Need inspiration? Watch & listen to Bishop Curry's sermon at General Convention

Ok ok, maybe I will go to General Convention someday, if I could hear and see this kind of preaching!



The Rt. Rev. Michael Curry preaches at the 77th General Convention of the Episcopal Church from The Episcopal Church on Vimeo.

The Masai Creed, Jaroslav Pelikan's favorite

I was listening to a Speaking of Faith interview with the late scholar, Jaroslav Pelikan on "The Need for Creeds," and was reminded just how wonderful he was, and just how wonderful this interview is as well. If you might have followed some of the blog-land discussion of creeds and such after the Presiding Bishop offered her comments on the strengths and pitfalls of creeds, you might really enjoy this interview. It is archived at NPR.org and you can click HERE to listen, or read the transcript.

One of the best parts of the piece is when Dr. Pelikan discusses his favorite creed of the several hundred that he and a team of scholars found and analyzed for a book on creeds.

Here are his words, describing the creed of the Masai people from the 1960s:

"Among all the hundreds of creeds and confessions in our collection, my favorite illustration of such acculturation is The Masai Creed from East Africa in the 1960s:

We believe in the one High God, who out of love created the beautiful world and everything good in it. He created man and wanted man to be happy in the world. God loves the world and every nation and tribe on the earth. We have known this High God in the darkness, and now we know him in the light. God promised in the book of his word, the Bible, that he would save the world and all the nations and tribes.

We believe that God made good his promise by sending his Son, Jesus Christ, a man in the flesh, a Jew by tribe, born poor in a little village, who left his home and was always on safari, doing good, curing people by the power of God, teaching about God and man, showing that the meaning of religion is love. He was rejected by his people, tortured and nailed hands and feet to a cross and died. He lay buried in the grave, but they hyenas did not touch him, and on the third day, he rose from the grave. He ascended to the skies. He is the Lord.

We believe that all our sins are forgiven through him. All who have faith in him must be sorry for their sins, be baptized in the Holy Spirit of God, live the rules of love, and share the bread together in love, to announce the good news to others until Jesus comes again. We are waiting for him. He is alive. He lives. This we believe. Amen."

Johnny Cash singing Depeche Mode's "Personal Jesus" - a (country) western heresy

I don't know if this song will be sung in Anaheim (since it may be heresy) ;)

But it is pretty good, check it out!

"reach out and touch face"

~The Rev. Peter M. Carey



tip of the hat to Rev. Stu Shelby, reminding me of the song...!

NPR/PBS's Ray Suarez (a faithful Episcopalian) preaches at General Convention - sermon via wordle

NPR/PBS's Ray Suarez (a faithful Episcopalian) preaches at General Convention - sermon via wordle

Here is an "image" of his sermon created using "wordle" which you can find (and have fun with) over at www.wordle.net!


~The Rev. Peter M. Carey

created by Peter Carey using www.wordle.net

...and here is a bit of the text of Ray Suarez's sermon...(read it all HERE)

76th General Convention of the Episcopal Church
July 13, 2009
Ray Suarez

It is a joy to be asked to speak to this gathering of my brothers and sisters from all across the country and the world. I left a reporting trip in Tanzania to come here in full confidence that these invitations don’t come every day. It’s a privilege to speak to you on this day when we remember Benedict’s radical welcome to all who come from what the old prayer book called “the blessed company of all faithful people.” With outstretched arms we take a big, broad, view of what that beautiful phrase means… “the blessed company of all faithful people.” That includes our partners and friends from other branches of the family who are with us today. At this point in the life of the Episcopal Church, some of us, and some of the parishes we call home, may not be feeling they are in a blessed company right now, and forced to think about what welcome means, who is included in welcome. It is a tough time, even if your attendance is good, your pledges are strong… even if you have more baptisms than burials in an average year… we are forced to fight the battles, forced to live out the arguments that history conspired to make converge right now, in our day, in our time. Benedict had some plain-spoken advice for this gathering: “Let the house of God be wisely managed by the wise.” I’ll let you decide if you are in the wise. None of us in this room could have chosen, could have elected to be born, grow up, or be called to serve at another time. We have no choice but to play history’s hand… So we are struggling, perhaps in our buttoned-down, Anglican way, to figure out what to be in the 21st century, to keep the lights on, the altar set, and wait for people who left after the storms got bad, and trying to bring others in through the door for the first time and say welcome, you are home… while still very much having to be a place of coherence, love, service, for the people who’ve never left.

We don’t give you a spiritual means test when you come to the front door before we let you in. Instead, we say as Jesus did, “Come, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.”

There are people lampoon us, wish us ill, use us as a punchline for lame jokes based on some very old stereotypes, and frankly, from material that wasn’t all that funny to begin with. But at least those old jokes, poking fun at imaginary church of WASP matrons, using ‘summer’ as a verb, country clubs, white shoe law firms, and pedigree - those old jokes had some measure of affection in them. These days the jokes contain more derision, condescension, and harsh judgment born of ignorance. Recently I was reading the religion blog in the Washington Post and one essayist, John Mark Reynolds, wrote: Do you know what you get when you cross an Episcopalian with a Southern Baptist? I didn’t know, so I kept on reading. You get someone who comes to your door and rings your bell, but once you open it has no idea what to say.

No idea what to say? Really?

I could swear I was in church at 7 am on Ash Wednesday morning, heard our challenging lectionary, was called out, forced to confront myself by a strong sermon, and then called to be holy by our penitential rite. I thought we had a lot to say, and when I picked my head up to look around there was a big crowd of witnesses sharing that sobering moment with me.

Nothing to say?

When my son and daughter and the youth of our parish head out year after year to the storm-ravaged Gulf Coast, and to the Lakota Sioux lands in North Dakota, and to our sister parish in Honduras… they worked hard, very hard… and began and ended every day with worship. Like so many of our youth, they have plenty to say, “Not only with their lips but with their lives.” Or, as Benedict himself might say, ora et labora, pray and work.

Read the rest HERE at Episcopal Cafe

Text and Wordle of the Archbishop of Canterbury's meditation today at General Convention

image created by Peter Carey using "wordle" at www.wordle.net

Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams

The 76th General Convention of The Episcopal Church
July 9, 2009

Meditation

One thing you learn very quickly as Archbishop of Canterbury is that everything you say is scrutinised and interpreted and picked over for hidden meanings and agendas. Something tells me today will be no exception…

But because I don’t actually like coded messages or hidden agendas, and because I believe they’re an aspect of a whole rather unhealthy culture of suspicion – not to mention conspiracy theories - I’m going to begin by saying two things as simply and directly as I can, so that we can get on to the more important matter of reflecting together on the Scripture passages we have been given in this Eucharist.

The first thing is to say thank you. Thank you for the invitation to join you on this occasion and to share something of my mind with you; and so thank you too for your continuing willingness to engage with the wider life of our Communion. I do realise that this engagement has been and still is costly for different people in different ways: some feel impatient, some feel compromised, some feel harassed or undervalued, or that their good faith has been ungraciously received. I’m sorry; this has been hard and will not get much easier, I suspect. But it is something for which many of us genuinely are grateful to you and to God.

And it’s related to the second thing I want to say. Of course I am coming here with hopes and anxieties – you know that and I shan’t deny it. Along with many in the Communion, I hope and pray that there won’t be decisions in the coming days that could push us further apart. But if people elsewhere in the Communion are concerned about this, it’s because of a profound sense of what the Episcopal Church has given and can give to our fellowship worldwide. If we - if I – had felt that we could do perfectly well with out you, there wouldn’t be a problem. But the bonds of relationship are deep, for me personally as for many others. And I’m tempted to adapt what St Paul says to the Corinthians in the middle of a set of tensions no less bitter than what we have been living through and in the wake of challenges from St Paul a good deal more savage than even the sharpest words from Primates or Councils: ‘Why? Because we do not love you? God knows we do.’

Well: to business. Our readings put before us a vision of Christ’s Church that is both simple and alarming. We have been called and chosen. It is not that we have ourselves chosen Jesus, and it is certainly not that we have earned the right to be chosen by him (because we’re so orthodox or so open or so faithful or so creative or whatever). We have simply been spoken to by Christ and our fellowship has been created by his word to us. What is more, that word makes us his friends; and as his friends we share some understanding of what he is doing because he has allowed us to overhear his eternal conversation of love with the one he calls ‘Abba, Father.’

So we’re ‘holy’, a holy people, a holy nation, because we have been brought within earshot of that eternal conversation, that immeasurable intimacy. We know that this is Jesus’ business – living in an intimacy with the Father that opens him up to the needs of creation, so that the eternal conversation overflows and transforms an entire world. As John’s gospel tells us time and again, we come to be where Jesus is; and that is our holiness. Not what we have achieved, what we have held on to, what we can trade for rewards from God, but simply the fact of being in the Holy place that is Jesus at prayer. The intimacy of the Source and the Word becomes intimate to and in us. And we turn to the world so that our humanity, newly transparent to God the Trinity, can itself become a word, a transforming message and gift – a humanity living in mutual generosity, intimacy with each other and delight in each other, like the delight and intimacy that exists for ever in heaven.

This is what we are here for as a Church. Our life as church declares to the world that God’s longing is for a humanity like this, a humanity broken open for intimacy. Broken open: because there is a cost in the creation of the humanity that God longs for. At the very beginning of all things, and at the very beginning of the story of God’s people, the word of God speaks into a dark emptiness and brings life and light. By sheer divine freedom, God brings light, makes a humanity where there was no humanity, a community where there was no community. And God makes us able to receive his mercy where once we could not even understand that we needed it. In a word, we have been called from nothingness; but this means that we still stand over that abyss of emptiness – an inner void that only the Word of God can hold and fill and make to be something that is real and living. Sin is our constant temptation to slip back into nothingness, into unreality – the void of our own individual desires and agendas, the void of a self that deludes itself into the belief that it is really there on its own, independent of God and of others.

So when God in Jesus Christ restores humanity to its proper place in God’s heart, Jesus has to face full-on the strange power of nothingness, the power of the terrors and dreams that are generated out of the self in its urgent attempts to keep itself alive by its own strength. Jesus dies because we don’t want to die – to die to our fantasies and self-centred plans and dreams. To follow him is to risk stepping into life by recognising that something in us must die – so that everlasting and true life may live.

The Church is a place where indestructible life is made manifest: it “presents and represents in its corporate life creation restored in celebration of the Word of God” – words from one your own prophets, the greatest Episcopalian theologian and perhaps the greatest American theologian of the twentieth century, William Stringfellow; not the least of the gifts which the Episcopal Church has given the rest of us. Stringfellow is writing about the calling of the Church to be a ‘holy nation’ - a community that is free from every kind of local and uncritical loyalty so as to show the world what an institution looks like when it lives by the self-communication of God. And above all, he says, it is an institution which looks death in the face and declares it to be overcome.

Our contemporary world is still very recognisably the world that Stringfellow wrote about in the seventies and eighties, a world in which death and nothingness have what looks like a powerful advantage. We collude with the death of the poor, with the almost unimaginable ravages of HIV/AIDS in Africa, with the ruination of small economies in the strange adventures of the global market, with the impending extinction of the possibility of human existence in some parts of the world by rising water levels. In the last nine months, we have learned, with more surprise that we should have felt, how our financial affairs are based on a passionate quest for “growth” that has increasingly led us to make profit out of literally – nothingness, out of empty words and manufactured figures. The poisonous effect of death and nothingness can be seen in a reeling international economy and a fearful bewilderment about our human future, not only financially but materially, as inhabitants of a planet in which limitless material growth is impossible. And in this world, the Church is there to name death and to promise life – the life that comes in relationship, not selfish speculation or protective barriers against the poor, but relation with God through Jesus Christ and with each other, relation that is grounded in our knowledge of the will of God for the wealth and welfare of God’s creation.

To be holy is to be a witness for life in the face of these and many other forms of death. But Stringfellow adds another dimension to this. We have to face and acknowledge death in ourselves – not just death at work in the world in general, not death at work in other believers that we disapprove of, but the fact that we like all other believers we disapprove of, but the fact that we like all other believers are where we are and what we are because we have called from nothingness and still experience the drawing of death and emptiness in our own depths. Because of this, we proclaim the victory of life through our corporate confession and repentance: Stringfellow says ‘if want to know what you can do to justify yourself, the biblical response is: You must give up trying to justify yourself and confess your utter helplessness in the face of the power of death….The repentance at issue is such that it apprehends the empirical risk of death or of abandonment; that is, the risk that there is no Word of God to identify you and give you your name. Without that gift of your name, you do not exist; you are dead or, as they say, as good as dead.’

Life is proclaimed not in our achievement, our splendid record of witness to God, but in our admission of helplessness and of the continuing presence and lure of death in our lives. To be able to speak of this, and not to retreat in fear or throw up defences is part of true life; it is to know that our name is spoken by the Word of God and that we do not have to battle in resentment and anxiety to create an identity of our own. It is already there: we are already called friends. we are already bound to each other, and our life is invested in each other, in those we see and those we don’t, those we like and those we don’t. We are in the holy place with Jesus, a holy nation, a royal priesthood.

Here at the Eucharist we state who we are and where and why. We give voice to our hunger and helplessness; we name death, in us and around us; we give thanks that we are called from emptiness to life, and our own true names are spoken by the Word. May this gathering be a sign of life in the face of death, a declaration of who we are in Jesus and with one another, in the heart of God the Holy Trinity: chosen friends who, miraculously, know something of that God’s longing for what has been made.

wordle

photo credit to Frank Logue at "Irenic Thoughts"

Ubuntu and Reconciliation - quote from Nelson Mandela on enemies

To make peace with an enemy one must work with that enemy, and that enemy becomes one’s partner.

- Nelson Mandela

I wonder if we could do a little more of this in our Anglican Communion...?
...and at our next General Convention?

Mulling it over: Reconciliation in Communion initiative from the good people at "Covenant"

I am currently mulling over the "Word to the 76th General Convention of the Episcopal Church" written by the good people at "Covenant" Blog. I have posted the executive summary below, but do make sure to click HERE to read the entire piece. On first look, I can affirm the vast majority of the statements, and am interested in some dialogue about some others, but I applaud this effort and hope that good can come from this good work. Kudos to Covenant!!!

~The Rev. Peter M. Carey

From "Covenant-Communion" blog

Reconciliation in Communion

A Word to the 76th General Convention of the Episcopal Church

An Executive Summary of “Reconciliation in Communion”

NB: The full text of “Reconciliation in Communion” may be found below and online at http://www.covenant-communion.net

• Evangelism is central to the life of the Church’s mission.
• Our Baptismal Covenant calls us to live lives leading to holiness, justice, and peace.
• The rite of Holy Baptism in the 1979 Book of Common Prayer contains no theology unique to the Episcopal Church.
• Baptism before Communion is the best way to be faithful to our Baptismal Covenant as we engage in evangelism, and reflects an ecumenical consensus we cannot ignore.
• The Episcopal Church’s full communion with the See of Canterbury and its full and active participation in the other Instruments of Communion, as well as in the life of the whole Anglican Communion, are essential elements of our identity.
• The actions already taken by General Convention that demonstrate the Episcopal Church’s good faith intention to remain in full communion with the Anglican Communion are to be affirmed.
• Schism undermines the Gospel; what divides the Church is not of Christ.
• Unilateral actions undermine justice, even when such actions are intended to establish it.
• The Anglican Covenant is the only viable path at present for maintaining communion and should be adopted by the Episcopal Church.
• General Convention should not speak with one voice on public policy or other issues when that voice is merely that of the majority, and not reflective of genuine consensus.
• General Convention needs to keep in mind that schism among Anglicans damages the witness of all involved, and thus should focus on building mutual respect leading to reconciliation.
• Youth and young adults are necessary to the growth of the church and should be a top priority over the next Triennium.
• Bishops and other leaders need to pursue constructive and charitable relationships with those who are currently estranged from the Episcopal Church, particularly since we must be mindful of the legacy we will pass on to the next generation.
• Making a commitment to remaining lovingly engaged in worship and service with all members of this church, even amid our conflicts, is an essential feature of what it means to love each other as Christ loves us.

Read the entire piece (HERE), and post a response on the Covenant blog on your thoughts!