by EDOW | Nov 12, 2020
I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!
Psalm 27:13-14 (NRSV)
Stress became an ever-increasing dynamic in my life at the onset of the coronavirus pandemic. Some semblance of relief was my fervent prayer, so I found myself constantly trying to live my faith in new ways, albeit without any familiarity of the emotional and spiritual terrain in which I found myself.
Everything about coronavirus was virtually unknown except the viciousness with which it devastated our lives, hurling our levels of grief and loss to all time highs. Work life, personal life, and family life all seemed to blur together with a total disregard for healthy boundaries and balance. A colleague shared a Facebook posting which restated an old familiar mnemonic to remember the number of days in each month… “Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November. All the rest have thirty-one, except March which has 8,000!” I agreed, for my life had become one extended period of hours leading to the next extended period of hours leading to whatever came next.
To my dismay, what came next was an onslaught of racial injustice that ripped the country apart in ways that had not been experienced since the Civil Rights Movement in the 1960s. As an African-American man, I felt anxious and afraid that I lived in a country that was actively killing people who looked like me. I remember rerouting my daily walks through predominately white residential neighborhoods to busy thoroughfares in an attempt to avoid any confusion that I may have been staking out their house for a future violent intrusion. The days continued to blur together, but now with an energy that was even more disturbing than before.
In the midst of it all, I strived for a rhythm that would enable me to navigate through the emotional volatility of the current time. I “ZOOMED” with friends. I exercised regularly. I continued my spiritual practices of reading scripture, prayer, and meditation.
I tried everything and allowed myself to fall into a false sense of security, thinking that I was surely closer to a space of mental health than I was before all this madness started.
But then the 2020 election season kicked into high gear, bringing with it a madness and chaos that further exacerbated all of the happenings of the previous eight months. I didn’t think the emotional terrain could get any more treacherous, but it did. And all I could do was to wait for some semblance of a breakthrough, for better or worse.
I was stressed out! But I also knew that claiming my emotional state would not be enough to shift my emotional state.
So, I reflected upon the reality that situations, in and of themselves, are not stressful. What makes a situation stressful is your assessment of your ability to handle the situation. Well, my assessment of my ability to handle the madness of the current time was fair, at best. Sure, I had been in many situations in the past in which I had to multitask very difficult and seemingly impossible situations, but currently, I found myself in a space in which past tools for stress relief just didn’t seem to do the trick. Past tools helped, but there was something missing and I was at a loss to identify it.
Truth be told, all of the current happenings had a personal common denominator–racial injustice and inequity. My keen sense of the obvious kicked in and I realized that I had not been specific enough in identifying my core emotion…anger.
I remembered that anger is a manifestation of two emotions; greatest fear and deepest hurt.
As an African-American man, one of my greatest fears is that I will be totally devalued. That fear is connected to my deepest hurt, which is living in a nation that endorses such a fear solely based upon the color of my skin.
When I identified what I was feeling, my next step was to identify what I needed. I needed encouragement. Encouragement that affirmed me as a child of God made in God’s image. Encouragement that affirmed me as a product of my family that worked diligently to equip my younger brother and me with an excellent education which opened doors of opportunity that had been closed to them. And encouragement that affirmed me as a sojourner in faith connected to a God who has consistently looked beyond my faults and seen my need.
Intentionally waiting for both personal and spiritual revelation is a game in life that can relieve your stress by stretching your being. So in the midst of this stress-inducing season, I invite you to be encouraged by the Psalmist who affirms,
I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!
Amen.
The Rev. Dr. Robert Phillips
Canon for Leadership Development and Congregational Care
by Bishop Mariann | Nov 12, 2020
This announcement was sent to parish clergy, wardens, and parish administrators on November 12.
Dear EDOW Friends,
Grace to you and peace in these November days. I pray for your well-being as we all closely monitor the rise on COVID-19 cases in our region. Like you, I long for the day when the pandemic is behind us, and pray that God will provide us all the grace and strength we need.
Regarding new restrictions on worship and congregational life, for now it seems best to follow the directives of our local public health officials and civic leaders. As of today, none of the jurisdictions within the Diocese of Washington have prohibited in-person worship. That may change, but until it does you may continue to offer in-person worship, provided that your regathering plan is approved and falls within the most recent restrictions in your jurisdiction.
You are under no obligation to offer in-person worship, and some may choose to suspend in-person worship as an added safety measure. That is your prerogative. We are seeing a wide range of responses among our congregations. Given our diversity, that comes as no surprise.
I wish that we could spare one another the burden of this pandemic, but for now we all must persevere. May God bless and keep us all. Please don’t hesitate to contact Bishop Chilton, Canon Paula or Canon Andrew, the members of the diocesan regathering committee, with questions or concerns.
Faithfully,
Bishop Mariann
by Bishop Mariann | Nov 8, 2020
Bishop Mariann preached this sermon at St. Stephen and the Incarnation, DC, on November 8, 2020.
Jesus said, “Then the kingdom of heaven will be like this. Ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish, and five were wise. When the foolish took their lamps, they took no oil with them; but the wise took flasks of oil with their lamps. As the bridegroom was delayed, all of them became drowsy and slept. But at midnight there was a shout, ‘Look! Here is the bridegroom! Come out to meet him.’ Then all those bridesmaids got up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil, for our lamps are going out.’ But the wise replied, ‘No! there will not be enough for you and for us; you had better go to the dealers and buy some for yourselves.’ And while they went to buy it, the bridegroom came, and those who were ready went with him into the wedding banquet; and the door was shut. Later the other bridesmaids came also, saying, ‘Lord, lord, open to us.’ But he replied, ‘Truly I tell you, I do not know you.’ Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour.”
Matthew 25:1-13
I’m grateful for the opportunity to worship with you. St. Stephen’s. I’ve spent considerable time with your leaders in recent months and many of you joined the vestry conversations as you discern your forward as a faith community. It’s a gift to place that discerning work–which is not always easy–in the context of prayer and our common desire to draw closer to Christ and embody his love for the world. Thanks to Father Sam and all SSI leaders for all that you’re doing to guide the people of your community through this strange and stressful time. You are in my daily prayers; you are close to my heart.
St. Stephen’s and the Incarnation is as close to a mission congregation as we have in the diocese of Washington, for a number of reasons, most notably the financial partnership between the Diocese and the congregation, and the fact that for many years the congregation has chosen not to have a rector as priest. I know that the vestry’s decision this year to begin the journey to that normative leadership structure has been a controversial one for a variety of legitimate reasons, and true to SSI, there are strong opinions on how best to proceed, or not proceed with that decision, particularly in light of how the pandemic has placed so many challenges on all of us. I understand that. My hope is that, in time, there will be sufficient consensus among the leadership–and the congregation as a whole–to walk together toward a common future.
I mention all of this because it occurred to me as I was reflecting on where we are as a nation in the waiting period for the outcome of our national election, that there are parallels between what we’re experiencing as a society and how we relate to one another in faith communities and in our households and families.
I was tasked with preaching from Washington National Cathedral the day after the election. The theme for the service had already been set. It was to be a Service for Healing, Unity and Hope–all good post-election day things to talk about. But what on earth did those words–Healing, Unity and Hope–mean given what we’ve learned and are learning about ourselves and our leaders this week?
This I know, from personal experience, about the healing process: if your body sustains a deep wound, and a scab or thin layer of skin forms on the surface, it can look as if healing is taking place. But if the connective tissue underneath the skin doesn’t come together in its own process, that part of the wound can get infected and grow worse. Though the deeper wound is hidden for a time underneath the scab or skin, it’s not healing at all. So as we pray for healing in our nation, we do well to remember that there is little to be gained and, in fact, much harm to be done if we tend too quickly to the surface of things while ignoring the wounds underneath. The same is true for you as a congregation.
This is what I know about unity: that it often comes at the expense of those whose inclusion is too costly for the dominant group. This is as true on the playground and in family relationships as it is in the wider society. Then that exclusion is often forgotten by those who have settled for what the prophet Isaiah called “peace when there is no peace.”
We don’t have to look far for examples from our history. After the Civil War and the political whiplash of a white supremacist becoming president after the assassination of presdient Lincoln followed by a president committed to Reconstruction of the South and real liberties for those formerly enslaved, followed by a series of leaders in the South committed to dismantling all the gains blacks had made and Northerners more than happy to look the other way, there was a constant drumbeat for national unity between North and South. Monuments all over the country were erected, stained glass windows in Washington National Cathedral installed, all in the service of unity between whites. We know who was excluded from that unity, from the ideals of democracy and liberty and justice for all. Some of the most shameful events of our history–many of which were suppressed from our collective memory–come from that time, and from the impulse for unity along racial lines. So as we pray for unity, may we remember that the kind of unity worthy of the Kingdom of God and represented in the mosaic of this nation is not one that will come by exclusion, but with the hard work of reconciling.
Reconciliation and inclusion doesn’t mean that everybody gets what they want. In fact the kind of reconciliation and inclusion that Jesus points us toward is rooted in sacrificial love and a genuine desire for what is best, even if it’s not what any one of us personally desire. The older we are, the more this is true–our task as elders is to make space, make a place for those coming up behind us, listening hard to their concerns, their needs. Unity is rooted in love.
Finally, this I know about hope. It isn’t something we need to manufacture. It is God’s gift. Hope ofen rises from despair. It can stir our hearts even when we have reason to give up. I wish I could tell you how this happens; I only know that it does. Hope resists platitudes or wishful thinking. It allows for grief and all its manifestations. It never chastises us for being exhausted and worried. It doesn’t ask us to pretend that everything is going to be okay when we don’t know if that’s true, at least in the short term.
But what hope does is help us rise again, not from our strength, but from the strength that comes to us from the deepest wells of the human spirit, where God’s divine spirit meets us.
Now there is a cost to this hope, and we do have to choose it, because it refuses to deny the reality of suffering. You may have heard a refrain from St. Paul on the importance of suffering. He writes that we need to embrace suffering, for suffering is what produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope–and this hope does not disappoint because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. (Romans. 5:1-5) The source of our hope is the amazing love of God.
So how are we to live? Jesus told a parable about wise and foolish bridesmaids, the difference between wisdom and foolishness being preparation, foresight, living now with a vision for what may be needed later on. Attentiveness. Mindfulness–how we could use that now.
In one of the chapters of PB’s new book, Love is the Way: Holding onto Hope in Troubling Times, wonderfully entitled, “What Dolly Parton and Desmond Tutu Have in Common,” Curry also reminds us of the power of dreams, and how living by our our dreams requires strength perseverance whenever we bump up against the crucible steel hardships of life. As an example of what that strength and perseverance looks like, he cites what was known in the Civil Rights Movement as the “Ten Commandments of Nonviolence.” They were part of the training Dr. King and others required of all those taking part in “the movement”–the nonviolent movement for the freedom they all longed for.
- Meditate daily on the teachings and life of Jesus.
- Remember always that the non-violent movement seeks justice and reconciliation–not victory.
- Walk and talk in the manner of love, for God is love.
- Pray daily to be used by God in order that all might be free.
- Sacrifice personal wishes in order that all might be free.
- Observe with both friend and foe the ordinary rules of courtesy.
- Seek to perform regular service for others and for the world.
- Refrain from the violence of fist, tongue, or heart.
- Strive to be in good spiritual and bodily health.1
What would the world look like if even a percentage of Christians committed to these things now? What would Washington, DC look like? What would the Diocese of Washington look like? What would St. Stephen’s and the Incarnation look like? What would my family and yours look like?
When we do these things–always imperfectly, for we are not perfect–we become more like Jesus. We sound more like Jesus. And some of his light shines through us. No matter what happens, what lies in store, surely that would be a wonderful thing–our offering of love and justice for those around us.
~~~
1 Michael Curry, Love is the Way: Holding onto Hope in Troubling Times (New York: Avery Books, 2020), pp. 92-94.
by Bishop Mariann | Nov 7, 2020
A statement from The Right Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde, bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington, and the Very Rev. Randolph Marshall Hollerith, dean of Washington National Cathedral:
The votes have been cast, the vast majority have been counted and the people of America have spoken. It now appears clear that Joe Biden will become the nation’s 46th president, and we will begin anew the work of repairing the frayed fabric of our common life.
To President-elect Biden and Vice President-elect Harris, we offer our prayers for wisdom, grace and the certain knowledge of God’s presence in the difficult work ahead. To President Trump and Vice President Pence, we give our thanks for their service to our nation, and prayers for God’s guidance as they lay down the powers of their office.
That we are a bruised and divided nation is not news. Yet only together can we meet the enormous challenges before us. All Americans, and particularly our leaders, must put the healing of the nation above partisan loyalties.
As Christians, we believe that we are not alone in this endeavor. St. Paul reminds us that we will see God among us when we exhibit what he called the evidence of the Holy Spirit: “Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23)
As Americans, as we encounter those who may have cast different ballots, may we seek an extra measure of grace and compassion. Neither partisan triumphalism nor ideological defeatism will aid us in the hard work ahead.
This is a time to draw upon what President Lincoln described as “the better angels of our nature,” and to take to heart the words he spoke in his Second Inaugural Address: “With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds.”
We pray for this nation and for our leaders. We pray for patience and endurance. We pray that as we move forward, no one is left behind. We pray that in all we do, may we be guided by the prophet’s call to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God.
O God, you made us in your own image and redeemed us through Jesus your Son: Look with compassion on the whole human family; take away the arrogance and hatred which infect our hearts; break down the walls that separate us; unite us in bonds of love; and work through our struggle and confusion to accomplish your purposes on earth; that, in your good time, all nations and races may serve you in harmony around your heavenly throne; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
by Bishop Mariann | Nov 5, 2020
‘You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.’
Matthew 5:13-16
The title of Washington National Cathedral’s noonday service for the day after the election was: A Service for Healing, Unity, and Hope. I wasn’t sure what light I had to shine, and so I turned my gaze to Jesus and his light.
This is what I know about the healing process: if your body sustains a deep wound, and it scabs on the surface, it can look as if healing is taking place. But if the connective tissue underneath the skin doesn’t come together, that part of the wound often gets infected and grows worse, hidden from view. So as we pray for healing in our nation, we do well to remember that there is little to be gained and, in fact, much harm to be done, if we tend too quickly to the surface of things while ignoring the wounds underneath. The deep divisions of our nation have been once again revealed. Deep healing is what’s needed.
This is what I know about unity: what we call unity often comes at the expense of those whose inclusion is too costly. This is as true on the playground and in family relationships as it is in the wider society. That exclusion is then forgotten by those who have settled for what the prophet Isaiah called “peace when there is no peace.”
We don’t have to look far for examples from our history. After the Civil War and the political whiplash of the subsequent decades, there was a strong desire for national unity. Monuments were erected across the country and stained glass windows installed in churches, all in service of unity between North and South. Blacks were excluded from that unity. Some of the most shameful events of our history–lynching, Jim Crow segregation, voter suppression–took root in that period and we have erased the worst from our collective memory. Thus as we pray for unity, may we remember that the kind of unity worthy of the Kingdom of God and represented in the mosaic of this nation is not one that can come by exclusion, but by reconciliation.
And this I know about hope: it isn’t something we need to manufacture, for it is God’s gift. Hope often rises from despair. Hope can stir our hearts, even when we have reason to give up. It resists platitudes and wishful thinking. Hope allows for grief. It never chastises us for being exhausted and worried, and hope doesn’t ask us to pretend that everything is going to be okay when we don’t know if that’s true, at least in the short term.
But what hope does–and thank God for it–is help us to rise again, not from our strength, but from the strength that comes to us from the deepest wells of the human spirit, where God’s divine spirit meets us. It’s the most amazing thing.
There is a cost to this hope, and we have to choose it, because it refuses to deny the reality of suffering. St. Paul writes this about the importance of suffering, “for suffering is what produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope–and this hope does not disappoint because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us” (Romans 5:1-5) The source of our hope is the wondrous, limitless love of God.
In Love is the Way: Holding onto Hope in Troubling Times, Presiding Bishop Curry reminds us of the “Ten Commandments of Nonviolence.” They were part of the training for all those taking part in the nonviolent struggle for Civil Rights in the 1950-60s. Curry asks us to imagine a world in which even a percentage of Christians committed to these things:
- Meditate daily on the teachings and life of Jesus.
- Remember always that the non-violent movement seeks justice and reconciliation — not victory.
- Walk and talk in the manner of love, for God is love.
- Pray daily to be used by God in order that all might be free.
- Sacrifice personal wishes in order that all might be free.
- Observe with both friend and foe the ordinary rules of courtesy.
- Seek to perform regular service for others and for the world.
- Refrain from the violence of fist, tongue, or heart.
- Strive to be in good spiritual and bodily health.
If we do those things, surely the light of Jesus will shine through us, and we will bring hope for deep healing in our land and the kind of reconciliation that can lead to unity.
May it be so.
