another Bishop to serve our needs here at St. Stephen’s, we do so knowing it will not be an easy decision on our part.

There are pros and there are cons to this decision. And no matter what we choose, it will no doubt be painful. 

We have had a long relationship with Bishop Smith. Many of us, including yours truly, genuinely like him on a personal level.  I count him as a friend. He ordained me to the priesthood. I worked for him for several years, first as his communications officer and later as his executive assistant.   For me, even the idea of having someone else as our bishop is painful and difficult. Others may have an entirely different personal view of Bishop Smith.

But, as the Bishop himself would no doubt tell us, our convictions and our conscience override our personal relationships sometimes. That is the sacrifice we must be willing to make in the cause of Christ.  The saints themselves who have gone before us would tell us that as well. They would make clear to us that, to be followers of Jesus, means sometimes having to refine our relationships so that we can serve Christ more fully.

We are at that juncture in our collective life here at St. Stephen’s. We are being called to make sacrifices for the sake of our calling to follow Christ and the people Christ has called us to serve. We are being called to make the sacrifices the saints of God sometimes need to make so they can live out their vocation as Christians.

Bishop Smith made clear in his letter that this is no longer a matter of loyalty—loyalty to him personally or to the diocese. What we are faced with now is not a matter of loyalty to him or to the Diocese. What we are faced with now is a matter of conscience. It is a matter of our convictions—as Christians, as followers of Jesus, as people committed to living out Christ’s command to love and love fully and completely, as we see it for ourselves. Our commitment at St. Stephen’s is to that love and that radical acceptance of all people that we have been living out here for many years.

Many of us here this morning because the churches we belonged to before no longer accepted us for who we were.  Many of us are here this morning are here because we were no longer able to be in congregations or denominations that shunned us or hurt us or made us or others feel as though we were not fully loved children of God. 

Our commitment at St. Stephen’s has always been to welcome all people—no matter who or what they were—as fully loved children of God.   We have done so without limit.  We have done so when it was not “popular.” We have done so when doing so meant we too might be viewed as “odd,” or different, or rebellious, or upstarts.  And by doing so, we too have been shunned and treated as difficult or different.

We will continue to do what we have always done, no matter what may come, no matter what juncture we may take as a congregation.  If those convictions compel us to walk a different path than Bishop Smith, then that is what we will have to struggle with, and pray about, and ponder for ourselves.

But what we cannot do at this point in our lives is compromise.  We cannot turn away from the paths that lies before, or refuse to move forward. There is no easy way forward. Whichever way we chose to go will involve sacrifice. It will involve struggle. It will involve difficulties. We may lose people we considered friends along the way. We may be shunned. We may feel rejected. But, that too is all a part of our Christian journey. The saints knew this in their lives. And we know it too in ours.

Yet as difficult as the decisions are the lie ahead for us, there is no reason for despair.  This is not the time to let fear or anger reign. In all we do, we must do so with love and respect for our fellow Christians. And we must do so with a humble spirit.  By letting our fears get the best of us, we are already losing ground on the journey.

This path, as frightening as it may seem, can also be the opportunity for much good.  Our decision in this matter can be a true opportunity to do good, to serve God and one another, and to bring about goodness.  It can be an opportunity to work toward holiness in our lives and to participate in the mystery of God.

In today’s collect, we prayed to God to

“give us grace to follow your blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable joys that you have prepared for those who truly love you…”

In the original version of this collect the word “unspeakable” was used instead of ineffable. “May we come to those unspeakable joys” That, I think, in many ways is the key to what we are longing for in our lives as followers of Jesus.

We have no clear picture of where we are going as we follow him.  But the Holy Spirit, speaking to our conscience, always helps guide us on the right path.  

Bishop Smith, in his letter, shared an interesting paragraph that I also quoted in the pastoral letter I issued on Thursday,

Each of us one day will be called upon to give an account before God for what we have done or not done during this life, as we stand before the “great judgment seat of Christ.” 

In today’s reading from Revelation we find a similar image to this.  In it we find some gorgeous images of heaven—of this powerful and beautiful voice booming from that throne—that same throne Bishop Smith speaks of in his letter. It’s a beautiful image and one we can cherish and hold close when we think about heaven.

One day we, as the saints of God, will stand before that throne, as Bishop Smith said. We too will be asked what we have done and not done. It will, no doubt, be probably the most difficult moment in our spiritual lives.  But we must be prepared, as Bishop Smith says, to make answer before that throne.  And that answer will be an important one.  

I have no fear of appearing before that throne of Christ the Lamb.  As I said in my pastoral letter:

I, for one, am not willing to stand before “the great judgement seat of Christ” and say that I stood by quietly while people continued to be excluded and marginalized from the Church or given second (or third)-class treatment.

After all, as we hear today in the book of Revelation,

“See, the home of God is among mortals.

[God] will dwell with them as their God;

they will be [God’s] peoples,

and God….will be with them;

[God] will wipe every tear from their eyes.

Death will be no more;

mourning and crying and pain will be no more,

for the first things have passed away."

And then we hear this:

“And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’”

“I am making all things new.”

That is our rallying cry on this Sunday. With those words we can go forward.  We have no idea of the hardships that lie ahead for us around the next corner.  But we do know that beyond those unseen hardships, lie joys beyond words for us.  And though the path may be hard at times, one thing we know beyond all others: we know that we are taken care of.

Through it all, God is here with us, taking care of us.  This journey we are on is a journey, following Jesus, wherever he may lead us. Each person, with their own convictions, are called to take their own paths.  Bishop Smith, as he knows, is discerning that path as well in his own life, which may be in a different direction than the one we are being called to travel.  For us, we can only discern our own path, not others’ paths.   

For us, this is our heritage. By our baptism, we have been told that this heritage of saints is our heritage as well. This is what it means to be a saint—to be washed in those waters of a life that will not end and to do the right thing, even when no one may be looking.

The One who is seated on that throne will understand fully what we are doing and why we are doing it.  And will renew us for doing what we are called to do.  Our conviction of service to those who need to be served and accepted and loved was established already by Jesus and was carried out by the saints.  Like those saints, we might not know where this immediate path will take us, but we do know what the ultimate end of the story will be.

We know how the story is going to end.  We know that the ending will be glorious and beautiful.  It’s what we do now, here in the middle of the story, that is making all the difference.

We are the saints among us. We are following the path of the saints.   Today—All Saints Sunday—is a celebration of ourselves just as much as it is a celebration of those who have gone on before us.

So, at this time in which we are struggling, in which we are weighing our convictions and examining our consciences, let us also celebrate our inheritance.  Let us celebrate those saints who have paved the way for us on our own, sometimes difficult, path.  And let us ask our God to be with us, to strengthen us, to bless us and to compel us to continue on this path to which God has called us.

“See, I am making all things new,” our God is saying to us today. Let us rejoice in that renewal.

Let us pray:

Holy, loving and compassionate God, be with us and guide us as we discern your will in our lives. Let your Spirit be present with us, to open our minds and open our hearts to your will. Instill in us a spirit of love, respect for others and compassion. We pray this morning for Bishop Smith and the Diocese of North Dakota and all those who we call sisters and brothers in Christ. We pray for those in our congregation who are feeling pain and sorrow and anger over these events that divide us. Bring healing to us all. Enlighten us to see clearly the path we should take in our following of Jesus so that we may continue to do what you call us to do. And never leave us to feel alone on this journey. Surround us with your consolation and love. But, most of all, give us strength. Instill in us the strength to stand up and be who you have called us to be and do what you have called us to do. Let us not waver. All this, we ask in name of Jesus you Son, whom we follow, guided by your Holy Spirit. Amen.     

Going teetotaler

So, 6 months ago tomorrow (Nov. 1), I stopped drinking alcohol. As noble as it might sound, it wasn't. For almost four years I had been having my fair share of stomach issues--ulcers, severely upset stomach, a kind of "broken glass" feeling in the pit of my stomach. The "broken glass" feeling, over time, got worse and worse. Finally 6 months ago, I ended up sick for three days. It was only then that I fully realized that I was getting sick due to alcohol. My doctor and others said that it is entirely possible that some people can develop (or simply ignore the fact that they have) an allergy of some sort to alcohol. My doctor then said to me: "Listen, you don't need it. If it's causing you to feel this way, just give it up." It made absolute sense. What surprised me most was how easy it was to actually give up. Certainly, it has not caused me to sacrifice any aspect  my social life: I still love going out to my favorite places. I still love my vintage bar wear. I still love hosting parties and being with my friends at bars.  But by far the most important part of it all is that, with my vegan lifestyle, I have never, ever felt better. I honestly don't think I even felt this good even in my 20s.   

My pastoral letter regarding Bishop Smith's Letter in The Sheaf

“This is my commandment, that you love one another

as I have loved you.”

John 15.12

October 29, 2015

The feast of Bl. James Hannington and Companions

Dear Members and Friends of St. Stephen’s,

As you might know, Bishop Michael Smith, in the November issue of The Sheaf, issued a letter regarding the topic of same-sex marriage rites in the Episcopal Diocese of North Dakota. His letter in full follows this letter. I invite you to prayerfully and respectfully read his  letter.

The reactions of the members of St. Stephen’s to his letter may no doubt vary. Some may feel anger or frustration. Others may agree with Bishop Smith’s opinion.

In the recent past, I have purposely not responded to this issue because I, like many of you, have been waiting patiently for Bishop Smith to make a comprehensive statement regarding his making provision for same-sex marriage rites in the Diocese. On at least one occasion I attempted a conversation with Bishop Smith regarding this issue; no doubt, he already assumed where I stood on this matter.

As the priest of St. Stephen’s, it is not my duty to tell the people of our congregation what they should or should not do. I can only encourage. I can only walk beside you. And I, of course, will support any decision you make as a congregation. I can also share my own insights with you.

Bishop Smith’s letter was not a surprise to me, although I will admit that I was disappointed that Delegated Episcopal Pastoral Oversight (DEPO) was the only option offered to the Diocese.  

His letter does now draw a very clear and distinctive line in the sand. He makes clear (and rightfully so) that this matter is no longer an issue of polity, nor is it an issue of loyalty—either to the Diocese or to the Bishop. It is now a very clear issue of conscience. Bishop Smith’s final statement makes this clear:

Each of us one day will be called upon to give an account before God for what we have done or not done during this life, as we stand before the “great judgment seat of Christ.” At this time in our history, I am keenly aware of the scriptural warning of the letter of James: “Not many of you should become teachers … for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness” (James 3:1)

I agree entirely with this statement. Each one of us WILL one day be called to give an account before God for what we have done or not done during this life. I, for one, am not willing to stand before “the great judgement seat of Christ” and say that I stood by quietly while people continued to be excluded and marginalized from the Church or given second (or third)-class treatment. For me, my goal as a follower of Jesus has always been to live out his command:

“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10.27).

As an Episcopalian, I take very seriously those vows we make from the Baptismal Covenant in the Book of Common Prayer (p. 305):

“Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?”

And

“Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?”

In my opinion, the issue of  full and equal acceptance of all people in this Church and to its rites is an issue of justice. This is an issue of respecting the dignity of every human being. This is an issue of living out Christ’s command to love one another as God loves us.

St. Stephen’s has, from its very beginning in 1956, been a congregation that has worked hard to be a place of radical hospitality and acceptance. That mission of all-accepting love has been vital in the lives of countless people who have found with us a place of solace and sanctuary. We have consistently welcomed the alienated, the shunned, the marginalized and the discarded. For us, this is what it means to be Christians in this day and age. For us, this is what it means to make the Kingdom of God a reality in this world. And we will continue to do this in the most radical ways.  To do less would be to be untrue to our calling as followers of Jesus.

The ball is now in our court. How we proceed will be of the utmost importance. My hope is that we will do so intentionally and prayerfully, allowing God’s Holy Spirit to be with us and guide us

Whatever our decision may be as a congregation, these next weeks and months will be a time for discernment and introspection. I ask that we proceed in a spirit of grace and humility. I pray that we will allow the Holy Spirit to continue to work in our midst, and that we allow God’s all-powerful love to reign.

With that in mind, I caution us from any temptation to demonize Bishop Smith or anyone else who shares a similar position. Our ministry of love and full-acceptance extends to our relationship with them as well. They are not our enemies; rather they are our sisters and brothers in Christ, and we must continue to see them as such. The command from Christ to love all as God loves us extends, of course, to them as well.

With all that in mind, we must now accept the fact that the line, as I previously said, has now been clearly drawn. We have been given an opportunity to weigh our options and to proceed in our following of Christ.

So, how do we proceed? First, I ask you to read Bishop Smith’s letter with an open mind and heart.

Next, I ask you to share your opinions with me, or with our Senior Warden, Leo Wilking, Junior Warden, Catherine McMullen or with any of our vestry members.  Your opinion is vital in how we proceed as a congregation.

Most of all, I ask for your prayers. Pray for the grace and wisdom to move forward. Pray for those individuals in our congregation who are most directly affected by these issues and who are, in this moment, feeling pain and discouragement as a result of this division. Pray that we can, in all integrity, make wise decisions, avoiding all malice and ill-will as we do so.

I ask that you pray for Bishop Smith and for all our sisters and brothers in Christ in the Diocese of North Dakota at this time. Please pray also for Bishop Michael Curry, who will be consecrated as the new Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church on November 1. Pray for the leadership of our Church.  

But especially pray for our congregation of St. Stephen’s. We ask that the Holy Spirit will be present with each of us as we discern our future together, as we strive to continue to do the ministry we have been called to do, and as we follow Jesus where he leads. Please pray for our Senior and Junior Wardens, as well as our Vestry as they weigh the option placed before them and proceed accordingly.

And please do pray for me. Know each of you remain, as always, in my prayers as well. It is a true joy for me to be your priest.

-peace,

 Jamie+ 

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bishop Michael Smith’s Letter from the November issue of The Sheaf:

Dear Friends in Christ:

My letter in the July-August issue of The Sheaf included the reasons why I cannot in good conscience authorize the trial rite of Same Sex Marriage for the Diocese.

Although the enabling resolution for the rite gave authority to the Diocesan Bishop to make such a decision, it also included the directive that the Diocesan Bishop “will make provision for all couples asking to be married in this Church to have access to these liturgies.”

I have concluded a process of consultation seeking the advice of those clergy who are responsible for solemnizing marriages about what course of action I should take. As one might imagine, our clergy are quite a diverse lot in terms of their views on same sex marriage: some are conscience-bound to uphold the traditional teaching of the church on marriage between a man and a woman; others hope to solemnize same sex marriages; still others do not believe the new rites are biblical marriage, but think a blessing of some kind is in order. (This last option is no longer possible, according to General Convention, for those who live in civil jurisdictions where same sex marriage is legal.) It is good for us to remember that theological diversity is honored in the Episcopal Church and “no bishop, priest, deacon or lay person should be coerced or penalized in any manner, nor suffer any canonical disabilities, as a result of his or her theological objection to or support for [same sex marriage.]”

After consulting widely with the diocesan priests-in-charge, I have decided to offer Delegated Episcopal Pastoral Oversight (DEPO)4 to those congregations requesting it. According to the provisions of DEPO, if the priest-in-charge and two-thirds of the members of a vestry ask me, I will appoint another bishop to provide oversight for the three-yea rperiod between General Conventions.

Contrary to what some have understood, DEPO has nothing to do with a congregation’s relationship with the other congregations of the diocese. Rather, it has to do with the congregation’s relationship with the bishop. A congregation receiving delegated episcopal pastoral oversight would still remain active in the life of the diocese. My office would pay for an annual visit by the DEPO bishop.

In the course of these months of consultation, I have been reminded by some that the traditional view of marriage I hold is a “minority” one in the Episcopal Church. This may be true, as it is for other declining churches of Western secular cultures, but the fact remains that the traditional view of marriage between one man and one woman for life remains the teaching of our own Book of Common Prayer, as well as the teaching of the

vast majority of the Anglican Communion, and global Christianity in general. Just weeks ago, the primates of the Global South, representing the majority of Anglicans wrote:

We grieved one more time at the unilateral decisions taken by the last General Convention of the Episcopal Church (TEC) in the USA to redefine marriage and to accept same-sex marriages (Resolutions A036 and A054). We see these latest resolutions as a clear departure from not only the accepted traditional teaching of the Anglican Communion, but also from that of the one Holy, Universal, and Apostolic

Church, which upholds the scriptural view of marriage between one man and one woman. (Lambeth Resolution 1:10, 1998.)6

Each of us one day will be called upon to give an account before God for what we have done or not done during this life, as we stand before the “great judgment seat of Christ.” At this time in our history, I am keenly aware of the scriptural warning of the letter of James: “Not many of you should become teachers … for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness” (James 3:1). May the Lord have mercy on all of us whose responsibility it is to teach the Christian faith.

Sincerely,

+ Michael Smith

22 Pentecost

October 25, 2015

Mark 10.46-52

+ This past week in our Deacons’ class, our prospective deacons got an intellectual workout. After starting out nice and easy for a few weeks, I sort of cracked the knuckles on them. They got the start of boot camp last Tuesday night. We went through a very hectic, very intense hands-on liturgical class. We went through all the vestments and the meaning of the vestments, we went through the Mass and what the Deacon’s responsibilities were and then we had an instructed Mass that was, for me anyway, lots of fun.

But, poor Jessica and John!  You should be praying for them! On Tuesday night they got to see a side of me few people see. Yes, I know.

You see before you, on Sunday morning, this nice, mild-mannered vegan teetotaler pacifist priest and poet. But underneath this calm, Zen-like exterior, lurks a true drill sergeant. And they got to see it.

I had warned them about it. So had Deacon Charlotte Robbins from the Cathedral who spoke to the class a few weeks ago (I helped train her deacon’s class many years ago when I was at the Cathedral. I ended up having a bit of a reputation for my drill sergeant ways then when I told the clergy there that they had to start wearing black shoes every time they vested. Now before you think I was being a jerk: it was not uncommon before that for vested clergy to be wearing sandals, sneakers or even bare feet. I wasn’t too popular after that little bit of cracking the whip. But they looked professional after that). But I don’t think any of them thought I could be, of all things, a drill sergeant.

Oh, how wrong they were.  At one point, poor Jessica, in a moment of exhaustion, exclaimed, “Oh, fer sure!” They ended up getting a semester’s worth of intense, solidly Anglo-Catholic liturgical theology and training in a few hours.  That class left them, let’s say, a bit bleary-eyed in the end.  They kind of wearily limped out of the church on Tuesday night after class.

Which is good. We all need that kind of situation and discipline on occasion. One of the important things we discussed when talking liturgy and the worship of the Church was how essential prayer life is for any of us who are ministers in the Church. Without a solid foundation of personal prayer, all that we do in church on Sundays is without a solid base.

You heard me say, last week, that those of who are ordained are not the only ministers of the Church. All of us who have been baptized are ministers of the Church. And for our ministry to be effective, we need to have a strong and very solid prayer life to support that ministry.

I, of course, highly encouraged our diaconal students—as I do you on occasion—to begin praying the Daily Offices of Morning and Evening Prayer from the Book of Common Prayer every day as the first foundation. From the offices and from the Mass, our prayer life as followers of Jesus flourish. Now for many of us, the Daily Offices are not something we can fit into our busy lives.

But, no matter how busy our lives are, we must always have a strong foundation of prayer. And that prayer life can be very simple. Simple little prayers throughout the day are sometimes, by far, the most effective prayers.

I have been reading a wonderful book on prayer by a member of Anglican religious order (yes, there are religious orders in the Anglican Church) the Society of St. Francis, by the name of Br. Ramon.  This book of his was lovely.  It was called Praying the Jesus Prayer Together.  

The Jesus Prayer, for those of you who might not know, is a prayer very popular in the Eastern Orthodox Church.  In fact, it is kind of the “Gem” of the Eastern Church. We’ll talk about the actual Jesus prayer in just a moment.  First, let’s take a look at where the Jesus Prayer came from.

This morning, in our Gospel, we find the kernel from which the Jesus Prayer arises. And I really enjoy our Gospel reading this morning.  It is a story that at first seems to be leading us in one direction, then something else happens.  We find Jesus at Jericho, which reminds us, of course, of the story from Joshua and the crumbling walls.  We then find this strangely detailed story of Barthemaeus.  It’s detailed in the sense that we not only have his name, but also the fact that he was the son of Timaeus. That’s an interesting little tidbit. And we also find of course that he is blind.

Now, it’s not a big mystery what’s going to happen.  We know where this story is going. We know Bartemaeus is going to be healed. We know he is going to see. But the real gem of this story doesn’t have to do with Jericho, or the fact that we will never again hear about Bartimeus son of Timaeus.  The real gem of this story is that little prayer Bartimaeus prays. There it is, huddled down within the Gospel like a wonderful little treasure.

“Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me!”

It’s beautiful! It’s perfect!  This prayer is essentially the basis for the popular Jesus Prayer of the Orthodox Church and Br. Ramon’s wonderful book.

At first, it doesn’t seem like much.  It’s so deceptively simple.  But, obviously, according to our Gospel for today, the prayer is important.  Jesus does what he is asked.  He has mercy on this man and heals him.

So why is this prayer so important?  Well, for one thing, we get a glimpse of how to pray in this wonderfully simple little prayer. Jesus occasionally gives us advice in the gospels on how we should pray.  The first one that probably comes to mind probably is the Lord’s prayer, the Our Father.  But today we find a prayer very different than the Lord’s prayer.  

The Lord’s prayer is very structured.  It covers all the bases.  We acknowledge and adore God, we acknowledge and ask forgiveness not only for our sins, but for the sins committed against us by others.  And so on.  You know the prayer.

The prayer we hear this morning cuts right to the very heart not only of the Lord’s prayer but to every prayer we pray.  It is a prayer that rises from within—from our very core.  From our heart of hearts.  It is truly the Prayer of the Heart. The words of this prayer are the words of all those nameless, formless prayers we pray all the time—those prayers that we find ourselves longing to pray.  Here it is, summed up for us.

More often than not, our prayers are simple, one word prayers. And the one word prayer we probably pray more than anything—I do it anyway—is:

 “please.”

“Please!” I pray so often.  Or sometimes it’s: “please, please, please!”

Poor God! Having to listen to that prayer all the time.  The one word prayer I should be praying more than anything is:

“thanks.”

But the Jesus prayer definitely comes from that kind of heart-felt prayer.  Here are the words we long to use in those prayers without words.

“Jesus, have mercy on me!”

Or, in the more Anglo-Catholic tradition, you will find written on gravestones stones and elsewhere,

“Jesu, mercy!”

Now the actual Jesus Prayer is only slightly more expanded.  The Jesus Prayer is:

“Lord Jesus Christ, son of God [or Son of the living God], have mercy on me, a sinner.”

Or slight variations of those words.

The prayer we heard this morning is essentially the same. In the Eastern Church, the “Jesus Prayer” it is also called “the prayer of the heart.” That’s a perfect description of the prayer we heard in today’s Gospel.  It is, as I said before, a prayer of the heart. If our lips could no longer pray, our heart would go on and this prayer would be the words of our heart.  The fact that it is so simple is what makes the Jesus prayer so popular.  Anyone can memorize it and anyone pray it with true meaning.  It is a prayer we can repeat to ourselves over and over again. In fact, it is a prayer that demands to be repeated. It’s almost impossible not to repeat it. And it’s not as though we are mindlessly babbling on for sake of “saying our prayers.”

What I find so interesting about that statement is that, limitless as this prayer might be, infinite in its use as it might be, it comes from and addresses our very own limitations.  It is essentially the ceaseless prayer that should be going within us all the time. It is the prayer of absolute humility.

“Have mercy on me.”

Or, going back to our discussion about one word prayers, the one word from this prayer we would be praying is “mercy.”

“Have mercy on me.”

We are humans, with all the limitations and shortcomings that entails.  But rather than groaning about it and bewailing our misfortune, in this prayer we are able to acknowledge it and to simply offer it up.  Like Bartimeaus, we can simply bring it before God, release it, and then walk away healed.

There is no room for haughtiness when praying this prayer.  The person we are when we pray it is who we really are.  When all our masks and all our defenses are gone, that is when this prayer comes in and takes over for us.

This is the prayer we pray when, echoing Thomas Merton, we “present ourselves naked before our God.”  That’s what makes the prayer of the heart—the Jesus prayer—such a popular prayer for so many. And this prayer does not even have to be about us.  We can use this prayer when praying for others.  How easy it is to simply pray:

Jesus, have mercy on her, or him, or them.

It’s wonderful isn’t it? how those simple words can pack such a wallop.  We don’t have to be profound or eloquent in the words we address to God.  We don’t need to go on and on beseeching and petitioning God.  We simply need to open our hearts to God and the words will come. No doubt those words will be very similar to the words of the Jesus prayer.

“Lord Jesus, have mercy on me.”

So, like Bartemeaus, let us pray what is in our heart.  Let us open ourselves completely and humbly to God. And when we do we will find the blindness’s of our own lives healed. We will find taken from us that spiritual blindness that causes us to grope about aimlessly, to ignore those in need around us, to not see the beauty of this world that God shows us all the time. Like Bartemaeus, we too will be healed of whatever blinds us to the Light of God breaking through into our lives.  And when that blindness is taken from us, with a clear spiritual vision granted to us, we too will focus our eyes, square our shoulders and follow Jesus on the way.