A 'stewardship moment' l postman nov 3 2013

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A “STEWARDSHIP MOMENT” Leah Postman, November 3, 2013

I have been a part of the Anglican Church for many years, and have spent time in a number of parishes through those years. But I had no experience of Anglo-catholicism (or any kind of catholicism, really).

So how we worship here is still relatively new to me, still somewhat novel. And yet it somehow, from the outset, has felt deeply familiar. There was a connection. I dare say I have found my ecclesiastical soul-mate. If Oprah was the bishop maybe she’d let me go on her religious talk show and jump on the chairs like some infatuated movie star and proclaim my love to the world!

Too much, right? And yet.

I love St. James’.

I, of course, love the solemn richness and great good order of the liturgy. I love the living connection it makes to the history and tradition of the church.

I love the physical space, how the sun will slant through the windows of the Lady Chapel in a way that it is almost a visual cliché, something from some religious painting I’ve seen somewhere: heavenly rays streaming into a sacred room.

I love the weight of the silence here as the sanctuary waits for the congregation to arrive, or just after the last worshipper has taken leave. This place is good at squirreling away silence, like stones in a child’s pocket. I stumble across it all the time: on the landing of the stairs to the choir loft; by the table in the bay window of the Bishop’s Room. The cupboards in St. James’ are pantries full of silence.

And I especially love the small evidences of great affection found throughout St. James’: the stoups and the panelling and the needlepoint kneelers in the Blessed Sacrament Chapel.

All of these are gifts given in love from individuals throughout the history of this house of worship, acknowledging the great gift of God’s love received here.

So, I suppose what I love most about St. James’ is Love, which feels built into its bones, and shines through all those who find their way here. It is in residence here, this is its house. And yet somehow, it also accompanies me as I wend my way through my ordinary life. But I can easily lose sight of this. I easily lose faith. Life gets difficult. I find I do not know myself and I find I do not want to know myself. What gifts do I have to give? What use could God possibly have for me?

A recent daily meditation I read says this:

Page |2 “Love is a gift we’ve been given by our Creator. The fact of our existence guarantees that we deserve it. …Had we understood that we were loved, perhaps we’d not have struggled … in the pain of alienation for so many years. We were always at the right hand of God, never apart, loved and watched over. But we didn’t recognize the signs. The signs are everywhere present now. Every human contact is a message from God. Any desire we are eager to make manifest is a beckoning from God for growth.” (Each Day a New Beginning- Karen Casey, Hazelden) Today, looking around me, at this very moment, I see so many signs. I see God’s many gifts to me and I am humbled. If my own very life is a gift freely given to me, then giving back out of all that accompanies that – my time, my talents, my desires and yes, my money and my material goods—is the easy part.

Figuring out the when and where and how much is just the details. God beckons. Love calls out to love.

And for once, to my surprise, I find myself in the right place, at the right time, where giving and receiving happen all the time, at the same time. Here. In this place. Right now.