Leaving Home ... and Finding Another

In 1960 I made the momentous decision to leave home for good.  I was fourteen years old.  This was not a decision that was made lightly.  The idea had been formulated over the course of my short life with the help of my parents, my local priest and of course the good nuns that taught in my parochial school.  The story goes that my mother took me as a new born baby to the convent so that the nuns could see me.  Overwhelmed by my cuteness the nuns carried me into their private chapel and laid me on the altar and formally dedicated me to God.  Having been told that story, when I became older and familiar with the Bible, I saw a distinct parallel to the story of Abraham building an altar of firewood, and then placing his only son Isaac on it so that he could sacrifice him to God.  Of course, I have no memory of that event, but I guess that I should be thankful that nuns don’t carry matches.  The nuns certainly did their part to instill in me a love of God and a desire to work in God’s vineyard as a priest.  They did it so well that after graduating from eighth grade, instead of attending the local high school, I decided to leave home to attend St. John’s Atonement Seminary in Montour Falls, NY.  It was the first step in a thirteen-year journey of becoming a Franciscan Friar. And, it was there at St. John’s that I began to prepare myself to eventually take the three evangelical vows of poverty, chastity and obedience, which were first made in the twelfth century by St. Francis of Assisi and his followers.  

Life at St. John’s was highly regulated, but there was an order and meaning to everything we did.  I believed that I was part of something bigger and there was comfort in that fact.  There was a long list of things we could not do, and we each had our own individual rule that we chaffed under.  For instance, we were not allowed to go off the property for any reason unless we had permission.  This was my cross to bear.  While most of my classmates came up to St. John’s from the New York City and Jersey area, I grew up on a farm about an hour away.  I would look past the seminary’s property line and it looked like home out there.  There were lakes and hills and streams to explore just like where I lived, and where I had freedom to enjoy them at any time.  So, to suddenly have that freedom taken away was difficult for me to accept. 

Yet looking back through the fog of so many intervening years I remember those years as the happiest times of my life.  Despite the rules there was an allotted time to thoroughly enjoy life as well.  There were always enough guys for a pick-up game of softball, or basketball.  In the winter there were tobogganing and skiing to enjoy on some significant hills just behind the school.  There were also quiet places where I could sit and read a book or write a letter home.  There were field trips to places like Corning Glass Works.  We went there every year and I loved it.  I would hurry through the museum of the history of glass, and head directly to a place where I could watch artisans mold and shape molten glass into crystal vases and engraved bowls.  Once a year we would also travel to Binghamton, New York, to attend an opera performed by the Binghamton Opera Company.  It was the first time that most of us had ever attended an opera.  Some were better than others.  I fell in love with the music of Carmen and sat in wonderment at all the special effects that happened before my eyes during Faust.  On our free afternoon, if the weather was nice we could gather into small groups and then get permission to go on a hike to either Havana Glen or Deckertown Falls.  Now I grew up with a glen on our property at home.  It was where my sisters and I would play and hang out during the hot summer days.  There were pools of water that we learned to swim in and waterfalls that we climbed up and around just for the fun of it.  And that was exactly what we did while on our hikes at St. John’s.  Both glens were great for hiking, but Deckertown had the best pool for swimming.

Deckertown Falls

In October 2017, I went to a high school reunion at St. John’s which now serves as a fireman’s academy for the State of New York.  It was my first trip back in more than half a century, and it was great to connect once more with the friends of my youth who I came to think of as brothers.  On Saturday afternoon, a few of us hiked up into our favorite glens to see where we had played and horsed around so many years ago.  I took lots of pictures that weekend especially of the streams and the swimming hole.  It was those pictures from that weekend that inspired me to spend the last couple weeks trying to capture those memories in oils on canvas.  What a wonderful time it has been to ponder those happy days once again.

Havana Glen

As a teenager, I lived the life of a Franciscan seminarian for five years.  I made it to within three months of professing temporary vows of poverty, chastity and obedience.  You can probably guess which one forced me to rethink my vocation at that time in my life.  In hindsight it was more my mother’s dream than a calling from God for me to be a priest.  You see God’s will for me was to first become a husband, a father, and a grandfather, before accepting a call as an ordained Lutheran pastor.  I did have a vocation from God, but God needed to mold and shape me through many years of life in this world before I was ready to stand at another altar where I could offer God himself in bread and wine to all who would come forward to receive that gift. 

Thank you, God, for the gift and joys of my life.

Two Roads, Two Prayers, and only One to follow

I have been doing quite a lot of reading lately.  I had recently picked up my copy of The Poetry of Robert Frost.  I have read this book many times but the last time was a long while ago.  I flipped the book open to the bookmark that I had left inside, and it was marking one of my favorite poems: The Road Not Taken.  I thought that’s cool, this will be fun to read again. 

Then that evening, my older sister Dory called to catch up on all that has been happening in our lives.  During the conversation, the topic of Lent came up, and she asked what devotional I was going to use this year.  Well, she was way ahead of me, (as First Born’s usually are).  At the time I did not even know when Ash Wednesday was going to arrive.  She said that her church had decided to read, My Life with the Saints, by James Martin, SJ.  She said that she had already read it once and that it was so good that she was going to read it again with her spiritual group. 

About a week later, a package arrived at my door and in it was a new copy of the book that she had mentioned to me.  Inside the front cover, she had placed a handwritten note, “Here is the new book for reading --  It is my favorite book.”  Let me say that sharing copies of books with one another is not something that we normally do.  We will suggest titles of good books and then leave it up to each other to follow up or not.  So, I knew that this was important to her, and I decided to take her advice.  

I began to read it right away and found the author’s way of telling a story to be very engaging, even when I was reading about a saint that I was already familiar with.  Each chapter talks about the life of a different saint and how they had impacted the author's life.  I couldn’t wait to get to the third chapter devoted to Thomas Merton because he has been my favorite spiritual writer.  In that chapter, the author shared that Thomas had struggled with some of the same things the author did – pride, ambition, selfishness.  "He struggled with the same questions I was wondering about:  What are we made for?  Who is God? What is the purpose of our lives.”  I certainly could relate to the author.  They were the same reasons I had been attracted to Thomas Merton all those years ago when I was struggling to discern my vocation. 

This morning I was finishing up that chapter, and the author ended by sharing one of Thomas Merton's prayers,  It too was one of my favorites but this time when I read it, it took on a whole new meaning, because the words of Robert Frost’s poem were still fresh in my memory banks. 

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear,

Though as for that, the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black,

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I would ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

from Mountain Interval

                                                            -- Robert Frost

                                                                        -- 1916

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.  

I do not see the road ahead of me.  

I cannot know for certain where it will end.  

Nor do I really know myself, 

and the fact that I think I am following your will 

does not mean that I am actually doing so.  

But I believe that the desire to please you 

does in fact please you.  

And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.   

I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.  

And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it.  

Therefore I will trust you always 
though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.  

I will not fear, for you are ever with me, 

and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

from Thoughts in Solitude

--- Thomas Merton

--- 1958

Merton’s faith in a loving and caring God, someone he trusted to lead, made all the difference in his life.  While Frost anticipated that he would manage a “sigh” down the road when faced with the fruits of his choice, Merton’s faith enabled him to say, “I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it.”  What a marvelous difference God can make in someone’s life if God is allowed to lead.  Amen.

Stir Up Your Power and Come!

"Advent Moon Rise"

In a time long ago, there used to be a season in the church year called Advent, a word that finds its meaning in the Latin word for “coming.”  It set aside the first four weeks of the new church year to focus on waiting and anticipating the birth of Jesus Christ.

I had always loved that season, but since a Madison Avenue mentality has so completely insinuated itself into our celebration of Christmas – Advent has fallen on hard times.  It frankly never contributed much to the gross domestic product.  Ask anyone to sing an Advent carol and all you will hear is silence. 

Besides with all the Black Friday and Cyber Monday deals who has time to listen to the stories of ancient prophets who pined for a long-promised Messiah, but didn’t live to see that day.  If you press the point some may push back and say that we already know the rest of the story.  We already live on the other side of Good Friday and Easter.  So – who are we supposed to be waiting for anyway?

But there is still brokenness in this world, and there are twisted hearts that no amount of holiday cheer can fix.  There is a hunger in our souls that no Christmas party or holiday dinner can fill.  The Apostle Paul had it exactly right when he wrote to the Romans in the first century,

We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies.

It is that kind of deep groaning that Advent is meant to assuage.  I like to think of Advent as a season of expectant yearning for the divine banquet that has no end, or the final Advent that is yet to come. 

And while we are waiting there are a lot of things that we could be doing.  Just look around at our world. There is brokenness everywhere.  Maybe while the family is together, the discussion might be centered on what the family could do to make our world better.  There’s time to perhaps open the Heifer International catalog and look for gift ideas.  There is time to set aside a Saturday to go outside and glean a field or two with the Society of St. Andrew and put food on someone’s table this Christmas.  There are lots of things that can be done to help heal this world.

But if nothing else, take some of this Advent time for yourself.  Sit quietly and take the time so that our hearts can hear what God is telling us.  You may want to use the following to open that dialogue:

Stir up your power, Lord Christ, and come.  By your merciful protection awaken us to the threatening dangers of our sins, and keep us blameless until the coming of your new day. Amen.
                                                                     Opening  Prayer, First Sunday of Advent       

"Breezewood", our Garden Beneath the Crest

I have recently discovered that my wife has created a beautiful tour of our Japanese garden on her blog.  The tour is not new, in fact she created it several years ago around the time that we opened it up for a public tour by other volunteers at the JC Raulston Arboretum.  I have been so involved in my own orbit that the visual tour's existence remained undiscovered until recently.  As a way to remedy this oversight I am posting the link to the tour below.

Since our garden has always been a "work in progress" and many things have been added in the intervening years I am confident that there will be an update later this year.  I will not miss that posting.  Here is the link, enjoy -----``

Ilene Holmes: Breezewood, our Garden Beneath the Crest

Let Streams of Living Justice ELW 710

I love Lutheran Hymnody.  It is as close to proclaiming the Word of God, without preaching a sermon that you can get.  This was our opening hymn at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church a couple of weeks ago.  Read the lyrics as you listen to the music.  Actually, it was so emotional for me that I had trouble singing them.  How can anyone not believe this and live accordingly and still call themselves – Christians?

Immigrants in the Eyes of God

For the last several days I have been reading a great little book by Walter Brueggemann, Prayers for a Privileged People.  When I was serving as pastor at Holy Trinity, I used this book many times to center myself and reconnect myself to the will and heart of God.  Today, I re-read one of my favorite prayers from that time.  It is one that has taken on a whole new, deeper meaning in the last several days.  Let me offer it to you this evening:

On Controlling Our Borders

Jesus – crucified and risen – draws us into his presence again,
the one who had nowhere to lay his head, 
no safe place, 
no secure home, 
no passport or visa, 
no certified citizenship. 

We gather around him in our safety, security, and well-being,
and fret about “illegal immigrants."
We fret because they are not like us 
and refuse our language.  
We worry that there are so many of them 
and their crossings do not stop.  
We are unsettled because it is our tax dollars that sustain them 
and provide services.  
We feel the hype about closing borders and heavy fines, 
because we imagine that our life is under threat. 

And yet, as you know very well, 
we, all of us – early or late – 
are immigrants from elsewhere; 
we are glad for cheap labor 
and seasonal workers 
who do tomatoes and apples and oranges 
to our savoring delight.  
And beyond that, 
even while we are beset by fears 
and aware of pragmatic costs, we know very well 
that you are the God who welcomes strangers, 
who loves aliens and protects sojourners.

As always, we feel the tension 
and the slippage between the deep truth of our faith 
and the easier settlements of our society.

We do not ask for an easy way out, 
but for courage and honesty and faithfulness.  
Give us ease in the presence of those unlike us; 
give us generosity amid demands of those in need, 
help us to honor those who trespass
as you forgive our trespasses.

You are the God of all forgiveness. 
By your gracious forgiveness transpose us 
into agents of your will, 
that our habits and inclinations may more closely
follow your majestic lead, 
that our lives may joyously conform 
to your vision of a new world.  

We pray in the name of your holy Son, Jesus.

And I say – Amen.  AMEN.

Sending Prayer

It has been nearly 24 hours and I find myself still strangely moved by the Sending Prayer and Blessing at the end of yesterday’s worship service at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, here in Raleigh.  Maybe it is the fact that it was Martin Luther King’s birthday, maybe it is part of the anxiety and foreboding that I feel about the next four years that our nation faces but I cannot put it down.

Let us imagine, with God, a circle of compassion,
      No one standing outside that circle.
We move ourselves closer to the margins
      So, that the margins themselves will be erased.
We stand there with those whose dignity has been denied.
      We locate ourselves with the poor and the powerless 
      and the voiceless.

At the edges, we join the easily despised and the readily left out.

     We stand with the persecuted 
     so that the persecution will stop.
We place ourselves next to the disposable.
     So that the day will come 
     when we stop throwing people away.
And may the grace of God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit
Bless us in this work.

Thank you God, for giving me this New Year’s resolution reformation.  Let it shape my life, so that through me the lives of others will be transformed this year and all the years of my life.