23 january: phillips brooks

i sit sipping coffee before sunrise. the stars are all washed away by he dawn's spreading light. it must be full sunrise in the stratosphere. down here in the holler, i still need a candle.

it is the commemoration of phillips brooks. it's hard to get excited about phillips brooks, stuck as he is in this week of dramatic martyrs like agnes and fabian and vincent of sarragosa, all of whom died heroically in times of great tribulation.

brooks died in fashionable boston comfort, after 22 years as the rector of trinity parish and 15 months as the bishop of massachusetts. yet, as david l. veal writes, "he preached sound christian doctrine to listeners who ostensibly had no interest in such." he is therefore, i think, a much more helpful saint for most of us today , especially those of us who try to live lives based on sound christian doctrine in a world that clearly has very little interest in such. he is one of the candles most of us need.

(he also wrote the christmas carol, "o little town of bethlehem".)

prayers for the president

before today's commotion surrounding who would pray for the president, there have been prayers, both for the person and for the office.

the first american book of common prayer included this prayer:

"O LORD, our heavenly Father, the high and mighty Ruler of the universe, who dost from thy throne behold all the dwellers upon earth; Most heartily we beseech thee, with thy favour to behold and bless thy servant THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, and all others in authority; and so replenish them with the grace of thy Holy Spirit, that they may always incline to thy will, and walk in thy way. Endue them plenteously with heavenly gifts; grant them in health and prosperity long to live; and finally, after this life, to attain everlasting joy and felicity; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

it is a revision of the english prayer for the monarch, but it was moved to its position in morning prayer rather than in the communion service because george washington liked to hear it, but almost always left christchurch, alexandria, before the litany and communion.

later was added this prayer, which is less concerned with the occupant of the office as with the functioning of the office:

"O LORD our Governor, whose glory is in all the world; We commend this nation to thy merciful care, that being guided by thy Providence, we may dwell secure in thy peace. Grant to THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, and to all in Authority, wisdom and strength to know and to do thy will. Fill them with the love of truth and righteousness; and make them ever mindful of their calling to serve this people in thy fear; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, one God, world without end. Amen."

either or both seem appropriate prayers to remember and use, however we feel about the occupant of the office of the president or whom he asks for prayers.

the chair of peter and the week of prayer for christian unity

18 january, the feast of the chair of st. peter, called by protestants the confession of st. peter, has for more than 100 years now been the beginning of a week of prayer for christian unity. (the week ends on 25 january, the feast of the conversion of st. paul.) the week has sometimes been more attended, sometime less.

the differences between the parts of the church seeking union is illustrated in the way the feast that starts it is considered. from the roman catholic side unity seems possible by accepting the authority of peter's successors (even though his chair is actually from his documented time as bishop at antioch, rather than rome). from the protestant side unity seems possible by accepting the confession that "jesus is messiah" with an amazing variety of what is meant by that in the thousands of splinters of protestantism.

but there has been a unity within the church which i lament, and which seems often to prevent her recognizing the real unity which is her gift from her founder. it is fascinating to note that the story of peter's confession is set in caesarea philippi, a town which, celebrating both the greek and roman empires' rule in "the land," was a sort of twin towers of its day, with greek culture and roman politics. by recognizing the lordship of christ jesus, both of these towers were destroyed.

but both the roman catholic and protestant followers of jesus have tended to rebuild the towers (think babylon here if you haven't already). the roman catholic church quickly became a very worldly political power, and the first thing almost all of the protestants did, with a very few wonderful exceptions, was to try to force the government to accept their "confessions."

the church has often been united in wanting the kingdom of christ jesus to be the successor to the roman empire. no wonder jesus again and again told his disciples not to mention that he was the messiah. he knew we would get it wrong, again and again.

this is a prayer from the anglican tradition which seems appropriate for the week:


O GOD, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, our only Saviour, the Prince of Peace; Give us grace seriously to lay to heart the great dangers we are in by our unhappy divisions. Take away all hatred and prejudice, and whatsoever else may hinder us from godly, union and concord: that as there is but one Body and one Spirit, and one hope of our calling, one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism, one God and Father of us all, so we may be all of one heart and of one soul, united in one holy bond of truth and peace, of faith and charity, and may with one mind and one mouth glorify thee; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

14 january a.d. 2009

the moon waning in the pine tops demands i rise to witness the splendour of its slow slivering. spring is approaching: the pines' winddance is clearly visible now at 6:30, against the sky's pre-dawn day-glow grey, tempting me to join them for lauds. "o come," they choir, "let us sing unto the lord; let us heartily rejoice in the strength of our salvation."

they know i will come. i pour my coffee back into the pot on the warmer, to regain heat after the chill of the night-cooled mug, roll a cigarette for the morning incense offering, and vest in scarf and poncho and warm wool socks.

i envy the pines' perfect reedom, serving as they do the lord of the dance while rooted in one perfect, holy place. they each hold rings of knowledge of this hillside beyond anything for which i hope.

and yet, i try to console myself, and yet i in my warm cell am also surrounded by leaves, the leaves of writings of a great cloud of witnesses. indeed most of them have come from the great red barn of witnesses called hillspeak on grindstone mountain just to the south, a few miles beyond my laundry room.

and yet i know also why i buffer myself with that cloud. the pines dance sky-clad in the mighty wind; i sit shrouded in wool and coffee. with awe i watch the pine boughs dance, rejoice to see the great silver-winged vultures give themselves yet another day to the wind. but i also shudder a bit, trepid as i chant the words "today, if ye will, hear his voice . . . ." i know that even the towering loblollies will join their brethren who have danced themselves into windfall. three of them lie behind me, their tops pointing towards grindstone mountain, their roots still clinging to great clumps of the rocky soil from which they towered.

above us all the vultures gyre in the growing light, their silver wings flashing gold and bronze as they catch the day springing from on high.

the sunday after the epiphany: the baptism of our lord

"in the midst of life we are in death; of whom may we seek for succour but of thee, o lord, who for our sins is justly displeased?"

i sit on the edge of the valley
brimful with brown bare ruined choirs
winter cold winter dead.

the ground below packed skeletons
of dead creatures of the deep.
on the first day the spirit of the lord brooded
over them.
this first day they are shrouded with oak mould,
jordan's waters a memory ancient and legendary.
yet here begins the gospel of jesus
christ the son of god:
jesus comes to the jordan to be baptized.

"we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out."

i have brought bits of potatoes thinking
to feed the birds,
but winter's wind has frozen them hard as
the limestone.
therefore sit i only,
and watch.

"he shall feed his flock like a shepherd."

in the midst of this death there is
yet life:
flickers and cardinals and nuthatches
have found a table prepared.
they fly through the deep of
light on this first day.

"grant to us who are still in our pilgrimate, and who walk as yet by faith, that having served thee with constancy on earth, we may be joined hereafter with thy blessed saints in glory everlasting."

(quotes are from the burial office of the book of common prayer 1928).

7 january a.d. 2009

epiphany evening, after evening prayer with frankincense, and before dipping into the kings' cake, crowned with golden rings of pineapple and marischino rubies, a friend asked what we wanted for the new year.

the answers were mostly easily obtainable, ranging from "just to get by," to "a passionate new lovelife." but i have been feeling quite hopeful about my desire: i want psalm 72 to be filled as full as the stoneware jugs at the wedding in cana:


Give the King your justice, O God,
and your righteousness to the King's son;

That he may rule your people righteously
and the poor with justice.

That the mountains may bring prosperity to the people,
and the little hills bring righteousness.

He shall defend the needy among the people;
he shall rescue the poor and crush the oppressor.

He shall live as long as the sun and moon endure,
from one generation to another.

He shall come down like rain upon the mown field,
like showers that water the earth.

In his time shall the righteous flourish;
there shall be abundance of peace till the moon shall be no more.

He shall rule from sea to sea,
and from the River to the ends of the earth.

His foes shall bow down before him,
and his enemies lick the dust.

1The kings of Tarshish and of the isles shall pay tribute,
and the kings of Arabia and Saba offer gifts.

All kings shall bow down before him,
and all the nations do him service.

For he shall deliver the poor who cries out in distress,
and the oppressed who has no helper.

He shall have pity on the lowly and poor;
he shall preserve the lives of the needy.

He shall redeem their lives from oppression and violence,
and dear shall their blood be in his sight.

Long may he live! and may there be given to him gold from Arabia;
may prayer be made for him always, and may they bless him all the day long.

May there be abundance of grain on the earth, growing thick even on the hilltops;
may its fruit flourish like Lebanon, and its grain like grass upon the earth.

May his Name remain for ever and be established as long as the sun endures;
may all the nations bless themselves in him and call him blessed.

Blessed be the Lord GOD, the God of Israel,
who alone does wondrous deeds!

And blessed be his glorious Name for ever!
and may all the earth be filled with his glory.
Amen. Amen.

the feast of the epiphany

epiphany is a triple mystery: christ accepts his bride the church as water becomes wine at cana, christ washes away our sin in the jordan, and kings come to the brightness of his dawning. but it is the coming of the kings which has prevailed as the image in the western church, and which has resulted in one of my favourite comments on the day, this poem by t. s. eliot:

Journey of the Magi

'A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For the journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.'
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins,
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death,
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death. (from ariel poems--1928)