hope, fear, and holy vigilance

This morning I had a hard time thinking up a sermon. The text seemed relatively straightforward--hope, fear, and holy vigilance. But it was hard to think of what to say without slipping into dangerous territory. As an Associate Priest you always have to worry about saying anything that can be perceived as being critical of the Rector, even when it isn't. It's a fine line to be the designated agent of change in the parish--hired specifically to grow the place--and yet not upsetting the status quo too much. Therefore it's easy to avoid Scylla on the one hand and Charybdis on the other by climbing the mast toward heaven. It would be interesting to do a study of the correlation between clergy stress and the level of spiritual abstraction in their preaching. Anyway, this morning I'm taking the safe route and talking about the way in which we are called to cultivate faith as a preparation for the unseen yet coming kingdom. Perfectly true Gospel, but not quite as hard-smacking as I would wish for my third-to-last sermon. On the spectrum between Prophetic and Pastoral, one often defaults to "Pastoral," I'm afraid. Probably that means I'm stressed out too much at the moment. But on the other hand, people really liked my sermon and thought is spoke to them. So one never really knows about these things! "The ways of the force are mysterious, young Skywalker."

Anyway, services went well. 95% of my singing was just about perfect. It was one of those morning when everything seemed to go just about right. A nice feeling to have as I lead worship in the waning days of tenure here.

True Torontonians will recognize this as a P-Meal Bacon
Sandwich from the St. Laurence Street Market

-t

Toronto Scenes

Here are few pics of my Toronto...

Betsy and I bought hot peppers this morning from
the St. Laurence Street Market
Here's Betsy on her bike (a classic Schwinn that was
my mother's) in front of the Bata Shoe Museum
Here is a Chartres-style labyrinth someone created
next to Honest Ed's

I find the labyrinth particularly intriguing. It's the sort of guerrilla spiritual art that I think is on the cusp of something important. Call it raids on the secular. I think I'm going to try some similar experiments near COTM once I arrive. Perhaps chalk art on the sidewalk out front inviting families in with a message that projects the image that we are spiritually engaged with the lives of children (which is quite true of COTM). Or maybe some kind of outdoor devotional stations? We'll see.

A paranoid schizophrenic I know asked me to bring her a book--perhaps Sophocles if I had any. So I graped a volume off my book shelf at home and gave it to this mentally ill acquaintance without much thought except that I was giving her what she asked for. She looked down at the title and said, "You brought me Oedipus Rex? Why did you have to bring me that??!" In a flash I remembered all her daddy issues and the paranoia and laughed internally at the stupidity of my decision. A comically bad choice. But the recipient of my gift appreciated the humor of the moment, too, and we laughed about it as we decided that she should skip Oedipus Rex and read Antigone, instead. Life is funny.

-t

Ode to the TR-3

A few years before my parents got divorced, my father bought this 1962 Triumph TR-3B convertible. It was drivable when he bought it, but there was plenty to do to get and keep this beautiful beast in tip-top shape. I have many fond memories of working on this car with my father in the garage. He did nearly everything himself, opting for professional help only when the equipment or expertise were beyond him (such as when the body needed to be repainted or part of the frame re-welded). It was a dark period in my family's history--the divorce and then my mother and I moving back East to live with her parents in New Jersey. I was out of place and isolated in the rural Kansas school where I went and had few friends. I had a slightly better school experience in High School in New Jersey, but it wasn't until College that I really hit my social stride.

In the mean time there was always the Triumph. When my dad moved from Kansas to Seattle he decided to drive the TR the whole distance of the move. I was living in NJ already, but flew out to meet up with him in Denver. It was a real road-trip in a real roadster. I got sunburned on my already receding-hairline (at 16!). I even remember that I was reading an analysis of the leadership style of six famous generals as we drove. The Triumph was always one of the characters in the relationship between my father and myself.

It was also a link between my grandfather, my father, and myself. The first Moss TR-3 was purchased by my grandfather straight off the assembly line in England. He picked it up while on Vacation with his wife (Betsy) and then took it across the channel to France. He told me once that he got the sports car up to about 100 MPH on the Autobahn while Betsy was asleep next to him. He was a pilot and had a pilot's affection for going fast, but in control, in well engineered steel. He eventually gave or sold the car to my father, who gave it up only after a few years of marriage. The second Moss TR-3 had to wait until us kids were in school and out from under foot.

When my dad moved from Seattle to his parent's coffee farm in Hawai'i, he flirted with the idea of giving me the TR3, but discovered that it wasn't as expensive to ship it 2670 miles (4296 km) as he thought. The TR-3 was well suited to life at the Aina na Hoku Kai Farm: going down the mountain for quick shopping excursions and around the windy mountain roads for the monthly meetings of the Kona Coffee Council and the Kona Coffee Farmers Association. But when I last visited the farm about a year ago I noticed that the car was showing more wear and tear than he usually allowed, and I realized that he was probably not far from giving it up. I told him to let me buy it before anyone else. I got to take it out a few times on that trip with my Betsy. The other Betsy Moss would have been pleased.

On a Sunday trip to the local Episcopal Church (Christ Church, Kona) a local woman recognized it as a favorite car of her young adulthood. She was a stewardess for Pan Am (she even flew with "Captain Moss" a few times) and used to leave her TR3 in the airport parking lot for weeks at a time. She said it would always start up reliably. "I loved that car. I was so upset with my brother wrecked it." Small world.

So it was disappointing to learn from my dad last night that he had sold the TR-3 to a local friend after 20 years of proud ownership. He said that the opportunity arose to sell it to someone who would take care of it rather than some kid he was likely to get through a classified ad. He knew I would want it, but thought it was too much of a hassle to transport it across half the pacific and then most of the continent. I never had the chance to convince him otherwise, so another chapter closes in my personal history--a link to my forefathers and to the better parts of a troubled childhood.

Let's not get too sad about it. The troubles of my childhood are essential to the best parts of me now. If I hadn't gone through those years of pain I would probably be a computer programmer somewhere with a geeky hobby rather than a ninja priest chasing the Holy Ghost down the rabbit holes of ordained ministry (still with a geeky hobby, though). Or maybe I would have--who knows. Anyway, loss is loss.

Loss is also initiation into the world of adulthood. "When I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways," says Paul. Everybody has their pot of grief to stir. Carl Jung, among many others, believed that these kinds of experiences of loss were a necessary resource for mature life. I agree completely. Something about loss integrates us spiritually in a way that joy cannot. Very often, people who have experienced loss can have major strong ju-ju for healing others--not necessarily because they can empathize, but because their loss connects them to something beyond themselves. What's really cool is when you start talking about trans-personal grief--shared or inherited loss. Tie into those trunk lines to find serious emotional and spiritual wattage.

David Whyte, one of my favorite poets, uses the image of a "well of grief" whose murky depths must be explored in order to find the treasure concealed in the muddy earth below...

Those who will not slip beneath
the still surface of the well of grief
turning downward through its black water
to the place we cannot breathe
will never know the source from which we drink,
the secret water, cold and clear, nor find in the darkness glimmering
the small round coins
thrown away by those who wished for something else.
--David Whyte "The Well of Grief" in Close to Home

That's the good stuff. That's what we lock away in the tabernacle behind the altar every week, the memory of our collective Christian grief at the death of Christ. The promise of communion.

Last night, I heard John Stewart challenge a Harvard professor of psychology who teaches people how to be happy about whether happiness is truly good for us. The professor didn't give an interesting answer, in my opinion. Because the truth is that grief does do some good things for us, yet how many have the courage to go that place unless they have no other choice?

So... good bye TR-3. You were a good friend. And we'll miss you.

-t

Joshua leadership

Bishop Johnson, in his charge to Synod a few months ago, said the following:

If you need permission to start inviting people to your church, if you need permission to establish another service or to plant a church, you have got the permission now.

I found the whole speech to be an inspirational call to "be strong and courageous," as God told Joshua in the Bible Book that bears his name. I'm taking the people from Messiah seriously when they told me, "We are in attack mode," and I know that this mood is in alignment with Diocesan inclinations, as well. They want to see us do bold and courageous things for the sake of the Gospel. Perfect. I feel like I've been training for this for years. I suppose Joshua felt the same way, having been the XO (second in command) for 40 years under Moses. Actually, Joshua is an interesting leadership example much admired by the likes of Teddy Roosevelt and Douglas MacArthur.

It was a busy, 11-hour day for me today. Managed to make incremental progress on a multitude of fronts. Even managed to do some of those "extra" tasks that brighten people's days. For example, I burned a CD of the Women's Schola's concert a few weeks ago complete with a pretty label and gave a copy to each of the performers. It's not a superb quality CD, but it's certainly "good enough" for our amateur purposes. The bulk of my afternoon was spent doing pastoral care. I was pleased with how that session went, though I can't say much more than that for obvious confidentiality reasons.

There is a really interesting idea brewing in Megan's head for involving the children in a service at COTM on the 16th of Sept. I added a few touches and we are both getting excited by it. I'll say more when the idea has more momentum. It is exciting to already be talking about COTM stuff, though I must commit to memory Friedman's warning not to focus too much on new initiatives when beginning a new cure. Prioritize relationship!

-t

Wednesdays

I need to realize that I will never get as much done on a Wednesday as I can on a Tuesday or Thursday--which is weird considering that Tuesdays and Thursdays are often 12 hour work days for me, and a certain point your brain turns into mush. But by the time you get done with the 10 a.m. Mass and the coffee hour afterwards the morning is over and it's all damage control and catch up after that.

Here's a picture of the recent Corpus Christi Procession at SMM. Picture by Michael Hudson (yes, we bought permission). Call it Anglo-Catholicism does evangelism...



Just for fun, here's another pic from the same liturgy (also by Michael)...


I had a long conversation today about the Theodicy problem: why does a good God let bad things happen. I think ultimately much of the answer is to simply say that the potentiality for evil/badness is a necessary feature of a world where real choice is possible. It's not a totally satisfying answer, but it works for me for me today. Whenever I'm asked that I'm often tempted to explore the nature of the question itself, which seems at least as theologically problematic as any answer might be. Today as I was thinking about it I realized that I should ask my old professor and seminary mentor Rev'd Marilyn Adams about it. Now she's a ninja-priest if I ever met one! She was at Yale when I was there; now she's got the Regius Chair at Oxford. Truly one of the smartest priests I've ever met.

We have an offer out on our next "Rectory"--I really hope they accept. It would be nice to have that piece settled. And did I mention that the place comes with a HUGE HDTV?

COTM (Church of the Messiah) liturgy decisions are already coming up. That likely means fitting in another meeting between now and the end of the month to plan my arrival liturgy. Needs to be something colorful. I mentioned St. Gregory of Nyssa's Church to Megan and she immediately said something like, "I like umbrellas!" I doubt I'll be able to introduce those in my first week, but it's nice to have liturgical fantasies.

-t

Christmas Cactus

On Sunday morning I found the following plant outside the church's side door...

With it it was a note addressed to "Christians" which read:

Christmas Cactus
for Christians
the Pine tree is
Sacrad (sic.) don't kill
it decorate
it out side
the house
talk to all
religions eat bread
of life and cherry juice
of love Jesus lived to
save us not died

Strange, huh? I have these kinds of encounters every few weeks (especially when I'm wearing my collar, for obvious reasons). But I think that it would be a mistake to dismiss this kind of thing as the work of some mentally ill person. Even if it is, it still expresses a coherent set of thoughts aimed at us "Christians." So let's parse this mysterious message a bit.

First of all, this business about the pine tree is interesting. I must admit some sympathy on that account, I'm not a big fan of killing trees for decoration, either, but this is really more a secular than religious custom. It's history likely dates to some pre-Christian pagan ritual that was co-opted by the Christians. We did that a lot, it's a pretty natural part of a new movement gaining ground in a culture. The Christian explanation (perhaps created after the fact as a justification for the popular custom) is that the evergreen tree represents new life--something green and living in otherwise sparse white landscape. Anyway, it seems rather innocent to me--we are all guilty of much more heinous environmental crimes. Note, by the way, that this note was written on white paper--probably not recycled...

The next thing I noticed is this instruction to "talk to all religions." Well, I think we do a fairly good job of that, on the whole. Certainly we talk with all the religions interested in dialog.

Then there is this curious eucharistic reference: "eat bread / of life and cherry juice / of love"--well that's rather nice.

And now we get to a more problematic theological claim: "Jesus lived to / save us not died." I'm not exactly sure what this means, but I guess that the author may be claiming that Jesus never died on the Cross. Curiously, I've encountered this belief quite a bit among people who wish to criticize Christianity through me. I remember a very nice German Buddhist who was convinced that Jesus was really an advanced Yogi who merely looked dead on the cross. I realized immediately that she had come up with this explanation to reconcile her newfound Buddhist faith with her culturally-Christian upbringing. What touches me about this story is that she returned the next day to apologize to me for attacking the foundations of my faith. Now there is humility!

Anyway, I think these folks that claim that Jesus never died on the cross are trying to make the whole Christian Easter story (aka the Pascal Mystery) less threatening by explaining it all away. Of course, this is one of the more unlikely explanations when you consider that the Roman executioners would be unlikely to be fooled by a man who was simply faking it. Nor is it likely that Jesus would have survived the spear thrust meant to confirm his demise. Nor does this explanation explain what happened to Jesus after his fake burial.

Anyway, to return to the note/present at hand--I'm reminded of something Edwin Friedman wrote: "Criticism is a form of pursuit." Meaning, this person is trying to engage us, somehow, but can't quite do so in person (nor even sign their note with a name). It's a hopeful sign. I know people who would take this as evidence that we Christians are besieged by a hostile society--but I fail to see how the gift of a plant is evidence of hostility.

-t

knots and such

Kind of quiet day off for Betsy and me. We spent much of it walking around Toronto for no good reason except exercise and something to do. We finished the evening with a trip to the Art Gallery of Ontario for showing of a masterpiece of Russian cinema: Andreiv Rublev by Andrei Turkovsky. This version was about
3 1/2 hours long
! That's a long time to spend in 15th Century Russia!

I've been getting some nice compliments about that Capital Campaign flyer I've been working on. I still have some small tweaks to make, but it's close to done. The Pax Christi Chorale website is very close to being ready, also. I'll probably go live with it whether or not it's completely finished tomorrow or the next day.

Don't ask me why, but lately I've been reviewing/learning rope knots. I already knew all the basic Boy-Scout level type stuff, but I've added some new ones--The Trucker's Hitch, for example, which is very handy. Check out Grog's website if you are into such things. I'm particularly pleased with the Chain Sennet and the Alpine Butterfly. Basic knots that I never bothered to memorize. Anyway, it's been fun to play with these.

-t

Sunday

Continuing my recent habit of posting interesting religious art...

Still From Bill Viola's Video Installation
Catherine's Room
What's interesting about Catherine's Room is that it seems to explore the life of an ascetic. We watch as Catherine does yoga, studies, prays, and sleeps in her cell. That reminds me, I really need to read a book on my shelf called The Contemplative Pastor before I start at Messiah. I'll put in on the list.

Also need to reread Edwin Friedman's chapter on leaving and entering congregational systems in Generation to Generation. I just reviewed it a few minutes ago and was so impressed that I think I'm going to make a copy and give it to the Wardens at COTM. Among other things he notes that it's important to control one's own emotional reactivity (as opposed to emotional responsiveness) while allowing it in others. It also important to be non-anxiously involved in the transition process and to stay in touch after separation (but continue to de-triangle). It's good advice from one of the foremost thinkers in this kind of thing.

Edwin Friedman
Church went well today. I sang a pretty good Eucharistic Prayer 4 all the way through (including the words of institution, etc.). Sermon was okay at 8 and 9.30, superb at 11. Usually I peak at 9.30, so that was a little different.

Now I need to go meet with my Realtor. I'll do another post tomorrow or Tuesday!

-t

Sermon Prep

It will probably surprise no one that I do a lot of my sermon prep by surfing the net looking for relevant and interesting things. Today I came across this picture on the website for the Episcopal Church and Visual Arts project. It was part of the Image and Likeness exhibit.
Susan Tilt
Transfiguration: Dwellings
The Feast of the Transfiguration takes place on Monday, and we are doing little to mark it here at SMM besides the usual daily Mass. We usually only do one big weekday Solemn Mass a month; August's being The Assumption of the Virgin Mary on the 15th. Too bad for the Transfiguration, which is a very "preachable" feast: a feast, possibly, for our times. It speaks to the tension between the command to go out and serve those in need (cf. Luke 10:25-37)and the impulse to sit and adore Christ (cf. Luke 10:38-42). It's great that those two parables come back-to-back, and the key to understanding their relationship may be in what our Lord says at the beginning of the first pericope: the law is to Love God with your entire being and your neighbor as yourself. That's a HUGE "and."

Looking to Sunday's Lectionary Texts, "Paul" is not much of a help. He pushes us toward celestial life: "Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God" (Colossians 3:2-3). (Of course, this might not have been written by Paul. Raymond Brown said that there is a slightly greater probability that it was written by one of his disciples rather than by Paul. About 60% of biblical scholars think it wasn't Paul. But I'm not sure how important it is to answer that question, anyway.)

The Gospel text for Sunday (Luke 12:13-21) seems to also skew us towards detachment from earthly things. Disputes about Money, J.C. says, are foolish. Reminds me of Mary (Magdalene?) who anoints our Lord's feet with oil (Luke 7:37ff // Matthew 26:6ff // John 12:3ff). Judas argues that the money could have been spent on the poor, but Jesus validates the prophetic and devotional character of her witness.

So I suppose throwing ourselves into the task of service to the world in Christ's name is not sufficient, somehow. There has to be a piece of us that addresses God.

The mistake the Rich Fool makes is to believe that his wealth had spiritual value. In the parable God addresses him harshly: "You fool! This very night your life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?" (Luke 12:20). I think that God addresses this dude because this dude failed to address God. When Jesus gives the two great commandments he phrases the first in a way that implies real devotion and focus and submission to God. Whereas the neighbor love business is spoken of in much more balanced way (love your neighbor as yourself). Our relationship to our neighbor somehow exists within an ethical bubble created by healthy self-regard, but the love we owe to God is something much more extreme. "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind" (Luke 10:27a).

Neighbor-love needs a healthy ego. You have some kind of self-love in order to love others properly. God-love seems to require the surrender of self-regard--the utter and perfect orientation to God (cf. The Cloud of Unknowing). Think of Martha's sister Mary sitting at Jesus' feet and staring up at him with rapt attention. I think of some moments I've had with prayer like that--sitting and reveling the presence of God. I've actually felt my skin tingle and vibrate at the sheer ecstasy of pure orientation to God.

Let not, therefore, but travail therein till thou feel list. For at the first time when thou dost it, thou findest but a darkness; and as it were a cloud of unknowing, thou knowest not what, saving that thou feelest in thy will a naked intent unto God. This darkness and this cloud is, howsoever thou dost, betwixt thee and thy God, and letteth thee that thou mayest neither see Him clearly by light of understanding in thy reason, nor feel Him in sweetness of love in thine affection. And therefore shape thee to bide in this darkness as long as thou mayest, evermore crying after Him that thou lovest. For if ever thou shalt feel Him or see Him, as it may be here, it behoveth always to be in this cloud in this darkness. And if thou wilt busily travail as I bid thee, I trust in His mercy that thou shalt come thereto.

That stuff gives me the chills, it touches so close to the bone of the matter.

Anyway, I've preached all this already. I need to find the new level. I return to the relationship with the congregation. What will be the character and content of my relationship to the people of SMM tomorrow morning? How is it affected by my departure at the end of the month? Should I spend these last few sermons summing up my teaching here? Shall I spend it processing the emotional consequences of my move?

What does this Gospel say? That the world is melting away? That we shouldn't hold onto the labors at hand as though they were permanent? Certainly it feels like the fruits of my labors in the SMM vineyard are about to fade away. What's my legacy going to be?

These thoughts have taken me to an emotional place that feels similar to nostalgia and holy melancholy. It's not grief for things lost, but a piercing awareness of a pastor's love. Nothing mushy or sentimental about it. It's quite sharp. The kind of love that makes the lover frustrated with and proud of the beloved at the same time. I want to aim my bow strung with Mary-like devotional intention not to the clouds above, but towards the Christs in the pews. I want to tell them how much I long for them to touch God. How to do that in a way that won't scare the hell out of them???

I suppose the gift I have to give is the disclosure of a naked and unembarrassed "intent unto God." That's half of the Gospel. It's the in-breath we take before we read it aloud. The out-breath contains the second half of the Gospel: the revelation of God's action.

So what does that look like? Passionate, sure. Eschatological, sure. A love that urges the beloved into being in the fullest sense themselves. I must grasp hold of that vision of the kingdom people they are destined to become. I must preach towards that. (Why look backward to a Christian society that once was? Let the dead bury the dead. I want kingdom come preaching!)

Sigh. I'll stop here, else this post becomes ridiculously long. Right now it's just a snap shot of how my preaching is evolving for tomorrow. Hopefully the Holy Spirit will come between now and tomorrow to fill in the gaps....

-t

Spiegel Tent

I got a late start to the day, which is what I do to compensate for the 12-hour work day I did on Thursday. I imagine that next week I'm going to have to go into insane work mode and do a bunch of days with those kind of hours in order to clear some of these projects off my desk before I back up my office at the end of the month.

I had my usual singing lesson with Halley today. My voice is kind of tired, which means that I'm talking too much, and also that I'm not talking properly. She wants to learn to use a different placement of my voice for my regular speaking, somewhere closer to where I sing. She also gave me a new chromatic scale drill to do. We also spent some of our time talking about various church music issues and ideas. It's good times.

I don't think I mentioned that a week ago Friday Betsy and I had another couple went to the Spiegel Tent show down by the Toronto waterfront. It's a very unusual theatrical experience: a burlesque tent from the 1920's transported from Europe and set up next lake Ontario. The tent isn't as big as you might imagine, but the intimate size works well since everyone feels like they are sharing in something special. The show itself was rather like an old fashioned vaudeville experience--mixing acrobatics, comedy, dancing, music, and even burlesque. It probably wouldn't get more than a PG-13 rating if it were a movie, but what made it so great was the shear energy and excitement of the crowd and performers in the tent. And it helps that they serve food and alcohol, too. It was a blast, the kind of thing I do again except that the show closes August 12 (having been extended twice already).

Betsy and I used to see a fair amount of theater in New Haven, and I'm looking forward to catching more here in Toronto. There is plenty good theater to catch, for sure.

Friends are coming over tonight--I'm not sure what Betsy's plans for supper include...

-t

Projects Projects Projects

Here is a picture of Megan Jull--the Lay Associate Pastor at Church of the Messiah....

We had a long lunch to talk about the church and where what we are going to do first. By all accounts she done a remarkable piece of pastoral work in the last year or so keeping the place together, and she will be an invaluable resource as I move into my role in the place. Alas, she will be departing from COTM (Church of the Messiah) at the end of December for the happiest of reasons (she's expecting). After that she will probably be going to parts unknown to continue to pursue ordination. She certainly has the gifts for it, so I'm sure she'll do well.

One of the things are thinking of doing is grabbing Matthew (Director of Music and Liturgical Arts) and going on a leadership retreat. Two or three days of meeting and praying ought to really move things along nicely. They say that going on vacation with a boyfriend or girlfriend accelerates a relationship--in the same a nice retreat can accelerate the team discernment process.

The Capital Campaign flier is coming along nicely. Rob Castle, SMM Warden, has had helpful feedback. Should be ready in the next day or two.

Betsy and I looked at another possible "Rectory," but decided that we liked one that we saw last week better. So now that we've decided on a property our Realtor, Fran, will help us negotiate the deal. The place we are looking at is gorgeous. It will be fantastic for entertaining. I'll have to have an open house in September and then regular parish events frequently after that, as well. Perhaps football parties in NFL season? (I have a hard time taking the CFL seriously, I must admit, it just reminds me too much of High School sports.)

Tons of other projects on the books, but I do feel like I'm getting some stuff done in my days....

-t

Half of today was consumed between Morning Prayer, saying Mass, and then participating in the fellowship after the Mass. Attendance at the Wednesday Mass is kind of soft because it's summer: only seven of us today. But I'm sure the rafters are crowded with the angels and archangels.

The other half of the day was mostly filled up with two print projects: an ad for The Whole Note and a very complex flier to publicize the SMM Capital Campaign. Interesting how it only took me half a day to get a pretty good result--my skills with Adobe Creative Suite have really improved in the last two years. I left a hard copy for Fr. Harold to look over before his vacation. I'm also getting feedback from one of the Wardens.

It falls under evangelism, but in an ideal world we'd have volunteers doing this. On the other hand, asking volunteers to do this kind of thing can be tricky. Even if you find someone with the right expertise and a willingness to take direction, projects often take a lot longer when volunteers are involved. Just the sheer effort of coordinating the project between the various players can take months in the church environment when it would only take days in the business world. In seminary they teach you that volunteer recruitment and management is one of the most challenging and important tasks in running a church. Unfortunately, they gave us very little training in this regard.

Anyway, I was thinking about this volunteer issue yesterday evening as Betsy and I took a walk by The Messiah. I could see that many of the bushes and shrubs on the Avenue Road side of the building need some TLC. Probably some kind of Saturday Work-party is in order. I'll have to discover what the volunteer culture at Messiah is like. It's actually a relief that everytime I look into the details of the place I see things that I would like to address or change. That's good, because I'd hate to arrive and have a hard time coming up with things to do!

Tomorrow I'm having a lunch meeting with Megan Jull. She is the Lay Pastoral Associate at Messiah. By all accounts she has done an amazing bit of pastoral work there in the last year or two. She has amazing passion for the place and has developed deep pastoral intimacy with many (if not most) of the people there. So I'm sure we are going to have a great conversation.

-t