Noteless Preaching

This Sunday I am planning on preaching without using any notes. I’ve tried preaching without notes before and did so successfully, but discovered that I spent so much time practicing and attempting to memorize my sermon that it was not productive. Since that time I have gone through much learning in sermon development and composition and I think that I am ready to try it again. This past week I read a little book titled Preaching without Notes by Joseph M. Webb, who gave me the confidence to give it a go again and a method that does not take nearly so long to pack the sermon into your head so that it is ready to be released with the full power of Holy Spirit. I am looking forward to the challenge.

Texas: Our Next Adventure Awaits

Earlier this year I remember waking one morning and feeling fear pressing upon me: I would be graduating from seminary soon and had no place to go, a wife to care for and student loans soon coming due. The heaviness upon me seemed to have grown like the giant icicles that hung outside the bedroom window. As Melissa lay sleeping beside me I prayed silently, “Dear Lord Jesus, I cannot bear this on my own. You have to take this from me.” And he did. I fell back asleep.

Graduation came and went and we still didn’t know where we were to go. Within a few days of leaving the school I received an offer to work as an assistant at a parish in Chicago—a nice position that came with a four bedroom house and a talented rector to learn under. But Melissa and I felt that this wasn’t where God was calling us and so I nervously turned it down.

A few days later I was ordained as a deacon in Florida and then flew to Houston to interview for an assistant position with a very likeable man and a great listener. Next I flew to a small town north of Dallas to look into a position as deacon-in-charge of a mission congregation of about sixty people. Although this would be a risk for a young guy like me, my heart leapt when I spoke with them—was God directing me toward Dallas?

Decision time came when the rector from Houston called about flying Melissa and me back for a second interview. Yet, I hadn’t heard from the church near Dallas—did our interview there go as well as I had thought? Were they going to extend a call? Were they hearing the same thing from God that I was hearing? I didn’t know, but I had to be honest with the rector from Houston who was now on the phone. “I’m beginning to lean strongly toward a church near Dallas,” I told him. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll keep looking.”

That same afternoon I received a call from the mission church near Dallas. They wanted me to come and be their pastor. And so we’re off. In less than two weeks time we head to Texas to learn and grow with St. Peter’s Episcopal Church. Our next adventure awaits.

May Newsletter

There I knelt before the dean of the seminary, the faculty and hundreds of guests including the archbishop of Kenya and the archbishop of the West Indies. The chapel was packed full of people who had come to witness and participate in the 2008 graduation from Nashotah House Theological Seminary. As the faculty stood surrounding me in a half circle, the dean who sat in the center asked, “Sirs, do you approve?” “We approve,” they responded. And then the dean ceremonially tapped me on the head with a Greek New Testament and said, “I admit you to the degree Master of Divinity.” A hood was hung around my neck, I shook the Dean’s hand and then stood. This was the culmination of three years of study and discipline. I had made it through.

Over the next few days Melissa and I packed everything that we owned into a little U-Haul trailer that was hitched to our 1991, Oldsmobile (which by the way has over 260,000 miles on it) with the hope that it would take us back to Florida where I would be ordained as a deacon the following week. We said our goodbyes to the friends we had made--people we're going to dearly miss--and then began the two day drive. Unfortunately the drive was frought with stalls and difficulties including an over-heating car. Somehow or another, with much fear and trembling and prayer, we arrived in Florida.

A week later I found myself again in a great chapel, the Episcopal Cathedral in Orlando—a building of immense grandeur, of stone and gothic architecture. At the beginning of the service I and the others involved walked down the center isle to our seats. I was then presented to the bishop by the people of the Church to be ordained to the sacred order of deacons. Before everyone present I solemnly declared that I believed in the Holy Scriptures to be the Word of God, and to contain all things necessary to salvation, and to conform to the doctrine, discipline, and worship of The Episcopal Church. The bishop then laid his hands upon my head and prayed, “Therefore, Father, through Jesus Christ your Son, give your Holy Spirit to Philip; fill him with grace and power, and make him a deacon in your Church.” And then all the people said, “Amen.”

And now, Melissa and I are off to follow God’s leading—the prayerful and humbling process of seeking a parish in which to serve. Melissa has also received her degree, Master of Arts in Religion, so we’re a dynamic, well trained team, sure to have an energetic impact where God calls us to be. We appreciate your prayers as we move through the interview process.

March Newsletter

Alleluia! He is Risen!

Melissa and I hope that you are having a blessed Easter season. This semester has been a challenge between school demands and time spent seeking a position so that I will have a place to go when I graduate next month (May 22). My bishop has released me and his other seminarians to look outside of the diocese for positions. I've spent hours on the phone talking to people around the Church about possible leads and openings, networking and gathering contacts of those who would be willing to bring on a young, go-getter deacon, soon to be priest who is fired up about preaching the gospel. This whole process is pushing me to trust fully in God, as graduation creeps ever closer.

This week at the seminary I’m in charge of leading our chapel services—which includes singing some of the prayers—solo, an activity that brings on a feeling somewhere between thrill, terror and great humility as I lead God’s people in worship. I could feel myself shaking up there, but I made it through without the becoming the target of rotten fruit. I have a few more days yet to go, but so far everyone has said “You’re doing an excellent job.” I also preached my senior sermon in chapel a few weeks ago and received strong feedback, even from people who weren't there: “Hey Phil, I wasn't in chapel on that day but someone told me that your sermon was really good.”

Melissa has been working hard, but feeling somewhat down. Her time is spent at home sitting on the couch (or at Starbucks) reading theology and drafting the chapters of her master's thesis. As you know, Melissa is energized by being out and about with other people and so this introverted solo pattern of studying and writing is demanding on her extroverted personality. The professor who is overseeing her writing is pleased with her accomplishments on the thesis. Once that is finished she will be granted her master's degree in religion. The work, though draining will soon be done.

Please keep us in your prayers as our time at seminary draws to a close. After graduation we will be returning to Florida for my ordination to the transitional diaconate (May 31). If you are in the area, the service is at three o’clock at the Cathedral in Orlando and we would love to see you. We know that God already knows where we will best serve Him, he just hasn't revealed it to us yet. Please pray for us as we discern God's leading for our ministry in the Episcopal Church.

Voice of Deliverance: The Language of Martin Luther King, Jr., and Its Sources

Here's an interesting book that I read yesterday about the influences upon some of the greatest sermons and speeches given during this century by one of Americas best orators, Martin Luther King Jr.

A Trip to New Orleans

Last week, I and a few other seminarians went down to New Orleans to help out with the some of the relief efforts following Hurricane Katrina. We left Wisconsin at four in the morning and arrived at our destination, the basement/bunkhouse of a rectory at about ten o’clock that night.

The following morning we awoke for a breakfast of Beignets and coffee. During the drive to a local breakfast diner, I was awestruck by the array of mansions that lined picturesque St. Charles Avenue with its oak trees, joggers and the romantic rumble of streetcars as they passed. These Romanesque, French-chateau, and Greek revival style houses struck me as tremendously large with dozens of rooms in each, incredibly landscaped.

Behind this portrait of wealth and Southern charm, hidden away in the backstreets, were blighted ghettos, houses with caving roofs and broken windows—two different worlds separated by a walk of but a couple of minutes! Here there were no iPod attired joggers, but rather a black man who politely said hello and then went on carefully picking through a trash can, collecting cans and other bits of metal that he could sell by the pound to the local scrap metal dealer. These much smaller houses, had in the past housed the slaves that built and cared for the mansions on St. Charles Avenue, tending the lawns, cleaning the houses and cooking the meals.

A man by the name of Charles Jenkins, the bishop of Louisiana wants to change all of that and so he started an organization called the Jericho Road Episcopal Housing Initiative. This program was named after a speech made by Martin Luther King in which he said:

A true revolution of values will soon cause us to question the fairness and justice of many of our past and present policies...we must come to see that the whole Jericho road must be transformed so that men and women will not be constantly beaten and robbed as they make their journey on life's highway. True compassion is more that flinging a coin to a beggar. A true revolution of values will soon look uneasily on the glaring contrast of poverty and wealth. With righteous indignation. [1]

During the first day we worked on renovating a house which belonged to Mrs. Wilson. Her insurance company had given her but $2,000 for the damage, and so the church had stepped in to help. We and the other volunteers busily caulked cracks, framed windows and painted. Mrs. Wilson had been out of her house for over two years now, living along with her children at her sister’s two bedroom home, a place much too small for so many people. It is our hope that her house will be fully renovated and ready for her to move back in within about four months. The next day we helped to finish the landscaping around multiple houses that had been built in some of these bereft neighborhoods and then offered for sale at the lowest possible costs in hopes of revitalizing the community through increased home ownership.

During the evenings, Edward who lead the trip and is a native of New Orleans, had established invitations for us to the homes of his rector and his parents—an opportunity for us to experience true Southern culture which consisted of fine wine, fish tacos and boiled crawfish. Delicious.

The day before we left, we had the opportunity to meet Shakoor Aljuwani, a recent convert to Christianity from the Nation of Islam, and an amazing community leader who is functioning as a voice for the poor and oppressed people of New Orleans. As we bumped along in the back of his fifteen passenger van, he pointed out houses that had been wiped away by the waters of mighty Katrina. Other nearly deserted neighborhoods stretched for miles with but a worker here and there throwing rotten building material out of the house and onto the front lawn—growing piles of rubbish that had been blackened with mold.

We drove slowly through a neighborhood of brick buildings that had not been damaged by flooding, but had been secured by the government with great steal casings over the windows at the price of $110 each so that the owners could not return for their belongings. The government had been eager to demolish these functioning buildings and to replace them with more attractive houses. The evacuation of the city via Katrina functioned as a means to quickly remove people from these homes—though it pains me to know that for the past two years many have been without housing and their belongings, because of this decision. They are not allowed back into the buildings. A growing tent city of homeless folks sat as evidence of the treatment of people who did not have the ability to fight—people pushed under this overpass by government officials in an attempt to conceal the hideous sore of a people shorn of their homes and their dignity, dejected by the prosperous city owners. It was a bleak inconsolable passage through the hidden corners of the city. I felt myself becoming angry as I listened to stories of city counsel meetings and pleas for the poor of the city that were heard with disdain and then disregarded.

The church in New Orleans has regularly been sending their deacons to these tent villages with food, much to the disappointment of city officials who feel that this action simply encourages these folks to stay, yet I don’t know how it is humanly possible to ignore such destitution and impoverishment and still be able to live in good conscience

After the tour we had lunch with the bishop. He asked us what we had seen and what we would say to the people back home. It was clear to us that the racism and greed that was molesting the poor mostly black people of New Orleans was breaking his heart and had convinced him to take action in any way that he could. “When you go back home, tell my story,” he said to us, “Tell my story.”

The trip was an eye opening experience for me.

---

[1] Rev. Martin Luther King, “Beyond Vietnam: A Time to Break Silence,” 4 April 1967 (Hartford Web Publishing, 1999), http://www.hartford-hwp.com/archives/45a/058.html (accessed on January 12, 2008).

Here is the Christmas Newsletter We Sent Out this Year

We hope this letter finds you and your entire family joyful with the spirit of anticipation this Advent season as we await the coming of our Lord! Life at Nashotah House has been keeping both Philip and I busy with a conglomeration of holiday festivities, chapel services and community events—not to mention all the school work Philip has to complete before the end of the semester. Yet, through it all we have found it beneficial to fully participate in this season of Advent as we develop our own traditions as a family and celebrate and reflect with amazement on Christ’s incarnation as a tiny little baby.

We can’t believe that it was just this past summer when we shoved all of our belongings into our small hatchback and drove across the country to Nashotah, Wisconsin where Philip is finishing his last year of seminary. It seems like such a short time ago when we first pulled into our parking space at Sheridan 4C on the Nashotah campus. Our car was so full that it looked like a water balloon ready to burst! In no time we were unpacked, Philip began classes, and I started working as a teller at a local bank. Since then our weeks have been so full of activities that it is no wonder the time has passed quickly. Before we knew it, snowflakes began to flood the yard with piles of fluff while icicles started forming sculptures on our window panes. This winter sure has been a chilly one!

Philip’s school schedule keeps him moving from morning prayer at 8am until evening prayer at 4:30pm with classes and study in between, after which he is able to come home and relax just long enough to eat dinner and return to the library or his study in our frigid basement for an evening of reading Church History or writing papers for Liturgy I and II. Praise God his days of Greek and Hebrew are over!

My evenings are quite full as well. After returning home from work, usually around 6pm, I seem to have some sort of activity to fill my evenings every night of the week! Mondays I lead a women’s prayer group in our home, Tuesdays I have begun attending training classes for the Order of St. Luke, which is a healing prayer ministry. On Wednesday nights we have about eight vibrant and talkative teenagers pile on our couch, eat snacks and interrupt one another as they tell us all about their weeks for close to an hour, leaving about thirty minutes for us to teach them about coming Sunday’s gospel lesson. Thursday evenings there is a family Eucharist in St. Mary’s Chapel on campus which is usually followed by some other social event, and Friday evenings we have been hosting bon-fires outside our home to build community with our neighbors. And believe it or not, our weekends are just as crazy! Philip is filling in as pastor every other Sunday at a small parish of elderly folks and we are also participating in the Sunday evening contemporary service on campus. As you can see, life in Wisconsin has left us little time for relaxation, but God has been sustaining us and we are blessed to be a part of such a spiritually enriching community!

Next semester has a lot in store for us as well. Right after Christmas Philip will be taking the General Ordination Exam which is a four day process that will test him on what he has learned over the past two and a half years in seminary. The exam covers topics such as theology, church history, spiritual formation, liturgy and pastoral care. He is busy preparing for that on top of all his studies. After the exam is complete, Philip will load into a minivan with half a dozen other volunteers and travel down to New Orleans to assist the area still suffering from the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Sadly I will not be able to join him.

When he returns, he will begin his final semester of seminary! However, once again his school responsibilities will be joined by a variety of other tasks like meeting with the Standing Committee, starting the deployment process with the Diocese of Central Florida and, assuming everything falls into place, preparing for ordination to the deaconate! We are really excited and overwhelmed, hardly believing that our three years of seminary are coming to a close!

As for myself, after a lot of prayer and discernment, we have decided that I will leave my job at the bank a little earlier than planned in order to give myself ample time to complete my Master’s thesis project. So next semester I will be spending a majority of my time in the library and interviewing as many people as I can to develop curriculum for a women’s bible study based on a theology and spirituality of the human body. This is a topic that God has placed on my heart and I am eager to develop it into both a spiritual discipline and a tool to help others integrate their bodies into their spiritual lives.

Well, that’s all for now! We hope that your lives are being filled to the measure with the complete love of Christ as we rejoice in his coming! If you are already receiving Philip’s email newsletter updates, “A Month in the Life of a Seminarian”
and would like to be put on that mailing list, send him an email.

Thank you for all your love, prayers and support. We are blessed to have you as a part of our lives and we could not have gotten to where we are today without your encouragement and prayers.

The Lord be With You,
Philip and Melissa

A Church Visit

Today I visited Mamre Moravian Church, a denomination with a rich history within the pre-reformational pietistic movement. As I stepped out of the vehicle the first thing that I noticed about the church was that the entire building focused the viewers eyes upward until the view culminated at the steeple. I walked in and noticed the old wooden pews in a simple square shaped room surrounded by simple picture windows. Next my eyes noticed a very large box shaped pipe organ which took up the entire front right hand corner of the front of the church. Apparently the church had not been designed with an organ in mind. In the center was a pulpit flanked by two picture windows, one of of the Scriptures and another of two stone tablets. Above the pulpit hung a multi-pointed white star (which I later learned is supposed to communicate a symbol of diversity).

The service was led by a young lay member in his fifties and assisted by an organist. Attendance on that Sunday was twenty-one, however from what I understand there are normally less than twelve, the youngest of which is in his seventies.

The sermon went well. The guest preacher confidently began with a funny story about himself and continued in an organized and interesting fashion. The only part of the sermon that I thought was a might bit disconcerting was that each time he finished a main point of the homily, his voice tone and length of pause was such that I thought it was the end of his sermon, and then he would continue.

After the service was complete everyone went into a side room, and sat down around a couple of tables for coffee, brownies, cookies and conversation. There was lots of reminiscing amidst the dialogue, as well as friendly chatter and questions as to where I was from and the like. Everyone was very welcoming.

After the service I walked around through the grass around behind the church to use the outhouse. The church has no indoor plumbing of which I am aware. It was a two-seater, which I thought interesting. Curious how our culture has changed over the years since this outhouse was first built.

My visit left me wondering, what is it that keeps these rich and heartwarming folks returning to this pretty, but dwindling church, week after week with such dedication?

Mom's Suprise Birthday

We had a great time at Melissa's Mom's suprise birthday party down in Florida this past summer.

Visiting with Dad in Florida

We had a fun time visiting Melissa's dad and family while we were down in Florida a few weeks ago.

Biking with the Family

Out deep woods biking with the family back in Michigan about a month ago (late August).

Climbing the Tower

While we were at Holy Hill, Melissa and I took the opportunity to climb to the top of the tower which was a few hundred steps up into the air.



Somewhat tiring, however the view at the top was very pretty

A Visit to Holy Hill

Last Sunday (October 7th), Melissa and I visited The Basilica of the National Shrine of Mary, Help of Christians, Holy Hill. Apparently this is a national pilgrimage sight and is considered very holy. It is one of the highest spots in Wisconsin and has a rich history that reaches back into the sixteen hundreds when Jesuit missionaries first came to this country. People go there for a variety of different reasons, though I thought it was interesting how many people had been healed there. One of the walls beside a small chapel had leaning up against it numerous crutches and even a blue leg cast that had apparently been cut off the person's leg while he or she was visiting the place. I was suprised by how many people were there. There were hundreds and hundreds of cars, along with multiple parking lots and people directing traffic telling us where to park.

Curiously the advertising did not clearly show that the site was Roman Catholic, though I immediately knew it was Roman, as I assume other do since it is a shrine of Mary. The advertising on the website was clear as were the listed times for mass, confession and a variety of other services.

The inside of the basilica was in excellent condition. I felt like I was in another world upon entering inside of what appeared from the outside to be a rough and dark and foreboding old building. The inside of the building appeared bright and massive with high arching ceilings that seemed to reach into the heavens. Light shone all around the artistically arranged lightly colored stone walls and beautifully painted windows. I felt as though I were being drawn toward the front of the building where the stone was arranged as if the paintings above the rerodos were bursting from the wall.

The characters leading the service were very sparse and consisted of a celebrant and someone I assume was a deacon since he carried the gospel book in the procession, though he was not dressed like a deacon. There was also an organist up on the balcony. The service was a weekly Eucharistic service (taking communion, for my more Protestant friends) which used a paperback missal and hymnal. The building was very full. There were probably about ten people or more per pew which would have totaled over a thousand people in the building attending the mass.

Welcome, was not a feeling that I would describe our experience. Melissa and I felt more like tourists which was fine since that’s what we expected at the shrine. No one greeted us on the way in, but when we slipped out while everyone else was going up for communion we received some very warm smiles and handshakes from some of the ushers as we headed out the door. The pre-service atmosphere was noisy: cell phones many people talking and people walking about the building to their seats. A few folks were kneeling to pray, though most were sitting and waiting or moving to their seats.

The service began when a very old man went to the lectern and said in a quiet, echoing voice that was very difficult to decipher, something about welcoming us to the Basilica, the intention of the Mass and a reminder to turn off our cell phones and the page number of the processional hymn. That is as close as I can come to exact wording. Due to the horrible sound quality and acoustics, the service was not easy to follow. I have, but a small amount of familiarity with the Roman Missal and was able to find a majority of the correct pages so that I could comfortably and securely follow the service, however this would have been very difficult for someone that was completely new to a Roman Catholic service. I would never even think about introducing someone to the historic liturgy of the church (such as a member of my very Evangelical family) at this service. After these initial announcements a hymn began and an old man wearing a light colored suit and a very small cross led the supposed deacon (same guy who had given the announcements, apparently had moved to the back of the room) who was wearing a black cassock and surplice and carrying the gospel high up in the air, followed by the celebrant who was wearing a green chasuble and wearing a headset type of microphone (the one that wraps around the ear and comes up along one’s cheek).

The greatest distraction at the church was the horrible sound quality both of the music, the readings and the homily. Interestingly, I was not distracted by the folks walking in and out of the side chapels during the service. The people movements off to the side seemed so tiny in comparison to the expanse of the building. The worship was muffled. During a majority of the service seemed as if everyone mumbled quietly through the service because they weren’t sure exactly what to say and did not know the hymns very well and so everyone was afraid to say anything with firm believe or confidence The only part of the service in which the congregation seemed some what assertive was in saying the Lord’s Prayer.

I assume that the service was about an hour and fifteen minutes or so. Melissa and I left just before everyone was about to go up for communion and by then the service had gone on for over forty-five minutes and I assume that it was going to take a while to communicate over a thousand people.

The sermon began fifteen minutes into the service and went for about half an hour. There were no announcements during the service and the peace lasted for but a few moments. On a scale of ten the preacher was somewhere between a five and six. During the beginning of the sermon he followed the lectionary reading from the Gospel and spoke about faith as Jesus had compared it to a mustard seed. Within the first fifteen minutes he had moved from the lectionary reading to speaking about the need for continual forgiveness. However for a majority of his sermon he spoke of the founding of our country on Christian principles and the sanctity of life as opposed to abortion. I found this very odd and was confused at the topical disparity. I am still confused as to how he managed to bring these completely different focuses together.

For me, the part of the service which was like being in another place was in the beginning before the service began, while I was taking in all of the beauty and wonderment of the heavenly space and exquisite artistry.

After the service we went to the gift shop and I bought Melissa a crucifix necklace for her birthday which is tomorrow (October 8th). I would not want to make this church my regular home. It was a fun place to visit. That is all.

As we drove away from the Basilica I wondered how anyone would be willing to give such a large amount of money to create such an incredibly beautiful building simply to have such awful performed services within it. The one think that I will think about all this week hence is why so many thousands of people would be drawn to a place with such poor churchmanship. Is it the holiness of the sight? The mystical nature of the place? The beauty of it all? The healings that have taken place there? The great connection with God that has been experienced by so many pilgrims at the sight? Some things to think about.

Melissa's Birthday

Melissa had a fun twenty-fifth birthday with some friends of ours from the seminary at the Texas Roadhouse this past Saturday. Afterward we went back to the campus for cake and a bonfire.

September - A Month in the Life of a Seminarian

Greetings,
I've entered into a whole new world here at Nashotah House Theological Seminary: cassocks, morning and evening prayer, classes and work-crew. I normally rise about six o'clock to either run or lift weights, shower, read my Bible, pray and then stuff my books and computer into my bag, hop onto my bike at about ten to eight and ride off to chapel. After arriving, I quickly grab my cassock off of the hook, pull it on and walk to my assigned seat. The inside of the historic chapel is amazing to behold. The many surrounding statues of biblical characters, martyrs and bishops remind me that I am not worshiping alone, but am joined by a great cloud of witnesses. My mind wanders a bit as we all sit in silence and then suddenly the bell begins to ring and the sounds of creaking pews and feet against the wooden floor, swells throughout the room as we all rise for the service and make the most ancient of Christian symbols, the sign of the cross, remembering that we are crucified with Christ. The service has begun.

About an hour later, I and my classmates rush off to breakfast and then to class. I have a busy schedule which consists of a two liturgy classes in which I am learning how Christians have gathered together throughout history to worship God and commune with him; a class on the history of the Anglican church which is extremely and intriguing; ethics and moral theology taught by a Thomas Aquinas scholar; church music, in which we learn about how the church has used music throughout its history and also how to read music and to sing chants; and parish ministry, which is a class on how to be a pastor. During the afternoon I'm busy either with my studies, choir practice or work crew. The seminary follows a model which was established by a monk named St. Benedict back in the sixth century, in which he required his monks to follow a rule which separated the day into prayer, work and study. At four-thirty we gather again in the chapel for evening prayer and then I hope on my bike to arrive back at our apartment for supper with Melissa and then homework. The days here are very full.

Melissa has been hard at work. Within a few days of our move to Wisconsin, she was out and about applying for jobs. She went to nearly every bank in town and almost all of them called her back for an interview and then offered her the job. (My wife's a pretty amazing woman!) She finally accepted one of the positions only to have another bank call her a few hours later and offer her more money. It was a tempting choice, but because she had given her word and decided to remain at the bank where she had originally accepted a position. Since then she's been moving quickly up the ranks and will soon have senior teller status. I'm quite proud of her.

We've also been quite busy within the Seminary community. I tried out and was accepted into the choir and I have also obtained a job at the library where I'll be working for a couple of hours a week. Melissa and I have been given the opportunity to lead the youth ministry here on campus and have been having fun getting to know the young students. We've also been making lots of friends and have begun gathering folks together for a bonfire every Friday night. Oh, yes, before I forget, Melissa's birthday is coming soon (October 8th - the big two-five). She would love to here from you if you have a few minutes

Thank you for all of your prayers. My experience here at Nashotah has been very formational for me as I continue to follow God's leading. I know that this is where I am supposed to be. I mentioned in one of my letters that Melissa and I were going to be doing some fundraising because our finances were quite tight (we moved here with nearly no money, trusting that if it were God's will, he would provide) and we have been pleasantly surprised. Though not many people have yet responded, we are amazed at the generosity of those who have and we are very thankful for those folks who are prayerfully partnering with us in advancing God's kingdom; we are seeing and experiencing the fruit of your prayers everyday.

Feel free to write to us and let us know how you're doing. Melissa and
I miss all of you.

Life in Wisconsin

OUR FIRST ADVENTURE
“Where could she be?” I asked myself while glancing at the clock which read in bold digital letters: 3:30 am. We had made it safely to Nashotah, Wisconsin, barely moved into our new apartment and now my wife was missing. Quite the scare, as I experienced it. Earlier that evening we had joined the seminary community for a Texas style barbeque. Toward the end of the night only about a dozen people were left, sitting around a bonfire. I left to go to bed, but Melissa stayed. I woke up a few hours later and noticed that she still wasn’t by my side.

I looked out the window to the field where the fire had been. Nothing. I looked in the bathroom and then downstairs in the living room. I began calling her on my nearly signal-less cell phone. Nothing, no answer. My stomach was now feeling tight, as I wondered what possibly could have happened to her.

I called my voice mail to see if she had left a message and sure enough, I hear: “Hello Babe, it’s 1:30 am and I’m locked out of the house.” “Locked out of the house?” I thought to myself, “We never lock the door. Did she go to the wrong door since all of the apartments are identical?” (I later discovered that when I swung the door open earlier, it had smacked up against the wall, pushing the button which locks the door, unbeknownst to me).

Though I still didn’t know where she was, I assumed that a neighbor took her in. My mind began to whir. “What is Melissa thinking of me? What are all of the folks at the bonfire thinking about me, a husband who locks his wife out of the house?” I walked into the bathroom and noticed her cell phone lying on the floor. “That’s why she isn’t answering.” I thought as I picked up the pink phone and flipped it open. I called back the most recent missed call. A woman answered the phone with a voice that sounded as if she was trying to be very quiet. “Is this my wife?” I asked. It was and a few minutes later she was home from our neighbor’s apartment. We were both happy to see each other.

While I was sleeping she had tried everything to get into the apartment. Even walking around back and attempting to climb onto our overhanging deck which was a good seven feet off of the ground. She borrowed a step ladder from one of the woman at the bonfire, climbed up, grabbed the rails and managed to pull herself over. As you know, Melissa wouldn’t exactly describe herself as an athletic or agile person and she was very proud that she was able to accomplish this James Bond like maneuvering, all while wearing a dress. Mixed with laughter, it was a great bonding moment for them. Yet, the patio door too, was locked. Now, how was she to get down? “I guess you’ll have to jump” the woman said. And so, with great fear, that’s what she did.

Eventually, after all attempts failed she ended up sleeping on the woman’s couch until we reconnected at 3:30 am. Neither of us obtained much sleep that night, though it was a fun adventure to share with everyone the following morning.

OUR CROSS COUNTRY TRIP (plus a few zigzags)
All else is going well. Our over packed car brought us safely out of New England, across the country, all of the way to the cheese state. During our journey we stayed with folks in three separate states. First with some friends in New York who had just had a baby, then camping with my family, followed by a two night jaunt in Detroit with Melissa’s sister. Next we flew to Florida for a surprise party for Melissa’s mom; back to Michigan for a few more days, a go-away party and then on the road to Wisconsin, well except for a stop in Chicago to have lunch with my brother. Finally we arrived at Nashotah, Wisconsin and followed the signs to Nashotah House Theological Seminary. We had reached our destination.

SETTLING IN
The past few weeks have been full of orientation sessions, unpacking boxes, and new classes however we are very excited about how welcoming and friendly everyone has been. Most folks spend a good deal of time outdoors: sitting on lawn chairs, watching children, and bonfires nearly every night. On Sunday Melissa and I decided to walk across the campus to join in on a softball game to which we had been invited. The walk would normally have taken about ten minutes, but our stops to say hi to folks along the way extended our journey to half an hour. We feel very blessed by God to have been led to this community of believers and we are excited about our time here.

July - A Month in the Life of a Seminarian

Greetings, I hope that you're doing well. I can hardly believe how fast the summer has fled on by. My internship at the hospital as a chaplain is now over and has been formative for me. God has been hard at work. When folks ask what I've been learning I usually say, "It's really helping me to be less of an idiot, ya know?" And its, true! I remember in particular an emergency room visit with a thin older woman, lying upon a propped up movable bed with a thin cotton blanket tucked around her, stopping just above the waist. Her curled thin white hair had been apparently well styled that morning and set above a slightly clenched, deeply wrinkled, petite face which matched her small body. Her skin was pale, though not sickly, but appeared as one who spent much of her time indoors. A flap of her shirt hung open exposing part of the right side of her upper chest and revealed a cord that ended in a circular sensor of some type held firmly to her skin.

I walked in and softly introduced myself as the chaplain while standing to the left side of her bed, and asked permission to sit down and visit. The woman went on to tell me about the lung mass that the doctors had discovered that day and of her fear that she would die the same horrible death of lung cancer through which she had recently watched her brother. She said that she wished that she would have gotten hit by a truck rather than to die in this way. As I sat beside her bed I felt her pain and fear of the future and with the intention to help her look at the bright side, I foolishly said, "Maybe the mass is not cancerous." At which she replied with angry frustration, "Oh, come on, what do you think it is? I'm not stupid. I know what it is." I quickly realized that I was attempting to fix her sadness by offering the "bright side" rather than being with her in this difficult emotion. Later I remembered the Apostle Paul's writing "weep with those who weep"(Romans 12:15). The visit went on as she shared and I listened. At the end of our visit I rested my hand softly on top of hers and she placed her other hand on top of mine and I prayed that God would bring comfort to her pain and that He would be with her throughout this time as long or short as it might be.

Little by little, from each patient I visit, from my fellow interns, supervisor, and others I have continued to practice and learn how to truly empathize and listen. This has been a tremendous lesson for me this summer and has helped not only in my ministry as a chaplain, but in my friendships and in my marriage.

Friday was my last day of the internship and today, Melissa and I are going to be driving away from Massachusetts to begin the trek which will eventually lead us to Wisconsin where I am planning to complete the last year of my Masters of Divinity degree. It has been somewhat difficult saying goodbye to the friends that we have made during the past few years here. Over the past couple of weeks we have been having dinners and eating ice-cream together with a multiplicity of people in an attempt to see everyone one last time in order to say goodbye before we leave.

We are thoroughly looking forward to the next month to relax, visit family and friends, and reflect on our time in Massachusetts. Melissa is looking forward to finishing up her last couple of classes on-line, diving into community life at Nashotah and having some extra time to pray and discern where God is leading her in her spiritual journey. She will also be looking for a job over the next few weeks, so please keep her in your prayers, that God will open doors for good relationships and a pleasant working environment.

The other day I received news that I'd received a three-thousand dollar scholarship that I had searched, discovered and applied for a few months back. Melissa and I were thrilled, since our budget for the next year is, well, how do you say it, short?...very short? As you know, schooling will hurriedly run a person's savings down! However, little by little as he always has, God is providing. The parish with whom we've been working, commissioned us last Sunday and presented us with a small check as has my sponsoring parish down in Florida and a few individuals who have been following our journey. We're also planning on doing some fundraising and we have always been amazed at the generosity of the people of God once they know the need. It's a huge privilege to be in the midst of God's work. Though future is uncertain, we trust that God will provide.

We are continually amazed from where God has brought us and where he is leading us to. We are excited to continue on the path he has prepared for us and are thankful that you have allowed us to share our journey with you.

Arrayah Zoe Ilyeen Mayer

The letter I read today at her memorial service . . .

Dear Arrayah,

I first found out about you late last year. Your Aunt Melissa was on the phone with your grandmother and had mentioned to me that when she asked how your parents were doing, your grandmother had a happy glint in her voice as if she knew something. Your Aunt Melissa asked if perhaps your mom was pregnant, but your grandmother wouldn't say. After getting off of the phone your Aunt Melissa turned to me and said, "I think Kaley is pregnant and I think it’s a girl." "What? Nah I said. That can't be." But it was and in a short while I received the news from your very happy father. A few months later your older brother Jesiah celebrated his first birthday. I've only had the opportunity of seeing him a few times, but I think you would have enjoyed having him as an older brother.

Months went by and we thought and prayed for you and your family. Then in April I received a phone call and discovered that your mom wasn't doing so well and so she had to go into the hospital for a couple of weeks. I know that this was a difficult time for your family, but they were willing to do anything to take care of you and your mom. We could already tell that they loved you very much and your Aunt Melissa and I began to grow in our love for you also. We thought and prayed for you and your mom quite often now. A few weeks later your mom was doing better and they let her go home from the hospital, with which news I'm sure she was very excited and I bet that you probably felt her happiness from inside her stomach. Yet she still had to go into the hospital every day for check-ups. This took many hours, but we all knew that your mom and dad loved you very much and so it wasn't too many hours for them.

Our spring semester of school at our seminary had just ended and your Aunt Melissa and I were sitting in a pizza restaurant out in Cape Cod where we were staying to celebrate our second anniversary when we received the call announcing your birth. A big smile came across my face. Your Aunt Melissa saw my face and she knew. We were very happy for you, but concerned because some of the doctors were worried about you. I had never had a niece before and we were very happy and we continued to pray for you.

The next day your Aunt Melissa and I had just finished biking a tiring backwoods trail to the ocean and back, on our tandem bike and we were sitting on a bench, resting and looking out over the landscape when my phone rang. It was your grandmother. I asked how you were doing and after a moment of silence your grandmother said, "We gave her back to Jesus." "You gave her back?" I said. "Yes." she said. We cried.

She said that your whole family, even your brother, your grandparents, and some of your aunts and uncles had all gathered together and to hold you and to say goodbye. But your Aunt Melissa and I weren't able to be there. We weren't able to say goodbye. And so now we do. Goodbye Arrayah. Goodbye. Though we never got to see you we are sure that you were very beautiful and all the problems you had could not stop God from revealing himself through a child who never uttered a word. Not a pulpit, not a sleek presentation, not a best selling book, but in a four pound seven ounce girl with Triploidy disease, God found great pleasure in taking a lowly thing in the eyes of the world to show truth.

So today we celebrate. Arrayah you are well. And although we miss you more than we can express, we're only separated by our time here on earth. See you soon niece.

With much love from your Uncle and Aunt,
Philip and Melissa

“But Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven" (ESV Matthew 19:14).

April - A Month in the Life of a Seminarian

It has been a busy month since Melissa and I last wrote. Our spring semester of school has been successfully finished and Melissa and I have plans to travel down to Cape Cod to celebrate our second anniversary (which was actually April 23rd), so we are looking forward to that.

Our exciting month began with an incredible Holy Week at our church, especially the Triduum service which consists of Maundy Thursday (Jesus last meal with his disciples), Good Friday, and the Great Vigil of Easter (Easter actually begins at Sundown on Saturday since according to the Jewish calendar the day ends and another begins at sundown). Beginning on Thursday, midway through the service the lights begin to dim, the songs become slow and sad and the mood somber, rather like a funeral. The priests wear black. There are many periods of silence. The readings are those of Christ's passion: his capture while praying in the garden and then on Friday, his crucifixion. Christ is dead and a sinking heavy feeling comes upon you throughout the day. It is as if you are experiencing Christ's suffering along with him. With this atmosphere and emotion the Easter Vigil begins on Saturday, in complete darkness. However, about midway through the service as the church begins to fill with candle light, Easter begins. After suffering through these mournful, wearisome, and solemn services (of which the church has been packed every night since Thursday) we can hardly await the words of the priest as he shouts three times, "Alleluia! Christ is risen!" and we all shout back, "The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!" Suddenly, a great change comes upon the room. All the lights are now on as bright as possible. Everyone is crying, yelling and screaming in celebration. Christ is risen! Energy is pulsating through the room like you've never felt before as people pull bells out of their coats, purses and bags and began shaking and ringing them with all of their might. You are now yelling in excitement as loud as you can, but you cannot hear yourself. The room is filled with sounds of worshippers bellowing and singing at the top of their lungs praises to God. Hands are raised and everyone is whistling and shouting and crying all at the same time. Alleluia! Christ is risen!

A week later, we boarded a plane and flew down to Florida to go before the Commission on Ministry for an emotionally tumultuous weekend in the ordination process. I, along with six others, would go before a group of about twenty to thirty clergy and laypeople who would say to me after the weekend, "Yes, we affirm your calling to the priesthood and encourage you to continue the process." Or "No, we do not think that you are called to be a priest." My destiny, I felt was in there hands. The weekend retreat is called BACAM, which stands for the Bishop's Advisory Counsel on Aspirants for Ministry. It is from their recommendation that the bishop normally chooses who will go forward to become an official Postulant, which is a Latin word for "asking" or "requesting," in this case, to be a priest. So, on Friday Melissa and I arrived at the retreat center and met with the commission for dinner and introductions and then after a sleepless night, we went before four smaller committees of two to three people each to be interviewed on four different areas. Then lunch, and then we left, however the commission stayed at the retreat center to discuss the participants and to decide those which they would recommend to the bishop and those who they would not. Melissa and I flew home and waited. We waited with eagerness and a little fear too for the arrival of the bishops letter with the news. On Thursday it came. I brought it upstairs and looked at it for a moment before calling Melissa who was at work at the time. "It's here." I said. "Did you open it?" she asked. "No, I wanted to call you first so that you would be on the phone when I opened it." And then I did, and I read the words from Bishop Howe, "Dear Philip: I am happy to report to you that the Commission on Ministry has recommended to me, as a result of the BACAM Conference held on April 13th and 14th, that you continue in the process toward Ordination to the priesthood. I am delighted to accept that recommendation." Woo-hoo! I made it.

The one other piece of news that you should know about is our plans for this summer. One of the steps in the ordination process is to take Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) which is a program of intensive training, encountering people in crisis within the hospital setting. I had applied, interviewed and been accepted into a summer CPE program this past December, but had turned it down due to financial concerns. However because the Commission on Ministry strongly recommended that I go through the program this summer, even though it is going to be a great faith and financial stretch for Melissa and I, we decided to see what I could do. Upon arriving back in Massachusetts I called the hospital where I was previously accepted. However, as is understandable they had given away the spot which was previously offered to me. So, I called every CPE program within an hour and a half radius as well as Florida (where Melissa's family lives) and Michigan (where my family lives), but was unable to find any openings this late in the game since it is normal to apply, be interviewed and then accepted six months in advance of the beginning of the program. However God is merciful and within a few days I received a call from a hospital which is located about thirty to forty-five minutes from our house with a position that had recently opened. I was interviewed and soon afterward, learned that I had been accepted into the program. So, I'll be spending over forty hours a week throughout this summer meeting with folks in any of the units from intensive care to cardiac, birthing or even a locked psychiatric unit. It is supposed to be a rigorous and often difficult and heart wrenching experience, but also a time of intensive growth. I'm looking forward to ministering to and learning from the many people with whom I'll be meeting as a hospital chaplain.
As you can see from the above, this last month has been a big experience in learning to trust God. He knows what he is doing and has been taking excellent care of us, though sometimes I have trouble seeing this over the looming challenges. Though I occasionally doubt my calling to be a priest when seeming difficulties and challenges arise, God continues to provide and to keep opening the doors and so we continue to move forward. Thank you for all your prayers and encouragements.

Brian

Brian Barry, after kindly purchasing some soda for my wife's upset stomach

Dad

This is my dad and the dog.