Yes, a very long time has passed since I last wrote here on my blog. I'm not very consistent, am I? Still, I love to write; and just today, wrote to two old friends. One did not have an email so I enjoyed writing to her via "snail mail." That's something I still enjoy doing, although - yes, I know, I know! - it is slower and not as timely as email or twitter or whatever. The other person did have an email that I found on her website (she's a priest in upstate NY) and enjoyed catching her up on my life and doings.
One is Melanie, a former colleague in my CPE (Clinical Pastoral Education, for the uninitiated) year, 1991-1992 at Abbott-Northwestern Hospital in Minneapolis. It was a very intense year for us five residents; Melanie joined us after our first quarter together, and what could well have been disastrous - to have someone enter the program after the rest of us had had three months together - proved to work out all right. Part of that was due to Melanie's competence and willingness to jump right in with us. She also proved to be a dear and trusted friend and colleague. She is ELCA, and I remember her vividly telling us her former parish, "Lord of Life" should have been renamed "Lord of Lie." Previously to my year of CPE residency, I too had served in a not-so-cordial place; so Melanie and I had many notes to compare. I was amazed at her maturity for one so young; after all, I had racked up twenty years in parish ministry and fancied myself somewhat of an "expert," especially in things that could go wrong!
I have Melanie to thank for helping me to keep my sense of humor throughout that year. Working with sick and dying people - and with hospital administrators and bureaucrats - can be a trying experience. I was happy that Melanie and her husband Scott, also an ELCA pastor, were graduates of "my" seminary, Yale Divinity School. (Now, I must confess that I am something of a "stepchild" of Yale, being a graduate of Berkeley Divinity School the year before it affiliated with Yale's divinity school; now it's known as "Berkeley at Yale" and I can legitimately use that as my seminary. Of course, there's some snobbery involved in all of this, but I won't go there right now!) Both Scott and Melanie, he fulltime and she part time, are on the pastoral care staff of a large hospital in Minneapolis, in the suburb of St. Louis Park; I can imagine both are doing great work, too.
I did not pursue the path to become a supervisor as Melanie and Scott did; it was not my vocation, and would have provided me with more than I wanted or needed in terms of angst! So I was happy to do the one year, knowing it would be an excellent foundation for future ministry. I had dreamed of combining hospital chaplaincy with parochial ministry, but that "just wasn't in the cards." Instead, I returned to fulltime parish ministry, first in Michigan, then here in Portland, Oregon.
It was fun to recount this in my letter to Melanie. Writing such things brings to one's mind wheere one has been and, we hope and pray, where one is going, even if one is 69 and "pushing 70" as I now am.
My email to Julie, a former student at Berkeley/Yale, whom I supervised in my Connecticut parish in the eighties, took a rather different tack. I'm glad to say that Julie is a parish priest in Syracuse, is serving half-time there and is the mother of two boys, 11 and 17. I was amazed to read her newsletter online that said she was "approaching 50." What I recall was a young woman, not yet 30, bright, pert, upbeat, finishing her seminary career, engaged to Brian, and suffering many physical ailments through it all, including a hospitalization. She demonstrated a great strength, coping with all of this.
After I wrote my email to her, I noticed in the webpage-newsletter that her younger son suffers from migraine headaches, and that at the tender age of eleven! Julie is the one to be his mom, though, and I'm sure she does more than simply "keep her head above water." It's good to realize that her year with us a St. John's, North Haven, shortened as it was by her circumstances, is part of her story and that I was part of it too.
I shall always remember her mother phoning me at the end of that academic year and thanking me "for all you have done for Julie." This was in Czech-accented English, I believe, and Julie's mother's name was "Dagmar," which I found enchanting. I had to say to Dagmar that I really didn't do all that much to "help" but was just "there for Julie." And that was quite enough. Her father, also a priest, was in Horseheads, NY - I won't go into the derivation of the name of that town, other than to say it's a suburb of Elmira. When I was interviewed at an Elmira parish in 1985, I met him to get his view on the parish and the diocese. I saw there a kind, understanding man who seemed to be "just right" for that very economically depressed area; he was also a psy-chiatric social worker. I've thought since that such a profession would be invaluable in parish ministry, and I rather envied him in that.
So, I'm happy that today I re-connected with these two wonderful persons. Perhaps we all should do this every now and then: put pen to paper, fingers to a keyboard, get into cyberspace or slap a stamp on an envelope, and communicate with old acquaintances. Moreover, it's always nice to hear back from them. It warms an old man's heart! Now I'll cease, lest I get maudlin!
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Friday, June 4, 2010
What a day!
Yesterday was one of those days, memorable for a lot of down-stuff. I wrote about this on what I thought was my blog, but the whole thing was lost since I wasn't writing in the correct format. Who knows where it went? Fortunately there was nothing in it that was scurrilous.
What I had to say then isn't fresh today as it's a brand-new day and I'm feeling much better, thank you very much. One thing I wrote about was this cold and rainy weather we've been experiencing in the Pacific Northwest. To be brief, it's depressing! But, as I write, sun is peeping out just a little to lift the spirits a bit. This is, of course, nothing compared with what our brothers and sisters are experiencing in the Gulf Coast with the oil spill. To see that heron dying, pictured on last night's news, was heart-breaking. And the British voice of BP's CEO doesn't help matters when he says he'd like to have his life back. What about the lives lost on the oil rig, the livelihoods of the fisher-folk, plus all the innocent birds and animals?
My MP3 player needs to be shipped back to Philips and I'll get a new one. I talked yesterday four times with their help hot line: four young (well, they sounded young) guys who were most helpful in attempting to walk me through - technical dinosaur as I am - the process whereby I can transfer music from the computer to the player. The last fellow, after putting me on hold, probably to consult his supervisor, came back on and very apologetically said that they would send me a new unit soon. In my more cynical and self-pitying moments, I'd say "It's the Ayers luck," but I demurred. This will mean re-programming the thing.
It would be nice if someone would come to my home and show me exactly how to do this. I'm poor, but I would pay to have some help in that way. I said to LaVera, after spending a total of an hour and a half on the phone with these people, that "in the old days," one could buy a radio, plug it in and play it. Philips' motto is something with "simplicity" in the title, and that's what I would wish for.
I love using that player at the gym when I work out. I got the FM radio feature to work and took it with me he other day, merrily pumping away on the cardio machine, while listening to "Merry Mount" by Howard Hansen, an obscure piece of music but helpful in doing the exercise. I find Bach or Mozart the most helpful, and have some of that available, but I couldn't put it on the player. So, I'll hope for the best when the new unit comes. And...I didn't yell or scream or lose it, either!
I was using my cellphone to make those calls, and my land line rang. It was Bishop Michael Hanley, our new bishop for the past two months here in the Episcopal Diocese of Oregon. He phoned to ask me once again to supply at the remnant of St. Matthew's Parish here in town, a majority of whom, with their priest, left The Episcopal Church (TEC) for The Anglican Church of North American (ACNA) in April. I hated to say "no" a second time to Bishop Michael, since I'm committed to all the Sundays through September in two other places: my home parish, Saints Peter & Paul, and our predominately African-American parish, St. Philip the Deacon, since their Rector recently retired. After all, when I took the early retirement plan six years ago, I told our then-bishop that I wanted to be of assistance to him and to the diocese in any way I could. In the forty years I've been ordained, rarely has a bishop asked me to do anything substantial; here was the opportunity and I couldn't do it.
Today, LaVera and I attended the annual luncheon for retired clergy and spouses/partners at our Cathedral. Bishop Michael held forth for awhile and talked interestingly about his two walks along the "Camino de Santiago Compostela" in Spain. His "theme" as a new bishop is "walking": both with God and with him. So all this is apt. Michael, whom I knew in Minnesota when I served there, is a very down-to-earth man, unpretentious, genuine, and very pastoral. He's the "right person at the right time" for us. I'll save comments about his predecessor's regime for some other time; most of it is better left unsaid, though.
So, the brief conversation with the Bishop was a bright spot in an otherwise dark day yesterday. Today, as I said earlier, is so much better. Seeing some pictures that a member of the Portland Symphonic Choir sent through his own website were a hoot: the choir did a "pops" concert two weeks ago, departing from our usual "serious" stuff we sing. I wasn't very excited about this, but stayed loyal throughout and even had a little fun. I appear in one picture, with my pot gut; not a very becoming image. This was my final concert with the choir as I've decided to pare down my commitments and had put ten good years into the choir. I'll miss it: the friendships, the hard work to polish gems like the Brahms "German Requiem" and the Rachmaninov "All Night Vigil," and mostly making music with serious singers, many of whom are professional. It is a real joy. I'm staying with the Bach Cantata Choir, and probably will write some about it in a future post. I truly believe that "Those who sing, pray twice." That's attributed to St. Augustine and came via the Wesleys, someone said. I live by it, croaky as my now-baritone is.
So, temperatures in the 70s are predicted for a few days hence - I can't wait!
What I had to say then isn't fresh today as it's a brand-new day and I'm feeling much better, thank you very much. One thing I wrote about was this cold and rainy weather we've been experiencing in the Pacific Northwest. To be brief, it's depressing! But, as I write, sun is peeping out just a little to lift the spirits a bit. This is, of course, nothing compared with what our brothers and sisters are experiencing in the Gulf Coast with the oil spill. To see that heron dying, pictured on last night's news, was heart-breaking. And the British voice of BP's CEO doesn't help matters when he says he'd like to have his life back. What about the lives lost on the oil rig, the livelihoods of the fisher-folk, plus all the innocent birds and animals?
My MP3 player needs to be shipped back to Philips and I'll get a new one. I talked yesterday four times with their help hot line: four young (well, they sounded young) guys who were most helpful in attempting to walk me through - technical dinosaur as I am - the process whereby I can transfer music from the computer to the player. The last fellow, after putting me on hold, probably to consult his supervisor, came back on and very apologetically said that they would send me a new unit soon. In my more cynical and self-pitying moments, I'd say "It's the Ayers luck," but I demurred. This will mean re-programming the thing.
It would be nice if someone would come to my home and show me exactly how to do this. I'm poor, but I would pay to have some help in that way. I said to LaVera, after spending a total of an hour and a half on the phone with these people, that "in the old days," one could buy a radio, plug it in and play it. Philips' motto is something with "simplicity" in the title, and that's what I would wish for.
I love using that player at the gym when I work out. I got the FM radio feature to work and took it with me he other day, merrily pumping away on the cardio machine, while listening to "Merry Mount" by Howard Hansen, an obscure piece of music but helpful in doing the exercise. I find Bach or Mozart the most helpful, and have some of that available, but I couldn't put it on the player. So, I'll hope for the best when the new unit comes. And...I didn't yell or scream or lose it, either!
I was using my cellphone to make those calls, and my land line rang. It was Bishop Michael Hanley, our new bishop for the past two months here in the Episcopal Diocese of Oregon. He phoned to ask me once again to supply at the remnant of St. Matthew's Parish here in town, a majority of whom, with their priest, left The Episcopal Church (TEC) for The Anglican Church of North American (ACNA) in April. I hated to say "no" a second time to Bishop Michael, since I'm committed to all the Sundays through September in two other places: my home parish, Saints Peter & Paul, and our predominately African-American parish, St. Philip the Deacon, since their Rector recently retired. After all, when I took the early retirement plan six years ago, I told our then-bishop that I wanted to be of assistance to him and to the diocese in any way I could. In the forty years I've been ordained, rarely has a bishop asked me to do anything substantial; here was the opportunity and I couldn't do it.
Today, LaVera and I attended the annual luncheon for retired clergy and spouses/partners at our Cathedral. Bishop Michael held forth for awhile and talked interestingly about his two walks along the "Camino de Santiago Compostela" in Spain. His "theme" as a new bishop is "walking": both with God and with him. So all this is apt. Michael, whom I knew in Minnesota when I served there, is a very down-to-earth man, unpretentious, genuine, and very pastoral. He's the "right person at the right time" for us. I'll save comments about his predecessor's regime for some other time; most of it is better left unsaid, though.
So, the brief conversation with the Bishop was a bright spot in an otherwise dark day yesterday. Today, as I said earlier, is so much better. Seeing some pictures that a member of the Portland Symphonic Choir sent through his own website were a hoot: the choir did a "pops" concert two weeks ago, departing from our usual "serious" stuff we sing. I wasn't very excited about this, but stayed loyal throughout and even had a little fun. I appear in one picture, with my pot gut; not a very becoming image. This was my final concert with the choir as I've decided to pare down my commitments and had put ten good years into the choir. I'll miss it: the friendships, the hard work to polish gems like the Brahms "German Requiem" and the Rachmaninov "All Night Vigil," and mostly making music with serious singers, many of whom are professional. It is a real joy. I'm staying with the Bach Cantata Choir, and probably will write some about it in a future post. I truly believe that "Those who sing, pray twice." That's attributed to St. Augustine and came via the Wesleys, someone said. I live by it, croaky as my now-baritone is.
So, temperatures in the 70s are predicted for a few days hence - I can't wait!
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
And now it's spring!
Yesterday, at a family gathering for Memorial Day, one of my sons asked me when I was going to blog again. Today, I tried to write something and couldn't remember my password. So, I went through all the machinations and awaited the email the blogspot would send. It didn't come. Then, I espied my password on a sheet I keep by my laptop (in a basket filled with so many other things, it's a wonder I found it). So, having got the correct password and to this point where I'm writing, it's a go.
It has been since last September since I've written anything here. Although I'm an avid journaler, I'd forgotten to write here. Or it's laziness. Probably that. I do enjoy writing, but today I wanted to write and am glad I connected in the right manner. Actually, this is a way of procrastinating about two things that are currently on my platter.
One is that I promised an official from my seminary, from which I was graduated forty years ago about now, that I would be my class "agent." This means writing pious letters to my classmates, asking them to make a contribution to Berkeley Divinity School at Yale, in New Haven, Connecticut. The trouble is, the list I have received, with names and adddresses is sadly out of date. There's even one name on it I don't recognize at all. I am assured it is as up to date as is possible. So, all I need to do is get busy and write these men (yes, back then there was only one woman in the school and she wasn't in my class). Sadly, some have died and others have been deposed (sometimes the word for this is "defrocked," a term I've never liked) from the priesthood or have renounced their ordination. One such "renouncer" was a good and close friend. I tracked down his renunciation as I was working in the diocesan archives last week and saw the notice in a church annual. Quite honestly, I don't know what to say to him. We've not been in touch for a long time; I think the last time was at our 25th anniversary in 1995 when he wrote a response to my request for letters from classmates.
I know that if I ask for money, he'll ignore it, as will most of my classmates. But I could communicate with him nevertheless. I could send the "form letter," samples of which were enclosed with the instructions that Fr. Charles Cloughen sent. He's the person in charge of alumni communications and, like me, is a retired priest, living in Maryland. I hate to let Charles down, so my guilt-level can deplete if I get to this task soon.
The other thing I'm putting off currently is programming my new MP3 player I bought a few days ago. Technology eludes me and I could make no sense out of the wordless instructions that came with the thing. I thought I could plug it into the laptop and get some music on it, but I was unsuccessful. I did get the FM radio mode to go. But simply turning the device on and off seemed to be problemmatical. Finally, I resorted to printing out very full instructions from the Philips website. Following it, I successfuly got the FM radio going with it. But it seemed to me to be more in the realm of luck than in a methodical following of the printed instructions. Now, I want to get some music onto it. According to the blurb that came with the device, I can even put videos onto it, record my voice - or other voices - and play it all back.
In all of this, I yearn for simple, non-technical instructions. I don't need a lot of "bells and whistles," either and paid about $60 for this thing. Oh, the reason I got a new one is that my old one was water-damaged when I fell into a small stream - which I called a "rivulet" - near the Inn at Spanish Head in Lincoln City at our clergy conference last month. That's a story for another time, but pertinent here is the fact that the fall ruined my old device, even though my good friend, rector and roomate, Kurt Neilson, said he was very experienced in reviving devices like cell phones that his kids inadvertently send through the washing machine. But his expertise was to no avail, so I bought a new one. For a man in his late sixties, not at all scientific or technically oriented, it's a frustration that sometimes causes me not only to utter oaths but to scream and then give up on the whole thing. A joke is these days that one in such sad circumstances should ask the nearest kindergartner for help! Well, I have one in my family: Jonah. He knows how to operate Wii (pronounced "wee") with his big brother and cousin, as they play games on it.
I'm old-fashioned, and like to write - and receive - letters. I like 33 1/3 vinyl records too. But I fancy I'm not a dinosaur, though. Lord, save me from that!
For another time or post, I'll write about our Basement Project, that we are in the midst of, even as I write this missive. So, there we are for now. May my procrastinations cease as I get on with the tasks at hand.
It has been since last September since I've written anything here. Although I'm an avid journaler, I'd forgotten to write here. Or it's laziness. Probably that. I do enjoy writing, but today I wanted to write and am glad I connected in the right manner. Actually, this is a way of procrastinating about two things that are currently on my platter.
One is that I promised an official from my seminary, from which I was graduated forty years ago about now, that I would be my class "agent." This means writing pious letters to my classmates, asking them to make a contribution to Berkeley Divinity School at Yale, in New Haven, Connecticut. The trouble is, the list I have received, with names and adddresses is sadly out of date. There's even one name on it I don't recognize at all. I am assured it is as up to date as is possible. So, all I need to do is get busy and write these men (yes, back then there was only one woman in the school and she wasn't in my class). Sadly, some have died and others have been deposed (sometimes the word for this is "defrocked," a term I've never liked) from the priesthood or have renounced their ordination. One such "renouncer" was a good and close friend. I tracked down his renunciation as I was working in the diocesan archives last week and saw the notice in a church annual. Quite honestly, I don't know what to say to him. We've not been in touch for a long time; I think the last time was at our 25th anniversary in 1995 when he wrote a response to my request for letters from classmates.
I know that if I ask for money, he'll ignore it, as will most of my classmates. But I could communicate with him nevertheless. I could send the "form letter," samples of which were enclosed with the instructions that Fr. Charles Cloughen sent. He's the person in charge of alumni communications and, like me, is a retired priest, living in Maryland. I hate to let Charles down, so my guilt-level can deplete if I get to this task soon.
The other thing I'm putting off currently is programming my new MP3 player I bought a few days ago. Technology eludes me and I could make no sense out of the wordless instructions that came with the thing. I thought I could plug it into the laptop and get some music on it, but I was unsuccessful. I did get the FM radio mode to go. But simply turning the device on and off seemed to be problemmatical. Finally, I resorted to printing out very full instructions from the Philips website. Following it, I successfuly got the FM radio going with it. But it seemed to me to be more in the realm of luck than in a methodical following of the printed instructions. Now, I want to get some music onto it. According to the blurb that came with the device, I can even put videos onto it, record my voice - or other voices - and play it all back.
In all of this, I yearn for simple, non-technical instructions. I don't need a lot of "bells and whistles," either and paid about $60 for this thing. Oh, the reason I got a new one is that my old one was water-damaged when I fell into a small stream - which I called a "rivulet" - near the Inn at Spanish Head in Lincoln City at our clergy conference last month. That's a story for another time, but pertinent here is the fact that the fall ruined my old device, even though my good friend, rector and roomate, Kurt Neilson, said he was very experienced in reviving devices like cell phones that his kids inadvertently send through the washing machine. But his expertise was to no avail, so I bought a new one. For a man in his late sixties, not at all scientific or technically oriented, it's a frustration that sometimes causes me not only to utter oaths but to scream and then give up on the whole thing. A joke is these days that one in such sad circumstances should ask the nearest kindergartner for help! Well, I have one in my family: Jonah. He knows how to operate Wii (pronounced "wee") with his big brother and cousin, as they play games on it.
I'm old-fashioned, and like to write - and receive - letters. I like 33 1/3 vinyl records too. But I fancy I'm not a dinosaur, though. Lord, save me from that!
For another time or post, I'll write about our Basement Project, that we are in the midst of, even as I write this missive. So, there we are for now. May my procrastinations cease as I get on with the tasks at hand.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
More on September 24--
Well, it worked! I find that I have to go to some sort of "preparatory" site to add new material, so I guess I'll try that for now. At least the little blurb I just wrote showed up on the fancy blog-site. Luck of the draw.
Yesterday [Now "Error" is appearing in a long, red line at the top of this page. There are new wrinkles all the time], I wrote a rather lengthy entry that somehow got eaten up or obliterated. I tried to retrieve it but couldn't. I miss Larry Falkowski at times like this. Larry was a colleague, rector of St. Stephen's here in Portland, from 1999-2005. He truly is "one of a kind," and one of his true gifts was computer science. He bailed me out, more than once. His then-wife, Diane Lucas, was my first admin. assistant at Ascension and would even consult Larry on more than one occasion. Such people are invaluable! Since Larry's moved back to New Jersey, I miss him when something like this happens. I could phone him - he'd be happy to hear from me, I am sure - but right now it would be nearly 11 pm, his time.
I forget, exactly, what I said yesterday, but it was something to do with my weekly ecumenical lectionary study group, a gang I really appreciate and time with them is time I truly cherish. Even though I don't preach every week now that I'm retired, I still love looking at the propers and presenting a passage from time to time; more, I love the presentations made by other members, who hail from the Lutheran, UCC, Presbyterian and Episcopal traditions. I wish we had some Roman Catholics in the group, but we don't, alas. I've been with this group now for about seven years and thoroughly enjoy it. Yesterday we had a lively discussion on the passages appointed for Sunday, October 5, as we look ahead about 11 days.
At noon yesterday I went to our parish, Ss. Peter & Paul, for the noonday weekly "Celtic Mass" and Bible study that follows it. Our rector Kurt Neilson usually presides at both; his creativity and wisdom are much appreciated by those of us who attend. Alas, there aren't many, but we had a lively dialogue on "church culture" a la the reading from Numbers for this Sunday. It seems that Bishop Sandy Hampton, our Assisting (Interim) Bishop here in our diocese of Oregon (the western part of the state), wanted us to do the Sunday propers (readings). Usually on this Sunday, we would celebrate St. Michael and All Angels, but a bishop, when he/she visits a parish, has the last word on what will be used, as it should be. I hope he'll say something in his homily about our "new stuff" at "SPP" (abbreviation conveniently used by us): Kurt's "new manifesto" to use our new gift of someone's bequest to the parish creatively, authentically and for our future, not just to patch up our looming debt and precarious present financial condition. It is a brave move.
Later that day, Fr. Kurt and I had a nice "pint" at a little pub on Stark St. (by the Friends Meeting House!) that brags about "1000 beers" and "17 drafts." Kurt's an honest aficionado of beer and suggested a hoppy one for me which I thoroughly enjoyed. More, I loved our conversation; I asked him what he might expect of me to help with his "new plan" and he came up with some via an email today which I'll have to think about and respond to in good time.
Today, I met with our "Fresh Start" group at St. Francis Church, Wilsonville, about 20 miles south of us. This is a group of newly-ordained and/or newly-placed clergy in our diocese. I'm sort of "in training" to be a mentor for the group and love every minute of it. Most of all, I am so impressed with the quality of our clergy in this diocese, which has in the past six years has experienced much turmoil in our leadership. That good clergy and good parishes have "kept the faith" and have, for the most part, sustained and grown their ministries and mission is little short of a miracle and a true grace. Our "presenter" today was our Assisting Bishop, Sanford Z.K. Hampton, whom I first new in Minnesota when he was Suffragan Bishop there in the late 80's and early 90's, before moving to our neighbor to the north, the Diocese of Olympia (Western Washington State) to be Assistant Bishop there. Now that he's retired, we have engaged him for half of each month to provide episcopal leadership, knowing that the governance of our diocese is in the hands of the Standing Committee (both clergy types and lay people). Sandy is another "one in a million": a terrific sense of humor, caring for everybody, articulate, helpful, optimistic, faithful. Good things have come from him since he's been with us these past 18 months; come next late winter, he'll give over the reins to our newly-elected bishop.
Sandy talked at length about last summer's General Convention and I won't bore my readers with what they already probably know or don't really care much about. We had a lively dialogue about Deacons and about Mission, our highest priority. I am highly energized by the Fresh Start Gang and am happy to be a part of it and a potential mentor one day when I receive the requisite training.
Enough for now. There's a special on our PBS channel on "Oregon Field Guide," one of our favorite shows that holds up the wonders of our geography here in an engaging way.
More later...
Well, it worked! I find that I have to go to some sort of "preparatory" site to add new material, so I guess I'll try that for now. At least the little blurb I just wrote showed up on the fancy blog-site. Luck of the draw.
Yesterday [Now "Error" is appearing in a long, red line at the top of this page. There are new wrinkles all the time], I wrote a rather lengthy entry that somehow got eaten up or obliterated. I tried to retrieve it but couldn't. I miss Larry Falkowski at times like this. Larry was a colleague, rector of St. Stephen's here in Portland, from 1999-2005. He truly is "one of a kind," and one of his true gifts was computer science. He bailed me out, more than once. His then-wife, Diane Lucas, was my first admin. assistant at Ascension and would even consult Larry on more than one occasion. Such people are invaluable! Since Larry's moved back to New Jersey, I miss him when something like this happens. I could phone him - he'd be happy to hear from me, I am sure - but right now it would be nearly 11 pm, his time.
I forget, exactly, what I said yesterday, but it was something to do with my weekly ecumenical lectionary study group, a gang I really appreciate and time with them is time I truly cherish. Even though I don't preach every week now that I'm retired, I still love looking at the propers and presenting a passage from time to time; more, I love the presentations made by other members, who hail from the Lutheran, UCC, Presbyterian and Episcopal traditions. I wish we had some Roman Catholics in the group, but we don't, alas. I've been with this group now for about seven years and thoroughly enjoy it. Yesterday we had a lively discussion on the passages appointed for Sunday, October 5, as we look ahead about 11 days.
At noon yesterday I went to our parish, Ss. Peter & Paul, for the noonday weekly "Celtic Mass" and Bible study that follows it. Our rector Kurt Neilson usually presides at both; his creativity and wisdom are much appreciated by those of us who attend. Alas, there aren't many, but we had a lively dialogue on "church culture" a la the reading from Numbers for this Sunday. It seems that Bishop Sandy Hampton, our Assisting (Interim) Bishop here in our diocese of Oregon (the western part of the state), wanted us to do the Sunday propers (readings). Usually on this Sunday, we would celebrate St. Michael and All Angels, but a bishop, when he/she visits a parish, has the last word on what will be used, as it should be. I hope he'll say something in his homily about our "new stuff" at "SPP" (abbreviation conveniently used by us): Kurt's "new manifesto" to use our new gift of someone's bequest to the parish creatively, authentically and for our future, not just to patch up our looming debt and precarious present financial condition. It is a brave move.
Later that day, Fr. Kurt and I had a nice "pint" at a little pub on Stark St. (by the Friends Meeting House!) that brags about "1000 beers" and "17 drafts." Kurt's an honest aficionado of beer and suggested a hoppy one for me which I thoroughly enjoyed. More, I loved our conversation; I asked him what he might expect of me to help with his "new plan" and he came up with some via an email today which I'll have to think about and respond to in good time.
Today, I met with our "Fresh Start" group at St. Francis Church, Wilsonville, about 20 miles south of us. This is a group of newly-ordained and/or newly-placed clergy in our diocese. I'm sort of "in training" to be a mentor for the group and love every minute of it. Most of all, I am so impressed with the quality of our clergy in this diocese, which has in the past six years has experienced much turmoil in our leadership. That good clergy and good parishes have "kept the faith" and have, for the most part, sustained and grown their ministries and mission is little short of a miracle and a true grace. Our "presenter" today was our Assisting Bishop, Sanford Z.K. Hampton, whom I first new in Minnesota when he was Suffragan Bishop there in the late 80's and early 90's, before moving to our neighbor to the north, the Diocese of Olympia (Western Washington State) to be Assistant Bishop there. Now that he's retired, we have engaged him for half of each month to provide episcopal leadership, knowing that the governance of our diocese is in the hands of the Standing Committee (both clergy types and lay people). Sandy is another "one in a million": a terrific sense of humor, caring for everybody, articulate, helpful, optimistic, faithful. Good things have come from him since he's been with us these past 18 months; come next late winter, he'll give over the reins to our newly-elected bishop.
Sandy talked at length about last summer's General Convention and I won't bore my readers with what they already probably know or don't really care much about. We had a lively dialogue about Deacons and about Mission, our highest priority. I am highly energized by the Fresh Start Gang and am happy to be a part of it and a potential mentor one day when I receive the requisite training.
Enough for now. There's a special on our PBS channel on "Oregon Field Guide," one of our favorite shows that holds up the wonders of our geography here in an engaging way.
More later...
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Never thought I'd do it
Hello, everyone! I swore I never would have a blog. Seems too narcissistic to me. But I have to admit that I love to communicate and a blog seems a good way to do that.
Today, Tuesday, September 22, 2009, the first official day of autumn and in Portland OR where I live it is very warm. It has been a good day, too - the sky is clear, there's a breeze from the east (maybe from "The Gorge" on the Columbia River) to cool us down a bit, psyches are cordial, the cat, Maggie (for "MagnifiCat"), is sprawled out on the lawn or driveway, probably contemplating her last days. She's somewhat eschatalogical, I guess.
Tonight I was going to attend an informal meeting of mostly "younger" (than I!) people who are committed to practicing and living-out an "emerging" sort of Christian life. My parish, Saints Peter & Paul, is given to a Celtic model, due mostly to our creative and very Celtic priest, Kurt Neilson. Emerging from that has been this emerging stuff which I do not in the least purport to understand. I would like to have gone, had a nice pint, eaten some pub grub, and listened in to the various conversations and maybe added my two bits. But I sha'nt be there, alas.
My duty now is to "de-clutter" my commitments and to pare down to essentials what I do in my retirement years, keeping in mind my marriage vows, my priesthood (it's not mine, of course, but God's), and how I might assist in the parish and diocese. I also am something of a singer/musician and want to keep my voice, becoming a bit more wobbly with my years, active.
So, I've decided to pare down a few things. Not ready, quite, to make an announcement for all and sundry to ooh and aah at, but tune in later and I'll share it.
Meanwhile, I'd like to hear from anyone who: is in his sixties, retired, is a more-or-less liberal and progressive Christian and might be struggling from time to time, as I do, with the lack of structure that retirement puts before us.
Today, Tuesday, September 22, 2009, the first official day of autumn and in Portland OR where I live it is very warm. It has been a good day, too - the sky is clear, there's a breeze from the east (maybe from "The Gorge" on the Columbia River) to cool us down a bit, psyches are cordial, the cat, Maggie (for "MagnifiCat"), is sprawled out on the lawn or driveway, probably contemplating her last days. She's somewhat eschatalogical, I guess.
Tonight I was going to attend an informal meeting of mostly "younger" (than I!) people who are committed to practicing and living-out an "emerging" sort of Christian life. My parish, Saints Peter & Paul, is given to a Celtic model, due mostly to our creative and very Celtic priest, Kurt Neilson. Emerging from that has been this emerging stuff which I do not in the least purport to understand. I would like to have gone, had a nice pint, eaten some pub grub, and listened in to the various conversations and maybe added my two bits. But I sha'nt be there, alas.
My duty now is to "de-clutter" my commitments and to pare down to essentials what I do in my retirement years, keeping in mind my marriage vows, my priesthood (it's not mine, of course, but God's), and how I might assist in the parish and diocese. I also am something of a singer/musician and want to keep my voice, becoming a bit more wobbly with my years, active.
So, I've decided to pare down a few things. Not ready, quite, to make an announcement for all and sundry to ooh and aah at, but tune in later and I'll share it.
Meanwhile, I'd like to hear from anyone who: is in his sixties, retired, is a more-or-less liberal and progressive Christian and might be struggling from time to time, as I do, with the lack of structure that retirement puts before us.
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