Dear Friends,

On Monday, I had the privilege of presiding at the funeral of Virginia Spencer, the mother of George Born, a member of our parish. Although I had never met Mrs. Spencer, I benefitted greatly in preparing for the service by reading a memoir she had published several years ago. As with every human life, it was not without its challenges, and she knew both joys and disappointments.  Reflecting on her own life, in the last chapter she posed a question for herself, and no doubt, for the reader. The question was this:

“What does the giver of life want me to do with the gift?”

When we reflect on our own mortality, or the mortality of others, it is a question that resonates. It resonates for a woman who lived a long and fulfilling life. And it resonates  this week, as we respond to another senseless tragedy and see the suffering of the innocent.

Many of the victims of the slaughter in Orlando were so young, and were just beginning to answer that question for themselves. Quite a few were from Puerto Rico, and were beginning to build lives in a new community and in a new place where the future seemed bright. For so many lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered persons, responding to the gift of life means nothing less than living honestly and openly, and not denying who we are. That is precisely what some of the victims were doing in that nightclub.

On that Sunday morning in Orlando, the gift was taken from too many. The gift was taken, not by God, but by a senseless act of evil. Amidst all the reactions of anger, despair, and fear, amidst all the questions that arise from such an atrocity,  I hope we will also hear the question that leads us to reflect on our own lives and the capacity we have to love.

What does the giver of life want us to do with the gift?

We may think that we have years or even decades to answer that question. Then we are reminded that the time we have to respond is this moment, and this day.

What does the giver of life want you to do with the gift?

Faithfully,

Tom

Dear Friends,

In 2012, our children planted a dogwood tree at the front entrance to our garden, in thanksgiving for the nearly decade-long ministries of Art Schnitzel and Simon Ringrose, our Godly Play teachers. It was a beautiful addition to the garden, and a lasting way of saying “thank you” to two dedicated teachers.

The winter of 2014-15 was not kind to the tree. Massive amounts of snow caused considerable damage, and some feared that the tree would not survive. But a tree grows in Charlestown! Bowed but not broken, the tree is recovering and blooming for us this spring. Our gardeners,  especially Francie Malo and Rosemary Kverek, have lovingly tended to the tree, and its blossoms have been greeting us for the last week or two as we have arrived at church.

“Resilience” is a word that comes to mind as I look at that tree. Buried under feet of snow, many of its branches were broken. Some of the harm came from persons unaware of what they were doing. One morning, I hurried out of the office to stop a young couple who was digging out their parked car. They had no idea that they were piling snow onto a tree that had already mostly disappeared. They were quite apologetic, but some damage was done.

“Resilience” is a word that come to mind when I think of our lives as Christians. To be a Christian and commit ourselves to Christ does not mean that we will some be protected from the challenges and vicissitudes of life. Just read the book of Acts, and you will see how quickly Christians can get into trouble. Yet down through the centuries, from those earliest followers to martyrs of today, followers of Jesus have found again and again a kind of resillience to live out their lives, not only with endurance, but even with joy. The late William Sloan Coffin was fond of saying, “God promises us minimum protection, maximum security.”

When the blooming dogwood greets me as I arrive at the office, it brings a smile to my face. I give thanks for its beauty, and for its resilience. And I hope that my life can offer a sign to the world of what faithfulness in the midst of it all can mean.

Faithfully,

Tom

Dear Friends,

As many of you know, Thomas and I returned from North Carolina at the end of last week, after his participation in the candidate “Walkabouts” held by the Diocese of Western North Carolina. As one of four nominees to be their next bishop, Thomas participated in public presentations where members of the diocese could meet and listen to all four candidates. Now, the diocese will be about their work of discernment in preparation for the election of their next bishop on June 25th.

Many of you have asked questions about how it all went. I can say with assurance that we were welcomed with graciousness and warmth, and that all four candidates and their spouses drew close to each other as we traveled about the diocese. It was abundantly clear that the work of the Search Committee and Transition Committee is grounded in prayer, and I know I felt the support of many of your prayers.

One question I cannot answer is, “Do you think Thomas may be elected?”.  We really have no idea, but I understand the desire to ask that question. Whether he is elected will certainly have an effect on our life together. Right now we are moving through a month of uncertainty. It can be an uncomfortable time, since we cannot really predict our future together.

This morning, however, I awoke with the realization that this month is really no different than any other time in which we are together. We never can predict our future. Yet I know I tend to go through each day with the false assumption that this day will be like the one before,  that I can always rely on people being there for me as I will be for them, and that my life will not be subject to unexpected changes or disruptions in the plans I have made.

As uncertain as these days are, they are causing me to be more aware of the life I have been given by God, and to be more grateful for each moment I have. When faced with questions we cannot answer, we can draw back and be tentative. Or, we can embrace the lives and moments we are given.

I am reminded of the poem “Roses”, by Mary Oliver:

Everyone now and again wonders about
those questions that have no ready
answers: first cause, God’s existence,
what happens when the curtain goes
down and nothing stops it, not kissing,
not going to the mall, not the Super
Bowl.

“Wild roses,” i said to them one morning.
“Do you have the answers? And if you do,
would you tell me?”

The roses laughed softly. “Forgive us,”
they said. “Bus as you can see, we are
just now entirely busy being roses.”

We do not have all the answers to what life may bring. But for just now, I am going to seek to be “entirely busy” being the disciple of Jesus Christ and child of God that I am called to be.

Faithfully,

Tom

Dear Friends,

I’m trying not to use the back door of our house. Two weeks ago, while out on the back patio, I heard a rustling in the overgrown plants of our tiny herb garden. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a duck suddenly appear and waddle out from the middle of it. She looked at me, did not seem too alarmed, but then quietly headed around the corner. Looking closely at the garden, I discovered a nest with three eggs. Someone had made a home while we were on vacation.

Alas, my presence must have scared her off. She did not return. But then, about a week ago, there she was back in the nest, probably having laid some new eggs. She is determined, and has not let anything disturb her now. I occasionally forget she is there and go crashing out the back door. it looks though, as if she knows the human movement around her will cause her and her future ducklings no harm.

It is an unlikely place for new life, this little garden that is separated by a busy road from the nearest river and lake. But then why, in the season of Easter, should I be surprised by life bursting forth in unlikely places?

We are now midway through Easter, and the jubilant proclamation of Easter morning invites us to pay attention throughout the fifty days of this season. Pay attention to where you hear some rustling, or notice unexpected movements in the gardens around you.  Pay attention to places where there has been death or despair or no sign of life. Pay attention to where Christ is bringing new life. Often, it will appear in the places and persons we least expect.

Last Sunday, we concluded our worship at 10 am by singing Brian Wren’s Easter hymn, “Christ is Alive.” The last stanza aptly sums up  for me the joy and promise of these days between Easter and Pentecost, as we discern Christ’s work in our midst:

Christ is alive!
His Spirit burns
through this and every future age,
till all creation lives and learns
his joy, his justice, love and praise.

May you be surprised by some rustling in the garden.

Faithfully,

Tom