Most people do not set out to destroy where they work…

Some of us are old enough to remember, it was January 28, 1986. Seventy-three seconds into the STS-51-L mission, it broke apart, and in an instant seven members of the Space Shuttle Challenger were dead. The loss of life was terrible. The root cause deeply disturbing. The making of the accident took more than the flight of 73 seconds, you might say it took over 730,000,000 seconds. The then 28 year old Space Shuttle Program was a model of success. One of its stated guiding principles, Safety First. Yet in the rush, the pressure to complete 24 scheduled launches per year, another unstated guiding principle had a pervasive effect on the organization, its subcontractors, indeed all who came in contact with what was up to this point, a highly successful organization.

I worked in a similar organization of sorts. I worked for a company that was called a prime contractor to the Naval Nuclear Propulsion Program. At the time of the Challenger disaster we proudly hailed over one million nautical miles sailed under nuclear power without accident. One million nautical miles…was in fact our tag line often used with Congress and others. NASA’s success, erased in an instant, along with the seven precious lives that trusted in the huge complex of programs, processes, and people to keep them safe, was eerily similar to ours.

There were many lessons we learned from Challenger, and some we took to heart. One of those heart-lessons was the idea of a “dissenting opinion.” This is not a new idea. The Supreme Court had been doing it for decades—issuing dissenting opinions. The post disaster investigation revealed that it was more than the infamous O-ring that led to the loss of our American heroes—heroes that trusted in the organization with all its history and success. Imagine, within the organization people were saying, and saying it out loud, to stop, to wait, to not move forward. Yet the flood of pressure to launch, to succeed, filled the organization that had no system, that had no way to hear these voices, no process to channel these voices to the ears who needed to hear them. The result was that these small voices were relegated to the unsatisfying role of prophet. Following this organizational failure, my one million nautical mile organization mandated a process, installed a conduit, that would bring dissenting opinions, however small, to the ears of those who made the decisions, so they would hear—and consider.

Why this 350 word introduction about an almost 20 year old failure? Because today I find myself part of an organization rushing forward, caught up in its own version of success, caught up in its own sense of importance. In terms of mission, what could be more important than the mission of God. The organization, the Episcopal Church, believes it is right in re-shaping itself, and many of the 2,000 year old norms of Christianity. Beyond belief, is its urgency, its urgency to advance its mission. The signs of this urgency, the signs of this drive are present everywhere as the build up to General Convention 2015 yields, indeed spews, report after report calling for change.

I found myself reading one of these many reports. It was filled with the hard work, with the hopes and dreams of its authors. Yet it possessed a very specific attribute—certainty. It screamed, “We are right!” As I read it I found myself underlining phrases, scribbling notes in the margins, and at times just drawing question marks next to paragraphs in utter amazement. Then it hit me, “I am the dissenting opinion.” In that moment I simply put down my pen. Why? Because there is a difference. Today I live in an organization with a healthy sense of urgency, but with no process, no systems, to prevent its rush to succeed from sending it blindly careening over a cliff. I live in an organization not interested in dissenting opinions, indeed not interested in dissenters.

In my prior life I at times held the dissenting position. Post-Challenger that opinion was welcomed. I in fact was challenged to hone my arguments, to present them in the most convincing way possible. I remember the day a technical submittal, complete with its dissenting opinion received the most amazing response from Headquarters. Headquarters had read both technical arguments, and concluded the dissenting opinion was the better choice. That day it was not my opinion. It was the opinion of a single engineer in a sea of thousands of engineers. It was the opinion of a single voice. It was an opinion expressed in an organization that had learned how to put in place checks and balances as it pushed head-long into its critical mission.

Today in my setting I hear much of how we need to “talk more” and “listen more.” Of course talking and listening is critical. But to those of us who are in the minority, it seems less as if we are talking and listening, and perhaps more like we are receiving a “talking to.” There needs to be a point in the process beyond talking and listening. There needs to be a point in the process that asks, in fact desires, that the dissenting opinion be presented. As I look across the issued reports to those consulted, both within and outside our church, all I see are like-minded voices. These reports look nothing like my reports of old that explored various opinions as people wrestled for the best answer.

The people of our church, people who trust the processes—procedures—who trust the people in authority to find the best answer, need to know that the dissenting voice is being heard. What might such a world look like? It looks less like an “either-or” world and more like a world where people, listening to the other point of view, rather than capitulate, refine their own view and their understanding of the other position. It looks like a world where those in authority take the leadership risk of actually caring about the dissenters and their opinions—so much so that they allow themselves the possibility, however remote, to agree. In the end it really is a leadership issue. Will the leaders put in place processes to where they themselves want the various opinions heard? Will the leaders actually lead all the people?

They should. An effective dissenting opinion process results in better decisions, usually for the majority. I recommend that our bishops consult with other organizations that have put in place such processes, and do so for our church. I recommend that each report to the General Convention and beyond seek out, cultivate, and include the dissenting opinion—rather than talking it into submission or silencing it. When these voices are silenced they will either struggle in silence, or simply leave. Have not enough already left? We as the church need these voices. We need simply look at our history, to all the times we have silenced those voices, to see all the times we erred. I urge those in power in the Episcopal Church to heed well the lesson from the Space Shuttle Challenger…that within our Church there are voices that possess real concerns, voices that possess real knowledge—voices that perhaps can prevent catastrophe.  

Crossing the threshold.

Lucy peered out the wardrobe, her body wrapped warm by the surrounding furs—her face alive with the cold wintery air that greeted her nostrils. That is how I imagine eight year old Lucy from the Chronicles of Narnia as she gazes into an unknown world of wonder. There she stands, poised to cross a threshold from one world to another for the first time. There is a moment, and just a moment, when she needs to decide whether or not to enter. You need not be familiar with C.S. Lewis’ popular children’s novel. It presents a magical world, Narnia, a world of two stories. The first story is the one that thrusts itself upon young Lucy. The air is cold. It is winter; it is always winter. (Perhaps many of us can relate to that feeling after this long winter of 2014-2015.) The world is ruled by the White Witch and her nervous subjects submit to her, not quite knowing how she will turn. It is, by all measures, the real world. The world that Lucy can touch, and smell, and see, and hear, and taste. The second story offers a world that at first blush appears imaginary. The kind of imaginary world an eight year old would create. It is filled with talking animals the likes of a faun. It tells the story of the Land of Narnia before the White Witch had cast her spell, and it promises that someday winter will end, and all be healed. How, you might ask? The all-powerful lion Aslan will shatter the spell!

It is a wonderful story, and the novel draws you in as soon as you cross the threshold of the wardrobe with Lucy. It is not long before you too, want the second story to be true. There is something in all these talking animals are saying that is right. And while you and Lucy cannot see it, or touch, or taste it…it somehow seems to make sense. It is not only the story, but the animals, it is something you see in them—it is hope.

In the midst of the story with Lucy you begin to realize that she has been immediately welcomed—she belongs. In this “belonging,” she, and we with her, watch the animals “behave” and live with hope in the midst of frozen tundra. They are quite frankly, infectious. It is through being welcomed to belong and being surrounded by this behavior of hope, that quite quickly you find yourself believing—and praying—that the second story is true.

Consider another story, we read it in the Gospel…Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb…she goes and gets Peter and John and they run to the tomb. John bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed…Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying…then after speaking with the angels…she turned around and saw Jesus standing there…Jesus said to her, “Mary!”

Peter, John and Mary crossed the threshold that day…they went from one view of the world to another. Jesus will spend some number of days on earth being with a large number of people. These post-Resurrection moments will spread the news. On Pentecost, fifty days from today, God’s Holy Spirit will be poured out and the Church will be born. And people, people from all walks of life, will be invited to come and be welcomed to this life of hope—they will be invited to belong. These newcomers will watch a ragtag group of freshly minted disciples try and behave like their Risen Master. The New Testament chronicles that there will be disagreements and struggles, but through it all they will try and model their lives like Jesus. Over time this rebel group will grow amid the other world—the world of the Roman Emperor. With the exception of the Mediterranean climate, it is a world very similar to the White Witch’s world of Narnia. So these new people of hope will live a story in the face of a different story…and over time the number of people living that story, living as rebels, will grow to about 2 million people in about 200 years.

Today we celebrate this moment of crossing the threshold. We celebrate the moment in time when the stone was rolled away so that we might ourselves cross into a new world, a real world—and become people who live a story of hope. I must tell you I went to church for some 30 years before I figured this out. My church experience was not one of belonging, allowing me to see how people behaved—those people who believed that there even was such a threshold to cross. My experience was one of first believing. I was to accept all the precepts first—and then I was to behave—somehow I never got to feeling as if I belonged. In my world the second story, the story of hope got turned upside down. Maybe that happened to you? You should not be surprised, just read the Gospels. Jesus spent his public ministry pointing out to the religious of the day how they had turned God’s Story upside down…he pointed that out knowing all along he was going to shatter that world and put it right. And this, this shattering is the core of the story—the center piece—on which it, and all the world turns. That Jesus Christ has defeated sin and death. His tomb is empty. He stands and invites all to cross the threshold and live into this reality.

All of us today are somewhere in relation to this threshold. For those who have crossed it and accepted the hope—then I urge us to remember to not turn it upside down. To welcome those who are curious, to invite them to see you (and me) struggle to behave to follow Jesus, to let them understand what you believe. To those who are standing at the threshold, peering in, I say welcome! Come, sit with us for a while, feel as if you belong. And finally for those who once came into this world only to turn about and run out, to run out feeling either judged or rejected, please accept my apology—we don’t always get this “living a life of hope” the right way round—but it you might dare to cross the threshold again, I pray you will not only find hope, but find Him who calls you by name.

David Collum, Dean—The Cathedral of All Saints, Easter 2015

WAITING OVER BEING BUSY

HOLY SATURDAY LENT 2015

Today we read Mark 15:42—47. In our modern day and in the church this is a hard day to replicate for at least three reasons. By replicate I mean create the sense of what this day was for those first followers before that first Easter Day…and I will get to that in a moment. The three distractions have to do first with our world. It is Saturday, and it is finally getting warm. People are just busy; we are surrounded by busyness. Next, we know that Christ did rise; there is not the deep ache we feel when tragedy strikes and we know not what lay ahead. Finally there is the need in the church to “get ready” for Easter Day. When I was in a smaller place it seemed that we could keep that compact, but now, now it just takes more.

To cite the above three items as “distractions” begs the question, distractions from what?” I would say sitting, thinking, praying…from waiting. I am sure you have gone through a tragedy or two in your life. You somehow fall asleep after that long day, and then you wake up—numb. That is what the first Holy Saturday must have been like. All they hoped for, all they dreamed—dashed, crushed by a cross.

I want to suggest for Easter to take hold, that we need to use the space Holy Saturday provides. We need to spend some time in the barrenness of a world where we know not what lay ahead, where we ponder what it would be like to live without hope; without Jesus. We need to wait in the barrenness.

Why? you might ask. I want to suggest to create space in us; in our hearts and minds and souls. I can remember numbness after the loss of both my parents. There was a void. Holy Saturday can clear away from our hearts and minds and souls all that has filled our lives and pushed God out. Holy Saturday can be the last "bit" of Lent, so that Easter Joy can flood every fiber of our being tomorrow. 

As I write these words it is early. For whatever reason I could not sleep. We live on a busy street, but for a few moments there was quiet, broken only by a lone bird chirping. It gave time and space for my thoughts…it gave some time to wait.

You and I cannot escape those three distractions I noted above. We cannot pretend Jesus did not rise (praise God for that knowledge). We can however take just a few minutes and sit and wait. 

SLOW DOWN…YOU MOVE TOO FAST

GOOD FRIDAY LENT 2015

Today we read Mark 15:1-41. We’ve come to it—Jesus' Crucifixion. The whole of Lent has been building to this point. We walked with Jesus. Heard his teaching. Read of his miraculous acts. Grimaced at all the disrespectful moments of those who challenged and rejected him. Stood awe struck at the Last Supper and Garden. Now we’ve come to it. Jesus will be tried by Pilate, scourged, and crucified. In Mark’s telling he cries out “My God, my God, why has thou forsaken me.”

It is that terrible day we call Good Friday. We know why it is good, but that does not mean we like it. Throughout my life it has always been an odd day. A day that seemed by all that was around me to have slowed down. I grew up when all the shops on Main Street closed from Noon to 3 p.m. Everything slowed down because God was hanging on a Cross. The world is different now. Today in Albany the weather is over 60 degrees…the weatherman said not once, but over and over on the morning show to, “Get outside today and have fun…on Sunday it will be cold again.” For me that is a backwards thought. Today is the day it is cold…the coldness of torture and death…Sunday is the day of warm light pouring forth from the tomb. The warmth today certainly felt good, but today is a day to not merely remember Jesus’ death, but to slow down and enter it…so no long blog today…just some thoughts to encourage you to not rush past the Cross.

REMEMBERING DINNER

MAUNDAY THURSDAY LENT 2015

It is the morning of Maundy Thursday and I want to ask you if there is a special Easter dinner or meal or food you remember? Can you close your eyes right now and picture it, even smell it. Today we read Mark 14:12—26. Tonight at our service we will wash feet, hear God’s Word, receive God’s Sacrament, and the strip bare the Altar. It is a dramatic service as we start with a meal and end having scattered after a confrontation in the Garden. We “lost our breath” in the Garden yesterday. This morning I want to focus on one item—dinner.

Have you thought about my question? Can you remember an Easter meal, or a special food? Can you smell it? I’m serious. Pause right now, close your eyes and try. Why do this? Because tonight Jesus gives us Holy Communion…or the Lord’s Supper if you prefer that title. Regardless of what it is called, here is what Jesus said, “Do this in remembrance of me.

The specific Greek word written in English so we can pronounce it is anamnesis. It is used a whapping four times in the New Testament—the times Jesus gives us the sacred meal. So what does it mean? It means to deeply remember? Do you have moments in your life you can deeply remember? Moments that you ponder and wonder about? Maybe it is a moment that you remember and enjoy. One of the deep purposes of the Communion service is to invite us to close our eyes and remember Jesus being at the Table with us…the Table hours before his Passion. Don't miss that point: at dinner with us! Meals are about more than the food, they are about being together.

This is not a new process. If you have ever been to a Jewish Seder there are children who ask questions about the meal and an adult answers. The answers always begin with a phrase like, “Because when we were slaves in Egypt…” Now this Seder could be taking place anywhere in the world and at any time in history…but the person answering says, “when we were…” They, at their meal, are entering the meal, as if they are travelling through time and are in the huts and houses of Egypt.

When we attend a Communion service we are not spectators, but participants. When you next go to a Communion service I invite to close your eyes and imagine you are there, in the Upper Room at the Last Supper. (Whenever I do I seem to get the Da Vinci picture in my mind…) Imagine you see Jesus, you see Peter, you see Judas leave…you see Jesus lift the bread and the cup. But here is the “deal” as it were. You unlike the disciples know what is coming…they do not. You know all that awaits Jesus—and so does he. He knows. And he is still there giving—giving us this meal not only so that we may forever be nourished by him, but that we may also at the meal be in His Presence.

CATCHING YOUR BREATH…MAYBE

WEDNESDAY AFTER PALM SUNDAY IN LENT 2015

It is Holy Wednesday and today I want to look at Mark 14:53—65. Tomorrow will start the Triduum—the Sacred Three Days. In a way I feel like this is a day I am “catching my breath.” It is a day where I think (I’ll know at the end of the day) that I have a little bit of time to put the final touches on the services of those sacred days.

Which is possibly why Bishop Wright has invited us to ponder twelve verses—the trial of Jesus. Tomorrow, Maundy Thursday, we will have much to consider and do: foot washing, Holy Communion, Gethsemane. And then there is Good Friday with the Passion and Crucifixion. Yesterday we considered staying awake in the Garden…today we gaze upon the trial before the religious of the day. As I sat with my Bible opened, looking at the passage, what struck me was the “red letters” versus the “black letters.” The “black letters” capture the words of the high priest, the chief priests, elders, scribes, and their congregation. There is panic and confusion and chaos in the scene. Mob rule is the order of the day as Jesus is struck and spit upon. Jesus utters one sentence: “I am, and you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power, and coming with the clouds of heaven.” He is quoting Daniel 7 and Psalm 110 as he claims to be the Messiah. Their reaction is expected. They are blind to Jesus. Unable able to see him, they mock and insult; they spit and strike.

If we take a moment and look at Jesus—simply look at what he says and what he does—he invites one of two responses…he is not a good moral teacher…here is a man who claims to be the Son, to be the Judge. It is no wonder that the world either rejects or adores…it makes his method of salvation…that of death on a Cross…to be even more striking. As I sit in the midst of this trial, my breath is taken away…so much for catching it.

SLEEPING

TUESDAY AFTER PALM SUNDAY IN LENT 2015

It is Holy Tuesday and today I want to look at Mark 14:32—42. There are two thoughts on my mind today. The first; how hard it is for me to be present with Jesus when I am tired. The second; Gethsemane.

Last night the Cathedral hosted a Service of Chrism and the Renewal of Ordination Vows. It was a lovely service. Some 70 or more clergy were present, including two bishops, and another 75 or so people in the congregation. The priests all con-celebrated with Bishop Love. At the end of the service he blessed the Holy Oils that are used throughout parts of the diocese for the coming year. After it we then had dinner…dinner for 120. It was a lovely dinner.  Our governing board, the Chapter, served as the wait staff and then did the cleanup. To pull that all off my day started early. The service has lots of details. As people arrive there are lots of instructions to give. I find that some folks get keyed up for a big unusual service and it requires I try and stay calmer…all of this takes energy. And then of course there are the things that do not go properly during the service and there is not a blessed thing you can do about it. Last night it was my failure to set out hymnals on the special seats for the clergy, and so there we are, at the first hymn, with 70 or so clergy scurrying about to find and pass along hymnals…that also takes a bit of energy out of me.

So here are the disciples…they just have eaten the Passover meal. It is late and they find themselves out in the garden. “Can’t you even stay awake with me for one hour” Jesus asks? I am feeling the tiredness in me and I must admit, I would have been one of those asleep…and unlike the disciples…I know what lays ahead and how it ends…certainly with this knowledge I should be able to stay awake…but if I am honest with myself, I know I cannot. When I am tired I have trouble staying with Jesus.

Which brings me to my second point: Gethsemane. Most of you reading this blog know that this word refers to the stone, the very large heavy stone that was rolled over the olives to squeeze every last drop of oil out of them…a terribly fitting metaphor for Jesus’ agony in the Garden. In some ways this scene reveals how small my view of God can be. This scene reveals that expanse of God’s love. Jesus’ hesitation (if that is what we might call it) can be seen as his humanness struggling not against his Father’s will, but rather death. Which of us goes to the grave willingly…we are wired for life…and so there, under the weight of my sin, Jesus pauses, revealing the inherent human desire for life…and then he quickly continues into the path of his Passion for exactly that compelling reason—that we might have life and have it more abundantly.

Thank God this all, none of it, relies on me…there are just too many days when I would fall asleep.