Archbishop Justin's Enthronement Sermon

Regular readers will know I am very fond of Canterbury Cathedral and that I have been there several times for retreats and pilgrimage. One of the neat things about watching the new Archbishop of Canterbury's "Enthronement" was seeing some faces in the background that I know from my time there. The Dean and Chapter of the Cathedral, of course, but also some of the vergers with their cassocks and cool ear-bud-radio setups. The best video I've been able to find that is streamable is this one:



It includes his short sermon, which I thought was quite nice. He talks about how God's Grace liberates our courage to get out of the boat and attempt to walk on the waves. There is a lot of talk like that in Christian circles on both sides of the pond. The rest of the ceremony was a beautiful example of English Cathedral Worship at its best, and it makes me long for it. I could swear I could feel the coolness of those stones (and oh, if they could talk!). So much beauty and gravitas, and yet it was all so human. Sigh.

But I couldn't help but have my impressions of the moment tempered by the gut-wrenching posts of the MadPriest blogger (Reverend Jonathan Hagger):

I was ordained nearly eighteen years ago. In all that time I have broken no canon laws and I have not been subject to any disciplinary proceedings. I have not even broken those laws that morally perhaps I should break. All I want is permission to officiate. I cannot understand how the church authorities can get away with punishing me without there being a crime or any due process. I am in pain. My wife is in pain. My marriage is in pain because of all the pain. To stop this pain I need one man to sign a piece of paper giving me permission to officiate. After that I can begin, with the help of women, to return to my vocation in life. I simply do not understand why this cannot happen in a blink of an eye and the frustrating ridiculousness of it all is driving me mad. This is just theatre. They are going to open the door for him whatever because his face fits. All his life doors have been opened for him. I asked him to open a door for me and he said he "no".(Source)

And there you have it--the double nature of the church as both blessed and broken. And for every inspiring bishop who rises to the "throne" you find scattered about plenty of broken and scarred people who did their best. I'm not saying anything negative about Archbishop Justin or about whether or not Jonathan is right to be so hurt by him. I know very, very little about that particular situation. Understanding the details wouldn't change the fact, however, that Jonathan is in pain. He was called to serve God, got ordained, and now feels abandoned by the institutional church. And when I hear a story like that I take it as a solemn warning that the same thing could very well happen to me in the blink of the eye. Read the Psalms if you don't believe me.

So this business about "stepping out onto the waves" gets real right quick when your job or something else you love is on the line. And I think that we need to stare death in the face if we are going to swing our legs over the gunwale. For every majestic enthronement I think we need to listen to at least one story like Jonathan's to keep us honest about what we are about when we follow Christ. We are about dying in order to live. We are supposed to pick up our cross daily and follow Him, and that entails stumbling, often.

A Few Updates

What I have been up to? Many things. For most of the winter I have been spending time every Wednesday with a small group of guys building some canoes. My boat is almost done. The ribs and planks are all in place. Now I've got to finish sanding the interior (I've already made one pass at it) and then coat it oil. While the oil soaks in we'll "fair" the outside shape of the canoe with sanding to make it perfectly round. Then comes many layers of varnish inside. We'll stretch canvas on the outside with a special filler. Then paint. Then she's done!

This is the first boat I've ever built, and I one of the things that I've noticed is that I have far more emotional attachment to her than to anything else I've made. Something about the organic quality of a boat really makes the connection visceral. When I hammer in a nail I notice the way the whole boat vibrates. She is organic and living. If you've never built or owned a boat you might think this is hyperbole, but really I mean it. The Japanese have a concept of "Kami". Many objects, like Samurai Swords, are said to be inhabited by a Kami, and I totally get that. I'm certainly not going to worship my boat, but I do respect the mysterious quality of spirit that seems to inhabit it.

There is a natural affinity between pastoral work and boat building, which you can see best embodied, perhaps, is places like The Carpenter's Boat Shop. It's a Christian Community that is also a school that teaches apprentices the skills of wooden boat building. One of my classmates, Kim Hoare, has recently become the Director of the Carpenter's Boat Shop, and I really hoping to be able to do one of their "Boat Building for Clergy" retreats. So much of what we clergy is do is stuck up in our heads that using our hands to build things is enormously satisfying.

Life in the parish has been complex. Like many small urban congregations, we face a lot of challenges that have their roots in deep societal trends. For the last year I've been dealing with a radical decline in staffing that has left me shouldering more and more responsibility. At the peak I had three people at my staff meetings. Now... I find myself unclogging toilets and creating the leaflet for Sunday and everything in between. My Youth and Children's Ministry person (part time) will be gone by the end of the summer, and all that's left is a very part time person who mainly just checks the phone and e-mail and manages space booking.

Easter nearly killed me (spiritually). In Lent I broke down crying more than once. My Interim Director of Music, Bruce Kirkptrick Hill, died on Lent 4, a mere two weeks before Easter. I've known Bruce and his wife well for about six years (going back to my St. Mary Magdalene days) and so this was a personal loss as much as a professional one. What do you do when your organist dies right before Holy Week? well, first you take care of people. In this case that meant being there for Stephanie, his window. As it happens, I was her communications link to Canada while Bruce was dying. I relayed messages and did my best to comfort Steph.

Steph. I call her "sis" when I see her in person. I started that back when we were serving together at St. Mary Magdalene's. When she was hired we hit it off incredibly well. Perhaps it was here Mennonite background (Betsy shares some of that heritage) or something else, but we just always had a great deal of mutual respect and trust.

So I did my best to be there for Steph. I had been there for Bruce--visited him in the hospital, even--before his fateful trip to Cuba. But after he died I was pretty grieved.

There was a Tuesday BCP Eucharist that I did for some older members of the congregation shortly after his death. I could barely get through the sermon because I started crying as I preached about Bruce. The reading was about Jesus feeding the 5,000. And my sermon was about how, in the Resurrection, Jesus pulls together all the crumbs. All the fragments of this man's life would be pulled drawn back together in the kind of abundance and fullness that characterizes God's crazy abundance. I cried and cried. And these old folks, who know and love me as I love them, were right there with me. Honestly, if I had hand picked the people in my life I would like to break down crying with, it wouldn't have been much different. Older folks know grief and have a patience and compassion that is deep, deep, deep. I composed myself and did a liturgy that would have made Bruce proud.

I was honoured to be asked to be the Liturgical Deacon for Bruce's Requiem at St. Mary Magdalene's. It was wonderfully familiar to be back there, and yet there were some changes. As usual, I was awestruck by the professionalism and poise of the "SMM" crew. These guys know liturgy. Not just by rote, they really understand the principles of what makes good worship at adapt flawlessly to changing circumstance. Father David is doing a great job there, and I applaud and support the work they are doing.

Now, imagine 570 people packing the church. Standing room only. Then imagine many of the best church musicians in Toronto packing the Gallery Choir. How about one of the best Organists in Canada on the bench. I have been to many church services in my life, including some in great Cathedrals of England, and I have to say that this was the best church music I have heard in my life. It was out of this world, literally. I was really glad I could be a small part of that.

Back at Messiah we scrambled to find a musician to fill in for Holy Week. Someone to pick up the pieces and move forward with what Bruce had planned. He did a fine job, but attendance was disappointing. It is hard to determine why, but we simply had fewer people this year for Holy Week Services despite having what I thought was some pretty awesome liturgical content. I won't give you a blow-by-blow, but the worship (music, prayers, everything) were pretty impressive, I just wish more people had come for it all.

Normally I would have taken a few days off in Lent to make a retreat and then a Sunday after Easter to recover. I could do neither this year, and the result is that I have been really struggling to keep it together. I'm pretty much totally burned out, but it hard to see how I can take any time off until my Honourary Assistant comes back from holiday. When he does, my plan is borrow a canoe and take Henry into the woods with a guy friend and his 2-year-old for two nights.

Perhaps I'll get some rest this weekend. Friday and Saturday I'm going with my skipper from sailboat racing to pick up his new boat. we are looking forward to a very exciting summer of racing on the lake, and this new boat is a whole new league for us.

There are many challenges the parish faces that I don't feel I can blog about. It is much on my mind, of course, but it's hard to say much at this stage. I'm obviously exhausted and burned out. But I think we are moving things forward despite that.

On a Diocesan level I've been heavily committed. I'm now a Fresh Start Coordinator, which means that I spend 3/4 of a day once a month teaching clergy in transition. It's a sort of continuing education initiative designed to keep people sharp and in tune with the latest research in the field of ministry.

And I'm also serving on a committee that is helping to reshape the communications strategy of the Diocese.

And I'm helping to coordinate new media (particularly video) projects for the Diocese.

And I'm "consulting" with the Back to Church Sunday Committee (the contest to give an iPad to the best commercial inviting people to church was my idea).

And I'm still involved with the "Fresh Expressions" movements in the Diocese. The committee is being restructured, but I'm part of all that.

And I've been asked to help with some other one-off projects. I do say "no" to some of them... but perhaps not as many as I should. Sigh.

This summer I'm travelling to England for a retreat at Canterbury Cathedral. It's the reunion for the the group that did the same thing two years ago. I love Canterbury, and I really look forward to resting in the arms of the mother church of the communion. I expect England itself will offer up the usual charms, as well. I'm hoping to maybe visit the maritime museums in Greenwich. I'm also interviewing a Church of England big-shot on behalf of the Diocese (we have a kind of information exchange with them). We were hoping that Betsy and Henry could come with me, this year, but we just don't have the money for that, and a grant we thought might come fell through. It turns out that no grant organization we can find thinks clergy families should be supported to go on retreat. Don't get me started on the short-sightedness of that particular policy!

Henry is amazing. Right now he is daily mastering new phrases and words. This morning, for perhaps the first time, he said, "I love you daddy" when I dropped him off at Daycare. How incredible is that?! He just started a fixation on Thomas the Train. Ilove him to death, and I want nothing more than to load him up in a canoe and take him in to woods and love him in the wild way of nature. I have so much I want to teach him and show him. He's a delight.

That's probably a good place to end for the moment. If you've read this far you deserve a special prize! So here it is: last night I had a crazy dream in which I went sailing with President Obama on a high-performance racing Catamaran. It was just the two of us racing this carbon fibre beast. I spent a lot of time with the guy in my dream, actually, and can tell you that he is exactly what you would imagine.

-t

Article from September Anglican

Here is the article I wrote the the issue of the Anglican that was just published (September 2010):



It's a short reflection of my thoughts post-Canterbury.

-t

Steps at Canterbury

I've wanted to take this photograph for a long time. These are the steps leading to the shrine at Canterbury--much worn from Pilgrim feet. Pretty cool, heh?

-t

Orpington

The retreat was great. It wrapped up in fine style this morning after Mattins. Both the Cathedral Clergy and the Guest Lodge Staff went out of their way to give us fond farewells. I have a lot of memories and stories, and I look forward to a moment when I am relaxed enough to tell them. As it was, I spent much of the day traveling from Canterbury up to London and then down to a town on the outskirts of London called Orpington. I'm staying with a ministry friend and his wife until Friday.

Tomorrow I'm meeting with Rachel Jordon from Church House and some of her colleagues to talk about church-y stuff--Fresh Expressions and Pioneer Ministry and Missional Church, etc. Then I might do a little sight-seeing. The short list of places to visit Wednesday and Thursday includes the Tate Modern, Lambeth Palace, the National Portrait Gallery, Covent Garden, and the British Museum. Of course, I won't be able to hit all of those in two days without a severe brain-sprain, so I'll pick two or three and see how it goes.

On Monday I was wandering around the cloister with Bede when we noticed a door that said, "Private - Archdeacon's Garden." Bede stooped down and peered through the key hole. Like many of the doors around the Cathedral, it still has one of those old fashioned locks with the big key-holes. As he was gazing in, one of the workman came up behind us, "No need for that! Here, have a proper look 'round." With that he unlocked the door with an impressive set of keys and swung it open. He invited us to step just across the threshold and explained the different ruins and houses we could see. He was genial and warm and obviously enjoyed our interest.

Now, he didn't know we were part of a retreat group, we were just curious visitors so far as he knew. And he wasn't a steward, verger, or cleric. He was simply one of the maintenance staff who went out of his way to show two visitors a little something special. As I said to Bede as we walked away, "At Canterbury, curiosity is rewarded." There is a spirit of generous hospitality that has totally imbued the place at all levels.

When we told this story to one of the Canons, she explained that most of the staff were actually non-Christian, yet they are also fiercely loyal to the Cathedral and believe in its mission. They are enormously proud and want to share what they have with others. Time and again this was referred to as the influence of the Benedictine virtue of hospitality. The Rule of Benedict says that all visitors are to be treated as Christ.

The Verger who took us up to the Organ Loft above the Quire Screen on Sunday told us about what Canterbury means to him. He finds meeting people from all over the world incredibly rewarding, but he also is honored to be part of an institution that has done this ministry of welcome for hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of years. He explained that he had been initiated into the Cathedral Foundation as a special ceremony in which is name was inscribed in a special book. He beamed as he talked about his work.

When I get back to Toronto I want to write a long-ish letter to the Dean to compliment various people who were particularly friendly and helpful. I hope it's the sort of letter that ends up in personnel files.

I'm already missing the place. I'm thinking of the Canons waiting by the exit from the Quire to say goodbye to us as we left Mattins to go to breakfast. Some places just feel like home, yeah know?

-t

Update from Canterbury

I've been here at Canterbury for the "Benedictine Experience" Retreat for a few days now. I'm almost over the jet lag, but not quite. I woke up at 3.30 A.M. this morning. But this is a very easy place to settle into: comfortable and welcoming.

Yesterday Bede, another priest, and I had a wonderful chat with one of the Canterbury Vergers to plan our Eucharists this week. We will be using the Jesus Chapel in the Cathedral Crypt, and the Vergers were quite happy to set things up just the way we like them. This chat also gave us the chance to see the principle Sacristy of the Cathedral. We were told it was one of the few parts of the Cathedral that Thomas Becket would have recognized: when he was around in the 12th Century as Archbishop, it was used for pretty much the same purpose it is now.


The Sacristy at Canterbury Cathedral

Yesterday was the feast of the Translation of Thomas of Canterbury (Becket). On July 7th, 1220 his remains were moved from a crypt chapel to an elaborate shrine in the chancel that became one of the most important pilgrimage sites in Western Europe until it was destroyed by order of Henry VIII in 1538. Evensong filled the Choir of the Cathedral and was sung by a men's choir. The Responses were by John Rutter, the Magnifcat and Nunc Dimittis were from Michael Walsh's St. Paul's Service, and after we processed (to "God, whose city's sure foundation" sung to Westminster Abbey) to the site of Thomas's Shrine the choir sang Salve Lux Laetitiae by Alan Ridout. While that anthem was sung, I watched one of the Canons cense something that isn't there--the shrine of Thomas. I've seen a lot of things censed and blessed in my church life, but never an empty space!

In the afternoon we had tea with the Dean of the Catherdal-- Robert Willis. He spoke powerfully about the Cathedral and it's role in the life of England and also the life of the worldwide Anglican Communion. He said that this was our mother church, and that we should take "comfortable possession" of it. He spoke brilliantly about how this place belongs to all Anglicans and how his 250 Full-Time Staff (including only 6 clergy) and 800 volunteers practice hospitality. His passion and care were moving.

This place is incredibly beautiful. It's such a privilege to be here. I particularly love the little nooks and crannies and tea gardens hidden all around this place. Just when you think you know some part of the Cathedral grounds, you will discover some new passage leading to some ancient ruins or rarely-used chapel. Yesterday's Eucharist, for example, took place in the Holy Spirit Chapel, which visitors rarely see. A tiny medieval door in the chancel leads up scary stairs to a second-storey chapel that has a connection of Evelyn Underhill (a very important name in contemporary mysticism). There are constant surprises like that. On our first afternoon here, the Archdeacon hosted us for cocktails in her garden just north of the cloister. She explained that her house was once a pilgrim hostel and that before that the site was where the medieval monastery's kitchens would have been. One of the old cooking hearths still stands by the east wall of her garden. Bede pointed to one of the ruined arches and said, "Roman brick, presumably from some structure that predated whatever was built here."

We are staying in the Cathedral Lodge (also known as the International Student Centre), which about 20 feet from the Cathedral Wall. The rooms are VERY comfortable--much more like a nice hotel than any retreat house I've stayed at. From my window seat I can see the Cathedral towering over us. Right now I'm blogging from a lovely rose garden under an old copper birch tree while someone practices organ in the Cathedral.

Matins is usually said with about 40 people in the quire (aka "choir") of the church. So far it's just been from Common Worship 2000, modern rite. Simple but well-done.

Evensong is glorious. As it happens, every evening so far has been of high-enough calendar rank to get the choral treatment. The boys choir is spectacular, as is the men's choir that I described earlier. The boys all attend the King's College School here at the Cathedral. The girls of the school have an elaborate music training programme of their own, but generally don't participate musically in liturgies until they are older. The Dean explained that he would love to a have a girl's choir, but they simply don't have the resources to support it.

It's important to point out that Canterbury Cathedral (unlike many other famous Cathedrals like Notre Damme) receives no financial support from the government or the national church. They are entirely self sufficient. The gate fee for visitors pays for the necessary infrastructure for 1.4 Million Visitors a year, but the renovations and programmes are paid for by donations. Luckily, Canterbury has many patrons, so it's no surprise that they have a £1.6 Million project underway to restore the South Trancept window.

Later today I'll be saying Mass in the Jesus Chapel in the eastern part of the crypt. I'm very excited about that. It's neat to think about all the great holy people that have come through here on earthly pilgrimage. What a treat to be a part of that.

Another thought... this place has a richness that can be almost overwhelming. As Bede says, you have to kind of float on top of it all. Music, gorgeous stained glass, incense, 12th century frescos. It's a river of spiritual poetry.

A woman who lived on the Cathedral Close during World War II tells this story. On one particularly bad bombing raid the Germans attempted to destroy the cathedral. Bombs fell just North of the Cathedral (where I'm writing this now, in fact), and just South, and as she huddled in a basement by the Christ Church Gate she was sure they had demolished her beloved Cathedral. It was the end of everything she knew. Then the Tower Bell chimed the time and she knew, in her heart, that places like this are so much bigger than us, even bigger than kings and wars. In truth, a bomb hitting this place would merely have transformed it, as it did to Coventry Cathedral. That's the true beauty of a resurrection faith.

Time for another session...

-t

Location:S Close,Canterbury,United Kingdom