We have made the switch to Saturday night services! The gym where we’ve been meeting for most of the past year has become, let’s say, very difficult for us to remain there. It is HOT HOT HOT for one thing. And the dust and airborne stuff in there has gotten very bad. I have several parishioners who have gotten ill from being in church, and they along with a handful of others just cannot be present there anymore.
I began discussing with some of the churches in town about using their facilities. No one had a time slot that would work for us on Sunday mornings. We decided to try Saturday nights – and the local Lutheran church has very graciously offered their building to us. For now, we won’t have a Sunday morning service at all – and that’s very weird to me. It doesn’t feel right, but we will try this on for a while and see how it goes.
Two Saturdays ago we launched this service, and it was a BIG HIT! We had 90 folks there. Our average Sunday attendance (ASA) pre-Katrina was 140 (up from 125 when I arrived here). So for 90 to be there on a Saturday night, considering how many of our folks have moved away, was really a great turn out.
It remains to be seen if this will hold up. Will people really stop what they are doing on Saturdays and get ready for church? Will moving off of Sunday mornings mean some people may switch to other churches? Time will tell. I am hoping to add a Sunday morning service as soon as a facility becomes available, or perhaps a VERY early one at the Lutheran church (but keeping the Sat evening one). We could meet there around 7:15 and be out of their way for their own services.
But for now, I like the idea of us being one body together. It’s been that way since the storm and I think it’s been good for us. Once we are comfortable in the space and have the kinks out, and once I am convinced our numbers will support this move, we will then decide on the Sunday morning options.
It does kill me to miss college football games for CHURCH! Oh, the sacrifices we must make…..
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These are good words….
The following was written by Bruce Colville. Bruce sold his home in NYC to come and live at our disaster relief center and aid in the recovery efforts. He is a good friend, and as you can see from this, a great writer. He describes far better than I could the gathering in our outdoor chapel on Aug 27th to remember the anniversary of “the storm”. The original had pictures from the service and from around the destroyed area. If you wish to hear the sermon he references, click here.
Only the oaks remain.
Upright and dark their vertical survival is all that prevented a complete washing clean:
Banda Aceh or Phuket.
I am not kidding.
You are about a dozen feet above sea level on the former site of this small Episcopal Church. It is Sunday morning, August 27th, the first mass to be celebrated here since the last one was benediction-ed, with some haste in the face of evacuation, one year ago.
You sit under a small tent where once the outdoor chapel stood. You look about. Actually, you notice green everywhere, tangled and waist-high, covering completely the footprint of a sanctuary, farther over an office and the Sunday school. Overgrowth might be the technical term. Weeds, scrub, high grasses and delinquent shrubs are what they are, really. You are saddened, as if ruination were not enough, but this: vanquished by weeds seems the final insult.
You should’ve known, seen the irony. This is grim evidence of new life. The Celtic Christians would tell you (you later are told) that all growth is evidence of life renewed and this is, after all, St. Patrick’s Church.
* * * * * * * * *
The first thing you hear is the quiet. You hear that a lot in our communities. You hear the hollow stillness of what is no more and the aimless rustling of that which will never be the same again. Then there is some hammering too, the din of repair and restoration, even on a Sunday morning: perhaps especially so.
Then something changes. Reality, the helplessness of past and present, is incontrovertibly altered. God intervenes. The Greco-Romans called it deus ex machina — the appearance of a god to redeem and restore the tragedy of our woeful drama. The Christian church calls it a sacrament. No matter how many they choose to number, sacraments are symbols and enactments of the greatest intervention of all: the one that began against the bare wood of a manger and is called the incarnation.
(BCP)
If we can experience Jesus in these moments, then the Jesus we experience is the same resurrected Jesus that his early followers encountered. The body is physical and is touched. Yes, it is preternatural but it is also real. This body still bears its scars, the wound in the side and the imprint of nails. The Jesus encountered has suffered and the body we meet at this table is meant to be handled.
This is very good news on the slabs of Long Beach.
* * * * * * * * *
The wood that began the incarnation has mostly disappeared, save the occasional crèche in December. The wood that was its climax still stands, in your lives and mine, amidst every act of drama and loss that is shaking this world. It is present on this day. It is there in the endless quagmires, that broad swath of death and war that arcs across continents a half a globe away: the disasters of our own making. Add to that, the muck that was once New Orleans.
Here in the sands and bayous of coastal Mississippi it still stands, towering o’er the wrecks of time.
The mass concludes with an a cappella singing of the Irish Blessing, a long-standing tradition for special services.
May the road rise with you.
May the wind be always at your back.
It is too familiar. It catches you by surprise undermining the final ramparts of feeling that defend the heart.
May the sun shine warm upon your face.
It is the fourth line that is the problem and suddenly everyone knows it:
May the rain fall soft upon your fields.
I think I managed a word or two. Around me, I only heard air coming out in metered time and that wet whistling sound when suddenly puffed cheeks exhale.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.
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Let the whole world see and know that things which were cast down are being raised up and things which had grown old are being made new. – Anglican Collect (BCP) |
It’s a Holy, Tough, Good, Weird Time
Yesterday (Sunday) 120 of us gathered under a canopy over the outoor chapel on our former church site. The outdoor chapel was built in St. Patrick’s Park, a green space behind our church that the city maintained as a park and ball field. The outdoor chapel mostly survived the storm (some benches gone but the altar remains). It’s all that is left of our church structures.
Bishop Gray joined us and we had a very good turnout. It was a very emotional day, tears flowed freely. During communion we oriented everyone so they were looking out at the ruins of the church and the Gulf beyond. We did annointing (unction) and prayed.
We also baptized two children! And we declared our faith, our hope, our determination.
You can listen to my sermon (it’s short on the Knight scale) and see some pictures by clicking here
Tomorrow we have several other things on tap for the actual anniversary, some joint services at the school where we worship and the site of our relief center, and another at the Methodist church in Long Beach.
Folks around here are handling this special date in a variety of ways – but many, many are struggling. Suicide attempts are up, mental health issues abound, kids are acting out big time. Every channel you turn to is showing images and videos of the horror we went through (and still go through). I have told my folks to just turn the blasted TV off. Our minds have ENOUGH images for us all. Plus, people are down right ANGRY that once again, New Orleans gets all the attention. But I guess their anger has to go somewhere.
Tomorrow will be tough. Keep us in your prayers.
By the way, Trip, if you are reading, I used your quote in my sermon – thanks dude!
Anniversary
Well, it’s almost here. The one year anniversary of “the storm” (a reminder to readers – we don’t say the name of it down here, it’s almost a Valdermort kind of thing – the storm-that-must-not-be-named).
Lots of press are converging. Most will, of course, go to New Orleans, maybe to chase ridiculous rumors a la Spike Lee. Some will visit Mississippi. We’ll see the images again, look at the enormous LACK of progress, hear from the thousands still living in trailers, wonder if things will ever even look “that way” again as before and after pictures are shown over and over.
When you drive down the beach road now, in some ways it’s worse. So much is overgrown with weeds and bushes, it’s hard to tell where the slabs were. The church site is very hard to pick out now, other than the cross we put up, made from the remaining floor joists in the foundation (all that was left).
I can tell the idea of the anniversary is having an interesting affect on me and many others. To me it’s depressing. I want to get past it. For others, this significant time will help the grieving process. For our church, we’ll see.
Next Sunday (27th) we will gather in the outdoor chapel of the park that we had right behind our church. The actually church site is too dangerous still – too much debris and glass and broken things. We will have church facing the beach and the ruined church. We will share the Eucharist and do healing prayers with annointing with oil. AND – we will have some baptisms!
It struck me that baptism could be the symbol of resurrection hope, of new life, of washing clean, of starting over. I talked to the parents of two children who have been wanting to discuss baptism (they are under 12) and they were very excited to have this take place on that day.
This will make 11 baptisms since Christmas. THAT is a good thing!
Keep praying for us y’all. It’s going to be a rough couple of weeks……but BAPTISMS! I think that’s very cool……
Back in Town
Well, I know all my adoring fans have been deeply upset by the lack of posts. I was floored to have The Mad Priest mention my blog (and say nice things about me too!) while I was away.
I am back from 2 weeks of a very nice vacation, and a week with the LW as she has recovered very nicely from surgery earlier this week. We did the surgery about 1 1/2 hours from home because she knows the doc real well, and we have family there to help out. We are home and she’s doing great – she’s tough!
For vacation I stayed out of town almost the entire two weeks. Living, for a short time, in a “normal” world was often disorienting and at times painful. We are still so far from normal, but it was nice to experience it for a little while.
My son and I spent 3 days at a relative’s beach house. We fished, played tennis, went to the movies (twice!), and body surfed. We had a good time, some real nice father – son bonding. He’s growing up so fast, almost 13, and getting REALLY tall. He’s a good guy too.
Then the 5 of us went to S. Florida and spent 5 days at another relative’s house (are you seeing a pattern for this vacation – CHEAP!). It was wonderful there. They have a beautiful home. I played golf, played a little tennis, slept late, swam, ate some excellent food. It was very nice. Our two daughters stayed an extra day, while the LW and my son and I flew to Chicago. It was my first trip back since leaving seminary 4 years ago. We spent 3 days and nights at the Lake Michigan beach house of some very dear friends. We hung out, played in the lake (had BIG waves one day), and, again, ate well! It’s good to have friends that not only will invite you to stay with them, they cook good too!
We then traveled to Evanston where Seabury Western Seminary is. We stayed with seminary friends on campus. As I made the drive up Lake Shore to Evanston and entered the town, I was really overwhelmed. I didn’t realize just how much I missed that place. My 3 years there were the best of my life. We walked around downtown Evanston, had lunch with my former Rector from Mississippi and his wife (they’ve retired to Evanston), and then visited the old haunts on campus – chapel, classrooms, etc. Sitting in that chapel was a moving experience. I could hear my friends voices, mostly laughing. We had some good times! Sitting in the classroom was even more weird. I was flooded with so many great memories.
We didn’t have time to make it into Chicago, but what a great city that is! I miss it too. Even with the winters I could live in Evanston, but I’d probably have to go alone! Too cold for the LW!
Time to polish tomorrow’s sermon. Good to be home.