AUTUMN A.D.

2016

VOL. 58 NO. 3

St. of
Thomas
The Church
the Incarnation
Texas
GlenDallas,
Carbon,
Illinois
Member of
of the
the Parish
Parish Partner
Partner Plan
Plan
Member

AUTUMN 2016

WILL YOU HELP US REACH OTHERS?

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AUTUMN A.D. 2016

VOL. 58 NO. 3

St. Thomas
Glen Carbon, Illinois
Member of the Parish Partner Plan

Published quarterly by the Society for Promoting and Encouraging

Arts and Knowledge of the Church (SPEAK, Inc.).
BOARD OF TRUSTEES
ACTING CHAIRMAN

THE REV. CHRISTOPHER COLBY

SECRETARY/TREASURER

DR. E. MITCHELL SINGLETON

THE RT. REV. JOHN C. BAUERSCHMIDT, THE REV. JONATHAN A. MITCHICAN
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ISSN 0003-3278 VOL. 58, NO. 3
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Reflecting the words and work of the

faithful throughout the Anglican
Communion for more than fifty years.

connecting

gathering

telling

For fifty-eight years, The Anglican Digest (TAD) has been the
leading quarterly publication serving the Anglican Communion.
From its inception, TADs mission has been to reflect the words
and work of the faithful throughout the Anglican Communion.
At a time when print editions are becoming an endangered
species, TAD remains a familiar presence in the homes and
offices of many Episcopalians.
Founded in 1958 by the Rev. Howard Lane Foland (1908-1989),
our heritage is Prayer Book Catholic, and is open to the needs
and accomplishments of all expressions of Anglicanism: AngloCatholic, Broad, and Evangelical. Thus, TAD does not cater to
any one niche or segment of the Church, but finds its enduring
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TAD is sent to anyone who desires to receive it, and is supported
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From the Editors

The theme of this issue of The Anglican Digest is a bit nebulous: we asked people to write about something or someone that played a significant role in forming their faith. We
explained that it could be anything from a relative or friend,
to a movie or book, to a place, a piece of music, or an experience. Our hope was to show something of the breadth of the
range of things that bring people to faith. Among the people
who submitted essays were several who joined the Episcopal
Church in adulthood; those people largely chose to approach
the topic from the perspective of how they came to the
Episcopal Church; given the oft-expressed concerns about
declining membership, we welcomed those submissions.
We apologize for the tardy publication of this issue of TAD.
The death of the longtime chairman of our Board of Trustees,
the Right Reverend Edward L. Salmon, Jr., delayed us.
The Parish Partner Plan members recognized on the covers of
this issue are St. Thomas Episcopal Church, Granite City, and
St. Bartholomews Episcopal Church, Glen Carbon, both in the
Diocese of Springfield, Illinois. You can see more photos, and
learn more about these missions, from their joint Facebook
page: https://goo.gl/FRQFGz, and the website for the daycare
and preschool at St. Thomas: http://www.stthomaschildcare.
com/. Please also visit our website to learn more about the Parish Partner Plan:
anglicandigest.org/parish-partnership-plan/.
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gathering

AMBER CHAPLIN
Salt Lake City, UT

actually like going to

church! While this probably sounds like an odd
statement, it is something that
still surprises my husband
Josh and myself. Neither of
us can remember enjoying
church ever in our childhoods. It was just what you
do. You do it to be right. You
do it to be good, and if you
dont do it, you are bad. You
just go and dont complain.
Josh and I came from different
Christian traditions, but we
both left them behind as soon
as we could. We had a pastor
for our wedding just to keep
the complaining to a minimum. We talked at length
about what we wanted to keep
from our faiths and what we
wanted to leave behind. We
still had a strong connection
to God, but we couldnt find
a place where we felt God in
the people, and in the church.
We wanted openness, a sense
of community and to be in-

telling

volved in making the world, or

at least our city a better place.
We didnt want guilt, pressure,
or righteous anger.
For many years we gave up,
and finally dropped the guilt
that we are evil in Gods eyes.
Then Joshs sister Theresa
married a cradle Episcopalian. I was in her wedding
party at a beautiful church in
Charleston, South Carolina, a
long way from our new home
at Ft. Hood in Texas. I loved
the service, and I couldnt believe how nice everyone was.
My new tattoo was visible, and
no one gave me dirty looks.
The sermon was wonderful,
and for the first time in a long
time, I wished I had a church
like this to attend. A year later Theresa and her husband
moved a mere 4 hours away.
When she came to visit, I asked
her to go with us to a service
at a local parish and explain
it all. I remember so much of
that service. The procession,
the priest, his vestments, his
autumn 2016

connecting

wonderful sermon. Theresa

looked at me and said youre
going to like it here. She was
right and, in the grand tradition of the military, as soon as
we started getting settled into
the routine of church and life,
Josh came down on orders to
Utah.
I was worried. Utah doesnt
have many Episcopalians.
Would we find a church we
liked as much? What about
the divisions in the Episcopal Church on gay marriage?
How do I ask about that
without sounding rude? Two
weeks after we moved, I took
our 18 month old and my visibly-pregnant self, to one of
the oldest Episcopal churches
in Utah. I walked up to the
Church of the Good Shepherd
and was greeted before I even
walked inside. The interim
priest asked if I wanted directions to the nursery; he must
have read the hesitation on my
face, because he assured me
that children were welcome
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everywhere and he was

right. We had so many people
greet us, smile at us, and check
on us throughout the service.
Getting into a weekly routine
with a young one and another on the way was rocky, but
I always felt welcome, even if
we hadnt shown up in a while.
Everyone was very supportive
through Joshs deployments
and other time apart due to his
Army career. Eventually, once
a month became three times
a month, and soon we started joyfully volunteering to
help with small projects, then
larger ones. Then Josh transitioned out of the Army and
we bought a house. We started getting more involved, and
here we are, five years later. I
see the way Good Shepherd
and the people of the church
are involved in not only worldwide efforts like United Thank
Offering, but also with things
that affect our neighbors.
When one of our parishioners
noticed that a number of pa-

gathering

telling

tients she visited as a Certified

Nursing Assistant, didnt have
sheets or towels, she started a
linens pantry; it started with
donations just from within the
parish, but now we get donations from different churches
all over the area. Then someone else noticed that a number of the people coming in
to pick up linens were hungry,
so she and another parishioner started a community meal
during that time. I love being
an altar server, and will look
at training to be a Lay Eucharistic Minister in a few years.
Josh is taking over as the acolyte director, and is helping
with the teen Sunday school.
Our 7-year-old and 5-year-old
usually like going to church:
they love Sunday school, being acolytes, and coffee hour.
Our 5-year-old is especially
fond of Communion, and of
singing any hymn that has the
word Alleluia.

much we love church, we feel

fulfilled and fed spiritually
in a way we never knew was
possible. We see God in others in our church and outside
the church, even if we dont
see the world in the same way.
We found what we never knew
was missing.

Josh and I marvel to each other on regular basis over how

QQQ

QQQ

O GOD, make the door of this

house wide enough to receive
all who need human love and
fellowship; narrow enough
to shut out all envy, pride,
and strife. Make its threshold smooth enough to be no
stumbling block to children,
nor to straying feet; but rugged
enough to turn back the Tempters power. God, make the door
of this house the gateway to
Thine Eternal Kingdom.
The Rt. Rev. Thomas Ken
(1637-1711), Bishop of Bath
and Wells

autumn 2016

GUEST
QUARTERS
at Hillspeak

cenic vistas from atop Grindstone Mountain and the

proximity of Eureka Springs draw visitors from around
the world. Whether you are seeking the serenity of
an Ozark mountain retreat, searching the shelves in
Operation Pass Along, or doing research in the Foland Library,
Hillspeaks guest quarters are ideal. Each unit accommodates
at least four people, and has a fully equipped kitchen and all
necessary linens. In lieu of a set fee, a donation is requested.
Call for more information or to make reservations.
Plan to spend some time with us.

The Anglican Digest

805 County Road 102

Eureka Springs, AR 72632-9705
Phone: 479-253-9701
Fax: 479-253-1277
Email: accommodation
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Please call between 8 A.M. &

5 P.M. CT, Monday-Friday.

gathering

LAUREN STUBBLEFIELD
Utica, MS

ine hundred words is

not a lot of space in
which to write a story
about the somethings or
someones that played a significant role in the formation
of my faith. I am that odd
creature, a cradle Episcopalian, even more peculiar to
be found in rural Mississippi. From within this place of
great beauty and phenomenal
humidity, has grown an institution that influenced me tremendously, along with hundreds of others, in the form
of an annual gathering known
as The Mississippi Conference
on Church Music and Liturgy.
For all of my growing-up
years, this conference was
held on the campus of All
Saints Episcopal School in
Vicksburg, a few miles from
my home. I remember Mother taking off work to attend
as many daytime sessions as
possible before I began at-

telling

tending with her at the tender

age of ten. Music Conference
was not for slackers! From
just after eight in the morning
until after nine or sometimes
10 in the evenings, the conference offered Liturgy and Music in copious amounts, from
the very best in our Anglican
tradition. Personalities especially memorable to me are
the Rt. Rev. Neil Alexander,
Dr. Horace Boyer, Dr. Owen
Burdick, Dent Davidson,
the Rev. Dr. Carl Daw, Mark
Engelhardt, Marilyn Haskell,
the Rev. Dr. John Hooker,
Dr. David Hurd, the Rt. Rev.
Shannon S. Johnston, Marilyn
Keiser, the Rev. Michael Merriman, Michael Messina, Sam
Batt Owens, Bruce Neswick,
Dr. John Paul, Robert Powell, Richard Proulx, Jeffrey
Rickard, Dr. William Bradley
Roberts, the Rev. Joseph O.
Robinson, the Very Rev. Joy
Rogers, K. Lee Scott, the Rev.
Dr. Minka Sprague, William
David Stokes, the Rev. Dr.
Paul Westermeyer, Dr. David
autumn 2016

11

connecting

Ashley White flawlessly

coordinated by Leslie Casaday
and Ellen Souther (later Johnston) and accompanied for
many years by Marty Wheeler
Burnett.
Music was always a part of my
faith, as my Mother sang in our
church choir and occasionally
substituted as organist, pianist
or performed as a vocalist all
over Warren County. I joined
the adult choir at age seven; the occasional Childrens
Choir was just not enough for
me! I did enjoy the singing,
but more, I enjoyed being part
of the leading edge of the worship service (plus, the adults
in the choir were much nicer
to me than most of my peers,
and there were frequently
cookies, coffee and other beverages after weddings, funerals and high holy days). Additionally, each year, for a week
in late summer, music, liturgy,
rubric and the exploration of
worship took on an entirely
new level of prominence as
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we attended Music Conference. None of my friends did

anything like this; it was supremely my unique summer
thing, and I treasured every
moment of it. Music Conference was also where I honed
my skills as an acolyte; since I
was often the only young person around, I was frequently
pressed into service. I learned
an enormous amount from
some really wonderful and
caring people who remained
my friends into adulthood,
especially the Rev. James Henry LeBatard, Brother Vincent
Bache and a few others whose
names escape me, but whose
faces and instructions are imprinted on my heart forever.
My days at Music Conference included a stint as the
teenager-in-residence, and
one paramount summer as
the Assistant to the Director.
Music Conference taught me
much about music, and liturgy, but also a great deal about
the people that make up our

gathering

vibrant and diverse church,

and how we are all so very different as people and as Anglicans yet, despite our disagreements and sins, we are
all children of God, loved by
Jesus and steeped in the Holy
Spirit. The lectures offered by
the Liturgists, and the resulting conversation among the
attendees was much deeper
and far broader than anything encountered in Sunday
School; it also set high benchmarks for the clergy at my
home church to try and equal
such divine musings. We
sang, sightreading a majority
of, music I otherwise never
would have been exposed to.
New settings of familiar tunes;
variations on hymns (have
you ever tried singing the text
of one hymn while the music
to another is played? Its not
as easy as you think!). Service music service music
so many new or re-newed
settings of our service music.
To this day, I am grateful for
this conferences influence on

telling

Mother and our long-time organist and choir master, Dorothy Brasfield, for utilizing so
many wonderful service music settings instead of the same
few, year in and year out. Listening to the stories of some
of the men and women who
compiled and edited the 1982
Hymnal how they agonized
over removals and inclusions,
how they helped craft that
volume of music; listening
to those that played a part in
the process that resulted in
the 1979 Book of Common
Prayer and all the many struggles that entailed. It was a very
holy education, and it left me
with a profound appreciation
for the amount of work it took
to make our Episcopal Church
a place of evolving traditions,
enlightened scripture and
deep, thoughtful, brilliant reasoning.
I have not attended Music
Conference since it returned
to the Duncan M. Gray Camp
and Conference Center afautumn 2016

13

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ter the closing of All Saints

School in 2007. There is a part
of me that is terribly sentimental and I prefer to remember things as they were. The
rearing of children and their
own spiritual and terrestrial needs also influenced my
participation in great many
events: whereas I was precocious, interested and mature
enough at eight, nine, and ten
to tag along; my boys were not.
How ironic and wonderful,
though, that they have grown
into enormously talented and
accomplished musicians, and
both see music as their way
of giving back to the Church
through playing their instruments during certain services
(a French Horn, the Timpani
and an occasional Marimba mind you, we are not
talking about anything like a
praise band), and by serving
as summer camp counselors
at our diocesan Camp Bratton-Green. My younger son,
in particular, wants to save
the world one music student
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at a time, and hopes to serve

on what we call Permanent
Staff as the Music Director
at CBG in years to come. As
for me, I now prefer to simply
sit in the congregation and to
sing as a member of the greater body of Christ, although I
will occasionally suit up for a
wedding, funeral or festival
Eucharist. It is so much more
fun after years of being part of
the chancel party to simply sit
in the back and pretend to be
normal.
QQQ
THERESA ZUCCHERO
SCOCCA
Durham, NC

hen I first visited

Sewanee, I had never set foot in an
Episcopal Church. I was raised
Roman Catholic in an overwhelmingly Roman Catholic
city and educated in a private
Roman Catholic school. On
my Scholarship Weekend in
Sewanee, I attended the Palm
Sunday service at All Saints

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telling

ordained ministry as a career

(including my close friend
and freshman year roommate,
who is now a priest). Rather
than bothering me, this equality seemed completely natural
and, in my opinion, strengthWhile the liturgy and music I
ened the Church.
found at Sewanee are certainly crucial to my faith life now
and their significance for me As I moved on for gradushould not be downplayed, it ate school, I began to see the
took more than those to bring important role of the laity in
me to Reception. In the Epis- the Episcopal Church when I
joined the choir at the Episcocopal Church at Sewanee, and
in the years following in my pal parish in town. The comfirst real parish church, I mittees had significant roles
found two important charac- in parish life and were taken
seriously, and the Vestry had
teristics that have allowed my
power; the parish even had the
faith to flourish: equal welauthority to call its own new
come and discernment.
Rector. (I realize these realities
At Sewanee, I was thrown may seem obvious to a cradle
into a world where women Episcopalian, but my family
and men were equal in the was not even given the opChurch. The female Associ- portunity to choose our own
ate Chaplain was an excellent Roman Catholic parish where
preacher, thoughtful mentor, I grew up it was assigned to
and caring pastor. I met peo- us let alone the clergy who
ple whose parents, both moms served that parish.) I gradually
and dads, were priests and fell away from attending Cathwomen who were considering olic Mass on Saturdays as the
Chapel, where I heard the
University Choir and I had
one of those moments: I knew
I was supposed to spend my
college years on the Mountain
and sing in that choir.

autumn 2016

15

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Episcopal parish welcomed

my full participation in every
way I was eligible. I sat on the
Liturgy Committee, was invited to work with the youth
group, and was even asked to
chair a committee for the parishs 150th Anniversary Celebration. I felt respected for my
opinions, appreciated for my
gifts, and accepted despite my
faults, and as a result, my life
as a person of faith flourished.
Also crucial to my faith development was the importance
placed on discernment in the
Episcopal Church. In my upbringing as a Roman Catholic,
I only heard the word discernment used in reference
to religious vocations; now
I was hearing the word discernment in regards to all
faith development. Sewanee
supported my involvement
in all types Chapel programs,
whether I was Episcopalian
or not. I was encouraged to
explore and grow my faith
in ways that worked for me,
which included Sung Com16

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pline, Canterbury Group,

Spring Break Mission Trips,
and Bible studies. I fell in love
with the Book of Common
Prayer. My knowledgeable
friends or the clergy were always happy to answer my
questions without asking me
to change, commit, or convert. I was encouraged to discern what my faith meant to
me and how I would live that
out in my life, both at Sewanee
and in the future. My first
parish continued to encourage this discernment without
pressuring.
My questions grew more complicated, but there were always
people willing to help me find
answers. I was asked to travel
on Pilgrimage to Ireland with
a group of high schoolers and
help with their Confirmation preparation. This was an
eye-opening experience for
me because the youth were
not expected to be confirmed,
but were asked to discern
whether they felt called and

gathering

ready to be confirmed. I must

admit that I was never asked
those questions for my Confirmation; Roman Catholics
tend to get confirmed when
the parish says they are the
right age. I greatly preferred
the approach of discernment
so that this demonstration of
faith was a choice, not an expectation. In the Episcopal
Church, I had found a place
where my questioning was
invited, and I felt free to explore my own beliefs without
an extensive Catechism. I saw
people around me continuing to question and evolve in
their faith, and I realized that
I needed that freedom for my
faith to blossom.

telling

ready to be received. Once

again, I was welcomed without hesitation, with the Rector
inviting me to be Received a
couple of weeks later when the
youth I had worked and traveled with were confirmed.
I am grateful for that Palm
Sunday moment more than
20 years ago. I am now a lifelong chorister thanks to the
University Choir, and the
music and liturgy of the Episcopal Church feed my soul.
As I have evolved from an
undergraduate and graduate student to a professional,
wife, and mom, I am grateful
to be in a church that encourages continual discernment of
my faith. Most importantly, I
know that I am in a church of
welcome of me and of anyone who desires a deeper relationship with Christ.
QQQ

I spent a long time discerning

conversion, and the Episcopal
Church continued to welcome
me during the process. After
two and a half years, when I
decided I was ready to receive
Eucharist, All Saints Chapel Live as if Christ died yesterday,
welcomed me to the Table. Af- arose this morning, and is coming
ter nine years, I decided I was back this evening.
autumn 2016

17

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telling

OPERATION

PASS
ALONG
ince 1972, Operation Pass Along has shared more than 245,000 books,
tapes, vestments, and other items.

Pioneered by the late Wynne Swinson Hensel, Operation Pass Along is

a tangible extension of our mission of sharing the words and work of the
faithful throughout the Anglican Communion; it allows us to collect books
about the Church and usable vestments from those who no longer want or
need them and pass them along to those who do.

spring 2014

Requests for books from seminarians or other readers are filled from whatever
is on our shelves at no charge, other than for shipping and handling. When
we have funds available, books and vestments are reshipped at no charge to
churches and clergy in countries where access to those items is limited or too
costly.

Make a Donation:

If you have, or your parish has, books or vestments that are not being used,
you are encouraged to send them to:

The Anglican Digest

Operation Pass Along
805 County Road 102
Eureka Springs, AR 72632-9705
The most economical way to send books is via the U.S. Postal Service, marked
Media Mail. We will send you a receipt for the number of books received.
If you wish to claim them as a charitable donation, you must put a value on
them; if you obtain a receipt from the post office, you may also claim the cost
of sending them to us.

To Submit a Request:

Requests for books may be sent to the same mailing address or submitted
via e-mail at OPERATIONPASSALONG@ANGLICANDIGEST.ORG or
telephone at 800-572-7929. When submitting requests, please be specific with
titles and authors. If we have the book(s) you seek, we will advise you of the
postage and handling charge and, upon receipt of your remittance, will mail
the book(s) to you. There is no charge for the book itself.
If we do not have the book when you submit your request, we will hold your
request for a year, and will notify you as above if and when a requested book
is received. If, at the end of a year, you have not heard from us and want us to
continue to watch for the book, you must resubmit your request.
Items come and go almost daily, so we do not attempt to catalog them, nor do
we maintain a printed list.

For more information, please call 800-572-7929 or email us

operationpassalong@anglicandigest.org

connecting

ROB CLARK

Charleston, SC

ALICE AND
THE MERMAN
Decay is inherent in all compounded things. Strive on
with diligence. So go the final
words of the Buddha, a compassionate teacher (I think we
can agree) who was deeply
concerned with the problem
of decay. Well, Ill lead with
the bad news. Since his time,
through the scientific process,
we have learned a lot more
about decay, in particular its
universality and its inevitability. Most notably, the Second Law of Thermodynamics
states that over time the degree of disorder of the whole
universe is inexorably increasing. Now, in a given place
and time, order can indeed
emerge, but it is always at the
cost of greater disorder somewhere else. A good example
of that is how the evolution
of life on earth has been more
than counterbalanced by an
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anglicandigest.org

increase in the disorder of

the universe as many photons
of light coming from the Sun
have scattered off the earth and
out into space. Its important
to note that life as we know it
relies on the Second Law, and
therefore its not entirely bad
news! It must be part of Gods
design, in addition to being
perfectly consistent with evolution (contrary to what some
of our brothers and sisters in
Christ might claim, although I
would beg them to let it go).
We see that the Second Law is
truly a double-edged sword:
it both enables life to arise
and also decrees, authoritatively and without exception,
that it shall be mortal. Now,
maybe personal immortality is not important to some
folks, or at least thats what
they tell themselves. Do they
then plan to live on through
their children? Through their
accomplishments? No. In a
blink of an eye, on the cosmic
time-scale, no sentient beings
will exist who could possibly

gathering

remember us. The universe

will be as if we were never
here. This is important: it is
a certainty under the laws of
nature that we will be not only
destroyed, but also forgotten.
(As luck would have it, this
week in the Daily Office were
reading through Ecclesiastes.
Talk about perfect timing. For
the record: modern physics
doesnt really affect the point
of that book; it merely gives a
nice mathematical rigor to our
angst!)
Please indulge my desire to
tell a short fable. It takes place
on another world, one which
is covered entirely by water,
upon which sails a race of sentient beings that think like us,
even if they dont look quite
like us. Life there is mostly
problem-free, with one pretty huge exception: the frigid waters of their world are
full of icebergs, and everyone
knows that one day, seemingly at random, every single
ship will sink; there will be no

telling

survivors. The Captain of each

ship has read the history of the
world and has studied the laws
of dynamics (thermo- and
otherwise); he knows that the
day will come when the ship
will go down; something very
much like Stoic philosophy is
required at their Naval Academy. One day, the great collision occurs, and as there are a
handful of hours until the end,
he focuses on attempting to
console or at least distract the
people (premium cable channels and drinks at the bar are
now free, etc.). By contrast,
there is a man on board who
can only be described as a
Weirdo, who makes a truly absurd claim: he insists that any
and all can be saved by deliberately throwing themselves
into the water with the firm
intent to summon Merman, a
superhero of sorts. Of course,
he is met with derision, most
of all from the ships Doctor,
the most highly educated seafarer on board. The Weirdo
assures the doubters that he
autumn 2016

21

connecting

has met this Merman, and

even walked out on the water
to meet with him one time.
Many now applaud, because
they think hes doing a comedy
routine to cheer them up. He
goes on to say that there are
Mermaniacs on other ships
who have seen him, too; in a
few cases, they were thrown
overboard by their Captains
for spreading such nonsense,
but oddly, they stuck with
their story to the end. (You
normally only go into the sea
to meet Merman face-to-face
when your ship is sinking; this
is not a death cult. To signify
ones purpose of summoning
Merman when that finally
happens, one undergoes a ritualized immersion in water.)
While the Weirdo spends his
final hours going from cabin
to cabin and telling his story,
the ships Doctor informs the
Captain of a great discovery:
a long-lasting, dopamine-releasing Remedy, which puts
an individual into a dreamlike
state in which one is insen20

anglicandigest.org

sate to all pain. The Captain

sees a great opportunity for
compassion! He decrees that
the Remedy shall be highly
recommended for adults, but
that those who cannot consent
(children, and perhaps senile
adults) will forcibly be administered the Remedy. It sounds
harsh, but the case could be
made that this is the most
humane and compassionate
decision; since drowning is
inevitable, why suffer needlessly? And why should a parent, not wanting the Remedy
for themselves, be allowed to
bring needless suffering upon
an innocent child? Most people take the Remedy, against
the strong urging of the Weirdo. He says, at one point, to
Dora, the little daughter of
one Alice, Dear one, you
are infinitely more than to
be destroyed and forgotten.
The words make an impression on Alice. She asks him to
elaborate, and he does. Shortly thereafter, holding tightly
onto Dora, she rushes by the

gathering

guards who brandish syringes

of Remedy, runs to the edge
of the ship, and teleologically
suspends the ever-loving daylights out of the ethical.
What are we to make of that?
Well, my main man Sren
Kierkegaard would probably identify Alice as a Knight
(Lady?) of Faith. I would add
that its very important to notice that she is also a Knight of
Reason. Heres why: it simply
does not matter how improbable the Weirdos story is; the
expected value of the decision
to take the Remedy is exactly
zero. Pick an arbitrarily small
number between zero and one
and assume thats the probability that the Weirdo is right.
The outcome (measured in
days of life, happy thoughts,
future slices of pizza, or whatever scale you like), on average, of choosing to go into the
water will be greater than zero,
even if only infinitesimally. So
why on earth would someone
go into the water without the

telling

intent of summoning Merman

rather than with? One is certainly the fear of the pain of
drowning, which the Remedy
allows one to avoid, but I suspect Alice reasoned that if the
Doctor is right, and death really is the end, there will be no
memory of the suffering. It will
be as if it never happened, just
like the rest of her life. Could
she have made the choice just
based on that? Maybe if she
were a Vulcan. No, I think it
took something more than
playing a few rounds of Existential Pascals Wager in her
mind; the visceral fear of suffering is a key instinct, and its
not easy to just shut it off. Furthermore, in the real world,
there are many Weirdos
pitching different paths of salvation, so the content behind
the promise matters. I think
that, in the end, Alice had to
make the only available choice
that is consistent with a very
big idea indeed, which is that
they are all worth saving. Alice searched herself and found
autumn 2016

21

connecting

that she couldnt possibly disagree with the Weirdo that

she, and Dora, and even her
hapless husband Bob (who
well come to later) have transcendent value, that is, value
that cannot be expressed in
language or quantified or even
partially comprehended. Alice, deep down, even though
shes technically an alien, has
discovered that she is a true
humanist. She has found in
herself a firm conviction, for
which she is willing to suffer,
that all this talk about sentient
beings being an end in themselves is Objectively True, not
just a nice assumption that
allows them to enjoy a more
pleasant pointless existence.
She has gotten no further
than to faith. This is incredible: she has become a rational
humanist through faith! You
know who is not a rational humanist? The one who claims
most insistently to be just that,
the Doctor sitting on the deck,
scorning Alice as a child abuser, sipping his Remedy, await24

anglicandigest.org

ing his oblivion, and probably

rearranging the deck chairs. In
the words of Kierkegaard, We
are offended at Christianity
because it would make of Man
something so extraordinary
that he is unable to get it into
his head. You could probably
say something similar about
Mermananity.
Who can know that, in the
moment of decision, they will
find the faith to be an Alice, or
an Abraham, or a Stephen, or a
Dietrich? I suspect many of us
doubt ourselves in that regard.
We acknowledge that we need,
in our fear, a Comforter, and
in our confusion, a Counselor. Lets talk about our planets
version of going down to the
water to meet the Lord. What
does it take to begin to convey
to someone the truly cosmic
significance of what is taking
place in the Sacrament of Holy
Baptism? It seems to require
nothing less than an encounter with the Holy Ghost. As
a valiant attempt to portray

gathering

what an encounter with Him

is like, I recommend Part I of
Mahlers Eighth Symphony
(my favorite forever), the text
of which is the Veni Creator
Spiritus. (Mahler, of course,
was also the man who wrote
the Soundtrack of the Resurrection, albeit several hundred
years after the Event.) That
same hymn is chanted expertly before every baptism in
our parish. The artistry cultivates an atmosphere in which
the whole human person is
most receptive to the incomprehensibly significant words
that are to come. In the rite of
Holy Baptism, the priest is required to possess the audacity
to say: Thou art sealed by the
Holy Ghost in Baptism and
marked as Christs own forever. Thats big. At that point
my spine is tingling; my hairs
stand on end. Continuing the
emotional roller coaster, we
then sing Hymn 296, as we
do after every baptism. Well,
I sing the first three verses.
On verse four, my eyes follow

telling

the words but I cannot pronounce them. They are too

big. A new creation comes
to life and grows / As Christs
new body takes on flesh and
blood / The universe restored
and whole will sing / Alleluia! They echo the scriptural
passage in which the full significance of the Christ event
is fully, finally, and plainly laid
out: the creation itself will
be set free from its bondage
to decay St. Paul, like the
Buddha, was a compassionate
teacher who was deeply concerned with the problem of
decay, but unlike the Buddha,
he believed that the answer
has been given definitively and physically within the
stream of history, proclaimed
by those who through faith
came to believe in Christ before his death, who witnessed
the physics-shattering generosity of the Resurrection, and
who chose, that white-robed
army of Alices, empowered by
the Holy Ghost, to go into the
flames or into the jaws of lions
autumn 2016

23

connecting

or up onto a cross rather than When he hears you, he will

recant this one thing. It was come. Hears whom? A Multoo big.
titude, the Chorus Mysticus,
the great Cloud of Witnesses,
Alices husband, Bob, father of implores him: Come! Come!
Dora, heartbroken, has min- The Marian Doctor, who (in
utes ago seen his beloved wife Goethes tale) had sought the
and daughter plunge into the intercession of the Virgin on
icy deep, even though, as an behalf of the soul of Dr. Faust
ethical man, he dutifully tried (who had sinned, some would
to stop them. Now he stands say, rather notoriously), asks
at the edge of the sinking ship, all penitent souls to Look up,
the frigid water beginning to the Redeemers gaze! Bob
to enter his shoes, one of his senses that the Source of this
hands clutching the Reme- strange music is all around
dy pill, and the other holding him; it seems to hover over
onto the railing, shaking vio- the surface of the waters. Can
lently. He cannot decide what he hear the voices of Alice
to do. He trembles, and oh and Dora amongst the Multiyes, he is afraid. Thinking he tude? Surely this is madness.
might be losing his mind, he His spine is tingling; his hairs
hears some tender, but rather stand on end. Does Bob do the
otherworldly music: a passage sensible thing? Perhaps. But
from Part II of Mahlers Eighth perhaps, instead, he screams
Symphony. The words, from into the void: Abba! Father!
Goethes Faust, are sung by
the Mater Gloriosa, the MothQQQ
er of our God: Come! Come!
Raise yourself to the higher We do not fall in love; we grow in
spheres! She then adds, on love, and love grows in us.
Karl Menninger
a heartbreaking high note:
24

anglicandigest.org

ANGLICAN
BOOKSTORE

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LETTERS TO AN AMERICAN LADY

By C. S. Lewis
Beginning in late 1950, C. S. Lewis wrote
more than one hundred letters to an American woman he would never meet, but with
whom he maintained a correspondence for
the rest of his life. Their letters covered a
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to preferences in cats and Lewis had no
notion that anyone would ever publish
them, but they show him patiently offering encouragement and
guidance to another Christian through the joys and sorrows of
daily life.
Item E1253 (paperback, 132 pages, $12.00)
BEING GOOD: Christian Virtues for Everyday Life
By Michael W. Austin, R. Douglas Geivett
University professors experts in theology
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subject from the perspective that Christians
should try to embody the moral and intellectual virtues that Christ alone perfectly displayed.
Item E1254 (paperback, 292 pages, $26.00)
FINDING GOD: A Treasury of Conversion Stories
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Ranging from the first century to the present, Finding God is a
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telling

people from the apostle Paul to the rock

musician Bono. These narratives combine to
demonstrate the remarkable diversity of spiritual journeys, and the dramatic changes that
can result from encounters with God.
Item E1255 (paperback, 418 pages, $22.00)
LEARNING FROM MY FATHER:
Lessons on Life and Faith
By David Lawther Johnson
Feeling displaced, homesick, and overwhelmed as a freshman
at Harvard, the author began exchanging letters with his father,
a Presbyterian pastor. Years later, he rediscovered those letters and realized how much
candid, fatherly advice they contained and
how their wisdom had shaped his life. Based
on excerpts from these letters, Learning from
My Father reflects movingly on life and death,
faith and doubt, as seen through the eyes of a
father and a son.
Item E1198 (paperback, 159 pages, $15.00)
THE YOKE OF JESUS: A School for the
Soul in Solitude
By Addison Hodges Hart
In vivid, thought-provoking prose, the author
explores the meaning of faith, our need for
stillness and solitude, how to pray the Psalms,
and much more, emphasizing throughout the
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individuals devotion to Jesus in this guide for Christians who

seek to encounter God anew.
Item E1256 (paperback, 160 pages, $15.00)
MY ONLY COMFORT: Death, Deliverance, and
Discipleship in the Music of Bach
By Calvin R. Stapert
In addition to being a masterful musician,
Johann Sebastian Bach was also a devout
Lutheran with a broad knowledge of Scripture and theology. My Only Comfort seeks
to reconnect modern listeners with Bachs
music, enabling them to listen with renewed
understanding and appreciation. The author
provides an introduction to Bach, his theological knowledge, and his musical language,
then leads readers through specific works by
Bach that express, interpret, and vivify some of the principal doctrines of the Christian faith. For each work discussed, the author
provides relevant quotations from the Heidelberg Catechism, a
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connecting

or my parents friends. When

Sister Padua introduced us to
San Diego, CA
the Catechism, I recognized
ossibly the most im- that my Someone Else was
portant thing that led Jesus. So from a child, I have
me into The Episcopal been something of a mystic.
Church was the way I was
treated as a child in the Ro- My parents kept me in St.
man Catholic church in the Pauls for three more years
pre-Vatican Two era. For rea- and in order to learn more
sons that seemed good to my about Jesus, I devoured the
parents, I was enrolled in St. Catechism and a book that
Pauls School, a Roman Cath- was part of a set mom had
olic elementary school in my purchased from a traveling
hometown of Princeton, NJ. Bible salesman. It was called
Once Sister Padua had taught the Life of Jesus. It was realus to read, we began memoriz- ly the Gospels rearranged in
ing a portion of the Baltimore a chronological order. I also
Catechism Revised #2. Every found books about saints in
year thereafter, we memorized our school library. I read and
more and more of the Cate- read, prayed the Rosary, wanted Eucharist every week after
chism. I loved it.
my First Holy Communion
When I was a toddler, we lived but my father, the Roman
in a rural area and I used to Catholic parent, couldnt be
play with Jesus in the backyard. bothered to take me to confesI didnt know he was Jesus at sion every week.
the time, I called him Someone Else because he was the The thing about all this readonly person I knew who was ing was that my intellect benot my parents, baby brother gan to develop somewhat
GLORIAMARIE
AMALFITANO

30

anglicandigest.org

gathering

precociously. I had Questions.

Big Questions. I would ask the
nuns during recess but they referred me to the priests. Id ask
the priests who would pat me
on my head and say, There,
there, child, it is not necessary
to understand, only believe.
Let me give you my blessing.
Id have to kneel on the asphalt for that and I resented
it because the asphalt hurt my
knees. I hasten to point out
that the questions of the boys
were taken more seriously and
they had long pants to protect
their knees from the asphalt.

telling

By the time I was sixteen, my

disappointment turned to a
rejection of the Roman Catholic Church.

Some four or five years later

I had a renewal of my faith
and was working with a group
called F.O.C.U.S. or Fellowship of Christians in Universities and Schools. It was an
organization that attempted
to bring prep school kids to a
knowledge of Jesus. Run by an
Episcopalian, everyone who
attended, whether staff or student, were also Episcopalian.
I wasnt, but thanks to all that
reading and the Catechism, I
I never did get any answers,
was pretty well-versed on the
and by the time I was in high
basics.
school, I had discovered philosophy so I read the philos- What immediately impressed
ophers in chronological order me is that it was okay to have
from Plato to the then present. questions. It was acceptable to
I was hungry for a spiritual have a different point of view.
experience, but just as hap- It was ok to be a young wompened to the Pevensie kids in an with intellectual aspirathe Narnia books, I was too tions. They encouraged me to
old to play with Jesus in the return to college (a long story)
backyard, but I didnt know and pursue my BA. They enany other way to be with him. couraged me to attend semiautumn 2016

31

connecting

nary. There I met the Rule of

St. Benedict, Desert Christians, the Christian mystics
and the Christian practice of
contemplation. These have
been my constant companion
ever since and the way I live
my life is based on the Rule of
St. Benedict. But thats a story
for another time.
I cannot name a time, when
Gods love began; it is eternal: I cannot imagine a time,
when his mercy will end; it is
perpetual.
John Donne

THE RT. REV. JAKE

OWENSBY

Diocese of Western Louisiana

UNTIL MORNING

uch of my childhood and all of my

teen years were spent
living in my grandparents
home with my mother.
They had all immigrated to
the United States from Austria
in the early 1950s. First my
mom came over. Her mother
and father followed a couple
of years later.
They all spoke English to me
and German to each other.

The Franciscan Order of the Divine Compassion

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sisters striving to proclaim the Good News of Christ through
penance and prayer. Our brothers and sisters minister in the
communities in which they live. For further information please
contact:
Br. Glen Weeks, OSF,
228 Old Glenwood Rd., West Falls, NY 14170.

e-mail minister-general@fodc.net
or call 716-652-6616
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gathering

Well, actually, my grandparents frequently spoke a kind

of mixed English and German
to me. My guess is that they
always thought in German
and then struggled to translate using their limited vocabulary and shaky grammar.
For instance, we didnt usually
say, Good night. Sometimes
we would say, Gute Nacht!
or Schlaf gut! Good night
and sleep well in German.
But more frequently, we
would say, Bis Morgen! Until morning! Maybe you say,
See you in the morning.
Im fond of this phrase. It
connotes that we will see each
other again after a brief separation. Our connection to
each other is not severed even
though we are absent from
each others sight.
My grandparents and my
mother died years ago. I dedicated my latest book, Gospel

telling

Memories, to them. The dedication reads like this:

To Trudy, Joseph, and Marie Bis Morgen!
You see, Joseph and Marie
were my grandparents. My
older brother and my younger sister also bore these same
names. They too died years
ago.
The dedication in Gospel
Memories conveys my sense
that even though they are
obscured from my sight my
mother, my grandparents,
and my siblings remain deeply connected to me.
Bis Morgen expresses my
hope that I will see them by a
morning light that I have only
partially glimpsed. The morning of the New Heaven and
the New Earth. A morning
that never fades into night.
In other words, I believe in
the resurrection. And what I
autumn 2016

33

connecting

believe about the resurrection

shapes how I lead my earthly
life.
Lets take a look at what Jesus
actually teaches about life and
death.
On his way across the countryside, Jesus comes to a little
town called Nain. Just as he
gets to the city gate, he runs
into a funeral procession. A
widows only son has died,
and they are carrying his
corpse beyond the city walls
for burial.
Jesus responds with compassion. He understands the widows grief because hes been
there. His own mother has
been a widow since they buried his earthly father Joseph.
He also understand the widows plight. In that culture, a
woman without a male benefactorlike a husband or a
sonwould be destitute. That
is perhaps one reason why his
34

anglicandigest.org

mother Mary accompanied

Jesus on his ministry.
Jesus empathy is no mere
feeling. It is the power of divine love. The power to bring
bosons, wooly mammoths,
and garter snakes out of nothing. The power to heal lepers,
to bring sight to the blind,
and to make the lame walk.
The power to bring life out of
death.
And that is precisely what Jesus did. With a few words, Jesus restored the dead man to
life.
This is quite a miracle. But it
is only a resuscitation. Jesus
brought the man back to an
earthly life in which he would
once again know sorrow, pain,
and death.
When Jesus emerged from
the tomb, his was a life that
had passed through death. He
didnt just come back from
the dead. He is on the oth-

gathering

er side of death once and for

all. Jesus came to give us that
kind of life.
The kind of life we can give
ourselves is no doubt good.
We can have family and
friends. Material comforts
and pleasant entertainments.
We can have rewarding careers, undertake fascinating
studies, discover cures for
dreadful diseases, and create
great works of art. We can sing
together and dance together
and eat crawfish together.
But we cant bring ourselves
back from the dead. And we
cannot make a life that is impervious to heartbreak, disappointment, aging, sickness,
and plain bad luck.
Only Jesus can give us that
kind of life. Only Jesus brings
resurrection. And to borrow
a phrase from the late Robert
Farrar Capon, the story of the
widows son teaches us that
resurrection is only for the
dead.

telling

The dead have no pretense to

self-help and self-improvement. They are radically dependent upon someone beyond themselves to give them
life. And by raising the widows son from the dead, Jesus
is telling us that his Way is a
way of radical dependence
upon God.
The new life in Christ begins
even now as we surrender
ourselves in humility to the
power of divine compassion.
Neither our moral rectitude
nor our rigorous piety nor our
well-crafted theologies will
give us life eternal. Only Jesus
does that.
And when we trust Jesus to
give us life eternal, heaven begins to infiltrate earth.
We can begin to know a peace
that surpasses anything that
our achievements or possessions could possibly convey.
And were able to nurture
people and be nurtured by
them in surprising and enautumn 2016

35

connecting

during ways. Charleen Klister

is a person like that.
Charleen was my sophomore
English teacher at St. Pius X
Catholic High School. She
taught me not only to write,
but how to pursue a dream,
the dream of doing good by
writing.
She once heard me say something like, Ill never be President of the United States.
Charleen must have seen how
I had come to believe that a
person with my background
and my limitations could never do anything of great worth.
Never make a difference.
She gently stopped me and
asked, Why not? Why
couldnt you be President? Of
course you could.
This was not some self-esteem
pep talk. She was calling me
on my psychological baggage.
Challenging me to take risks
and to quit giving myself ex36

anglicandigest.org

cuses for passing up opportunities to make the world a

better place.
A few days ago Charlene contacted me. We spoke for a few
minutes on the phone. She has
recently retired from St. Pius,
and now she is in hospice.
She sounded like the old
Charleen I remember. Her
voice a bit thinner and weaker, but clear and gracious as
ever. She wanted to tell me
that I am loved. Above all, she
wanted me to know that.
Her love for me and my love
for her has stretched over
these many years and many
miles to keep us connected.
I realized that her love for
me is what changed my life.
It was Jesus love that flowed
through her. And that love
flows through me back to her.
She shared with me that, as
her earthly life unwinds, God
has surrounded her with
peace and beauty from the

gathering

most surprising and wonderful places and people. She

was completely at peace with
passing from life to life.
At the end of our conversation, she said, Good night.
It was still afternoon, and I
took this to mean, Until we
meet again on that far shore.
I said, Bis Morgen.
Yes, she said, until morning.
QQQ
PATRICK BEECHER
Chicago, IL

y years as a member
of the Church of
St. Michael and St.
George, and of the Servers
Guild, taught me invaluable
lessons that have proven invaluable. I was baptized and
confirmed at St. Michaels,
and while some of my high
school friends would laugh
when I told them I had to go
to church in the morning,
what they failed to realize was

telling

that they were missing out on

an amazing community. The
Church is a community of
people with a bond that transcends all others. They were
not just missing out on the
message of God, but on a second family.
When I was in eighth grade, I
decided to follow in my brothers footsteps and join the
Servers Guild. The acolytes
had captivated me ever since I
was little: they were the white
knights that walked solemnly
down the aisle with a bunch of
neat, shiny stuff in their hands
including, most importantly,
fire. To a little kid sitting in the
pews, the acolytes easily had
the coolest jobs in the church,
but it was not until I joined
the Guild myself that I realized what they really meant,
and why they are so important
to the life of the parish.
The Servers Guild is a veteran system that allows you to
climb the ranks as you collect
more services. When I initialautumn 2016

39

connecting

ly joined, I was a torchbearer,

like all other novices. I paid
my dues with torch-bearing
and other duties, and gradually worked my way up to
flag-bearing, carrying the
Gospel book during the Gospel procession, and eventually being the crucifer who
leads the processions at the
main Sunday morning service. Serving as an acolyte
provided a great maturation
process for a young member
of the Church because of the
strong discipline and practice
required to achieve a high
level of success. Servers learn
about the Church and about
worship, as well as learning
important lessons in discipline, purpose, and punctuality. However, it was not until
I attempted to earn my Gold
Cross that the significance of
the Church in my life truly hit
me.
When I began training to become a Gold Cross Server, I
had to wake my 18-year-old38

anglicandigest.org

self up at 7 a.m. on Sundays

to come to the 8 a.m. service
not an easy task. What I
didnt understand before but
I do now is that everything
that goes on in the front of
the church serves a purpose:
it is our job to bring God to
the people. It is a big machine
with many intricate parts
and without one of those
parts, the machine would not
work. It may sound clichd,
but the Servers Guild taught
me to live a life of purpose by
showing me that I played a
part in affecting people very
powerfully through my service. The Church, my second
family, has helped me grow as
a person of God and by serving in the Servers Guild, I was
able to give some of that back.
And becoming a Gold Cross
Server and a Verger opened
me to a whole new perspective
of the Church that I was able
to take with me into the world
beyond my home parish.
When, as a prospective stu-

gathering

dent, I walked the campus of

Northwestern University with
my dad, we noticed an Episcopal church next to campus;
I looked at it and knew that
I would end up inside of it at
some point the following year
not because I would need to
repent for some late night college shenanigans, but because
church is about a family. The
notion of the church family
has stuck with me because of
the example St. Michael and
St. George set. It never leaves
you; instead it guides you
through your life outside of
the Church.
Patrick Beecher was the first
person at St. Michaels to become a Gold Cross Server before leaving for college, and the
first to do so under a system,
which requires learning how
to serve as a verger. The original essay which served as the
basis for this one had a powerful effect on the vergers, and
changed what they hoped all
servers would take from the
experience of service in church.

telling

LINDA KERNOHAN
Columbus, OH

ROARING LIONS AND

GREEN PASTURES:
THE DHARMA OF THE
PSALMS

came to the Episcopal

Church via a rather circuitous path. I was raised in
the Lutheran Church, Missouri Synod, but chafed at its
strictures as I reached adulthood, and found it did not
help me navigate my lived
experience. I wandered in the
wilderness during and after
college, even while working as
a church organist. I explored
Buddhism for a few years, and
loved the dharma but missed
singing hymns. Next, I basked
in the open embrace of Unitarian Universalism, and got
my hymns back, with updated
words that reflected my values
but offended my musical sensibilities. And I missed liturgy,
which many people find perfunctory, but I find comforting. Liturgy delivers me out
of Chronos into Kairos, and
autumn 2016

39

connecting

at six oclock one cool spring

morning at St. Gregorys Abbey in Three Rivers, Michigan.
(St. Gregorys is a community
of Benedictine monks, but
I was like a spiritual Goldi- within the Episcopal Church.)
locks.
Somewhere between the Bud- I had learned about the Didhist phase and the Univer- vine Office as a music history
salist phase, I met my hus- student, in connection with
band. To our mutual delight Gregorian chant. I had also
and relief, we found we shared attended a couple of Buddhist
a very similar nature when it meditation retreats, so I was
came to religion and spiritu- familiar with a routine of deality: peripatetic and ques- voting several interspersed
tioning, yet seeking structure time periods each day to spirand refuge. Our backgrounds itual practice. But I hadnt
were similar, too, but his point anticipated that I would one
of departure was Catholicism. day combine those two seemHe had mulled a vocation to ingly disparate experiences as
the monastic life briefly, and the lone, wobbly female voice
though he quickly discerned singing along with my hushe had not received the spir- band and a bunch of monks.
itual gift of celibacy, he de- I wasnt sure what to expect. I
veloped a lasting affection for was hoping for peace and quiBenedictine spirituality and et, a respite from the stress of
the practice of the Divine Of- our daily life; at the time, my
husband was in his first year
fice.
of medical residency, and I
And so it was that I came to was adjusting to living in a
find myself chanting Psalms new city where I didnt know
frees me, at least temporarily,
from the clutches of the monkey mind the Buddhists talk
about.

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gathering

telling

anyone. But I was aware that

the main activity of each office
involved chanting a portion
of the Book of Psalms, and I
knew the Psalms werent only
about praise and the harp and
lyre and green pastures and
all those nice things. They
also dealt in destruction and
roaring lions and burning
coals raining down. How was
I supposed to find peace while
singing words like that?

I thought back to so many

church services Id attended
growing up where the pastors
attempted to drum up enthusiasm from the congregation
when it was time to sing or
recite the litanies they had
carefully crafted. Being good
Lutherans, we tried to comply, but it always felt forced. I
remembered feeling self-conscious and embarrassed; I resented being asked to be publicly expressive on command.

The demeanor of the monks

as they chanted confused me
at first. Their voices remained
on an even keel and at a low
volume no matter what they
were singing. Their spoken
prayers werent monotone, exactly, but they were decidedly
non-dramatic. Even the word
Alleluia was spoken or sung
in the same calm, even manner as everything else. Clearly,
they werent there to act out
what the text described and
expressed. So what was the
point exactly, I wondered?

At the same time, I had often

felt that when I did want to express myself, it was deemed inappropriate. I walked around
for the first three decades of
my life with the mindset that
it was wrong and shameful
to have negative thoughts or
feelings. God wanted to hear
my prayers, but wanted me to
be polite about it. You catch
more flies with honey, and all
that. God was more interested
in being praised than being
bothered with my anguish
and my endless questions.
autumn 2016

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connecting

The accepted emotional spectrum was narrow, both in

scope and duration. Sadness,
anger, depression lip service
was paid to the idea that its
human to experience them at
times, but they were supposed
to be transient, quickly cured
by faith and prayer.

ile, alienation, and homecoming. And of course, praise,

dancing, the harp and lyre,
and the clashing cymbals.

And the best part is, God accepts all of it. You cant shock
God with your anger; you
cant disappoint God with
your grief. God has seen it all.
Laboring under the delusion Jesus lived it all.
that God only wants the unbroken parts of you causes Critics of Christianity often
profound loneliness. Whats point to Psalm 137 as eviworse, it makes no sense. You dence of its barbarity and hydont go to the doctor only to pocrisy. Jesus was a cool guy,
report that youre in perfect but his dad commands his
followers to dash little babies
health.
against the rocks. Of course,
God commands no such
After observing the monks at
thing. Human beings, imperprayer for a few days, I finally realized that I was looking fect as we are, have monstrous
at the Psalms all wrong. The urges at times, and sometimes
Book of Psalms is not an in- we commit the sin of dressing
them up as divine imperatives.
struction manual its an
What I learned from chanting
anthology. Its a story of human emotion and experience with the monks was, its okay
all of it: from joy to sorrow; to feel your feelings, but when
thanksgiving to reproach; the bell rings, you have to get
compassion to vengeance; ex- over yourself and get to work.
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gathering
connecting
connecting

hen a parish joins our

Parish Partner Plan,
every household in
that parish begins receiving print
copies of The Anglican Digest. If at
least thirty percent of parishioners
will donate a minimum of $25 per
year, it will defray our costs and help
support our work.
If your parish designates an
Anglican Digest Sunday, we will
provide sufficient copies for you to
distribute to attending families.
We hope you will find the work and
words of the faithful inspiring, and
that the Body of Christ, the Church,

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will continue to be built here on

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If you are interested or have any
questions, please contact us:
The Anglican Digest
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Phone: 479-253-9701
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TheAnglicanDigest

spring 2014

connecting

My infectious diseases doctor placed me on a continuSarasota, FL

ous regimen of intravenous
YOU GET TO CHOOSE antibiotics to halt the spread
of the infection, and a plastic
ehind my house is a surgeon removed my sutures
pond. At the end of the and trimmed some dead tispond is a steel drain- sue. Despite morphine, the
age outfall structure covered procedure was extraordinarily
by a thin metal grate. One painful.
Sunday afternoon 12 years
ago I stood on the grate, usMy discomfort in the hospital
ing a rake to clear some dewas mitigated by my expecbris blocking the drain. As I
tation of shortly returning to
leaned to the left to reach a
work and resuming other roufloating tree limb, the grate
tines. That expectation shatcollapsed, and I plummeted
tered on Thursday afternoon,
down the drainage shaft. As I
when my infectious diseases
fell, my left leg scraped against
doctor rendered a depressing
the metal edge of the strucprognosis: My wound would
ture, causing a severe and
take months to heal, and I
excruciating wound. At the
should forget about returnemergency room, my wound
ing to the office anytime soon.
was sutured and bandaged.
That is not going to happen.
With prescriptions for pain
If you want to heal, you will
medication and an antibiotic,
lie on your back at least 18
I was sent home on crutches.
hours a day with your leg elThe next day my wound evated at least 6 inches above
showed signs of infection, and your heart. If you do that, you
a day later I was admitted to will have the best chance of
the hospital for treatment. healing.
J. MICHAEL
HARTENSTINE

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gathering

After dinner it was quiet. I lay

in my hospital bed and despaired over what the doctor
had said. My return to the office would be postponed, and
I would not even be able to sit
up in bed to work at home. I
fretted over all the client affairs and firm administrative
matters for which I had responsibility. I kept reflecting
on that moment 4 days earlier
when I leaned on the left side
of the grate to retrieve that
one last branch; how, had I not
done that, everything would
be different; how angry I was
the county installed a grate so
unsafe that my fall could even
happen; and how lucky I was I
did not hit my head and pass
out at the bottom of the drainage shaft, dying of blood loss
while no one even knew I was
there. I pondered what the
newspaper headline would be
Local Attorney Dies in Freak
Backyard Accident, perhaps.
I was feeling completely sorry for myself when my Jewish

telling

friend Lori phoned. I told Lori

the doctors bleak prognosis
was so depressing, I could
scarcely feel worse. Lori asked
if she should come visit me.
Yes, I said, I would appreciate that.
When Lori arrived, we talked about my medical prognosis. Lori said she had never seen me so despondent.
She reminded me I had not
faced much adversity in my
life, which I agreed was true.
I had good health, the best
of educational opportunities,
an enviable job, a loving wife
and family, parents who were
still alive, etc. Lori suggested I
start thinking about my accident and wound as an opportunity to do something I had
not done before to overcome
adversity. She encouraged me
to accept my weeks of healing as a time to examine my
life and what I was doing and
challenged me to make it a
positive experience.
autumn 2016

45

connecting

Just as Lori was leaving, my

wife showed up with several
friends. All of them had just
come from a reception following a confirmation service
at our church. Among the visitors was Lizzie, a teenage girl
who had recently undergone
extensive reconstructive bone
and facial surgery. Her doctors had broken her jaw bone
apart, sawed off pieces, wired
things together, and screwed
in metal plates. Her jaw had
been wired shut for weeks, and
she could not talk normally. I
could only imagine the severe pain and discomfort she
endured and marveled at her
positive spirit and courage.
She was an inspiration to me,
and her experience put my
own in perspective.

to him, because I could not

deal with this myself. It was
all beyond my control.
Soon after, Debbie, my night
nurse, came to change my bandage. Since I had been crying,
I told Debbie that either I had
experienced a religious epiphany or I was just an emotional
basket case. Debbie replied,
Well, you get to choose. She
continued, Do you want to
talk about it?

I recalled the joke about the

committed Christian who refused help from rescue workers in a truck, a boat, and a
helicopter while he waited for
God to save him from rising
flood waters. When he got
to heaven after drowning, he
After everyone left, I realized demanded to know why God
how in my hour of need God had not saved him. God anhad sent me two messengers swered indignantly, Not save
Lori and Lizzie. Each brought you? I sent you a truck, a boat,
a message of consolation and and a helicopter! That was
hope. I tearfully told God that how I understood Loris and
I was surrendering everything Lizzies visits.
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anglicandigest.org

gathering

My wife then called to say that

she loved me, that I meant the
world to her, that things were
not going to be as bad as the
doctor forecast, and that together we would get through
this. I felt as if God had sent yet
another messenger to comfort
me. I was sobbing while telling Debbie all this and saying
how odd it was that I should
so strongly feel Gods reaching out to me, because for two
years I had prayed before each
Episcopal church service that
God would make his presence
known to me in a way that I
could not only intellectually
apprehend, but emotionally
feel. I wanted to really feel that
God was real.
As I was relating this, I suddenly exclaimed, Wait, I get
it, I get it, and started to laugh,
almost uncontrollably. God
just answered my prayer! O
what a sense of humor the
divine has! I had always assumed God would whisper in
my ear, Peace, my son, as I

telling

knelt at the communion rail.

Instead, God answered my
prayer in a manner I could
not possibly have foreseen.
I needed to despair before I
was ready to be open to his
presence. It never occurred to
me God might choose a time
of personal adversity rather
than devotional piety to reveal
himself. I told Debbie it just
goes to show that one should
be careful for what one prays.
At this point a soothing feeling came over my feet and legs
and moved up through my
thighs and body, through my
arms, and to my head. It was
a feeling of utter peace and serenity. My anxiety was gone,
and my entire being felt filled
with the Spirit. I told Debbie
I felt good, that I did not feel
anxious or worried any more.
In fact, I felt positively great;
I could not believe how good
I felt. As Debbie went to leave
the room, she stopped and
said, I feel there is something I should tell you. I said,
autumn 2016

47

connecting

Whats that? She answered, I think more of the place where I

was baptized than the Cathedral
Im an Episcopalian, too.
Debbie became a nurse after her parents died. She had
spent a career in sales and
marketing, but was so moved
by the care the hospital nurses
gave her parents that she decided to become a nurse herself. She imagined if she died,
it would not make a difference
just another salesperson
gone. She felt her life could
have meaning through the
care of others. Debbie fulfilled
more than just her own quest.
In her compassion, God used
her to reach me.
THE ORDER OF ST. ANDREW
A Religious Order of men and
women, both married and single,
not living in community.
For information contact:
The Father or Mother General
The Order of Saint Andrew
2 Creighton Lane
Scarborough, NY 10510
(914) 941-1265; 762-0398
http://www.osa-anglican.org
Advertisement

48

anglicandigest.org

of Rheims where I was crowned.

For the dignity of a child of God
which was bestowed on me at
baptism is greater than that of
the ruler of a kingdom. The latter
I shall lose at death the other
will be my passport to everlasting
glory.
Louis IX (1214-1270),
King of France and Saint

QQQ
From a 1975 article in The Living
Church:
Perhaps one of the most urgently needed of all liturgical reforms
in the Church is a return to daily
prayer, and a greater emphasis on
the obligation of all Church members to pray daily. It is unlikely
that we can have great liturgies
on Sundays and other feasts if we
are out of touch with God on the
intervening days. We cannot be
fluent in the language of prayer
and praise and Scripture if we
speak it only one day a week.

gathering

THE REV. AARON ZOOK

St. Simeons Episcopal Church,
Chippewa Falls, WI

o say that the Right

Reverend Edward L. Sal
mon, Jr. was a talented
administrator would be valid.
To say that he was a solicitous
bishop would be valid. To
say that he was an attentive
colleague would be valid. It
would be valid to call Bishop
Salmon a devotional mentor, a compassionate priest,
or even a convergent thinker. Any and all of those descriptions would be valid, but
would also be entirely insufficient. As flattering as many of
us would find those descriptions if they were applied to
us, to use them in describing
Bishop Salmon would seem
shallow compared to the singular characteristic of his life.

telling

delightful, yet mischievous

smile, which he shared freely with everyone he met. It
was clear in his refusal to assume that a child knew less
about Christ than he did and
how, even after 55 years of
ordained ministry, he never
passed on the chance to kneel
at their feet and learn from
them. It was clear in the way
that he would describe those
who fervently opposed him
as close, personal friends of
mine.

There are countless ways in

which he displayed that elemental temperament but,
keeping true to the foundational things Ive learned from
him, I know that it can best be
displayed by providing an anecdote of +Ed being in a relationship with someone from
whom he could gain nothing
+Ed Salmon was, in fact, all but friendship.
of those things, but much
more importantly, he was a The first conversation I ever
man who actually loved his had with Bishop Salmon was
neighbor. It was clear in his very one-sided. It consisted
autumn 2016

49

connecting

of a single statement that he Chairman of the Board of

made over lunch in the refec- Trustees and stepped in as
tory at Nashotah House.
Dean and President during a
tumultuous time for the semBefore I leave this Earth, I inary. I had worshiped with
am going to watch you eat a him. I had heard him lecture.
sandwich.
I had heard all of the aforementioned descriptions, but
This was the sum total of our
we had never really spoken,
first conversation. I was at Nabeyond exchanging terse salshotah House completing my
utations on the way to or from
M.Div. degree. Years spent
services in the Chapel of St.
working in the Arts had shiftMary the Virgin.
ed my eating habits to much
later in the day than normal,
and I usually spent breakfast Before I leave this Earth, I
and lunch drinking coffee am going to watch you eat a
while the rest of the commu- sandwich.
nity ate. I had my meals later
at night, alone in my apart- Why was this man so interment at the far end of the ested in my eating habits? He
barely knew me. Was I makcampus.
ing him uncomfortable? Was
Before I leave this Earth, I my modified meal schedule
am going to watch you eat a disrupting some thoroughly orchestrated system? Did
sandwich.
he think I was insulting the
I remember being offend- refectorys offerings in favor
ed. I remember being a little of microwaved dinners and
scared. I remember wonder- grilled cheese sandwiches?
ing what he was really try- Was he confronting me as a
ing to say. He had served as problem child who was re52

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gathering

fusing to move with the community and blazing my own

trail?
Before I leave this Earth, I
am going to watch you eat a
sandwich.
In fact, his statement was
not meant to point to any of
those possibilities, valid or
not. When he told me that he
wanted to see me eat a sandwich before he died, it was
because he wanted to see me
eat a sandwich before he died.
Or, to put it more generally,
he just wanted to share a meal
with me. It wasnt about making me fit in, or me interrupting his system. It was simply
about a man who wanted to
sit across a table and eat with
me.
He didnt want me to be a person he knew; he wanted me to
be his friend. I tried to make
our interaction into something complex, something
that relied on his history or

telling

my context. I wanted to make

his statement some intricate
stage of some grand manipulative plan. What I know now
is that the only complex thing
about +Ed Salmon was the
way I tried to understand him.
He was never nefarious. He
didnt try to manipulate me.
He never said one thing when
he meant another. He didnt
just keep the main thing the
main thing, as he was fond
of saying. Instead, he kept the
main thing the only thing.
He intrinsically understood
details about your story before
you even mentioned them.
He somehow knew what you
wanted and how you expected
to get it. He knew the mistake
you were about to make. He
knew you were overthinking
it. He knew you were inventing complex dragons to fight.
He could always see when
the heart of the problem
was that you werent applying
your heart to the problem.
autumn 2016

53

connecting

Before I leave this Earth, I for him and 30 of his closest

am going to watch you eat a friends on campus; I was delighted to be counted among
sandwich.
them. His friendship was, and
Eventually, I began to share is, something that many of us
meals with the communi- wear with pride, and regard as
ty. He and I never discussed something to be cherished. In
that conversation again, but spite of its immense value, it
I couldnt help but notice that was the first thing he tried to
delightful smile whenever he give to everyone he met and,
caught me with a salad fork luckily for me, he wouldnt
in my hand. He wasnt happy stop trying until you finally
because he won me over, or took it, and gave him yours in
because he got his way in the return.
end. He was happy because
I was being a friend to the +Ed Salmon was my Dean,
members of that communi- my Bishop, and eventually
ty, because he knew that you my friend. However, I nevcant make a disciple of an en- er addressed him as any of
emy or an acquaintance; you those things; I always called
can only make a disciple of a him Your Grace. It wasnt
meant as an abuse of an imfriend.
properly applied form of adBishop Salmon and I had dress (reserved for primates
many conversations after in our tradition.) Neither
that first brief exchange. We was it meant as recognition
discussed the Church, my of the part of him that shone
family, his dogs. We also ate through everything he did
together on occasion. I even the boundless Grace he
spent one wonderful evening personified in each of those
cooking Beef Wellington valid, yet insufficient, descrip52

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gathering

tions I offered earlier. I called

him Your Grace because I
had learned to recognize the
free, unmerited bestowal of
the blessing of his friendship
in everything he did. Like all
Grace, I could never earn his
friendship, and Im glad he
never expected me to.
Bishop Salmon held pivotal
leadership positions with several congregations throughout his career. He led a diocese in union with the larger
church for 18 years. He sat
on governing boards for conference centers, universities,
seminaries, and even this very
publication. He baptized, confirmed, married, and buried
countless good people. He always kept his eye on the past,
his mind on the future, and
his heart on whomever was in
front of him. For all of these
things, he rightly deserves every accolade I listed above. He
has earned our admiration
though in the end, I doubt he
was concerned with that; he

telling

only wanted our friendship.

Well, he got mine. If I could
have one more conversation
with Bishop Salmon, it would
be very one-sided. I would
look him in the eye, paint a
wry smile on my face and say,
When I leave this Earth, you
and I are going to eat a sandwich.
Fr. Zook was one of Bishop
Salmons students at Nashotah
House Theological Seminary.
We asked Fr. Zook to write this
essay after reading and hearing
some of the kind and touching
things he had to say about
Bp. Salmon, how much their
friendship had meant to him,
and some of the important lessons he had learned.
QQQ
I can see how it might be possible for a man to look down
upon the earth and be an atheist, but I cannot conceive how
he could look up into the heavens and say there is no God.
Abraham Lincoln
autumn 2016

53

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gathering

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telling

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PLANNED GIVING
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discussing long-term tax savings with your attorney and gift planner and
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telling

DEATHS
The Rt. Rev. Edmond Lee
Browning, 87, in Dee, OR.
Originally from Corpus
Christi, TX, and a graduate
of both the college and the
School of Theology at Sewanee: The University of the
South, he was ordained to
the diaconate in 1954 and the
priesthood in 1955. He served
parishes in Texas and Japan
before becoming Missionary
Bishop of Okinawa, and then
the bishop-in-charge of the
Convocation of American
Churches in Europe, he was
elected bishop of the Diocese
of Hawaii in 1976, and then
the 24th Presiding Bishop of
the Episcopal Church (19861997).
The Rt. Rev. Duncan Montgomery Gray, Jr., 89, in Jackson, MS. Originally from
Canton, MS, he graduated
from Tulane University and
the School of Theology at

Sewanee: The University of

the South, and was ordained
to the diaconate and priesthood by his father in 1953. He
served several parishes in Mississippi before being elected
bishop of that diocese, like his
father before him and his son
after him. He served a term as
Chancellor of Sewanee, and
later served as interim chaplain and interim dean of the
School of Theology.
The Rt. Rev. Edward Lloyd
Salmon, Jr., 82, in St. Louis,
MO. Born in Natchez, MS, he
graduated from Sewanee: The
University of the South and
Virginia Theological Seminary before being ordained
deacon in 1960 and priest in
1961. He served missions and
parishes in northwest Arkansas and Missouri before he
was elected bishop of South
Carolina. He came out of retirement almost immediately
autumn 2016

57

connecting

in order to serve as the interim Dean of Nashotah House

Theological Seminary, then as
the interim rector of a parish
in Maryland, before returning
to Nashotah House to become
the 19th Dean and President;
he finally retired last January,
at the age of 81. During his
years in ordained ministry,
he served on many boards,
including: Kanuga Camp and
Conference Center, which he
chaired for a term; Sewanee:
The University of the South,
where he also served a term
as regent; Nashotah House
Theological Seminary, where
he was chairman for thirteen
of his 22 years on the board;
and The Anglican Digest,
where he was chairman for 41
of his 44 years on the board.
The Rev. J. Stephen Barber,
64, in Springfield, MO. Ordained to the priesthood in
2007, he served as vicar of
Trinity Episcopal Church in
St. James, Missouri, until his
death.
58

anglicandigest.org

The Rev. James Clark Blackburn, 82, in Baltimore, MD. A

graduate of Virginia Theological Seminary, he was ordained
to the diaconate and priesthood in 1959, and served parishes in Pennsylvania, Kansas,
Delaware, New Jersey, Washington, and Maryland.
The Rev. Canon Frank N. Cohoon, in Topeka, KS. logical
Seminary, he served parishes
in Oklahoma and Kansas.
The Rev. Dr. Michael George
Cole, 81, in Crozet, VA. Originally from Norfolk, England,
he spent much of his ministry as a Chaplain in the Royal
Air Force and the Canadian
Armed Forces, as well as serving parishes in Ontario, Canada; Maryland, Pennsylvania,
Virginia, and South Carolina.
The Rev. Jane Cumming, 89,
in Katonah, NY. Originally
from England, she worked as
a photographer in locations
around the world before she
and her husband decided to

gathering

serve as an emergency foster

family for 27 children from
1969 to 1972. A graduate of
General Theological Seminary, she was ordained to the
priesthood in 1984.
The Rev. Kenneth Charles
Eade, 95, in Cumming, GA. A
graduate of Princeton Theological Seminary and Church
Divinity School of the Pacific, he was ordained to the
priesthood in 1952 and served
parishes in California, Texas,
New Mexico, Virginia, Nevada, and Georgia.
The Rev. Miriam (Peggy)
Wall Hays, 78, in Little Rock,
AR. A graduate of Yale Divinity School, she was ordained
to the diaconate in 1990, and
the priesthood in 1991. She
served at St. Peters, Conway,
AR, until her retirement.
The Rev. Peter Moya Horn,
Sr., 83, in Birmingham, AL.
A graduate of Sewanee: The
University of the South and
Virginia Theological Semi-

telling

nary, he was ordained to the

priesthood in 1962. He served
parishes in Florida and Alabama.
The Rev. Hillyer Barnett Barney Jackson, Jr., 82, in Oklahoma City, OK. A graduate of
the Episcopal Seminary of the
Southwest, he was ordained to
the priesthood in 1959, and
served several parishes in the
Diocese of Oklahoma.
The Rev. Fredric F. Leach,
77, in Schaghticoke, NY. Ordained to the priesthood in
1968, he served several parishes in New York.
The Rev. George M. Maxwell,
85, in Savannah, GA. A graduate of Virginia Theological
Seminary, he was ordained to
the diaconate in 1961, and the
priesthood in 1962. He served
parishes in South Carolina
and Georgia.
The Rev. Canon Barbara C.
Mudge, 85, in Monterey, CA.
Ordained to the priesthood in
autumn 2016

61

connecting

1983, she served parishes in The Rev. Albert L. Snyder, 78,

in San Antonio, TX. A graduCalifornia and Oregon.
ate of the Episcopal TheologiThe Rev. Richard William cal Seminary of the Southwest,
Pfaff, 79, in Chapel Hill, NC. he served as a priest in the San
A graduate of General Theo- Antonio area for 28 years.
logical Seminary, he was ordained to the priesthood in The Rev. Charles Brandeis
the 1966, and served parishes Tachau, 94, in Louisville, KY.
in New York and North Caro- A graduate of Virginia Theolina. He was also a professor in logical Seminary, he served
the History Department at the parishes in Kentucky. He conUniversity of North Carolina. tinued to work in retirement,
in Kentucky, Montana, and on
The Rev. Raymond Ryerson, the island of Dominica.
83, in De Pere, WI. After a
27-year career in the auto and The Rev. Ken D. Thompson,
marine industries, he grad- 89, in Louisville, KY. Oruated from Nashotah House dained to the priesthood in
Theological Seminary, and 1963, he served several parwas ordained to both the di- ishes in Kentucky.
aconate and the priesthood The Rev. Richard D. Thomin 1985. He served numerous son, 87, in Mount Pleasant,
parishes in Wisconsin.
SC. A graduate of Church Divinity School of the Pacific,
The Rev. Kenneth J. G. he was ordained to the priestSemon, 70, in Santa Fe, NM. hood in 1962, and served parA graduate of Seabury-West- ishes in California and South
ern Theological Seminary, he Carolina.
served churches Arizona, Texas, Michigan, Missouri, Illi- The Rev. Richard Douglas
Tyree, 91, in Lynchburg, VA.
nois, and Colorado.
62

anglicandigest.org

gathering

A graduate of Virginia Theological Seminary, he served

parishes in Virginia before
joining the diocesan staff. He
later taught at St. Johns School
of Mission, a 3-year training
program for Anglican ordination, on Lake Victoria in Kenya, then moved and worked
in Navajoland in Utah, before
returning to Virginia.

telling

to the priesthood in 1961,

and served parishes in Alaska, Pennsylvania, Michigan,
Cuba, and Florida.

The Rev. English Hopkins

Hop Weston, 95, in Irmo,
SC. A graduate of Virginia
Theological Seminary, he was
ordained to the diaconate in
1943, and to the priesthood in
1944. He served two parishes
The Rev. Dr. Jack B. Van in Tennessee, and numerous
Hooser, 87, in Knoxville, TN. parishes in South Carolina.
A graduate of the Church Divinity School of the Pacific, The Rev. William Abbott
he was ordained to the priest- Yon, 85, in Chelsea, AL. A
hood in 1959. He did mission- graduate of Virginia Theologiary work in Brazil, taught at cal Seminary, he was ordained
Seabury Western Theological to the priesthood in 1955, and
Seminary, and served as rec- served in Georgia, North Carolina, Alabama, and Namibia.
tor of a parish in Michigan.
The Reverend Joseph Al- The Rev. George Zabriskie,
fred Wade Sr., 88, in Sugar 90, in Bozeman, MT. A gradLand, TX. He was ordained to
uate of Virginia Theological
priesthood in 1954 and served
Seminary, he was ordained to
parishes in Costa Rica, New
the diaconate in 1954, and the
York, and Virginia.
priesthood in 1955. He served
The Very Rev. Gustave J. in Massachusetts, New York,
Weltsek Jr., 81, in Jackson- Missouri, Vermont, Montana,
ville, FL. He was ordained and the Philippines.
autumn 2016

61

CONNECTING
THE CHURCH
Since 1958, The Anglican Digest has been
connecting the faithful throughout
the Anglican Communion, sharing news
and insight, devotional material,
and even a dose of humor.

gathering

telling

autumn 2016

63

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