This is one for my Episcopal readers, and especially for Episcopal chaplains. The rest of you are certainly welcome as well.
If you've spent much time here, you know that to your left I have a link to The Bishop's Notebook, the blog of Bishop George Packard, Suffragan Bishop for Chaplaincies for the Episcopal Church. While he is directly responsible for Military and Federal Chaplains, he is also the contact person and advocate for healthcare and other chaplaincies at the Offices of the Episcopal Church and the House of Bishops.
You may have seen the story from the Episcopal News Service of the visits of Presiding Bishop Katherine Jefferts Schori with Bishop Packard and members of his staff to service members and veterans at Bolling Air Force Base, Walter Reed Medical Center, and the Pentagon. However, Bishop Packard tells on his blog a story that ENS didn't report, a story demonstrating at the bedside the pastoral focus and skill of the Presiding Bishop.
I won't quote Bishop Packard here. Rather, go and read the post. When you do, I think you'll know why I found it so exciting.
This has certainly been a tumultuous year for the Episcopal Church, and next year looks to be even more - is exciting the right word? Maybe. At any rate, when you read this anecdote about the Presiding Bishop, you'll see why many of us are so enthusiastic about her direction and her leadership.
Have a safe New Year's Eve, and a happy Feast of the Holy Name.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Brief Reflection for Christmas
We have often enough said in moments of contentment, "God's in his heaven, and all's right with the world." But, our empirical evidence is that all is not right with the world. We are the Christmas people, the people who proclaim that God knows that all is not right, and is not satisfied just to stand afar off, there in heaven. Instead, God became involved - intimately, inextricably, incomprehensibly involved; and by becoming part of God's own creation, God began the changes that will result in God's Kingdom, experienced in fullness.
Christmas is the day we proclaim that God is not just in heaven; and so we have the promise that all can and will be right with the world.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Once Again, Christmas with Amahl
This morning I am once again practicing my last Advent (or first Christmas) ritual: I am listening to “Amahl and the Night Visitors.” As “Jesus Christ Superstar” has long been my Holy Week ritual, I can’t be quite ready for Christmas until I’ve heard Amahl.
If you haven’t heard it before, I commend it to you. Gian Carlo Menotti composed it for the first broadcast of the Hallmark Hall of Fame on NBC. It was first broadcast on Christmas Eve, 1951, and every Christmas Eve after until 1966. It is a memory from my childhood, before we had joined the Episcopal Church and I had discovered Midnight Mass. Wikipedia has a good synopsis, with the history of the production, here. I have written some earlier reflections on the opera here.
As I listened this morning, I was particularly struck at how timely the setting is for this opera. Amahl’s mother is in her own survival mode. She can see no value beyond the economic, whether in her son’s poetry or in her guests’ possessions. It isn’t because she’s unfeeling. She loves her son powerfully, and wants, with what little she has – another “widow’s mite” – she wants to show hospitality. She is enough of a known person in her community that those around her will turn out in the middle of the night to extend their hospitality with hers.
At the same time, she is defeated, or so nearly so as not to matter. She is ashamed to consider begging, however exciting it might seem to her son; but she sees no other option for his survival, much less her own.
And so she is driven to theft. She considers differences in class: “I wonder if rich people know what to do with their gold,” thinking not of great luxury, but of the simple pleasures now beyond her reach, beyond her hope. She considers a greater good to be done: “Oh, what I could do for my child with that gold!” She considers even whatever incipient relationship, even obligation, she might have with her guests: “Why should it all go to a child they don’t even know?” Finally, she gives in, not for herself but for her child; not for it all, but for just what she might need: “If I take some they’ll never miss it.”
Perhaps; but she is caught in the act. And when caught, her humiliation, and that of her son, are complete. She is seized, and her only defender is her crippled son, too weak to do more than appeal plaintively to the kings themselves.
It is then that she discovers mercy: for the kings know she and her son are more important than the gold itself:
And in that moment, there is a miracle – indeed, there are two. We will all celebrate with the second, when Amahl can walk, blessed with healing in the moment of his own greatest generosity. But, neither do we want to miss the first: for it is indeed miraculous when his mother’s eyes are opened, her imagination expanded, and her hope renewed. Indeed, her miracle is not so different from his; for as his body his healed, so is her spirit. She can see possibilities again, possibilities that take her beyond herself, even beyond her son: “For such a king I’ve waited all my life. And if I weren’t so poor, I would send a gift of my own to such a child.”
We are surrounded these days with the same desperation Amahl’s mother felt. We see it of course in any Christmas, and will until we see the Kingdom in fullness: those who, beat down by their circumstances, unable to imagine alternatives, will steal. Some will be simply and solely greedy; but many, like Amahl’s mother, will be unable to bear the shame of what they cannot do for another, for children or spouse or those otherwise family. But this year I fear there will be so many more. The economic devastation around us, wrought in no small part by our own inability to see value beyond the economic, our own poverty of spirit, leaves many, and more than usual, literally with “nothing to eat, not a stick of wood for the fire, not a drop of oil in the jug.”
Give thanks for those who can say, to whatever extent and in whatever way, “Oh, woman, you can keep the gold [because] the Child we seek doesn’t need our gold.” Give thanks and praise when you can and I can say that, for when we do we open up possibilities for miracles. Cry aloud, “On love, on love alone will he build his kingdom… and the keys to his city belong to the poor.”
And pray, pray now and always, for those miracles, whether as visible as a dancing child, or as profound as a healed and opened heart. Pray that as our hearts are opened, so might theirs be; so that all of our eyes might be opened to the miracles wrought in the name of the Child.
Blessings for Christmas, and for all in this season of Light, from the Episcopal Chaplain.
If you haven’t heard it before, I commend it to you. Gian Carlo Menotti composed it for the first broadcast of the Hallmark Hall of Fame on NBC. It was first broadcast on Christmas Eve, 1951, and every Christmas Eve after until 1966. It is a memory from my childhood, before we had joined the Episcopal Church and I had discovered Midnight Mass. Wikipedia has a good synopsis, with the history of the production, here. I have written some earlier reflections on the opera here.
As I listened this morning, I was particularly struck at how timely the setting is for this opera. Amahl’s mother is in her own survival mode. She can see no value beyond the economic, whether in her son’s poetry or in her guests’ possessions. It isn’t because she’s unfeeling. She loves her son powerfully, and wants, with what little she has – another “widow’s mite” – she wants to show hospitality. She is enough of a known person in her community that those around her will turn out in the middle of the night to extend their hospitality with hers.
At the same time, she is defeated, or so nearly so as not to matter. She is ashamed to consider begging, however exciting it might seem to her son; but she sees no other option for his survival, much less her own.
And so she is driven to theft. She considers differences in class: “I wonder if rich people know what to do with their gold,” thinking not of great luxury, but of the simple pleasures now beyond her reach, beyond her hope. She considers a greater good to be done: “Oh, what I could do for my child with that gold!” She considers even whatever incipient relationship, even obligation, she might have with her guests: “Why should it all go to a child they don’t even know?” Finally, she gives in, not for herself but for her child; not for it all, but for just what she might need: “If I take some they’ll never miss it.”
Perhaps; but she is caught in the act. And when caught, her humiliation, and that of her son, are complete. She is seized, and her only defender is her crippled son, too weak to do more than appeal plaintively to the kings themselves.
It is then that she discovers mercy: for the kings know she and her son are more important than the gold itself:
Oh, woman, you can keep the gold.
The Child we seek doesn’t need our gold.
On love, on love alone
He will build His kingdom.
His pierced hand will hold no scepter.
His haloed head will wear no crown.
His might will not be built on your toil.
Swifter than lightning
He will soon walk among us.
He will bring us new life
and receive our death,
and the keys to His city
belong to the poor.
And in that moment, there is a miracle – indeed, there are two. We will all celebrate with the second, when Amahl can walk, blessed with healing in the moment of his own greatest generosity. But, neither do we want to miss the first: for it is indeed miraculous when his mother’s eyes are opened, her imagination expanded, and her hope renewed. Indeed, her miracle is not so different from his; for as his body his healed, so is her spirit. She can see possibilities again, possibilities that take her beyond herself, even beyond her son: “For such a king I’ve waited all my life. And if I weren’t so poor, I would send a gift of my own to such a child.”
We are surrounded these days with the same desperation Amahl’s mother felt. We see it of course in any Christmas, and will until we see the Kingdom in fullness: those who, beat down by their circumstances, unable to imagine alternatives, will steal. Some will be simply and solely greedy; but many, like Amahl’s mother, will be unable to bear the shame of what they cannot do for another, for children or spouse or those otherwise family. But this year I fear there will be so many more. The economic devastation around us, wrought in no small part by our own inability to see value beyond the economic, our own poverty of spirit, leaves many, and more than usual, literally with “nothing to eat, not a stick of wood for the fire, not a drop of oil in the jug.”
Give thanks for those who can say, to whatever extent and in whatever way, “Oh, woman, you can keep the gold [because] the Child we seek doesn’t need our gold.” Give thanks and praise when you can and I can say that, for when we do we open up possibilities for miracles. Cry aloud, “On love, on love alone will he build his kingdom… and the keys to his city belong to the poor.”
And pray, pray now and always, for those miracles, whether as visible as a dancing child, or as profound as a healed and opened heart. Pray that as our hearts are opened, so might theirs be; so that all of our eyes might be opened to the miracles wrought in the name of the Child.
Blessings for Christmas, and for all in this season of Light, from the Episcopal Chaplain.
Friday, December 19, 2008
The Voice of Another Chaplain
Today I received an email message through my blog, saying in part:
The email was from Marisa Karplus, Senior Coordinator for Marketing & Communications at StoryCorps. I appreciate her calling this to my attention. Some of my readers know I listen regularly to NPR. I've enjoyed many of the conversations recorded and shared through StoryCorps.
Janet Lutz is a retired hospital chaplain, Board Certified by the Association of Professional Chaplains (APC). She speaks of the Blessing of Hands, which many of us find a powerful experience of ministering to, and being ministered to by, staff. You can hear her story at StoryCorps here, at with some additional information at NPR here. It’s well worth the few minutes it will take you.
I certainly value my own ministry to staff, and their ministries to patients. While not all of them will use this language, many will consider their various tasks as ministry. I do my best to honor this every orientation, acknowledging that I know I’m not the only person providing spiritual care in my hospital. I’m aware that many of our folks pray for patients, and a few even pray with patients – so far, in circumstances and with respect for the patient that I can fully support.
I’m also convinced that good pastoral care of the staff contributes good pastoral care of patients. First, it provides models of good spiritual support that staff may follow. Second, experiencing good care themselves they are in a better place to offer spiritual support. Finally, experiencing good care they are more likely to refer patients to receive care.
So, take a few minutes with Chaplain Lutz. Her story is moving. And, listen to her counsel to us, her colleagues. Taking the time to listen honors those we serve, and provides the basis for all other care we might give.
Dear Marshall,
I thought that you and your readers would be very interested in the StoryCorps story of the day broadcast on NPR this morning. It is the story of hospital chaplain Janet Lutz from Atlanta telling her friend about the practice of blessing the hands of hospital workers. She also speaks about the quiet acts of kindness and prayer that happen every day in hospitals. It is a beautiful and heartwarming story.
The email was from Marisa Karplus, Senior Coordinator for Marketing & Communications at StoryCorps. I appreciate her calling this to my attention. Some of my readers know I listen regularly to NPR. I've enjoyed many of the conversations recorded and shared through StoryCorps.
Janet Lutz is a retired hospital chaplain, Board Certified by the Association of Professional Chaplains (APC). She speaks of the Blessing of Hands, which many of us find a powerful experience of ministering to, and being ministered to by, staff. You can hear her story at StoryCorps here, at with some additional information at NPR here. It’s well worth the few minutes it will take you.
I certainly value my own ministry to staff, and their ministries to patients. While not all of them will use this language, many will consider their various tasks as ministry. I do my best to honor this every orientation, acknowledging that I know I’m not the only person providing spiritual care in my hospital. I’m aware that many of our folks pray for patients, and a few even pray with patients – so far, in circumstances and with respect for the patient that I can fully support.
I’m also convinced that good pastoral care of the staff contributes good pastoral care of patients. First, it provides models of good spiritual support that staff may follow. Second, experiencing good care themselves they are in a better place to offer spiritual support. Finally, experiencing good care they are more likely to refer patients to receive care.
So, take a few minutes with Chaplain Lutz. Her story is moving. And, listen to her counsel to us, her colleagues. Taking the time to listen honors those we serve, and provides the basis for all other care we might give.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
News on Episcopal Chaplains
Once again, there is news for those interested in chaplains and chaplaincy in the Episcopal Church. The newest edition of “Chaplair,” the newsletter of AEHC, is now available on line. You can reach it directly here, or link from the front page of the AEHC web site here.
There are a number of interesting articles including:
There are a number of interesting articles including:
- Information about AEHC events coming up in Orlando, and a Registration form
- “A Day in the Life of” the Rev. Shiela Stanford, a colleague whose ministry has unique communication issues.
- News about AEHC officers meeting with the Presiding Bishop
- The experiences of AEHC President Gary Jones in ministering literally through the storm
Take a look and share what some Episcopal chaplains are doing. If you'd like more information on AEHC, you can email me from the AEHC site. And if you're going to be in Orlando and want to meet with others in the Episcopal Church, print off the Registration form and come join us.
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