reverendjaneausten

  Thanksgiving Reflections (Photo Credit Maggie McGill) Although our own Thanksgiving was quiet and serene, the real meal that centered our own holiday was the Advent I Eucharist.   It has been so hard to balance safety with hope, and we are not apt to ever be completely carefree again on that score.   But, as I preached this morning, there absolutely must be hope as well. Returning to some of our liturgical traditions on this first Sunday of Advent was tremendously moving for our congregation, but also for me as their priest. This morning was wildly distracting and compressed on the surface, (I love the happy chaos of our community,)   but so much more grounded than some of the Sundays during the past year and a half.   Part of it was offering both bread and wine to those who wanted it, but even more so it was the chance for more of us to participate in making the Eucharistic service come to life.   That is the heart of our community, and although it never departed, it was softly dimi

                          Homily for the Community Thanksgiving Service November 21, 2021 + Thanksgiving is all about serving others, rejoicing in what we do have, and finding love in gathering together.   It can be overly idealized, of course, and there is much good work being done to view our history more realistically.   But aside from tradition? We bring this on ourselves.   We imagine perfectly behaved toddlers, spouses and siblings loving one another without tension or disagreement.   We envision gorgeous table settings with heirloom pieces and beautiful flowers. We plan impeccably curated dishes that everyone will rave about;   we may even secretly dream that this will be the thanksgiving that goes down through the ages, sung as of old ‘ in memoriam .’   But even as we imagine those things, our doubt and anxiety creep in, pushing God to a less accessible place.   Which means that. . . we proceed to tie ourselves into knots with worrying.   We stress ourselves to the max over

  This morning offered one of those remarkable glimpses of God— the kind that you could never plan.   In fact, more planning might have obscured the gift entirely.     Some weeks ago, we began a mission with our next door church neighbors to work toward providing Thanksgiving boxes for those in our community who might otherwise not share in the blessings of this holiday.   We do this in the midst of realizing— via Sacred Ground —that the holiday we have long cherished brings only heartache and generational bitterness for others who share this planet.   But sharing love still seems the right thing to do, even as we are learning truths we were never taught.   Our church is historically very white; our neighbors are historically black.   Only a narrow ten foot alley separates us; it is way past time we got to know each other better.   Last year, even in the pandemic, we shared a Second Harvest give-away.   They had arranged it, and we offered our parking lot. It was a wonderful first enco

Shannon and I recently watched the film, “A Queen is Crowned.”   Some of us are familiar with this part of Queen Elizabeth’s story from the newer series, The Crown, that Prince Philip was instrumental in making sure that this event was available to the world. “A lavish documentary film of Queen Elizabeth II's Coronation in 1953,” it is narrated by Sir Laurence Olivier. ( https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0046222/ )   By the way, I researched it—the ‘Sir’ stands; he received that honor in 1947 from Elizabeth’s father. ( https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/KingsQueensofBritain/ ) What was great fun for us, in the same week in which we later celebrated the ‘Ending of a Pastoral Relationship’ with our retiring Bishop, was to marvel at how similar the Queen’s liturgy and our own movements within a service are. I never stand at an ancient throne and turn to the people in all four directions, but watching this film was just a delightful reminder of why so many Episcopalians are Anglophiles.