on being a priest today

it is five o'clock in the morning, raining. usually i would be praying psalms at this hour, but i am going to get on my bicycle in about 45 minutes and ride to a friend's house to share psalmody this autumn friday as the dayspring from on high visits us.

last night i finished reading nora gallagher's amazingly honest and painful book practicing resurrection, in which she describes her life while she was "discerning" her call to the priesthood in the episcopal church, three years during which she spent a lot of time flying back and forth between california and new mexico to visit her dying brother, and a lot of time driving back and forth between santa barbara and los angeles, and into the hills behind santa barbara, to discern and be discerned. as the book closes she has been discerned by the church to be fit for priesting, but she remains in what she calls the in between, no longer "just laity," but not quite a priest. she has not gone to seminary.

two nights ago i spent some time with a friend, ryan welch, who introduces himself as an "independent poet and thinker." he said that there are not many things he knows, but he does know that he is a poet: "i go to sleep a poet; i wake up a poet." now, ryan is not the most usual sort of person. he spends his days walking around the town, doing a little volunteer work, drinking coffee, thinking of his poems. he has no job, and he acutely feels that most of the people he meets consider him of doubtful socially redeeming value.

i'm a lot like ryan, although i consider myself profoundnly dependent: a profoundly dependent priest and thinker. (i try to rebel in my gentle way against the thinker part, but the monkey mind is always full.) i go to sleep a priest; i wake up a priest. during my days, i walk or bicycle around town, do a little volunteer work, drink coffee, and think about the book of genesis and pray for the folks i meet. i have no job, and feel acutely that many of the people who know me think better of me than they should. i am of very doubtful socially redeeming value.

gallagher, bless her heart as she drives hundreds of southern california miles musing about her home parish's concerns for cutting-edge environmental issues, does a wonderful job of expressing the confusion so common in the church today about laity and ordination. priests are the ones who get to wear "those beautiful robes" and stand behind the altar. the laity are those to whom those "privileges" are denied. she feels that to don the robes would be an abandonment of the laity.

i spend little time "behind the altar," and almost of none of it vested in those beautiful robes. so, what do i do that's priestly? the model of priestly activity is seen in the eucharist, when the priest takes the offerings of the people--offerings which unfortunately are often not really noticed except as the money, and that's often whisked away rather than placed on the holy table--thanks the holy one for them, remembering the actions of christ's incarnation as the model for the sanctification of all our lives, and then gives them back to the people. (i would add that a priest never stops being laity, a member of the people of god, a status given in baptism; the priest's job is a particular part of the work of the people--the liturgy).

in gallagher's book she experiencees priestliness in a situation that surprises her. at a book store, she receives help from a clerk. she is profoundly thankful for the help, acknowledging it with gestures and attention, giving back to the clerk their time together with a recognition of the holiness that is our true nature. this is the job of a priest. taking what the world has, giving thanks for it, giving it back with the acknowledgement that the holy one is making all things new.

this is how forgiveness works. things, actions, persons who have become tarnished by sin are made new by giving them to the holy one and receiving them back. there is nothing too tarnished, too distorted by sin, that the holy one cannot redeem them. the priest is empowered, ordained, set apart, to proclaim that that redemption, that forgiveness. it takes the whole people of god to make eucharist. each member has a role. all of the people bring something--most importantly, ourselves, our souls and bodiiwa. the priest leads us all in thanksgiving and gives it back, forgiven..

so, i wake up a priest, looking for what the world is offering today, giving thanks for it, and giving it back forgiven. as i finish writing this little post it's nine o'clock at night, and time for me to think over the day and give thanks for it again.

now of course the whole people of god, the whole body of christ, are a priestly people, a royal priesthood. so i invite you to join me this night and each night in giving thanks. you might consider this thanksgiving, written by an english priest during a time of great turmoil, as a start:

almighty god, father of all mercies,
we your unworthy servants give you humble thanks
for all your goodness and loving-kindness
to us and to all whom you have made.
we bless you for our creation, preservation,
and all the blessings of this life;
but above all for your immeasurable love
in the redemption of the world by our lord jesus christ;
for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory.
and, we pray, give us such an awareness of your mercies,
that with truly thankful hearts we may show forth your praise,
not only with our lips, but in our lives,
by giving up our selves to your service,
and by walking before you
in holiness and righteousness all our days;
through jesus christ our lord,
to whom, with you and the holy spirit,
be honor and glory throughout all ages. amen.

it seems to be a helpful way of looking at the parts of the day that we might have chosen to avoid as becoming part of "all the blessings of this life" as we give them to the holy one in thanksgiving.