Our pets – key to creation

by Pam Tinsley

Blessing the family gerbils – Photo courtesy of Epiphany Parish, Seattle, WA

October 4 is the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi, and many churches celebrate by blessing pets. In the spirit of St. Francis, we offer God thanks for the animals that share our homes. Our pets teach us to love other creatures through their love for us.

We also offer our prayers for those whose vocations involve caring for our animals. With their gifts of gentleness, wisdom, and healing, veterinarians and veterinarian techs minister to our injured and ill pets. Certainly, too, they help our animals remain healthy. We offer thanksgiving, too, for dogwalkers and pet sitters who care for our pets, while we are at work or away.

Yet, today, the Feast of St. Francis points beyond the love we have for our pets and how that love helps us to learn to better love one another. Our love for God’s creatures also reminds us of the importance of caring for all of God’s creation on “this fragile earth, our island home” (BCP, p. 370). Unprecedented temperatures along with the proliferation of raging wildfires and violent hurricanes with their impact on human life and wildlife underscore how imperative it is for us to heal our relationship to creation.

When we promise at baptism to strive for justice and peace among all people and to respect the dignity of every human being, we must consider all the created world, as well. As baptized Christians, we are called to be faithful stewards of our planet – to strive to heal the damage that we have done to all of God’s sacred creation.

So, on this year’s Feast of St. Francis, I invite you to consider what you might do to honor, protect, and restore the beauty and integrity of God’s creation – with God’s help?

Cycling toward Beloved Community

by Demi Prentiss

Generosity. Thankfulness. Faithfulness. Forgiveness.

Each is an expression of the heart of God. When we choose to embody these words, we re-member God. Not simply recalling who God is and how God has touched us. We also re-present God to the people and places around us. We offer a spark of the Light within us to a broken and hurting world.

At first glance, these actions seem pretty straightforward:

http://www.pexels.com – Photo by Blanca Gasparoto
  • Generosity means giving.
  • Thankfulness flows from receiving.
  • Faithfulness calls for being steadfast.
  • Forgiveness involves opening – mind, hands, and heart.

Looking deeper, as we commit to practicing each of these God-expressions we cycle through all four:

  • Generosity prompts us to go beyond giving, to receiving the relationship that giving creates, being steadfast in our engagement, and opening ourselves to what comes to life through our generosity – sometimes in the most unexpected places.
  • When we operate out of thankfulness, our gratitude in turn becomes a gift. We’re invited to persevere in an attitude of gratitude, and we’re encouraged to open ourselves to perceive how much we can be thankful for.
  • Our steadfast faithfulness reminds us that we are forgiven as we forgive, that in giving we imitate God’s relentless generosity, and that our very lives represent a hymn of thanks to God the giver of all.
  • As we take the risk of forgiveness, being open and vulnerable, we offer a gift not only to “those who trespass against us”; we liberate ourselves, allowing thankfulness and faithfulness to shape our response to God’s love and grace.

We can enter this virtuous cycle at any point.  We can bring any of these gifts – and all of them, if we choose – to any context we encounter. Our expression of these gifts ripples out from our context to touch others.  And allowing this cycle to shape our lives offers us opportunities to express God’s goodness and participate in God’s Beloved Community.

Practice the presence of God, by joining the cycling adventure!

A pilgrim’s guide

Photo courtesy of Episcopal Peace Fellowship, Palestine Israel Network

by Pam Tinsley

Ghassan is a minister. Ghassan’s ministry is as a travel guide. I met Ghassan in June on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. And, although it might seem fascinating – even exciting – for one’s vocation to be a travel guide in the Holy Land, Ghassan faces innumerable challenges as he lives into his ministry and faith.

You see, Ghassan is an Israeli citizen who lives in Jerusalem. First and foremost, however, Ghassan is a Christian living – and ministering – in a country where Christians make up only 2% of the population. In Israel 74% of the population is Jewish, and almost 18% is Muslim.

Despite prejudice from colleagues and acquaintances because of his faith, Ghassan doesn’t hesitate to profess his belief in Jesus and to model the Good News. As Ghassan guides pilgrims through the Holy Land, his deep love of Christ radiates from his words and actions.

While Ghassan offered historical and political background information throughout the pilgrimage, his true passion – for seeking and serving Christ – was evident as he pointed out the oppression that his neighbor – the Palestinian – lives under. As our bus entered an Israeli settlement outside of Hebron, he pointed out the lush parks, playgrounds, pristine streets, shops, and public transit that the Jewish settlers enjoy. Moments later, he let the stark contrast speak for itself as the bus exited the settlement through the military checkpoint. Refuse was piled along the streets, and the Palestinians’ only source of water is from large plastic barrels atop the buildings, which are filled only weekly. Small boys sought to help support their families by selling trinkets to pilgrims. The sorrow in Ghassan’s voice and in his eyes communicated his respect for the dignity of every human being.

As baptized pilgrims and ministers in the world, we are invited by Jesus to be like Ghassan – to be transformed into Jesus’ hands and feet in the world. Our baptismal promises remind us that we are to open our hearts to the needs of our broken world and then to love and to serve others as Jesus would. And as we walk the path of love that Jesus walked, we show others the ways that we can transform our world into one of hope, healing, and peace.

Editor’s Note: The Episcopal Peace Fellowship’s Palestine Israel Network (PIN) offers summaries of 2022 General Convention action regarding Palestine. PIN’s motto is “Justice is Love in Action.”

Photo courtesy of Episcopal Peace Fellowship, Palestine Israel Network

Walk wet in the world

by Pam Tinsley

“Walk Wet,” Photo by James Frid, Pexels.com

Last month, as six new priests were ordained in the Episcopal Diocese of Olympia, the Bishop reminded the congregation and the ordinands that the foundation of all ministry is in baptism. Whereas priests have a particular ministerial role in the church, the baptized – as lay ministers in the world – are the foundation of all ministry in the church. In daily life lay people bear witness to Christ wherever they may be, whether in the home, in the workplace, in the community, in leisure, or the wider world. In their book, Radical Sending, Demi Prentiss and the late Fletcher Lowe describe being baptized as walking wet in the world.

As we were renewing our baptismal promises, I was given a bowl of water filled from the baptismal font and a cedar branch to cast the holy water on members of the congregation. We all were reminded to remember our baptism – and to remember the baptismal promises that we either make or which are made on our behalf: “Remember your baptism” with all of its solemnity.

And then I realized that the bowl of baptismal water I was carrying had spilled down the front of my alb. I was soaking wet! Soaking wet in the waters of baptism! What a profound reminder that when I was sealed by the Holy Spirit in baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever so many years ago, my baptism became the foundation of all of my ministry. It’s a reminder that I will always savor.

Ordinary time: no more

by Demi Prentiss

Pocket watch by Pixabay; Sundial by Jonathan Meyer; Digital watch by energepic.com  – all from Pexels

I am so done with “ordinary time.”  When I was a child, before the “new” Book of Common Prayer (BCP) was adopted nearly 50 years ago, the long, green “learning” seasons had names: “Epiphany” and “Trinity.” Just like for Christmas and Easter, the time after the feast day was considered a season, an extended time to absorb the mystery and the learning signified by the preceding high holy day, so we might live them every day.

Increasingly, in recent years, we Episcopalians have adopted the Roman Catholic nomenclature of “ordinary time” for the period between the Feast of the Epiphany and Ash Wednesday, and between the Feast of Pentecost and the First Sunday of Advent.  The collects for those Sundays are named for “the [ordinal number] Sunday after the Epiphany [or Pentecost].” And those ordinal numbers (first, second, etc.) are the source of the term “ordinary time.”  In this case, “ordinary” isn’t supposed to imply “not special.”

Back in the old, pre-1978 days, we called those green seasons “the season of Epiphany” and “Whitsuntide / Trinity season.” The green seasons were an important part of both the Incarnation cycle and the Resurrection cycle: the purple season of reflection and preparation (Advent / Lent); the white season of celebration (Christmas / Easter); and the green season of growth and incorporation (Epiphany / Trinity). And for me, most important, the green seasons were all about the laity – seasons where practical theology, ministry, outreach, and formation took the lead over contemplation, self-examination, and specialized clergy-focused liturgies.

For me, calling it “ordinary time” seems to minimize those “lay” seasons. It’s easy to lose the idea that in those seasons, we look to manifest Christ’s presence (Epiphany), and recognize the Trinitarian perichoretic dance that draws all of creation into relationship with the Living God.  “Ordinary time” is an “insider term” – it’s focused on what lectionary readings we’re using, rather than what we’re living into. I’m partial to the idea that every day – even in ordinary time – can bring an epiphany, if we’re willing to see God at work everywhere in the world.  I’m convinced that we’re empowered every day – even in ordinary time – by God’s Pentecostal power, so that we can partner with the Holy Spirit’s work in our daily lives. Everyday faith, for people who live in relationship with an extraordinary God. No more “ordinary time.”

Living in liminal time

In Memoriam: A Wayne Schwab, 1928-2022

by Demi Prentiss

Here we are, caught in the liminal time between Ascension Day and Pentecost. Suspended in the “not yet,” unclear and unaware of the power in the “already.”  Jesus’ departure from the disciples opens the door for the work of the Spirit, already living and active among them.

We’ve moved to our new town, and haven’t yet made new friends. We have the diploma, and have not yet landed the job. We know we’re pregnant, and have not yet become a parent. We have the diagnosis, and have not yet heard a plan of treatment. We have the facts, and we don’t yet know what to do with them. As Rachel Hosmer and Alan Jones remind us in Living in the Spirit,  “God, the Holy Spirit, is always beyond us, on the move, creating and sustaining all things. The Holy Spirit is the Go-Between-God, a God who works anonymously and on the inside, as the beyond in our midst.”

The Rev. Anthony Wayne Schwab

In many ways, my friend Wayne Schwab lived his ministry standing on the threshold of “already” and “not yet.” Passionate about evangelism and passionate about the power from on high bestowed in baptism, Wayne worked to liberate the people of God to accept the “already” – the gift of “God with us.” And at the same time, he labored to persuade God’s people to live intentionally into the “not yet” – the fullness of God’s reign, being born in the world about us.

“The members are the missionaries,” he declared, inviting all to embark on the mission of living God’s Good News in every aspect of daily life. He sometimes seemed bewildered that good Episcopalians often seemed unable to grasp the idea, that we are all participating in God’s plan – and there is no Plan B. No matter where we find ourselves, we are salt and light and leaven – even if we’re unaware of our power.

My friend Wayne died May 19, having served nearly 67 years as an Episcopal priest. His passion for peace and justice, especially as realized through the ministry of all the baptized, was the unifying cord that wove through his entire life. Just this year his beloved Virginia Theological Seminary published his latest book How to Live Your Faith – Missional Members Work for a More Loving and More Just World With God’s Help. His many accomplishments are hinted at in his online obituary. His family will celebrate his life and remember his legacy on Aug. 13, 2022 in Hinesburg, VT. Partners for Baptismal Living (PBL) – the source of this ongoing blog – is one of Wayne’s contributions to the church. As we stand in this liminal, uncertain time – in the church and in the wider world – may we live into the role Wayne urged us all to play – bearers of God’s Good News, committed to increase love and justice in the world.

Cultivating holy ground

by Pam Tinsley

“Plant your garden. No matter what, plant your garden” were the wise words that Bob, a devoted father, offered his son as Bob lay dying in the early spring. The son understood Bob’s words literally. After all, his dad was an avid gardener who never failed to plant his garden every spring.

Yet, I think Bob’s words have a deeper spiritual meaning, and the garden that he had planted, tended, and nurtured was the garden of friends and family – of relationships – in his life. Wherever he was – whether at church or at the store or a restaurant – Bob greeted everyone he met as though they were an old friend. He reached out and made connections, so that each relationship grew like a seedling.

Bob’s life was grounded in Christ. He truly living out his baptismal promises by seeking and serving Christ in all persons and loving his neighbor as himself. As a state patrol officer, he served his wider community. As a friend, parent, husband, and parishioner, he served others – always planting and tending his garden as Jesus would, sowing Jesus’ way of love.

I’m struck by how we all can apply Bob’s wisdom to our own gardens. We can enrich the soil with the apostles’ teaching and faithful prayer and Eucharist. We plant our seeds of our relationships with love, and nurture them with respect and by seeking Jesus’ goodness and guidance. As our gardens blossom and flourish, we then share the good fruits with one another. And it all begins with that first step of planting our gardens!

Where can you see Christ Risen?

by Demi Prentiss

Pexels – Anton Antonasov

Lent, Holy Week, Easter Day – the journey through the Resurrection cycle of the Christian year has brought us to the Great 50 Days. We walk through the time between Easter and Pentecost remembering the stories of the Risen Christ appearing to disciples who were shocked and amazed by his presence.

Nearly 2000 years after those appearances, many of us are still shocked and amazed to recognize the Christ present in our world. Just like the disciples on the Emmaus road, just like Peter and his friends eating breakfast on the beach, we can miss the true identity of that compelling presence, until we suddenly see it. The moments when we become aware that Christ is among us point us directly to the calling Christ has placed on our lives.

Aaric Eisenstein, who calls himself “The Avian Rebbe,” describes his work as “teach[ing] Jewish wisdom seen in the beauty of birds.” Recognizing that the value of everyday work is not always immediately apparent, the Rebbe commented:

The Hebrew word Avodah is an enormously rich tool with multiple meanings. This word is used in the Bible to describe the Hebrew slaves toiling in Egypt. Avodah can mean prayer or worship. Its meaning can be as simple as “work” or “vocation.” And there is a sublime interpretation, which reclaims the “servitude” in Egypt and instead speaks of devotion to HaShem and our community. All of these are valid interpretations, each one – though wildly different in detail – sharing the commonality of “service.” Avodah means to labor on behalf of another, sometimes horrifically – think the slaves in Egypt – sometimes beautifully – think the joyful way we serve God and those around us.

Evaluating work, our own or others’, how do we think of it? …. Avodah, a single word which incorporates meanings from slavery to most worshipful service, is no coincidence. The work we do – the service we offer – is defined by us, not others. It is ennobled by the way we do it and the underlying intention.

Living into our calling often begins with the surprising awareness of what God is up to, and then contributing our own avodah. The work of living into the fullness of a life patterned after Christ may begin with the surprise of Easter; as we learn to perceive Christ’s immediate presence, it can become a lifelong path of daily steps along the Way of Love

Remember your baptism!

by Pam Tinsley

After over two empty years – thanks to the pandemic – at Saturday’s Great Vigil of Easter we had the joy of gathering around the baptismal font as it was filled with water! By the Paschal candle’s light, we prayed with keen anticipation as the waters of new life in Christ flowed and were blessed. And although we’ve renewed our baptismal promises several other times since the pandemic’s inception, this renewal was clearly different. We renewed our baptismal vows with fervor, kindled by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Flickr – Lars Hammar – Baptismal Font

With God’s help, we proclaimed our promises to

  • continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers;
  • persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord;
  • proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ;
  • seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself; and
  • strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human
    being.

Then, as the priest showered us with holy water from the font, we were reminded: “Remember your baptism! Remember your baptism!”

We might think, for a moment, that the renewal of baptismal vows ends there. However, this renewal offers us a new beginning. After being fed and strengthened at the Lord’s table, our renewed baptismal promises prepare us to go forth into the world, dripping wet, as bearers of Christ’s light and love, rejoicing in the power of the Spirit! Alleluia! Alleluia!

Remember YOUR baptism!

Living the Last Words

by Demi Prentiss

We’re about to enter Holy Week, an opportunity to feel the power and the poignancy of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus the Christ. We can choose to walk through those eight days as a memorial, a tradition, a liturgical banquet, a personal sacrifice. For me, this Lent, I’m drawn to reflect deeply on how each day’s drama is challenging me to live differently, starting now. How might my daily life be transformed?

My prayer is for God to change my heart. This song, “Last Words” by Karl Kohlhase has offered me a framework to press into opening my heart more fully. It calls me to see the habits I must let go to allow my heart to be – every day – more tender, trusting, thankful, holy, loving, perfect, and faithful.

May you listen and be challenged as I have been:

"Father, forgive them, they know not what they do,”
I hear you pray for those who torture you.
These are the words that tear my grudges all apart.
Create in me a tender heart.
 
You turn your head to address a dying thief.
“Today you’ll be in paradise with me.”
These are the words where every hopeless soul must start.
Create in me a trusting heart.
 
Your darkest hour you cried out from the tree,
“My god, my god, why have you forsaken me?”
These words of anguish pierce me through just like a dart.
Create in me a thankful heart.
 
Then unto Mary, “Woman behold your son,
Behold your mother,” your dying words to John.
These words begin a family of which I’m part.
Create in me a holy heart.
 
You said, “I thirst,” yet it was not for wine.
You thirst for love from desert souls like mine.
And with these words a flowing river you impart.
Create in me a loving heart.
 
Then “It is finished!” Your work on earth was done.
For in three days your battle would be won.
These are the words with which you crown your works of art.
Create in me a perfect heart.
 
“Into your hands, Father, I commend my breath.”
Your final prayer as you close your eyes in death.
And with these words one day I’ll fly to where you are.
Create in me, create in me, create in me a faithful heart.
                                                   “Last Words” by Karl Kohlhase