erinjeanwarde's posterous http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com Most recent posts at erinjeanwarde's posterous posterous.com Tue, 18 Dec 2012 07:02:00 -0800 SERMON--Giving as Repentance: Luke 3:7-18 http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/sermon-giving-as-repentance-luke-37-18 http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/sermon-giving-as-repentance-luke-37-18

Today we hear a gospel with John the Baptist exhorting the people of God to repent.  When asked “what shall we do?” John the Baptist says, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.”  This reads to me as a confusing answer.  And why, exactly, are we talking about this for the third week of Advent? 

First, if we’re going to talk about repentance, let us first think together about sin.  The book that I tend to go to when I need to think about sin and what it means in my personal life, and in the communal life of the church, is called Speaking of Sin by Barbara Brown-Taylor.  She goes through the three Hebrew words that get translated into “sin” in the Bible, and finally notes that “what links all three of these Hebrew words together is their common theme of going against God’s will.  Whether people are missing the mark, acting wrongly, or engaging in outright rebellion, they are out of sync with God.”  Being out of sync with God would suggest a separation between God and humans, and if sin is separation between us and God, then repentance must bring us unity. 

Barbara Brown-Taylor mentions that when the Hebrew words were translated into Greek, the definition of sin being “missing the mark” wins out, such that in the New Testament that is commonly what the word means.  She says that sin is a “state of power of darkness that separates human beings from God.”  When she speaks about her own issues with the language of sin, she recognizes one of the biggest problems being that “no one ever taught me to name sin for myself.  Instead, they spent their time naming it for me, as it related to their lives, not mine.”  It is for that reason that I won’t name sin for you, but that I will offer you a suggestion—silence. 

To truly repent I believe we need silence.  Our society is loud.  We need the silence so that we can listen to the innermost words of our souls and hear, from God, who we are and what it is that we have become, and are becoming.  In this silence, if we listen, we will be able to name sin for ourselves.  If we can name sins for ourselves, we can repent, because we will know what our sins are. When we know our sins we can ask God to help us order our lives such that we move closer to God, and achieve the unity that is the opposite of the sin that separates.

This past semester, I studied a book called The Illumined Heart by Frederica Mathewes-Green with my college students, and she says that, “Repentance is the doorway to the spiritual life, the only way to begin. It is also the path itself, the only way to continue. Anything else is foolishness and self- delusion. Only repentance is brute-honest enough, and joyous enough, to bring us all the way home."  Friends, repentance is the beginning that gives us sustenance.  It doesn't just help us begin-- it helps us continue-- and it gives us our end, because our end is in God, and our repentance leads us to that unity. 

Green clearly speaks about repentance with the passion and import that John the Baptist shows.  John the Baptist believes that the kingdom of God has entered the world in the form of Jesus, to the point that he has dedicated his life and ministry to preparing the way for that kingdom to be made manifest through Christ.  Again, let us remember—he calls the people of God to repent, and when they ask what they shall do, he says what?  “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.”  He links the importance of repentance with giving.  Because of that, after all this talk of sin and repentance that I have laid out, I come to my real point:  I want to challenge you to try to see—with me—giving as an act of repentance… and an act necessary for us as we prepare for the birth of the Lord.

When I talk about repentance, I’m talking about the Greek term metanoia, which is translated as “a change of mind.”  And what is more of a changing and transforming of the minds in our culture than GIVING?  We live in a culture that has brought us things like television shows called Hoarders.  We live in a culture that couldn’t settle for the day after Thanksgiving anymore, and had to overcome Thanksgiving too with gluttonous shopping.  I saw on Facebook someone posted a picture on Black Friday that read, “Let’s get our minds off America’s debt crisis by maxing out our credit cards on a reckless shopping binge.”  We are not a culture that holds giving as a priority or a virtue.  We are a culture that keeps, while John the Baptist calls us to repent, and give.
In our corporate confession, we pray not only for what we have done, but for what we have left undone.  I know that when we have the pause between “Let us confess our sins against God and our neighbor” and “Most merciful God,” I often see faces.  Faces of the people that I pass as I drive to work, who have obvious needs that I ignore, as I turn the music up a little louder to try to drown out the convicting silence with popular noise.  I sometimes see the logos of organizations that I keep promising myself I’ll volunteer at, yet keep putting off with empty justifications.  If you ask me, these areas of my life in which I neglect to give to others are areas of sin in my life.  They are sinful, because these justifications keep me from unifying with the people in the world who are the face of Christ in my daily life.  And if I’m not unifying with those people, then I’m separate from them.  And that’s separation from God.  And separation from God is the presence of sin.  It’s not only what I’ve done—it is what I have left undone.  That’s repentance in my every day life.

But what about faith, repentance, giving, and God in times of tragedy?  Friday a man opened fire on an elementary school in Newtown, Connecticut.  18 children were killed, along with many teachers.  This is truly devastating, and I spent all day Friday thinking about the children that I love, the parents I know, St. Paul’s Day School, and my own innocent memories of being in elementary school.  Friday, I heard innocence shatter in the face of sin.  The kind of sin that leaves 18 children dead in its wake.  Sin that steals our hope.

Times like these, times of immense evil occurring in the world, are calls to repentance for us as a people.  And giving can be that act of repentance.

Giving our time to teachers who wonder about their own safety, and the safety of the children they teach, in their daily life and work.

Giving time to cherishing our children and teaching them about the perfect love of Christ that casts out all fear, and changes the world.

Giving time to God in prayer, faithfully asking God our real, true, and honest questions about the evil in the world, and the sins of our own lives.

Giving our time to the study of Holy Scripture, that tells us that God is love… that hope does not disappoint… and that the God of flesh that we worship has given us abundant life.

This is the beginning of the third week of Advent.  We are in a time of preparation.  We are cleaning our houses, to have guests. We are taking down boxes from the attic, to make our home more welcoming.  I do not intend to guilt you for sending cards to people that say “Merry Christmas” on them.  I do, however, encourage you to spend time in silence.  There is a lot to do to prepare for the birth of the Lord—and repentance is one of those things.  What better way to prepare ourselves than repentance for the coming of the Christ-child?  Can you think of a finer coat to wear than that of absolution?  Can you imagine a finer adornment than the blessing of God's forgiveness?  Because there is none. 

Yes, prepare your home for the birth of Christ.  The best way to prepare—is to ask God to break in. To ask God to be born in our lives.  To ask God to heal our pain.  Do so with repentance and a giving heart.  The fruits of repentance, ripe in our lives, will draw the presence of Christ into our homes and sacred spaces.  Christ will show up and fill the void left by evil and tragedy, and offer us a new world.

Amen.

 

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http://files.posterous.com/user_profile_pics/2251223/erin.jpg http://posterous.com/users/he6wPuguoDOA2 Erin Jean Warde erinjeanwarde Erin Jean Warde
Sun, 18 Nov 2012 20:23:00 -0800 SERMON--Hannah's Prayer: Shame, Vulnerability, and Connection http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/hannahs-prayer-shame-vulnerability-and-connec http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/hannahs-prayer-shame-vulnerability-and-connec

Today’s Old Testament lesson introduces us to a world of complicated relationships. There is the relationship between Hannah, the main character of the story, to her husband: Elkanah. There’s also the relationship between Elkanah and one of his other wives, Peninnah. There’s the relationship between Hannah and Peninnah, and the pastoral relationship between Hannah and the priest Eli.

Hannah is barren in a cultural world that seems to think a woman’s only offering is the fruit of her womb, while Elkanah’s other wife has given him children. Scholars believe Hannah was the first wife, and that when she was found to be barren, Elkanah sought out Peninnah so that he might have heirs.

In this part of the story of Hannah, we are introduced to a reality in her life that would seem to lead her into the desperate prayer we hear later: that reality is her shame. We are told that Peninnah shames and irritates her, because she is barren, to the point that Hannah wept and would not eat. When she finally brings herself to God in fervent prayer, the priest Eli shames her by assuming her actions to be that of a drunkard rather than a faithful woman.

Recently I have been immersed in the world of books and lectures by Brené Brown. Brené Brown is a research professor at the University of Houston Graduate College of Social Work. She has spent the past ten years studying vulnerability, courage, authenticity, and shame. She became famous through a talk she did in Houston on vulnerability, and she spoke at this year’s Diocese of Texas clergy conference.

She might say she teaches, I would say she preaches, about shame, vulnerability, and connection. She writes, “There are a couple of very helpful ways to think about shame. First, shame is the fear of disconnection. We are psychologically, emotionally, cognitively, and spiritually hardwired for connection, love, and belonging. Connection, along with love and belonging is why we are here, and it is what gives purpose and meaning to our lives. Shame is the fear of disconnection - it’s the fear that something we’ve done or failed to do, an ideal that we’ve not lived up to, or a goal that we’ve not accomplished makes us unworthy of connection.”

Think, if you will, of shame under this definition, and how it may be present in the life of Hannah. She fears she is disconnected from her husband, because she is barren. She is disconnected from his other wife, as Peninnah offends and taunts her. She is disconnected from the priest Eli, as he recognizes her most heartfelt prayer as a drunken stupor. If there is any connection, it is connection to God.

Brene continues, "In shame-prone cultures, where parents, leaders, and administrators consciously or unconsciously encourage people to connect their self-worth to what they produce, I see disengagement, blame, gossip, stagnation, favoritism, and a total death of creativity and innovation.” If we’re looking at the life of Hannah, I think it is fair to assume that her barrenness and her self-worth may be intertwined, as she finds herself unable to produce the one thing her society seems to think she can make of worth: a child. This dynamic in her home life is certainly apparent, as Peninnah lords her fertile womb over Hannah. This also changes her home life as her husband seems to struggle to understand her depression, saying “Hannah, why do you weep? Why do you not eat? Why is your heart sad? Am I not more to you than ten sons?”

According to Brene, there is, however, a secret weapon in light of shame: and that is vulnerability. Brene writes, “Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity. It is the source of hope, empathy, accountability, and authenticity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose or deeper and more meaningful spiritual lives, vulnerability is the path. Vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage.”

Hannah overcomes her shame through the vulnerability that she shows in her heartfelt vow to God. “O Lord of hosts, if only you will look on the misery of your servant, and remember me, and not forget your servant, but will give to your servant a male child, then I will set him before you as a nazirite until the day of his death.” A nazirite was a man fully and completely devoted to the Lord. In essence, Hannah prays: if you would but give me a son, I vow to give him back.

Brene says that, “Trust is a product of vulnerability that grows over time and requires work, attention, and full engagement.” Hannah certainly trusts God, and shows in her turning to God the attention and engagement with which she approaches the Lord. While she may fear disconnection and disengagement in her relationships with other people, she vows not only to set her son as a nazirite before the Lord, but through her faithfulness to essentially set herself as a nazirite before the Lord in a spiritual sense. She seems to say, Lord give me a son, and I will give him back, and in all of this I will give myself and be vulnerable to your word and will.

Also, another startling reality is her confidence in how she reacts to the priest, Eli. Eli approaches her full of assumptions and says, “How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Put away your wine.” And Hannah, at the lowest place of society and unable to offer what her culture may call her only sense of worth says something profound. She says “No.” She says “No, let me tell you the truth.” Brene talks in her lecture about courage, and how it comes from the root word cour which means “heart.” She defines courage as telling the story of who you are with your whole heart.

Hannah stops Eli and says: “Let me tell you the story of who I am with my whole heart. I am courageous. I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the Lord. Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation all this time. Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman. Do not shame me. I have entered this temple in a moment of holy vulnerability, to lay myself bare to the God that already knows who I am when I am laid bare. I have entered this temple in a moment of holy vulnerability to connect with God and to hear from God the story of who I am, with my whole heart.”

There is another secret weapon in light of shame: and that is naming it. Brene writes that “Shame derives its power from being unspeakable..... If we cultivate enough awareness about shame to name it and speak to it, we’ve basically cut it off at the knees. Shame hates having words wrapped around it. If we speak to shame, it begins to wither.” Hannah speaking to shame has this effect. She enters the temple and prays to God. She names her shame. She leaves the temple with a vacant womb: still struggling with that reality, YET her countenance has changed. “Then the woman went to her quarters, ate and drank with her husband, and her countenance was sad no longer." 

Her vulnerable act of prayer to God has named her shame and reconnected her with her husband, and changed her self-worth. I am led to believe that even if she had never conceived, her heart still would have been lightened and her self-worth restored through the act of naming shame and taking it to God in that moment of holy vulnerability. I’m not naïve enough to believe that she prayed one prayer and poof—her sadness and shame was gone. I hope you don’t hear me saying that. What I mean to say is that shame is the fear of disconnection—and that her naming of shame and her vulnerability offered connection to herself, her husband, and God.

I believe that we, as a people of the Lord, are called to offer ourselves to God in moments of holy vulnerability.

I believe that we are called to recognize that God asks us to show compassion to creation, and that we are part of that creation and must show compassion to ourselves.

I believe that we are called to offer empathy to other people as they battle with shame, knowing that in doing so we love God through loving our neighbor.

I believe that we are called to honor other people such that we do not perpetuate the cycles of shame in our world that drive others to despair.

I believe that we are called to share with the world the story of who we are, with our whole heart.

I ask this all for the glory of God: Father, son, and holy spirit – who has brought us from barrenness to new life. Amen.

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http://files.posterous.com/user_profile_pics/2251223/erin.jpg http://posterous.com/users/he6wPuguoDOA2 Erin Jean Warde erinjeanwarde Erin Jean Warde
Tue, 04 Sep 2012 07:36:00 -0700 SERMON--Song of Solomon 2:8-13 http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/song-of-solomon-28-13 http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/song-of-solomon-28-13

Today’s Old Testament reading from the Song of Solomon is one of the only scripture readings in the lectionary that makes me swoon. 

The voice of my beloved!
Look, he comes, leaping upon the mountains…
Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away…

I picture two lovers sitting together in a field by a pond, one leaning up against a tree, and the other lying on a blanket beside, sure to be covered by the shade.  They take turns reading sonnets to one another, and for every 14 lines they say to one another through perfectly written verse: I love you, and I thank God for you.

This scripture conjures up in me the deep desire that comes from having meaningful relationships with other people.  But mostly the deepest desire of my being which is to know and love God.  This love song calls the people of God to awaken, to arise, to come to the voice of the living God. 

The poem brings us into the playful life of God, ripe with the fruit of delight…
And as we delight in the world that God has made, God is delighted in our joy.

We are placed not only in the garden of lovers who are alive with flirtation, but also in the garden of creation which is alive with the love of God.  Just as it was at the time of creation, so it is now. 

God—unable to be contained by the heavens—overflowed from the heavens to create the earth, making the earth as a Garden. 

And still, unable to be contained in the lush riches of the ground, trees, earth, and sea… God made all the animals that would walk the earth, from the gazelle to the turtledove, and others—more than we can count. 

Yet, there was still more love in God to send to earth.  Breathing out, God let man and woman in… into the world created for love, delight, and joy.  He placed them in a Garden and walked with them… All the while simply dwelling in and giving voice to the very creation that was an overflowing of God’s own being, and goodness. 

The overflowing love in this poetic song is both the creator of all things, and part of our creation.  The love shared between the couple is not only human.  The world around them takes part in their joy.

The flowers bloom. 
The turtledove sings. 
The fig tree bears fruit. 
The vines give their fragrance. 
The love of the man and woman is contagious. 
It spreads across the hills and the valleys. 
It sends winter and rain running,
and makes for creation the most fertile ground of joy. 

Love cannot be contained. 
It overflows into the grass, sky, and earth. 
It can be seen in the blossom of flowers,
tasted in the flesh of the figs,
felt in the lover’s embrace,
heard in the song of the turtledove,
and smelled in the fragrance of the vine. 

God’s redemptive love takes place in creation, not apart from it.

There is a playfulness here, a sense of two people frolicking in a world that is pure gift.  There is a gracefulness in this play, and a playfulness in God’s grace.  This pure gift is boundless, as uncontrollable as the shifting of the seasons. We watch it unfold before us like the turning of a tree, which happens in its own time.  We must wait in joyous anticipation as it gives its fruit, and thank God that we might taste it.  We do not command the turtledove to sing, or tame the wild gazelle… Instead we listen to the voice of the beloved, who invites us to notice the manifestations of love that happen in God’s time. 

This love song is free of any form of subordination—there is no ground to plow, no woman who is told to be silent, no snake to be trampled underfoot.  This love song does not call us to think about the earthly structures that harden us as human beings. 

This love song is playful, and it calls us to love one another, and to take our relationships with each other so seriously that we bathe them in the gentleness of graceful love. 

This love song presents us with God as loving gift.  While this gift is not controlled by us, it is still among us.  This is not a disembodied gift—this isn’t a theory. 

This is hands in hands,
kisses from bride to husband,
flowers blossoming,
and a tree showering the grass with fruit. 

And what good is fruit if it is not tasted? 
How fragrant is a flower if it is never smelled? 
What love is shown between lovers if they never kiss? 

This love is among us, and the voice of the beloved calls us to participate.  To see, touch, hear, smell, and taste.

The goodness of God that has overflowed into creation comes to us not only in the fruit of the vine, but also in the Son of the Father.  God’s love could not be contained in the heavens, so God entered earth… Born of a woman, God was clothed in flesh to remove the limits of flesh.  God’s love is not a disembodied gift—it isn’t a theory.  It’s a person. 

He is using spit and mud to bring sight,
He is pouring living water into the well of human existence,
He is wearing a cloak that, with one touch, can change a life. 

God’s love could not be contained in the Heavens, nor could it be contained on the earth.  Jesus entered the world to leave it, and loved creation from within.  Standing in the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus knew his role in the outpouring of the overflowing love of God.  So, through his death he responded to the voice of that Goodness that dwelled within him.  The beloved had spoken to him and said:

Arise, my love, my fair one… And come away;
it is time for winter to pass, and for rain to leave this land.
Let the flowers appear on the earth;
the time for singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove must be heard in our land.
The fig tree must put forth its figs,
and the vines must blossom;
and give forth fragrance.
Arise, my love, my fair one… And come away.

And, Jesus did. 
Jesus ascended into the heavens from which he came. 
And in his leaving the earth,
our resurrection was showered upon us,
and we were welcomed into not the winter of death,
but the springtime of life.   

 

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Tue, 17 Jul 2012 21:03:00 -0700 Life on this side of the veil http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/life-on-this-side-of-the-veil http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/life-on-this-side-of-the-veil

Monday I found out that a woman I felt very close to from my church in Austin died of lung cancer.  In the time that I was at the parish, I knew nothing of her cancer, as it had gone into remission when I was there. 

For one of my classes, we had to interview lay leaders within our field ed churches about what their definition of the Church was, what their ministry meant, etc.  I interviewed her and she shared about her ministry with Loaves & Fishes, where she grew up, her beliefs about God, and how thankful she was to be at All Saints.  This was within the first month of me doing field ed, and I immediately knew I looked up to her, and that she would help form me into being a priest.

As the weeks went on in field ed, I would see her every Sunday, and every Wednesday when I led Evening Prayer (she was quite dedicated to Evening Prayer).  I walked in to do my first Evening Prayer service terrified, because I just wasn’t quite sure how things worked yet.  I remember she and I sitting in silence in the choir area waiting to see if anyone else would come.  We finally chatted, our small talk seeming even smaller in the large empty church.  I did the service, stumbling over words and feeling sorry for the regulars who had to deal with someone so new and ill equipped.  When the service ended, she walked up to me, put an arm around me and said, “That was beautiful.  I’m glad you’re here.”

When I wanted to go to England, she left a check and a simple note: “Enjoy your travels!”

I absolutely love what I feel called to do.  I feel like every week, gosh—everyday—something happens that reminds me that this is perfect for me.  Something happens that affirms why I’m here, and that this is a very holy place in my life.

But what I didn’t know is how much holiness could hurt.  It is my greatest joy to know that someone who formed me into being a better priest is free from physical pain.  It is my greatest joy that I knew her at all.  But that joy doesn’t always feel good. 

When people I care about die and experience holiness in its fullness, I have to continue to live on this side of the veil.  And it hurts in the kind of way that leaves a lump in my throat, a knot in my stomach, and anger in my tears.

I live a life of being invited into the most personal and intimate areas of people’s lives, and when I know people on those levels, it’s hard to ever let them go, even when letting go is the only option.  It’s the most beautiful thing in the world, and it hurts.

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Sun, 08 Jul 2012 20:42:00 -0700 General Convention: Temporary, Yet Eternal http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/general-convention-temporary-yet-eternal http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/general-convention-temporary-yet-eternal The General Convention experience is one I cannot easily put into words. That said, I'm clearly going to try. We are living in a General Convention world- temporary, yet eternal.  My days are filled with passing hundreds of people in the halls of the Indianapolis convention center that have badges explaining that we're here for the same church. My days are filled with visiting dozens of booths filled with organizations I didn't know existed.  My day are filled with meeting new people, knowing that I have yet to know how much their lives will impact mine.   It can be easy to get caught up in the buttons, free pens, hotel bars, etc. I know this because I've been fighting that tendency. What keeps me away from assessing this as just a convention is my recognition that what is happening here is holy work done by holy people for a holy Church. The decisions we make will not fade into the background.  Earlier today I posted a tweet that basically said, I love General Convention because it offers us the opportunity to meet tons of new people who we can build relationships with, such that we will have one another as we struggle through the inevitable growing pains.  That's why I'm blessed to be here.  I'm blessed to be here because I have the opportunity to meet other people that will care for me when I have growing pains, and because I have the opportunity to meet other people that I will care about when they feel the first pangs of the beautiful unknown. 

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Wed, 04 Jul 2012 22:19:00 -0700 My first full day of General Convention http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/my-first-full-day-of-general-convention http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/my-first-full-day-of-general-convention The General Convention experience is without question fantastic. I can't tell you how thankful I am to be here representing the Seminary of the Southwest. Every day I've met new people and those people have really changed me in positive ways. I'm enjoying interviewing people and asking about their definition of what kind of leadership we need me a Episcopal Church today. In addition to meeting new people I'm enjoying meeting new people specifically from the diocese of Texas. This is a new diocese for me and I don't know many people. In meeting new people, I share with them who I am and tell them about my new position. In addition I'm learning the life of the diocese, I'm being truly incorporated into this new diocese. That said I'm still highly involved in the diocese of the Central Gulf Coast. In the grand scheme of things everything is great.  I'm looking forward to meeting new people but I'm also looking forward to tomorrow when I get to spend more time in committees learning about different resolutions and whether or not they'll be sent to the floor. In closing I have to share that it is incredibly neat to meet people in real life that I've known through social media for so long. Multiple people came up to me and knew my face and name because of social media. It's exciting to meet these people and have conversations with them knowing that I know them so very well. This was especially important tonight at the tweetup that was organized by Scott Gunn and Joseph Matthews. In closing this is a really beautiful place. I'm thankful for the opening words of the presiding Bishop. I'm also thankful for the new people that have made time to get to know me. And lastly without question I'm thankful for the Seminary of the Southwest for letting me be here and for letting me represent the seminary.

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Fri, 29 Jun 2012 06:02:00 -0700 General Convention is soon!! http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/general-convention-is-soon http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/general-convention-is-soon I'm less than a week away from General Convention and all I can think of is how thankful I am. I distinctly remember the summer before seminary, tracking GC 2009 in Troy, AL with Joseph and Father Jeff.  Now, in a strange turn of events, I'm GOING to GC and am going as an ORDAINED person. Even more so than that, my priest at the church that I WORK AT (because I have a JOB) has asked me to get all my ordinations plans set, WHICH I HAVE, for a literal ordination to the PRIESTHOOD on August 3.  It is a strangely beautiful world that I live in and I can't stop thanking God for it. I feel like every day something happens that reminds me that I have picked the right vocation, AKA that obedience to God is just as good as people say it is. People literally let me into the reality of their lives and it is treacherous and breathtaking.   One of my favorite priests-- a phenomenal man with a wonderful heart-- once said that he has been a priest for a very long time, and that he has never stopped loving it... Because he was paid to give a damn about other people, and he should have been doing that anyway. So that's it.  I give a damn about people.  And God consistently reminds me that that doesn't make me special, it just makes me obedient... And I should have been that anyway.

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http://files.posterous.com/user_profile_pics/2251223/erin.jpg http://posterous.com/users/he6wPuguoDOA2 Erin Jean Warde erinjeanwarde Erin Jean Warde
Mon, 16 Apr 2012 21:17:00 -0700 Warning: A sentimental Easter meditation. http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/warning-a-sentimental-easter-meditation-86875 http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/warning-a-sentimental-easter-meditation-86875

Right before Easter, our seminary started selling Easter lilies to be placed on the altar in memory of people we loved who were now enjoying eternity.  I kept thinking how much I'd love to buy two, one for my grandmother (Grandmere), and one for my grandfather (PawPaw), but in the hustle and bustle of senior year I never did.  I mentioned this regret during Easter Vigil to my close friend Jessie, because I kept smelling them and the scent brought the greatest joy.

Sunday, I walked home from church, knowing I could only stop by the apartment quickly, because I needed to be somewhere soon.  I wanted to run by the apartment and drop some things off, and as I approached my door I saw nothing but my recycling bin.  As I got closer, I could see lilies in front of my door.  Two Easter lily plants in front of my door! 

My friend Jessie retrieved them from her field ed parish and brought them to me.  My hope for buying them in the first place (honestly) was not to simply place them on the altar, but to bring that altar into my home, and have two Easter lily plants in my home/apartment/whatever as a continual remembrance of my PawPaw and Grandmere.  You see, they grew lilies, and I'll never tire of the smell and sight of lilies, because they're one of the best memories of my childhood.  I would run around in the backyard while my grandfather gardened.  I can still remember lilies being taller than me, and something that I could at least try to hide behind.  I miss my PawPaw dearly.  He is still the greatest man I've ever known.  Grandmere equals in greatest woman I've ever known with my own mother, her daughter, or as she is to me, "Mama."

Now, these lilies sit in my apartment.  Last night, as I couldn't sleep, I would get frustrated and try to slow my breathing into a meditative way, so that maybe it would lull me to sleep.  In the very moment that I sought my own inner peace, I was able to smell the Easter lilies in my home.  My apartment--filled with dirty laundry, all the messiness of a cat, a few dirty dishes, etc-- smelled of nothing other than my PawPaw's garden and both my PawPaw and Grandmere's eternal love. 

With such a vivid recollection of a place that I felt safe, I was able to sleep. 

I can remember my PawPaw and Grandmere who have died with the lilies that continue to live.  Even though a lily dies, lilies themselves do not.  Even though the people we love die, they themselves do not.  When Christ enters the tomb, even though he dies, he does not.  I'm blessed by the shattering of death that brings me new life everyday.  I pray that I can live it in a way that honors my PawPaw, Grandmere, and Mama, while also showing love to others and thus living into the ultimate call I have from God.

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Tue, 10 Apr 2012 07:30:00 -0700 Thoughts before General Convention... Read: ramblings. http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/thoughts-before-general-convention-read-rambl http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/thoughts-before-general-convention-read-rambl

Recently Seminary of the Southwest had a discussion regarding the upcoming General Convention, and what this will mean for the Episcopal Church as votes come in either for or against the Episcopal Church blessing same sex marriages.  Two professors (Dr. Scott Bader-Saye and The Rev. Dr. Nathan Jennings) delivered presentations regarding various perspectives on same sex blessings in the Episcopal Church.  The conversation, in a nutshell, was about how people can minister to other people about sexuality, regardless of what our own feelings are on the matter.  After the presentations, we had a very honest Q&A time, followed by breaking up in small groups to talk about our own thoughts/hopes/fears going into this General Convention and as people being formed to be priests.  It was a refreshing conversation for me, and it caused me to confront some of my fears going into my ministry in a parish and student center.  I'm honored that I'm able to go to General Convention, but I can't now know how heavy my heart will be as I board my return flight from Indianapolis to Waco.

I struggle with the fact that I believe that the Episcopal Church should bless same sex marriages, but that I don't want to be exclusive to those who are struggling with that.  (I also struggle with the fact that I don't want one belief of mine to define the entirety of my ministry.  Not everything about my ministry has to do with the sexual orientation of other people.)  All people should be shown love by the Church, regardless of their belief on the matter.  God's love isn't intended to be divisive, it is intended to call the kingdom of God into unity.  Still, the way we interpret God's love and blessing leaves us with sides, and as clergy I feel like I have to figure out how to minister to the "other side" of where I stand even though I hate that there are sides.

I recognize that, as clergy, we minister to people, not ideologies.  This must mean that we minister to people without asking first what their opinion is on the blessings of same sex marriages.  I can say that fairly easily, but I think I have to clarify that this isn't a plea for us to diminish this concern or act like it isn't important.  It is important!  It needs to be talked about.  We need to recognize as an institution any hatefulness that has been shown to people in same sex partnerships.  It is that very need to talk about this that is why I care so much.  Unfortunately, "we minister to people, not ideologies," forgets that this is, in fact, ALL about people.  There are people who want same sex marriages, there are people who do not, and they are all people.  We cannot pretend that this will ever simply be an ideology.

How can the Episcopal Church be prophetic, without excluding the beliefs of some Christians?  I wonder if being truly prophetic is not taking a side so much, as it is recognizing a reality and claiming it.  I don't know if that can be done without it seemingly being a choice of two sides, but I certainly believe claiming a reality is healthier than giving into choosing one side of a binary.

I think the solace I find comes from the recognition that ministry in light of the decisions made by General Convention is still just that: ministry.  It means being a non-anxious presence.  It means not projecting my issues onto anyone else.  It means loving people before and after I know their opinions.  It means listening closely.  It means praying for and with them.  It means recognizing that there isn't anyone God hates.  It means worshipping God.

My biggest desire is this: I want the Episcopal Church to bless same sex marriages, and I want people who are uncomfortable with that to know that the Episcopal Church should still be a place they can worship.  I do not want one issue to define the Church, unless that issue is the grace, love, and gift of God.  I do not want there to be a scarcity of love.  I want the decisions of General Convention to show love, encourage love, and send us back to our congregations to love people -- ALL the people -- not the opinions and ideologies that bring us to division rather than unity.

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Mon, 02 Apr 2012 10:27:00 -0700 Sermon--If I am not doing the works of my Father, then do not believe me (John 10:31–42) http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/sermon-if-i-am-not-doing-the-works-of-my-fath http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/sermon-if-i-am-not-doing-the-works-of-my-fath

If I am not doing the works of my Father, then do not believe me.

This begs the question, what am I doing?

Calling attention to our actions can feel treacherous.  It is easy to think, “Well sure Jesus, of course YOU want everyone to look at your actions—you’ve been lauded by the Church as THE moral exemplar!”

Still, Jesus heals on the Sabbath, an action that was rebuked….
He spoke with people that he wasn’t supposed to speak to…
He lost his temper at the temple…
And he struggled with his calling at Gethsemane. 

He may be our moral exemplar, but he calls us to look at his actions, even though his actions were controversial, and put him at odds with society’s norms.

I’ve often thought about how seminary communities are basically a sociological phenomena.  How on earth do we end up coexisting even semi peacefully when almost everyone here wants to be a leader?  How do we balance power and authority, identity, and zealous belief in God without consistently losing it on each other?

I ask this because in today’s Gospel, when Jesus proclaims his true identity, he is almost stoned for blasphemy, as if his identity is a lie.  Talk about having a hard time claiming your pastoral identity.  I can’t imagine who I would be right now if every time I started to tell my call story, I looked up and all my classmates were holding stones. 

Jesus had to proclaim his authority amongst people who only seem to care about power.  And power and authority are set at odds with one another.  I’d go so far as to say that we live in a power hungry society, and that our calling as disciples is to show that there is power in weakness, because our weakness is redeemed.

Very truly I tell you, the hardest thing I’ve done in seminary is claim my identity as a deacon and future priest.  It isn’t a huge a secret anymore that my GOE scores devastated me.  As a person who has been in school since five, I’ve spent most of my life placing my identity in letter grades and percentages.

I felt defined, and the definition wasn’t anything I was happy with.

The day after finding out my scores, I received a call from my field ed parish.  All the clergy were gone, except me.  A parishioner’s mother was very ill, near death, and the family wanted communion.  Dragging myself out of the hole of bad grades and pity that only I had dug for myself, I set out to the hospital, with my communion kit.

And that’s when I REALLY became a deacon.  I may not be able to always write a perfect essay, but God has given me the strength to go into a hospital and love a family and pray for the dying and deliver the body and blood of Christ. 

And in reality, that’s actually what I want to do.  What I REALLY want to do is serve Christ.  And what I really want to feel bad about is when I serve myself rather than God.  Because my identity isn’t so much tied up into my words anymore—the words in my essays. 

My identity is wrapped up in what I’m doing. 

My identity is wrapped up in my worship,
my prayer,
my relationships with all of you,
my relationship with the Episcopal Church,
the people in hospitals who need communion,
the programs in the Church that I’m called to give my time to,
the people on the street that need food,
the people on the street that need company,
and the time I set aside for getting to know myself better as I’m formed.

This is all warm and fuzzy to me, until I look up and picture people with stones in their hands.  Because that’s what Jesus faced when he claimed his identity, and his relationship with God. 

In proclaiming our own identity, we are called out of ourselves.  To know ourselves, we must enter the world.  Jesus could not be God’s Son in Heaven alone.  Jesus was sent, such that by entering the world, he could know himself and know God.

Stephen Colbert, of The Colbert Report, is a Roman Catholic and one of his quotes has been going around, and I can’t stop thinking about it. 

He says, “If this is going to be a Christian nation that doesn't help the poor, either we have to pretend that Jesus was just as selfish as we are, or we've got to acknowledge that He commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition and then admit that we just don't want to do it.”

I love this quote, because it gives us a choice.  It doesn’t say: “Go do this.”  Instead it says, look at your actions and recognize their implications.  It says—What are you doing?  What are your concerns?  Are you willing to make Jesus into someone like you, rather than making yourself into someone like Jesus?  What is your identity? 

Part of understanding our own identity, is exiting ourselves long enough to let the rest of world in.  We’ve either got to DO the things we profess, or we’ve got to admit that we don’t want to do it.  The Jews weren’t going to stone Jesus for his good works.  His good works were fine.  It was the power and authority that caused concern.

“If I am not doing the works of my Father, then do not believe me. But if I do them, even though you do not believe me, believe the works, so that you may know and understand that the Father is in me and I am in the Father.” 

“If this is going to be a Christian nation that doesn't help the poor, either we have to pretend that Jesus was just as selfish as we are, or we've got to acknowledge that He commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition and then admit that we just don't want to do it.”

If we’re not living into the Gospel, then I don’t know if we offer the world the sort of truth that anyone will ever believe in. 

But if we do live into the Gospel, even though we struggle with the “stuff” of the Church—infant baptism, gay marriage, universal healthcare, immaculate conception, works righteousness, and many more—

Even though we struggle with the “stuff” of the church, the actions of living into the Gospel are something to believe in.  And in seeing us, doing the works of the Father, others may know and understand that Christ is in us, and we are in Christ.

So claim your identity as a child of God. 
Let your works be holy. 
Pray. 
Love one another. 
Feed the hungry, whatever their hunger might be. 
Don’t pick up stones. 
Love yourself. 
Do the works of God, so that others may believe.

Amen.

My final sermon in Christ Chapel, as a seminarian.  From now on, any sermons there will be as a visitor... :)

 

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http://files.posterous.com/user_profile_pics/2251223/erin.jpg http://posterous.com/users/he6wPuguoDOA2 Erin Jean Warde erinjeanwarde Erin Jean Warde
Tue, 13 Sep 2011 21:51:00 -0700 Sermon--God has looked favorably on God's people http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/sermon-god-has-looked-favorably-on-gods-peopl http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/sermon-god-has-looked-favorably-on-gods-peopl

Dear one, I say to you, rise.  In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

I find it quite ironic that I’m preaching at Spanish Eucharist, because last summer I worked at a mostly Spanish speaking hospital in San Antonio for CPE, and my knowledge of the Spanish language was (and currently still is) COMICALLY horrible. 

There was a huge tension for me, between my desire to really reach out and love and build relationships with the patients on my floor…… and the fact that I felt like I couldn’t carry a conversation with many of them. 

Many times, I would have to find a translator.  And we’d go back and forth, and I’d learn about their lives, but through the words, lips, and accent of someone else.  

Every time I was faced with a person on my floor who I knew spoke Spanish, there was a temptation to refer that patient to another chaplain who spoke Spanish.  While this happened a few times, it was a practice I tried to keep at a minimum, even though the idea of walking into the hospital room felt horrifying.

As someone who finds conversation to be one of the most exciting parts of human existence, this was all very difficult for me.  I wanted to be able to speak to the people—to speak words of comfort, hope, and LIFE…   

But my broken Spanish felt so very dead.

Today’s gospel reading is deeply conversational, and thus deeply relational.  There are so many characters, ad so much conversation.  The crowd is surrounding the disciples and Jesus (who are a small crowd of their own!) and then a family passes by, in what seems to be some sort of a funeral procession.

Jesus sees pain, and he speaks to the reality of it by saying to the mother, “do not weep.”  Jesus enters into her pain, and speaks comfort.

But speaking comfort isn’t all – Jesus speaks life into the mother’s son.  The young man wakes up, and how does he respond?  He speaks.  Jesus offers the son to his mother.
 
And what happens then?  The people glorify God, speaking of how Jesus is a prophet and has risen among them.  All throughout the gospel, people are speaking.
 
So, I wonder—what happens if Jesus doesn’t speak?  What if Jesus stays silent?  I’ve heard many people quote Desmond Tutu when he says that “"If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor. If an elephant has its foot on the tail of a mouse, and you say that you are neutral, the mouse will not appreciate your neutrality.”  I’ve heard other manifestations of this quote, and but I can always hear, over and over again, the critiques of the Church that we still obviously need to hear.
 
And I think we need to hear that.  I think we need to see today that if Jesus stays silent, it is at the cost of the son’s life, and the mother’s heart.  And so I ask myself, who pays the price for my silence?  What would have happened if I had not struggled through broken Spanish to try to pray for the people I cared about?
 
Sisters and brothers, we are called to speak at the very times that it may be most comfortable to stay silent.  We are called to say things that are uncomfortable.  We you’re called to try to speak even when it seems impossible.
 
We’re called to speak when we don’t even feel like we know the language, because we believe that there is something bigger than us—the God who became Incarnate—who is speaking life through the words we manage to choke out.

Still, as much as I feel called to speak, the real struggle for me is to listen.   Speaking life and listening to God go hand in hand.  We discern what it is that God is calling us to, what it is that God wishes for us to speak, by dwelling in the silences such that we can hear the voice of God.

Yes, all the people in the text seem to be speaking.  But, these people are also listening.

The soul of the son hears the Spirit of God speaking life, and his listening gives way to life.

Listen to the voice of God such that when God is offering you the compassion, grace, and love that you need—you hear it.  And you embrace it.  And you realize the abundant life that you’ve been given by God.

Because, as the gospel proclaims today, “God has looked favorably on his people.”  Hear that—believe that—and proclaim that.
 
Amen.

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Mon, 22 Aug 2011 20:27:00 -0700 Reflection on seminary so far, as we welcome new students... http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/reflection-on-seminary-so-far-as-we-welcome-n http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/reflection-on-seminary-so-far-as-we-welcome-n

Recently my dear friend Tarah Van De Wiele started a blog, because she's graduated from Seminary of the Southwest and is getting her PhD in Ye Olde England.  She inspired me to try to keep up with my blog this year, so I'm going to try to make weekly writings a spiritual discipline.  Maybe if I link it to my faith I'll stick to it, since my faith means far more to me than the fleeting thoughts that begin with the phrase, "It would be pretty cool if I..."

Right now, the SSW campus is buzzing with new student energy, the general sigh of relief as rising middlers finish their CPE experience, and the seniors like me who are, in a sense, being carried around by the centripetal force of realizing we have one more year before graduation.  It's because of where I sit in this community (as one of the floating via hope of graduation seniors), that I want to make a little blog entry for the people in the junior classes and the middler classes.  I don't have much wisdom, but I do have a few thoughts I've gathered up and tucked away for a few years.

Your first year is disorienting.  I think one of the first things SSW (and I'd imagine any seminary, really) teaches you is to let go.  Seminary begs students to be driven by the shape of the community worship, life, discipline, and education.  Unfortunately, it can leave a new student feeling out of place.  That's why my first suggestion is to let go.  Make yourself to be a sponge, because there is so much around you that is worth the soaking up.  You may not realize it all at once.  Seminary didn't work like that for me.  I kept waiting on "ah-ha" moments, and felt like they didn't happen often enough.  Then, of course, I would be flooded with them and sent running to a therapist.  I didn't know how to live within this sort of community, so I did what I know how to do.  I woke up, I showered, I got dressed, I fixed a cup of coffee, and I went where my schedule said I needed to be.  Remember that there's nothing wrong with letting that be the shape of your life while you adjust.

Your first year can be lonely.  I know this seems like something that specifically applies to me, which it does, but I think it could apply to other students as well.  Naturally, I deal with loneliness as a single young woman in seminary who happens to be an extrovert.  Still, after much reflection on my junior year, I realized where much of my loneliness came from.  My junior year, I didn't have a home church.  The spiritual home I had was the seminary chapel, and while it was a beautiful place to go, it was deep within the heart of my daily struggles, and it didn't feel like it offered a place to get away from the very stresses that I faced in daily campus life.  Unfortunately, I think this is part of seminary formation, so I offer you no quick fixes.  I simply add this as something I realized it.  Though it can seem unsettling, I think this is really important, simply because we will never function within parish life the same way again.  However you existed within your church back home, that is not a role you will fill any more.  You're here, and you're going to be changed, and this is part of it.

Your second year offers hope within that loneliness through field ed.  Your second year, you're able to attend the same church every Sunday, and I've been able to call my field ed community my home.  While I don't exist in the parish like a lot of lay people, and while I have a new heightened sense of keeping boundaries, etc, I still find that my field ed is a place of worship that I'm blessed to visit multiple times a week.  It is different from my participation within SSW chapel, and it's a nice change from my everyday experiences with the same members of SSW.  I have a whole new world of people to show compassion to, and to learn from.

Your community is available to you.  This is, without question, the best news I have to offer.  One of the hugest reminders to me of God's grace, faithfulness, and compassion has been the seminary community.  It's odd how I will realize some place in my life that I need help with, just to find out that someone close to me has a gift that would be perfect for carrying me through a tough time.  It's refreshing how many times I've been able to say "I need a friend" and have multiple responses that not only say "I'm your friend," but that also say "Here, let me take you by the hand and together let's find that joy that you've misplaced."  This is built through classes, our worshipping together, our huddling around the coffee pot to get a warm up, drinks and nachos, community hour every Monday, outings to Zilker Park, trips to visit churches together, etc.  Every day is an opportunity to build the sort of relationship that will carry you to the altar for the bread and the wine when you don't have the strength to walk on your own.

You can do CPE.  I say this, because junior year when I realized that I had to start filling out CPE paperwork, I kept wondering if maybe God was calling me to get an MAR and never step foot in a hospital.  I literally thought that I would fail CPE, and not be ordained.  Yes, I have an anxiety disorder, so you probably don't have such elaborate fears, but still, that fear is real.  I say this as someone who loved their CPE experience, even with all its tragedies and challenges, but who began that journey thinking God was crazy to let me help anyone in such a circumstance.  You can do it.  I've watched all my classmates leave CPE with stories of God's love and compassion to both them and their patients, and I just heard all the stories of the rising middler class showing God's love in equally unique and beautiful ways.  You've got this.

There are certainly more things you should know.  I doubt I've told you anything new.  Still, take it as a healthy reminder from someone who struggles with their call to the priesthood on LITERALLY a daily basis.  Deep breaths and a good night's sleep are your best friend.  Speak when you need others.  Listen closely.  You're loved.

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Sun, 07 Aug 2011 11:33:00 -0700 Sermon--Love is Our Salvation (Romans 10:5-15) http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/sermon-love-is-our-salvation-romans-105-15 http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/sermon-love-is-our-salvation-romans-105-15

Love is Our Salvation (Romans 10:5-15)           

I think that we confess with our mouths that Jesus is Lord when we say I love you.  If God is the author of love, then when we love we show God’s grace to the world.  At first glance, this turn toward love can seem easy.  Too easy.  After all, Paul calls us to ask ourselves, “what is salvation?  What is our confession?” both of which are two of the most challenging questions of our faith.             

I fear that I may lose something of Paul if I don’t spend this time wrestling with his words.  If we boil Paul’s message down to love, do we miss the point?  I don’t think so.  Paul is wrestling with righteousness, and how we can engage with God in this world.  Paul wants to know how we can become righteous.  Paul wants to know how we can feel God’s salvation in our lives.  Paul calls us to cling to the grace of God, which is a grace that we receive, because of God’s act of love.  We would not feel and see grace in our lives if we didn’t have the ineffable love of God being poured out to us.             

I’ve heard it said before that sometimes when we preach about love, we water down our very challenging gospel.  I don’t ever want to strip the gospel –and someone as passionate about the gospel as Paul – of zeal, urgency, and passion.  But proclaiming love doesn’t do that.  Those who think love is easy have love confused with something made with human hands.  There is nothing more urgent than love, and I think Paul would agree.              

What is it that we learn from the lawyer in Luke’s gospel? The lawyer says, ‘Teacher – what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ And Jesus says, ‘What is written in the law? What do you read there?’ to which the man answers ‘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; and your neighbor as yourself.’ And then Jesus said to him, ‘You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.’             

Love is how we inherit eternal life.  Love is how we have life.  Love is how we experience salvation.  We are bound to God by the love that God has shown us.  We are called to look to the God of love and offer God our loving worship and thanksgiving.  As I said before, one of the questions we’re called to today is “what is salvation?”  Salvation is when we love others so urgently and passionately that we forget about ourselves long enough to think about God.              

It is when we love so hard that we forget about ourselves, because we are too busy doing the work of the loving God that we believe is always saving the world.  It is salvation, because that humility that we’ve been given by God saves us from ourselves.  God saves us from ourselves by calling us to confess love.             

This text also calls us to wonder what our confession is, what it means to confess that we believe in God, and to wonder what it looks like to see a church that boldly proclaims that “the same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him.”              

This summer as I studied in Canterbury, I had the privilege of worshiping with members of the Anglican Communion from every continent but Antarctica.  Every day we joined in various chapels at Canterbury Cathedral to pray early morning Matins, take Eucharist together, and end the day with Evensong.  In every service, we would reach the part of the liturgy for the Lord’s Prayer, and the officiant would say “And now we pray as Christ has taught us, each in our own language…” and everything would change just a little bit.              

I would begin to pray, noticing my language as distinctly different from the others.  My southern American accent mixed with Rebecca’s, the New Yorker beside me … all the way across the room I could hear Peter praying in Dinka … Kenneth was praying in Cantonese … Jean Jacques was praying in French … and even though she spoke English, I could hear the Austrailian accent coming from Joanne. I didn’t know some of the words that people were saying, and I don’t even know how to make some of those sounds with my lips and tongue, but strangely – I knew, in a very ethereal way, what they were saying … And I knew that this prayer is something we will always have in common.              

People joining their voices together, each in their own language, to say “your Kingdom come, your will be done” – now that is a confession.  That is the voice that is put behind the words that are near us, the words that are on our lips and in our hearts.  There is no better sound than the amalgam of worshiping languages to affirm that there is neither Jew nor Greek, because we are unified under the one God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.                

And this – this affirmation, this confession, this joining … This is love.  It is love because it is the product of centuries of Christians meeting together, praying together, and struggling together.  It is love because it has been difficult to stay together, as one Body… and it is love because it has survived those difficulties.              

Paul says there is neither Jew nor Greek… This was centuries ago… where are we now?  Are we defining ourselves by our differences, or by our similarities?  Are we letting our differences divide us, or are we letting our common prayers unite us?  Because Paul was calling the church in Rome to confess that God is a loving, unifying power, and that grace and salvation had become attainable to creation through Christ.  Does our church profess, in word and in deed, a belief that God can reach, and love, and restore anyone… Or are we still trying to figure out who is Jew, and who is Greek?             

It seems that we struggle to try to be one, not knowing that we are already one, and that which we perceive to be divisions can never divide that which God has united.  God has united us all – nation to nation, Jew to Greek, friend to enemy – and nothing we do can break that, because the unifying has already been done.  The act of love on the cross is what has made us one, and our judgments cannot obstruct God’s love. 

Amen.

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http://files.posterous.com/user_profile_pics/2251223/erin.jpg http://posterous.com/users/he6wPuguoDOA2 Erin Jean Warde erinjeanwarde Erin Jean Warde
Tue, 14 Jun 2011 17:26:00 -0700 Farewell, Canterbury. http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/farewell-canterbury http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/farewell-canterbury

What better time for me to write a blog, than at 12:52, at a Costa Coffee that is open 24 hours a day, at the London-St. Pancras International station?  I can't think of one.

My train boards at 4:30, but you have to show up early if you have any intention of getting here via train from the place I'm staying.  It's a long story, but the end result is that if you want to spend under about $75 to get here, you show up early and blog.. at Costa.. right now.

This blog should catch you up.  Now, the Canterbury experience is over, and I'm headed to Paris to see one of my absolute best friends.  The last time I blogged, it was the eve of my journey to Lambeth and my meeting the Archbishop of Canterbury (which will be, from now on, referred to as "the Hinterland," thankyouverymuch).

Lambeth is beautiful.  What a magical place!  I feel like every room that I enter in England has a history.  Now, truly every room has a story, and as such, a history.. But it seems that every room here has a story that began with the journaling of a patristic father, or something.  Anyway, back to Lambeth, we ate lunch in the garden while Rowan Williams made bishops.  We could literally hear the reception after the bishops were consecrated, while we sat outside, waiting.

We met together, in a circle, and Canon Ed (I'm just going to call him Ed because he said "call me Ed") told Rowan what we were studying -- ordination vows -- and we each said where we were from.  Ed asked Rowan to tell us what he thought we may need to hear, as aspiring priests or people already ordained, and there he went.

You'd think he was reading from a book he'd already written.  It was brilliant.  He spoke eloquently, passionately, and honestly.  I don't know that I've ever met someone so genuine, and with such a genuine humility.  When he spoke about what it means to be a priest, he didn't talk about the various religious mouse traps that some people would expect you to set (i.e. the ploys to get more people in seats), or any of the peaching how-to's that are so common, or anything like that.

Rowan Williams spoke to us about holiness.

He said that priests are called to be watchers in towers.  Looking out to the horizon, then speaking to the congregation and telling them what they've seen.  I've really never heard such a poetic, and seemingly "correct" definition of the priesthood.

After speaking, we were able to ask questions, and you would have thought every answer began with "well, let me get my book here, yes here's the page, it's like I said in this chapter...." followed by a quote from something he'd already written.  His dealing with the entire situation makes me want to read every book he's ever written, because I think he believes every word he writes, which is something that I cherish, but I cherish it knowing how rare it can be.

After Lambeth, he and I spoke, and naturally I made silly comments, and he laughed.  I told him we read his books, and the man literally blushed.  I would kill to have the humility he has.  But I was too busy taking pictures with him, being the vain person I am.  Holiness is something we are transformed into, right?  Baby steps.. ;)  Kidding.

Lambeth was fantastic, but it was only one part of the two week journey.  I wish I could tell you, with words, what it was like, but it will just never cut it.  And that's coming from a lover of words.  Really though, tell me, how could you sum up an experience that involved cultures from almost every continent?  (I don't think anyone from Antarctica applied this year.)

If you could find the words, you'd have them constrained by one language.  And if you translated them into all the different languages, you'd miss the expressions of love, joy, sadness, pain, and compassion that are only perfectly said in the moment that they were said first.

It seems terribly vague, but I hope that tells you - in metaphor, really - what the experience was like.  I will always think of Canterbury as some part of what I mean when I say "home."  Not only in the sense that I'm pretty sure I'll never pay for a hotel there, but also in the sense that this is a place that my faith calls home.

One night we walked through the boarding school to get to St. Augustine's abbey, and it was one of the many moments that took my breath away.  The ruins were filled with the life that was once divided by walls.  In each nook and cranny of the broad space, there were altars.  Altar after altar.  When I wasn't praying at an altar, I was walking over Anglo-Saxon graves, pronouncing names on headstones, and admiring the persistent weeds that grew from rocks.

Finally, I found the crypt that is for the second, third, and fourth Archbishops.  I looked, read every name, but I was so surprised that I could not find the grave stone for Augustine, in his own abbey.

I was standing on it.

If you're wondering what this experience is like, it's so many things.  It's the very things I stand on, as well as the things I feel like I have to travel across the world to see.  It's wrapped into the sayings I've learned in various languages, and it's kept within the pages of a journal that I covered with words from first to last page in less than a month (that's an Erin Jean Warde record, mind you).

This experience is wrapped in the potential I have to keep living into my ordination vows, knowing that there are very special people I know - across the world - who will be struggling to live into the very same vows.  The experience will be wrapped in the histories of the saints who struggled with their ordination vows, reminding me (more often than I care to count) that even people who screw up are called to be saints.  This experience will be wrapped in what I mean when I say the "Our Father" and the faces I say when I think of the saints.

I love experiences like these, because they remind me of how wonderful it is to be alive, for me.  These experiences remind me how much I love myself.  Mostly, they remind me of the Author of Love and Life.

Now, I'm done with studies at Canterbury, and it's hard to believe.  Let's see, I arrived on May 15, knowing that my trip to Paris was "near to the end of my entire journey," and here I am waiting on my train to Paris.  I guess I'm nearing the end.  What is it, 11 days now? 

None of this would be honest if I didn't say that I miss home.  It's very difficult for me to have fantastic experiences without the people I've loved for so long, with me.  Every day something happens, and I want there to be more people I love around, so that they can share in it with me.  The good thing is that there is very little that I did alone, so there are always people I can "remember when" with, and the experiences that I had alone will simply be mine and God's.  And that's okay.

In eleven days time, I'll be ready to be going home.  I know it.  The only thing preventing me from being ready right now is my desire to see Joseph.  I'm calling this trip "Postulants in Paris."

I miss my friends, I miss Mexican food, I miss Easter Kitty, I miss my bed, I miss being away from people who already know basic things about me, I miss my family (biological/church/seminary family), I miss my Alabama loves.

And as soon as I get to Texas I will miss everyone I've met here.  That's just how it goes.

And it is always worth it.

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Wed, 01 Jun 2011 09:08:00 -0700 Writing from Canterbury... http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/writing-from-canterbury http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/writing-from-canterbury

Greetings, from Canterbury! I have been far less diligent in my writings than I had planned to be.  Read: I’ve been in the UK for 16 days so far, and this is my second blog.  You would think that during a partial vacation there would be time for things like this, but I’ve been captivated with everything around me and spend most of my time wandering around towns/cities, getting to know my hosts, taking long naps, and going to bed early.

The first stop was London, where I spent almost two days trying to get over jet lag at Maralee Vezie’s home (she is a friend of my pastoral care professor – she and her family are quite kind!).  Jet lag was quite a beast!  Tired to the point of nausea, yet desperately needing to keep up a good eating schedule.  It was pretty awful.  Unfortunately, due to my jet lag, I didn’t do much in London, but that was fine.  I am spending my last week here staying only in London, and I’m actually even going to London tomorrow.  This is a repeat if you read the previous blog.  :)

After London, I went straight to Edinburgh, Scotland, and I stayed with the Rev. Dr. Elizabeth Koepping.  She answered an email sent to the diocese of Edinburgh about a young, poor, American wanting to visit Edinburgh before studying at Canterbury, and she ended up with me on her doorstep.  In the four days there, I saw tons of things: Edinburgh Castle, Scotch Whisky Experience, Arthur’s Seat, Scottish Parliament Building, West Parliament, St. Gile’s Cathedral, Royal Mile, Palace of Holyrood House, National Gallery of Scotland, and Greyfriar’s Kirk.  I also feel like I know the town well.  Even better than that, I learned a lot from talking to Elizabeth and I now count her as a friend.  She cooked me meals, including authentic Malay food because she used to live in Malaysia.  Her goddaughter Olga was visiting when I was, so I am also thankful to say that Olga is a new friend of mine.

After Edinburgh, I took the train to Berwick-Upon-Tweed where I met Alan and Suzy Gregory (For those of you who do not know Alan, he is my Church History professor at Seminary of the Southwest.  He is actually from England, and because he is on sabbatical, he was staying at his house in England they were able to host me!).  We walked the wall of Berwick and talked about its history, then went to Sea Houses, which is the village of Northumberland that Alan and Suzy live in.  In Northumberland, I was able to make short trips to Bamburgh, Alnwick, and Lindisfarne.  This trip included me seeing and touching many places and castles that are monuments of the history of the church I call my own.  It was beautiful, chilling, and a profound blessing.  I thank God for this experience!

I left Northumberland and traveled to Mirfield, which is a small town in Yorkshire, and I stayed at a small monastery in their retreat house to have a 24 hour retreat.  It was astonishingly beautiful, and I thank God for a time and place to be contemplative and to pray.  It was here, at Mirfield, that I realized that in the stillness and in the silence of the voice of God, I was still sad that I’m without some of my friends.  I was still nervous about Canterbury.  I was still unsure of whether I deserved this trip, and these blessings.  I’m thankful that I had a retreat so I could listen to the inner thoughts that I could have so easily suppressed in a big city with plenty of tourist attractions.  Since then, I’ve reminded myself of the fact that a lot of that was painful, but that the end result was a renewed spirit, and a spirit of honesty and truth.

Now, I’m safely at Canterbury.  The program is going well, and I can hardly believe it is only day 2!  I already feel like we are growing closer.  This means we are having to learn how to communicate with each other, regardless of language barriers.  I’m reminded by God to listen before I speak.  This should be always on my mind, when I speak to anyone, but unfortunately I think I often let the hustle and bustle of daily life drive out these basic realities of how to love other people in the very simple ways.  It is a blessing to be reminded of that basic way to love, by looking into the faces of the people from all of the different continents, and letting their voices slow down my own.

There are 34 of us studying here, and we pray Matins, have Eucharist, then study together, have free time, and then have Evensong every day.  In amongst all of that we eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner together.  Last night we feasted at the Dean’s house, which is the house that every Dean has lived in in the history of Canterbury (he is the 39th dean). 

Tomorrow I’ll be going to London to visit the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, at Lambeth Palace.  We will also look at a presentation on the KJV Bible, and eat lunch there also.  We’ll return to Canterbury for dinner, then rest. 

I can’t express to you how exciting this is! It is with extreme thankfulness that I speak about this trip.  The sort of thankfulness that I’m afraid can’t be heard through written words on a blog.  I’m overwhelmed by the presence of God, but let me say more.  When I say I’m overwhelmed by the presence of God, I mean that in the ways that are expected – air, castles, trees, history, etc – of course. 

But, what I also mean when I say that I’m overwhelmed by the presence of God, is that I’m overwhelmed with the blessings of prayer that I feel here, from those who love and care for me.  I’m overwhelmed that anyone should believe that I should be here.  I’m overwhelmed by how much I wish the people I already know and love were here to walk with me.  I’m overwhelmed to be sent by God into a country I’ve never seen before, knowing that one of my most enlightening experiences will be when “strangers become friends.”

Love and blessings to all of you reading.

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http://files.posterous.com/user_profile_pics/2251223/erin.jpg http://posterous.com/users/he6wPuguoDOA2 Erin Jean Warde erinjeanwarde Erin Jean Warde
Mon, 16 May 2011 08:26:00 -0700 Safely in London! http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/safely-in-london http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/safely-in-london

I am thrilled to blog from London, because it means I got here safely.  Flight from Austin to Houston was no big deal (only 30 minutes really) and I don’t even remember take off because I was already asleep by the time that happened.  Not that I was tired or anything, after only 3 hours of sleep.  On a good note, the Houston airport that I went to did not smell bad like the last time I had to go to a Houston airport, with Mal.  Are there 2 airports in Houston?

Anyway, Montreal was fun, though even to simply get a connection flight I had to go through customs.  That said, customs was super easy.  Took 2 minutes, tops.  London’s line for customs was a LITTLE bit longer, and by that I mean it took an hour rather than 2 minutes.  Blurg alert.  Still, could have been worse.  Once I was finally in London, I had to get to the house I am staying at.  SSW folk: she is one of Kathleen Russell’s best friends.  She’s delightful.  The trip from airport to her house involved riding the main line on the tube, switching to a different line on the tube, then getting on the train.  All of this with luggage.  The entire experience was interesting, and I didn’t get lost, which made me love myself a little bit more. 

Once safely at the house, I took a bath, a short nap, and then went out for a walk.  There is a little shopping area right up the road, and I stopped at the first place that said “café” and had a macchiato.  Delicious.  I also got a salad, because the plane gave us a breakfast muffin, but that brings my grand total of food consumption for today to: a muffin and a salad.  Looking forward to some protein tonight, but the jet lag is making me nauseous.

Speaking of food, this is funny.  The flight from Houston to Montreal announced that there would be no snacks on board, and that only drinks could be served.  After serving all the drinks, he came to me and gave me a snack mix saying, “for being nice.”  Note: all I said to him was “thank you!”

Thoughts from this travel experience

 

  • Drinking water when flying is good, because airplanes could also rightfully be termed “dehydrators.”  Needing to pee, but not wanting to disturb the passenger that is blocking you because you have a window seat?  Not good.  When I realized I had to pee: 1:50.  Time of peeing: 3:00.  World record for me.  Also, in the course of the entire trip (Austin to Houston, Houston to Montreal, Montreal to London) I only went to the restroom on a place twice.  TWICE.  I hope this means I’m building a strong bladder that can handle a country where there aren’t public restrooms.  (You read that right – I thought Urinetown was a joke, and I think it is real.)
  • Hey, you know how in the US if you have tons of luggage it is not a big deal because you can just get on the escalators?  Escalators are not common here.  What you pack, you lift up multiple flights of stairs.  Thankfully, I only packed 40 pounds in my checked bag, and I put an empty backpack in the checked bag so that once I got here, I could redistribute weight and be prepared for that.  Still, with all that prep and multiple clothing purges, I wish I had brought less.
  • Epic battle happened during the flights.  Air in the plane vs. my nose.  Air in the plane wins.  My nose feels like someone filled it with cement, and I somehow got a slight cough that was not in my life prior to the flights.
  • I also heard “mind the gap” about 15 times, which made me think of Kathleen Russell’s mug. 

 

Okay, that’s all I’ve got for now.  I think my night will be composed of eating dinner and then going to bed as soon as possible.  Jet lag is a beast. 

Sending all my love to my friends.

 

 

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Tue, 05 Apr 2011 12:24:00 -0700 Canterbury Fundraising Status--Please read & RT! http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/canterbury-fundraising-status-please-read-rt http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/canterbury-fundraising-status-please-read-rt

I'm in the last stages of fundraising for my trip, which is an extreme blessing to me!  I truly cannot comprehend how much of a blessing your contributions and prayers have meant to me!

As much as I wish I could say I am done raising money, I'm not!  I still need to raise about $500 to have my basic needs over seas met.  If I raise more than that in the next few weeks, it will give me emergency money to have available in case of.. well, emergencies!  I also am sure that there are a few costs I have not thought of, so if fundraising goes over $500, it can cover those costs.  ;)

Other than emergencies, this amount I'm still raising includes making sure I have enough money for food, money for travel within England, etc.  I also still need to get things like an international student I.D., so I can get discounts on everything possible while I am traveling (so as to make the trip as cost efficient as possible).

As usual, while most of what I talk about is fundraising, prayer is very important to me.  Please pray for my spiritual preparation for this trip, financial backing for this trip, and traveling mercies.

I appreciate every bit of support I get!  Love you all.

If you'd like to donate, please use this button, or contact me for my address:

 

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Thu, 24 Mar 2011 10:30:00 -0700 CANTERBURY FUNDRAISING UPDATE. http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/canterbury-fundraising-update http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/canterbury-fundraising-update

UPDATE: My flight has been purchased, which is an EXTREME blessing.  I can't thank all of you enough for your compassionate giving!  It came in just under $900, round trip.  NOW, I have to raise much more money to cover the following:

  • Trains around England (Potentially a EuroRail pass, depending on which would be cheaper)
  • One roundtrip ticket to France
  • Food costs (Which are almost exactly as much as the plane ticket!  Yikes!)
  • A small amount of money for entertainment (I will mostly be doing things that are free)
  • An international student card, which will give me student discounts internationally
  • Emergency expenses

Please consider giving me a few bucks to help out with some of these costs!  Even $10 ensures a meal :)

Thanks for reading, you are all a blessing to me!

Erin

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Thu, 17 Mar 2011 11:44:00 -0700 thoughts before candidacy. who do you say that i am? http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/thoughts-before-candidacy-who-do-you-say-that http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/thoughts-before-candidacy-who-do-you-say-that

who do you say that i am?

in Mark's gospel, Jesus asks the disciples -- "who do you say that i am?"  in other words, when you talk about me, what do you say?  do you believe that i am the great I AM?

tomorrow is my candidacy meeting.  we're meeting via skype, which seems "cool," but webcam or not, wearing pajamas or not, this meeting will, no matter the result, change my life.  and no, i won't wear pajamas.

i can't help but ask God--"who do you say i am?  it wasn't until you spoke that i knew who i am called to be, but tomorrow, will you say that that is still my call?  has my call changed, without me knowing?  when you name me among the angels, what do you say?  do you say erin, who is called to be a deacon in your Church?  do you believe that my voice should speak, through a voicebox covered in a collar, to proclaim that you are the great I AM?  do you say that i am fit to set the table for your Church?"

the thing about discernment is that it never ends.  tomorrow will change my life, because, i will be changed by the reality of candidacy, or the reality that i am not a candidate.  tomorrow--so fixed in time--transcends all the time i've known.

Lord, fill me with peace... remind me of who i am, and Your image that i was created in... curl my lips into a smile... fill my heart with joy... Lord, help me to trust... if there are tears, may they be my worship... Lord, who do you say i am?  Lord, if nothing else, say i'm your child...

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Tue, 22 Feb 2011 08:45:00 -0800 FREQUENT FLIER MILES--please read! http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/frequent-flier-miles-please-read http://erinjeanwarde.posterous.com/frequent-flier-miles-please-read

Friends,

Multiple people have mentioned that it is an option to take donations for flier miles!  If you happen to have, or know anyone who has, flier miles that they are willing to donate toward my flight costs to London, please do let me know!  Every day that passes, prices go up..

Also, just to be honest, I do not use flier miles, so I don't know how I would be able to get any from someone else.. So, I'm asking a friend and getting info on how this actually works.  For now, simply contact me if you have flier miles and would like to donate them toward my flight costs! 

Thank you for your love, support, prayers, and contributions.  I thank God for the people in my life daily!

Blessings to you,

Erin Jean

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