Home Alone

It was a hilarious film in 1990 as Macauley Culken plays an eight-year-old kid who is home alone and whose ingenuity fends off two would-be burglars (bunglers?).

Home alone isn’t always that funny. Yesterday in the check out line at COSTO, the checker had to look up a price for something I was buying. I turned to the woman waiting behind me. “I hate holding up lines in stores,” I said with an apologetic look.

“Doesn’t bother me,” she replied. “It’s nice to talk to somebody. I live alone, you know.”

Well, of course I didn’t know and during our wait, she told me in what part of the city she lived. She was buying a single item (rare at COSTCO), a large package of frozen beef stew. The checker was ready for me and that concluded our chat. I didn’t get her name. On my way home, I thought about her and of many of us who are home alone. You hear a lot about single older people not living as long as those who are coupled up, and you hear about the greater chance of depression and suicide among loners. Many of us prefer living alone, perhaps flirting naïvely with these hidden dangers to our health and well-being. And of course there is the very real danger of a medical emergency with no one around to help. We live alone anyway, a sort of ‘living on the edge’ I suppose.

There is certainly a difference between ‘aloneness’ and ‘loneliness’ and I would guess that the lady in COSTCO suffers a bit from the latter. While she didn’t take the opportunity with me to rattle on, it was clear that she was happy to engage in any kind of human interaction, however brief it may be. She didn’t seem be to hinting at our having coffee later (or a hotdog, if you’re at COSTCO), and she went on her way with only a slight wave goodbye.

And I went on about my own busy day, arriving home with a couple of things on my schedule. Reading EfM materials for one, continuing to slog through a Vivaldi cello concerto part for another, dealing with a current HOA issue, meeting with the Amazon people who want to install a better delivery system in the building, more reading, and another hour of cello practice. Alone but not lonely—at least not today.

It’s in the evenings that I sometimes feel lonely. Unless I invite people to dinner, I don’t see much of them otherwise. I don’t invite people on a quid pro quo basis but I can’t help wondering where they are when they aren’t here and what they’re doing. It’s rarer each year to be automatically included in dinner plans by fewer and fewer friends and acquaintances. I know this sounds like a lament, and I only bring it up because this lack of being included is possibly one of those ingredients for depression that people living alone suffer from. Fortunately for me, this condition heads its ugly rear only spasmodically, but for many like the lady at COSTCO, its appearance is likely more usual than occasional.

Ah, now for the EfM reading. Community is the key word throughout and the emphasis on Christian maturity is the main theme for this coming year. Directly out of the chute comes a discussion of how to listen to other people, to really listen. All we need now is someone to listen to and for someone to listen to us. But to do either, we have to get together.

I have gained a small reputation as a good cook and this has become something of a curse. People excuse themselves from having me to dinner because they say, “Oh Robert, I couldn’t cook for you!” as if I were Julia Child or something. Ridiculous, but I hope that’s their real reason. I already mentioned COSTCO hotdogs, didn’t I? Well, I’m happy to have one of theirs or one of yours or anything else you’re putting on the table. The point of eating together is the ‘together’ part and not what the kitchen produces. Together = Community.

Maybe there are other reasons and perhaps EfM’s efforts to show me the way toward a greater Christian maturity will render me a more desirable dinner guest. And who knows? Maybe the lady at COSTCO has poisoned the neighborhood wells of hospitality and that’s why she’s eating frozen beef stew alone. All we can do is try harder to see each other in whatever context exists for us, be thoughtful about our need and desire for community, and move with more conviction toward the knowledge of “Who is my neighbor?”

“In peace, we pray to you, Lord God.
For all people in their daily life and work;
For our families, friends, and neighbors, and for those who are alone.”
                           BCP, Prayers of the People, Form VI

Robert Heylmun
20 September 2019

There is God in Those Hills

Hello everyone! My name is Alex Nelepovitz and I’m a new parishioner here at St. Paul’s Cathedral. I’ve only been around for about three months but it’s already been an incredible experience. From the beautiful services to the joy to the Pride, there has been so many things about this new life of faith I thought was cut off from me that is now so beautiful and so important in my life.

A lot of those experiences have been so unbelievably incredible because of the 20s and 30s group. I didn’t think I’d bond so fast and so fully with a group of people like this, not after the years of distance I felt growing up Catholic and drummed into bible camps and church getaways. Those were more like requirements and chores. The retreat that took place last month with the St. Paul’s group? The furthest from it. This was a Joy.

Waking up bright and early Saturday morning, I drove from my parents' house to Bookstar where I bought my first personal bible with my own money. We have a family bible, being half-decent semi-Catholics…but it is both massive and the KJV. I wanted the NIV translation, with clearer language and something closer to the original Greek. Because I did my research. After getting my customary roadtrip Starbucks, off I went.

The drive was an hour and change due east, where even with the A/C on full blast, I could see the heat wave affecting the world around the car like a consistent pressure. Eventually I made it to the designated address. Hazelruth, group leader, had followed me in past the gate separating the mountain community from the small town below it. We unpacked her car, full of lasagna and goodies and got into the house.

And what a house.

Expansive and meticulously maintained, the home was clearly well-loved and well-cared for. Hazelruth and I found a note on the floating bar wishing us well and blessings on our retreat. Apparently, the owners weren’t going to rent for just one night, keeping to a sensible minimum of two nights. That is, until he heard we were a church group. After that, they were open and willing to just the one. What a blessing!

Slowly people started to trickle in. Chris and Jairus, ever the ultimate hosts, brought food, drink and fixings galore, stocking the fridge with both Lagunitas and La Croix, depending on one’s needs.

As the early afternoon turned to late afternoon, David Tremaine explained the first part of our weekend. Around the house, he had set up different stations that explained and demonstrated a faith tradition or means of prayer. There was a station explaining the Labrynth, sound prayer… and out on the balcony, overlooking the lake, lay prayer beads, perfectly set to contemplate the wonder of God.

David continued the contemplative bent by introducing a style of reading the Bible I had not done before. He read a passage, then asked us each to say a word or phrase that jumped out to us. After that, he read the same passage again, asking us to connect something new… and then read a third time, followed by a moment of silence as we thought through the passage with both our own growing feedback and those of the others. What followed was an incredible deep dive by us all into what the passages meant to us, how we related, the context within which Christ operated and how that context still matters. We went through that exercise twice, diving into the Word as It spoke, was read and was written all at once.

We closed that part of study off with prayer and David left to return to his family. We kept talking and connecting through the night. A majority of us were LGBT+ so that colored many of our discussions, as it colored our experiences with faith and the Church. The night capped off with a card game that took Cards Against Humanity and melded it in unholy union with the Bible. What a riot!

The next day was breakfast, where we talked at length about what the 20s and 30s group would look like, what it would do and be. We prayed, talked, ate, laughed, all overlooking the scenery of mountains and a lake. It was magical.

After we packed up and cleaned the house, some of us went on a hike. Some went home as real life was waiting. Those of us on the hike talked more about what the group could be, our experiences with faith, our pets and dating/marriage as young, sometimes queer, Christians. You know, the usual.

The retreat brought us all together, those who knew St. Pauls and those of us still learning but from it came our new weekly schedule, a style of devotional reading I still make a part of my daily routine and true, deep friendships.

Alex Nelepovitz

Uptown Community Services Center Needs you!

Dale Hoppenrath writes,

Uptown Community Services Center, a ministry of St. Paul’s, is in need of a second representative from St. Paul’s to be a member of the Uptown Board of Representatives. The Board meets every other month for approximately 1.5 hours at St. Luke’s Episcopal in North Park. The Board sets the long term vision for the Center and addresses current issues affecting the Center.

The Center is also in need of volunteers to help provide services for our friends in need and a volunteer to assist in managing the Uptown Website.

The Center is open 9-3 M-F and a typical shift is 3 hours, the day of your choosing. Please contact Dale Hoppenrath at 619 618 5405 if you would like to help bring the many services Uptown provides to our neighbors in need!

Faith to Go: a new connection online for families

At St. Paul’s and in a growing number of churches, Sunday mornings bring an unforeseeable number of children and families to church each week. For some, regular attendance means showing up monthly, for some it means quarterly, while for some it still means weekly. As a result, on any given Sunday, it is almost impossible to know who will be at church. This makes it hard to continue doing Sunday School as we have for the last 50-plus years; and it means that if we don’t adapt to the changing lives of the families, there are large holes in their faith formation.

At St. Paul’s, while we have an average of six children in Godly Play class per Sunday, 30 different children have taken part in the offering since September. This means that each child is coming an average of once a month, or even a little less. But this does not mean that these children and their families are not looking for faith formation. Rather, it means that their lives and schedules allow for this frequency of attendance, as more and more extracurricular activities outside of church take place on Sunday mornings. While it may be tempting to wish that people aren’t so busy, instead we can take this as an invitation from God to transform the way we understand what faith formation for children and parents looks like in the 21st century. Through this rapidly changing cultural landscape, God is calling us to move outside of our comforts zones, outside of our walls, and utilize the tools of the 21st century that are at our disposal. Today it is our job to bring the faith formation to them and to fulfill our mission of supporting the formation of disciples by responding to the world around us and taking advantage of the technology at our fingertips.

St. Paul’s will always have programming for children and families on Sunday mornings, but now we also have faith formation resources for families that do not require their attendance at church. In responding to this call, we have spent the last year crafting a faith formation offering that goes with families wherever they go, and meets them where they are instead of requiring them to come to us. This offering is called Faith To Go.

Faith To Go is a digital and online collection of resources that includes age appropriate videos, reflection questions, at-home liturgies, discussion questions, activities, and articles for three different age ranges (0-4, 5-10, and 11-18). These resources are found on our website (www.stpaulcathedral.org/faithtogo) as well as in a weekly email that anyone can sign up to receive. The resources are all based on the gospel reading for each Sunday, so no matter how often their family attends church, they are taking part in the same lectionary rhythm as the rest of the congregation. The resources also include a podcast (Faith To Go Podcast), which is available on iTunes and prepares parents to discuss the week’s vital themes of the gospel reading.

If you are interested in receiving the weekly email, you can sign up by clicking this link, and you can subscribe to the podcast by searching for Faith To Go Podcast in iTunes and clicking the “Subscribe” button or by clicking this link on your mobile device. You can also visit the website (www.stpaulcathedral.org/faithtogo). We are very excited about this new opportunity to cultivate community and faith formation in these new digital and online spaces, and we are thankful to all the families here at St. Paul’s and for all of the ways that God is inviting us to transform and to explore new ways of doing what we are called to do as a community of faith in the world.

David Tremaine

A letter from the Dean: Our Music MInistry

Dear St. Paul´s family,

Our Pentecost celebration last Sunday was joyful and Spirit-filled. I had the blessing of attending all four services and experiencing the wide variety of gifts and cultures that we enjoy here in San Diego. We heard the Acts reading in many different languages, we experienced a graceful dance, we sang great hymns and enjoyed splendid organ music; at the 1:00 service we celebrated Baptism and First Communion with Mariachi accompaniment; and at the 5:00 service we joined with our Sudanese brothers and sisters in traditional songs in Arabic and Swahili, blending with the more usual Anglican offerings. Truly a Pentecostal celebration!

Our musical tradition goes deep into our history as Anglican Christians, and music speaks to the heart in ways that words alone cannot. People of faith have always sung the praises of God, as we see in the Psalms. Personally, I love to sing and to be in the midst of great music, and it is music that brought me back to the church when I strayed. God speaks to us through music.

Music is central to our worship life, as you know. Our girl and boy choristers are legendary in this city; our organ is one of the best in the country; our Choral Evensong is a gem treasured by many, including clergy of other denominations. A music program as extensive as ours normally has a whole team of staff and volunteers, but at St. Paul´s, somehow Martin Green and Gabriel Arregui produce fantastic results with other committed musicians, both professional and amateur, and minimal financial and support staff resources. I am grateful for those who volunteer significant time to sort sheet music.

Our Friends of Cathedral Music are those members of the community who make special gifts from time to time to support the music ministry. Designated gifts are placed in a special fund which is used for special occasions or, when the need is acute (as it is this year), to support the general operating expenses of the music program. We are developing a brochure to communicate different ways in which you can support our music ministry. A new music endowment is in its infancy, and you can make a contribution towards the cost of commissioning special music for our sesquicentennial celebration next year. Another current effort is the fund to rebuild our Steinway grand piano, so that we can host professional recitals in appropriate style. You may be shocked to learn that it costs up to $25,000 to rebuild a Steinway.

On Sunday June 3 our choirs will present their annual Spring Benefit Concert, featuring the beloved Requiem by Gabriel Fauré, accompanied by professional instrumentalists from around the area. I hope you will come to Evensong and stay for this short concert: I guarantee that your soul will be fed!

Donations in appreciation will be added to the Friends of Cathedral Music fund, which is in need of replenishment, but you can also mark donations for Piano Restoration, Sesquicentennial, or Music Endowment (we need $40,000 more to make the endowment active at $100,000, but our ultimate goal is $1m). You can make a gift either online or via check at any time for any of these funds. Each one will further our mission and enrich the ministry we offer the community.

St. Augustine said that those who sing, pray twice. I give thanks for all the opportunities we have to sing God´s praise, and for all the faithful and generous souls who play, sing, pray, and give in support of this ministry.

The Very Rev Penny Bridges

A letter from the Dean: Communication and sharing

May 15, 2018

Dear St. Paul’s family,

This week we celebrate Pentecost, the day when the church was born. It’s a day to rejoice in the ways the Spirit has gifted each of us for ministry and to be listening for the movement of the Spirit in our life together. I’ve been listening hard these last few weeks, both to the Spirit and to you. My weekly letters are starting to generate conversations of all kinds, and I am grateful for the parishioners who let me know what they are hearing. If we can’t tell each other the truth, we have no business trying to be a faith community. So please keep the feedback coming so that we can respond and ensure that everyone is heard and cared for.

As Chapter, executive staff, and I continue our work to plot a sustainable course forward, people share ideas that don’t have to wait for a strategic plan. Pentecost marks a turning in the middle of the church year. We have completed the cycle of Jesus’ birth, death, resurrection, and ascension: in this second half of the year we focus on being church, on living into the gift of the Spirit as we learn to live as the body of Christ in the world. How do we strengthen that body? Here are some ideas we are working on:

1. Continue these weekly letters and address themes suggested by parishioners. What do you want to know about?


2. Increase interaction between staff clergy and congregation members through a slightly more leisurely exchange of the Peace, and occasional lunch or happy hour gatherings after church on Sundays .


3. Invitations to spend a minute during church sharing something about a ministry you are passionate about. 


4. Summertime socials at parishioner homes on Fridays and Saturdays starting in early June. No agenda, just being together with me and hopefully other staff members, so we can know each other better. Let me know if you would like to host a gathering!

Ours is a faith built on hope: the hope that we and our world can be transformed by the love of God. Our hope is fed by faith, and our faith is strengthened by active participation in our corporate life. I am committed to being fully present for this part of the body of Christ, and my faith tells me that God’s Spirit is moving among us. My hope is that the love we show each other in friendship and care will spill over into the world around us, and that we will all experience the excitement and new life that once overtook another community band of faithful people, when the Holy Spirit swooped down on them and turned the whole world upside down. May God, who enlightened the minds of the disciples by pouring out upon them the Holy Spirit, make you rich with his blessing, that you may abound more and more in that Spirit.










The Very Rev Penny Bridges

A letter from the Dean: Membership

May 9, 2018

Dear St. Paul’s family,

This week’s message is about membership and engagement. It’s evident to all of us that attendance at worship has declined in the last four or five years, from an average Sunday attendance (ASA) in 2015 of 607 to 525 in 2017. It’s not a trend any of us want to see. I am committed to nurturing every member of St. Paul’s in faith, and when people choose not to attend, it means that we are not reaching them in a meaningful way, and that is something we need to address. I am always saddened when a familiar face is absent from the table, and often we don’t know exactly why they are absent.

The measurement of membership in the Episcopal Church is not an exact science. We don’t take individual attendance, we don’t require people to tell us when they leave, or their reasons for leaving, and we don’t require people to record their baptisms with us, although we encourage it. At present the best measure of membership that we have is in the pledge numbers. If someone pledges, I know they regard themselves as members of Christ’s body in this place. If they stop pledging, there can be several reasons including financial hardship or relocation. The numbers of pledges recorded tell a story: from 400 recorded for 2015 to 313 for 2018 (to date). Despite the drop in the number of pledges, we have almost maintained the total amount in dollars pledged, which means that those who pledge are both generous and committed. This being the case, only a small portion of our budget gap can be traced to the drop in pledges (see my previous letters on this topic). However, we are unlikely to correct the deficit unless we address the questions of both attendance and pledge numbers.

Jeff has called together a small group of longtime, trusted parishioners to reach out to those whom we miss, with the hope of gathering data to tell us more about why people have drifted away from St. Paul’s. The literature tells us that younger people tend not to place a high premium on belonging to an institution, so we are also dealing with a changing concept of membership. I know that the many staff and clergy transitions over the last six years have been hard on you all, and life continues to get ever more crowded with multiple worthy options competing for our time and contributions; people simply attend church less frequently than they used to. We have harnessed technology to address the busyness, with live streaming and video recording of principal services, and the development of Faith to Go for families (here’s a link to this week’s offering: http://www.stpaulcathedral.org/connect/cyf/faithtogo1/) .

Since I arrived in 2014 the staff has been engaged in building structures and systems to make our ministry more transparent and sustainable; perhaps this focus has had its effect on our common life and thus on the “glue” that holds us together. We all care deeply about the life and future of St. Paul’s. We are in this together, and I need your help in discerning a way forward. If you have ideas or thoughts, please share them with me. And please come to our next quarterly Community Life Council gathering on Wednesday May 15 at 6:00 pm in the Guild Room, to join in the conversation over a light meal. (Please RSVP to Judy in the cathedral office so we can plan for dinner).

There is good news: the recent Holy Cow survey told us that St. Paul’s is still well within the healthiest and most vibrant quadrant for ministry and mission compared to churches across the spectrum of size and theology. And we have nearly 350 people engaged in active ministry at St. Paul’s, from choir members to Showers workers to forum attendees. That is quite extraordinary! Let’s work together to strengthen our community and to make our cathedral a center of exciting and compelling ministry for all who know us. Thank you for your continued commitment as we seek to Love Christ, Serve Others, and Welcome All.

Your sister in Christ,

The Very Rev Penny Bridges

Creating Change

Dear ones,

I so appreciated all the feedback from my sermon last Sunday, which you can find on video here and on the blog here. It was great to have so many folks express interest after the service in getting involved, and we even had some new pledges! Thank you.

I do want to assure you that I was not proposing any specific path forward. Rumors and speculation are natural in times of change. Some believe that I intended that we cut the music program at the cathedral or add guitars and rock bands. Let me assure you that was not in my sermon, my intent, or on my mind! The music program and the liturgy are important parts of our cathedral life and I understand their value in our common life.

I am really writing today because change is hard. We do not have any path before us that allows for the status quo. The budget does not allow for things to just remain the same and Dean Penny is going to address that in the weeks to come. Dean Penny is being transparent about the need for some change as she develops a plan to address it so that we can participate in that as a community. As we move into that conversation, I hope we will consider a few of these questions: To what extent are we called to please/satisfy our own spiritual needs? To what extent are we called to offer something to the world around us? Must those two things be mutually exclusive? Are there changes we can make that might offer more of both?

So as we discern what to do about the change that is upon us, my hope is that we do it with grace and courage. St Paul, our patron, learned early on that the challenge of Christian community is not figuring out what to do. It is figuring out how to do it together.

That does not mean we all have to agree on everything. In fact, I believe we are better off when we have a diversity of opinions and are able to listen to each other well instead of individually stating opinions as if ours were the only way. So I hope that the markers of this important transitional time for us as we discern our path will be marked by the fruit of the spirit: love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control (Gal 5:22-23). Those charisms are what help change the world from an empire of fear to a kingdom of love, and what we committed to in our baptism.

There is a lot of information to deliver, so stay tuned. How we engage with each other in Christian community around it is up to you.

Blessings,

The Rev. Canon Jeff Martinhauk

How to tell your story

As we told you previously, the history committee is collecting stories of SPC.  Here are some prompts that may help you. Everyone's story is important, wherever you see yourself-- congregant, chorister, visitor, clergy, staff....  The community is the whole body of us.  Please help us tell the story of all of us!

Why and when did you originally come to St. Paul’s and what keeps you coming?

Is there a Bible story or parable that relates to your own history at St. Paul’s? If so, please tell us.

What kind of SPC social gatherings or special activities do you enjoy remembering?

Do you recall issues or events when our church community stood strongly to support human dignity or civil rights? What were your feelings about such an event?

Describe a time when you really needed support from the church and who/what helped you with that need?

Every year we go through a Stewardship process which focuses on pledging to keep our community thriving. What inspires you to pledge, or keeps you from pledging?

Do you remember when Queen Elizabeth II came to St. Paul’s? Recall what that event was like for you.

Do you have memorable times you recall with members of the clergy or staff? Here’s a list from our past and present: Rev. Harold Robinson, Rev. Lester Lyndon-Jones, Rev. Jack Sanford, Rev. George Ross, Dean Jim Carroll, Bishop John Chane, Dean Scott Richardson, Dean Penny Bridges, or perhaps assistant clergy Rev. Rines, Rev. Alden Franklin, Rev. Lee Teed, Rev. Allisyn Thomas, Rev. Richard Lief, Rev. MaryAnne Lacey, Rev. Jeff Martinhauk; Choir Masters Larry King, Don Small, John Kuzma, Edgar Billups, Martin Green. Others you can think of or want to talk about with regard your history here?

Were you here during the Civil Rights movement and its changes in the 60s? What was that like? Did you hear messages from the pulpit? Did the issues divide the community? What gay and lesbian issues affect you if any? How or how not?

What times or issues caused division and consternation within our community? How were they handled? Was there healing? Was there a special person who helped you or whom you helped? Talk about community.

What was it like to be a child in the choir? What choir directors made the biggest impacts on you? Were there special services that meant a lot to you? What did you wear as a choir member?

Describe an adult education class or forum or series that impacted your life and how you view others.

Do you have memories of Sunday school and favorite activities, or a special teacher?

Tell us your story! SPC history committee has a request

Got a story you’d like to tell about you and your years at St. Paul’s Cathedral?

We would love to hear it!

We are a committee that will be putting together a written portrait of our church ranging over the past fifty years or so and your story will help us with that portrait.

Some suggestions and ideas appear on the subsequent posts of this blog. Perhaps one of them will make you think of a personal story. We hope it will. Please feel free to find a topic entirely of your own and as long as it relates to St. Paul’s Cathedral history, it will be very welcome.

We also want to give you a sample reflection as a sort of idea about how you might write one of your own. You need not follow this example’s format, of course.

We will archive every story we receive in the Cathedral’s archives and will choose what we need from all submissions.

If possible, send your story to me, Robert Heylmun, at rdheylmun@gmail.com.

If you write it out instead, that’s good too. Please hand it to me at church or to Joanna Airhart, Paula Peeling, John Will, Robert Wilkins, or The Rev. Canon Jeff Martinhauk.

Many thanks for your contribution to this project. The parish will celebrate its 150th birthday in 2019 and we want to be ready with a finished book of memories and stories.

God’s peace,
For the History Committee,
Robert Heylmun

Visit our new library!

John Pagenkopp writes,

After almost a year of work, the expanded and refurbished Cathedral Library is now available to all parishioners! 

We are located under the Great Hall in the room that used to be the bishop’s office. The collection has now grown to about 2,000 books. There is an on-line catalog that will be available soon.

We are looking to expand and welcome donations of books. If you have books that would fit our collection, please contact me at misterp44@cox.net. The collection is mainly religious and church-related as well as books on social issues and some history.  The library is open after the 10:30 on Sundays. If you would like to arrange a time to visit on another day, contact me by e-mail or call me at 619-301-7369.

Cultivating Community: 10 Rules for Community Life

This past Sunday, we had a great forum on Family Systems Theory. When I was a seminarian, I had the privilege of working with Greg Rickel as my rector. He is now bishop of Olympia, and used these 10 guidelines as a helpful way to navigate living in community at the church we served then just as he uses them in the diocese he serves now as bishop. I think they are helpful not only in congregational life but in many facets of our lives, especially as we enter this season of so many busy events and gatherings with different types of people, family, friends, etc. Let me know what you think in the comments!

Blessings,  Jeff



Bishop Greg Rickel (Olympia) - 10 Rules for Respect, as adapted from Church of the Nazarene pastor Charles Christian

1. If you have a problem with me, come to me (privately).

2. If I have a problem with you, I will come to you (privately).

3. If someone has a problem with me and comes to you, send them to me. (I'll do the same for you)

4. If someone consistently will not come to me, say, "Let's go to Greg together. I am sure he will see us about this." (I will do the same for you.)

5. Be careful how you interpret me-I'd rather do that. On matters that are unclear, do not feel pressured to interpret my feelings or thoughts. It is easy to misinterpret intentions.

6. I will be careful how I interpret you.

7. If it's confidential, don't tell. If you or anyone comes to me in confidence, I won't tell unless a) the person is going to harm himself/herself, b) the person is going to physically harm someone else, c) a child has been physically or sexually abused. I expect the same from you.

8. I do not read unsigned letters or notes.

9. I do not manipulate; I will not be manipulated; do not let others manipulate you. Do not let others manipulate me through you. I will not preach "at you." I will leave conviction to the Holy Spirit (she does it better anyway!)

10. When in doubt, just say it. The only dumb questions are those that don't get asked. Our relationships with one another, at the end of the day, are the most important things so if you have a concern, pray, and then (if led) speak up. If I can answer it without misrepresenting something, someone, or breaking a confidence, I will.

Sharing My Spiritual Gifts as a Eucharistic Minister

When my father’s health was deteriorating when he reached the age of 95, I realized how isolated and lonely he had become. I lived in California, Dad in Wisconsin. When he passed at age 97, struggling with “Why, God, have you not taken me yet?”, it was then I knew I had to serve the shut-ins. His struggle helped me understand how desperately the elderly and hospitalized need to feel a Spiritual connection, especially at this time.

The training provided for Eucharistic Ministers helped me feel confident in serving those in need. We learned about the needs of the bed-ridden, both physical and emotional, and the process of serving the Eucharist in various circumstances.

When I visit these wonderful people, I feel I am filling a tremendous void for them, and allowing them to reconnect with what they may feel they had lost at St. Paul’s Cathedral. Their physical needs may be met, however so often their spiritual and emotional well-being is set aside, while nurses, doctors, and family, honorably attempt to improve their health or mobility.

I have been serving Eucharist to those home-bound for several years, and often jump at the opportunity to do this more than the once-a-month schedule. My dear husband, Doug, often volunteers to accompany me, so we can “run” as the need arises. The joy and blessing I receive surely must be more than what the recipient receives. Knowing how much our presence and reconnection with St. Paul’s is so important to each person we visit, is evident on their faces, which may be the only way of expressing their gratitude.

God surprises me almost every visit, such as when I was visiting Rita and Dorothy at their nursing homes. Rita, although blind and bedridden, found no obstacle too great for her to express her love for the Cathedral, and joy in having me serve Eucharist. I discovered through Rev. Dorothy Curry, that they loved music, and that Rita was a long-standing choir member. I made sure to bring my music and play songs that may have familiarity. Rita loved classical music, and could even remember the names of various compositions, so I included Bach and Mozart. They both loved being able to recite The Lord’s Prayer or Psalm 23.

A special bond is created with those we serve. I am blessed to provide that Spiritual Presence, as a vessel from God. It's the slow paced quiet, reverent time for both recipient and provider to share their love in Christ.

You may want to consider becoming a Eucharistic Minister. Or, you may know of someone who would love to have a Cathedral Visitor or Eucharistic Minister enter their life. In either case, please contact Brooks Mason at masonb@stpaulcathedral.org or Vicki Hoppenrath vl_hoppe@hotmail.com.

by Faith DeHart

A sort of Eulogy

Robert Heylmun reflects on loss.

We never get used to it. The news of a friend’s death, I mean. As someone in his 70s, I’d think that some amount of immunity from the profound feeling of loss would have accrued, would have allowed me to take in the news with a dignified equanimity.

Pauline’s death came after years of her dealing with Alzheimer’s disease and then finally with its dealing with her. So her death was not a surprise as if she’d been struck by a car and killed, but it was a shock despite all of the preparations on my part for its imminence.

The clichés come out: She’s out of her suffering now, Robert. She’s in a better place. She would have wanted to leave this way. Cliché’s are born out of human experience of course, and they are all true in their way. They are a kind of band-aid applied to the wound of grief, meant to stanch the flow of sadness but not adequate to mitigate it very much.

Memories do more in that cause, memories of the days when Pauline, her husband Sid, and I found the kind of friendship that everyone wants. Filled with humor, good times, dinners, and shared events—thirty years’ worth. Some bad times too, but we were there for each other. When Sid died in 2007, Pauline and I stood at his grave while the Kaddish was chanted by the cantor. We were in many aspects a kind of family.

Just before Pauline re-met Jack, she and I booked a cruise down the Mexican Riviera, scandalizing some of our friends when we announced we would share a stateroom. At one afternoon party, we were telling people about the trip when an acquaintance of Pauline’s whom I didn’t know, stage whispered what she thought would be a juicy piece of gossip, that we’d be sleeping in the same room. Without missing a beat, Pauline turned to her and said, “Don’t worry, Robert bought pajamas.”

But the signs of Pauline’s illness became visible on that trip. I entrusted her with our tickets for several shore tours and when the time came to go, they were nowhere to be found. I took her out to the bar and sat her down for a drink, and then went to search our stateroom. Carefully hidden three drawers down under her underwear.

Jack Burke had been Pauline’s high school boyfriend and finally fiancé until their lives took different turns at college. Both had married, had children, and had moved away from Michigan. Now decades later at a high school reunion, they met again. Jack came to California and what Pauline would have done without him these last years is anyone’s guess. He has been absolutely devoted to her, but then, Pauline was the sort of person whom everyone wanted to be close to.

Do you feel better now? I do, just relating this, just reliving some memories (there are many, many more), and finding that the empty place in my heart is filling with those times, those moments in which Pauline provided sunshine and warmth. I think what’s left to fill is the hollow place that echoes how I will miss her, and here’s where a cliché does become useful. The last time I saw her, she was nearly comatose, unable to say a complete sentence, and was staring most of the time into middle distance. She is indeed in a better place than that one, and she goes with part of my heart.

The Sunday Sermon: Living Together

Easter 7A, May 28, 2017
St. Paul’s San Diego

John 17:1-11


Community is the essence of living in residential seminary. Some have said it is like living in a fishbowl. You get thrown into this place from your previously secular life with all these other people who are very different from you and then you are expected to be formed into a new life with them, go through ups and downs with them, forge new values with them, be formed by them, give of yourself, risking enough to help form others but also learning how not to impose yourself or your privilege, and all without killing each other. It is a crucible of learning how to live together in difference. It is church times ten.

My own experience of seminary was particularly difficult, as I entered seminary at a time when the Church was still in a period of conflict, adjusting to the idea that openly LGBT people could enter ordained life in the aftermath of the consecration of Bishop Gene Robinson. I was the first openly gay man to finish my M.Div. in my seminary, although I was certainly not the first gay man to go through the program. So I felt vulnerable being completely authentic in community, having that authenticity questioned as others offered their own genuine questions about the place of LGBT people in the church. I had little exposure to that kind of difference in the place I came from.

So my bias, entering seminary, was that the one must resist the whole. The lone voice crying out must hold the group accountable. My experience is that this is not an uncommon value or belief in our progressive Christian tradition. And it can be true. Especially in the current political climate, we see a massed crowd all too ready to persecute anyone who dares to be different-- even if that difference comes from simply driving while black, or as an immigrant, or as a transgender person.

But at least for me, seminary taught me something else. It was hard, but I also got to know people I would have otherwise dismissed out of hand. And they got to know me-- some of whom would have initially preferred that I had been refused entry into seminary at all. And those turned into good lifelong friendships. And that is Church.

For me, it took going through that crucible of seminary, getting to know my community, to be formed by my neighbors, and having to live day in and day out until the preconceptions were wiped away, to realize something. There is certainly a place for the lone voice crying in the wilderness, particularly when human rights are at stake. But if everybody believes they are a lone voice crying in the wilderness, then nobody can be held accountable for anything. We deteriorate into an endless cycle of consumerism, based on personal tastes and preferences, and lose our sense of community.

As an example, one recent article on this problem noted that parents increasingly demand teachers prove that their children have done anything wrong before they will believe them. Parents increasingly throw out homework assigned to children because they don’t agree with the assignments. Teachers and schools are the oppressors, parents the lone voice in the wilderness speaking up for the poor child. It may be that there are legitimately bad teachers to be protected from, but rather than making that determination in a community setting with due process, each parent is judge and jury. Take it one step further, and privileged parents demand choice for their children’s schools, withdrawing their children from the opportunity to be educated in diverse communities and learning how to navigate difference. A fundamental building block of community, public schools, is now at risk; because trust in the community has faltered. Trust in the self is all that is left.

This is not a sermon on school choice. But whether you look to the EPA or to school choice or to gun control you find a society that is left with truth being defined only by each individual person, each consumer with the power of the almighty dollar, trained to withdraw it if we don’t like what we see, each one a lone voice crying in the wilderness, each of us intent that we know how it needs to be.

Before we get too smug about it let’s acknowledge that we are not immune. I just want to get real for a minute. In the church, it takes continuous work to resist being a part of this outside culture and claim something different. I myself sometimes fall into these patterns, and hear them from others occasionally: “If I don’t get what I want, I will speak louder. If I don’t get what I think is right, I will revoke my pledge. If I don’t get what I want, I will leave.” But that is not what the Church is meant to be.

In the gospel this week we see Jesus praying to God, a farewell prayer on behalf of us who are left behind after his departure. Jesus’ prayer is that the knowledge and love of God made known in Jesus to the disciples is made possible only by the continued protection of the unity, of the community of believers. Community, not lone rangers, are what makes the love of God known once Jesus has departed-- that they may be one.

That’s what the precious gift of being a part of the body of Christ, a member of the Church is, don’t you see? It is to be swept up in the protection of community, to be made one in this prayer of Jesus. That was what I had to learn or unlearn in seminary: that to be one in community does not mean to be uniform. That unity does not mean uniformity. Because the body consists of many members as Paul would say, this glorious body of Christ, the church, with all of its colors and textures, and voices, and opinions- do we have opinions!

No, the unity of the Church is not a monolithic block, not an imposing hegemonic burden-- but it is a moving, changing, dynamic dance as one commenter put it; one with many dancers; a song with many voices. It is authentic community that, at its best, values and protects difference.

As Henri Nouwen says, “we are cast into communities of people that we would never, in all our life, choose for ourselves.” Think about that for a minute. The community found in Church is an intentional community, made of different voices, some of whom we might not be in relationship with anywhere else.

The beauty of this whole project, you see, is that the knowledge and love of God is made known in the messiness of this unity thing. The lie given to us in the world around us is that freedom, our highly valued possession, is the ability to have an unlimited number of choices. To have the most number of personal choices, frankly you have to cut yourself off from your neighbor, so that he also may have the most number of choices - to avoid limiting the freedom of individual choice. But the truth of the love of God is that freedom is living in love, and frankly you can’t live love by yourself. Love isn’t the freedom of being able to do whatever you want. That’s a benefit that only comes with privilege. It’s a drug that’s hard to give up.

Love is a relationship. Love is living into community and diving deeper than you can go by yourself. It is being challenged by someone who has seen a different perspective than you have seen so that together you can find a fuller story of the whole than your individual pieces separately can tell-- even- and especially- when you are convinced that you already have the whole story yourself.

That looks so many different ways in the church, this living out of Jesus’ prayer that we all may be one. We who are many are one bread, one body, for we all share in one bread, one cup. The whole liturgy is an act of coming together from our different places and lives to be one, sharing ourselves with each other before we go out into the world again.

But it doesn’t stop there. The church is a place for the whole world to witness what it means to have the love of God bind up difference in community. Here at St. Paul’s, we have people who live outside talking about their faith with people who live in million dollar homes. We have straight cisgender people and transpeople and lesbians and gay people and genderqueer people, working together to discern how love pulls us all in the same direction without detracting from the very real differences between us. We have Democrats and Republicans, and even in these politically challenging times- especially in these politically challenging times- the church is the place where we look to the prayer of Jesus for unity in community, not for my opinion or your opinion to win, but instead for the knowledge and love of God to be made whole in community as we struggle with each other in love to figure out how that looks without tearing apart our relationships-- which are the point of the whole thing anyway.

That doesn’t happen by itself. Jesus ascended into the clouds. He isn’t here to do the work for us. It takes each of us, every single member of the body of Christ working in harmony in this dance to be a part of this movement of love. We focus at St. Paul’s on being out in the world, because the world needs it. But if we don’t keep practiced on the difference between the way the world works and the unity that makes love possible, then we can forget what we are out there to do.

It also means staying involved with what makes the lifeblood of the church tick, with the very places where we cultivate the skills to live in difference, to breed the humility to keep our own privilege and bias in check and to remember time and time again that the unity of our very humanity may require giving something up to be able to participate in this love project of God.

Without you it can’t happen! I frequently tell new members that Church is not a spectator sport. Coming to worship is a good start. Sometimes people in their first year at St. Paul's need to spend their first months quietly healing in the pews, and that's absolutely fine. But to truly cultivate this kind of authenticity, this kind of unity, where relationships are born across difference, where we are thrown into communities that are not our choosing, it takes involvement. We have great volunteers here. But we need all of us, and I think all of us need each other too. Getting the work done is a side benefit. The main task is to participate in this ongoing project of Jesus’ farewell prayer: that we may all be one, by finding ways to be engaged with each other, with people we otherwise wouldn't be. If you look in your bulletin today, you will see a list of all the different places you can volunteer to be a deeper part of this love project at St. Paul’s. It is who we are. If you are not already a volunteer, I hope you will express interest in serving by completing the form and putting it in the offering plate today. If you have questions, call me. It's why I’m here.

I was talking to a colleague recently who was having a similar experience to the one I had in seminary, learning about this dance of unity in the church. As a gay man, he had just began a position at a church that had several folks who were outspoken against having a gay clergy person.

One of them wanted to speak to him, and he got worried. He braced himself for an argument.

But what he received was something far different: he received a genuine inquiry about his life, what his spouse was like, and how he was adjusting to the new parish. When he was ordained to the priesthood, this would-be adversary gave him a family heirloom as an ordination gift, a Bible that had been in his family for generations

My brothers and sisters, the Church has been entrusted with a gift- that we may be one- in a way that is barely recognizable to the world around us. Treasure that gift! Deepen your relationships across every beautiful difference that we have among us. And please don’t ever forget that you are a very special people, a gift entrusted to us, each of us. Without you, we wouldn’t exist! So take care with each other, take interest in each other, and remember why we are here.

The Rev. Jeff Martinhauk

Saturday at 5pm

Did you know we have a quiet Saturday 5pm Eucharist in the chapel? This may be just the service you are looking for.  Jim Greer shares more:

My grandmother use to say, those who go to church on Sunday at 10:00 am love the music and those who go at 8 love the Word, but those who go mid-week love the Lord.

Attending Sunday service at 5 pm on Saturday is not quite the same thing as grandma had in mind, but it’s similar in its intimacy between the people and their priest and the language of the scriptures and the liturgy. We’re few in number, but God’s nearness is manifest and from beginning to end, it feels as though we’re in a conversation with an old friend.

Because it is the first mass of the Sabbath, the Sunday lessons are read and the brief homily – more a chat really, suggests the Gospel’s message for the holy day.

Oh, and because there is no printed program, we get to use the prayer book again; the historic and foundational Book of Common Prayer. I sense a smiling, 16th century Archbishop Cranmer someplace just out of sight. In no time at all, we become nimble once more in flipping pages to follow and participate. Doing so brings back sweet memories of an earlier time in our lives.

I suppose a Canon Liturgist might tut-tut the relaxed and not always perfect choreography of our service, but what hiccups there are, only draws the little community closer in good humor and in affection for our worship leaders. In a way it’s like seeing a movie version of a stage play or watching a game on TV – you get to see the close-ups, warts and all. And whatever makes it human, makes it dear.

The Dean includes herself in the officiating Rota and its good and right to have her with us from time to time. Most of our celebrants, however, are retired priests who have preached, consecrated and served the Lord’s Supper a thousand times or more. Even so, we know they love to be with us, still living their vocation and saying again the sacred scripts. We, in turn, feel blessed to have and hear and receive from such elders in the faith.

As a life-long Episcopalian, I’ve had the good fortune to worship in many of Anglicanism’s great churches and cathedrals, hear their classic choirs, observe their matchless pageantry and sometimes receive the host from the high prelates of our communion. Such an experience can be spine-tingling beautiful and deeply moving. Our great services are a gift to the people and are to be honored and repeated even while remembering that the Eucharist, as invented, was first shared in a rented upper room, sitting on the floor and then on the dusty road to Emmaus. On Saturday at 5, we’re almost as simple. We pause for a while, hear again the ancient texts, say our prayers and then take, bless, break and receive the meal. It fills our hearts and sustains us as we move out again into the world.

Our little congregation is composed of 4-5 regulars, occasional attendees - some recognizable while others are not. From time to time we have vacationing folks we’ll likely not see again, and on a lucky day, a street person or someone looking for relief will join us in our fellowship.

So, if you can’t make it some Sunday morning, or haven’t been for a while or if being with us at 5 pm on Saturday fits nicely into your other plans for the day or evening, come along and join us around the chapel altar as we share the loaf and cup and give and receive God’s peace, one to another.

--Jim Greer

Instructions for Life

Several years ago I was asked to deliver the Baccalaureate address for my school. I was honored of course but what do you say to young people that they’ll actually hear and put to use? “Hang on tight” came to mind, and “check the label”, and of course “Broken hearts mend”. But something happened as I wrote and I realized I was writing for me. I was writing instruction, yes, but they were for me. For every time I feel broken, or pressured, or unloved. Because we all feel that way sometimes, and wouldn’t it be great to have an instruction manual for comin’back, gettin up, and walkin’ around? Yeah, I got you.

I hope I will be forgiven for what I am about to say but while I love words, I don’t usually like poetry without music. It is perhaps that I am too simple-minded; that I need to be hit over the head and often poetry simply isn’t direct enough. That said, I have been moved and I think spiritually directed lately by an excerpt from the great American poet Mary Oliver’s work Sometimes. In the fourth stanza she gives us quite the gift…:

Instructions for living a life:

Pay attention.

Be astonished.

Tell about it.

See now, right off I’m in, as I had no idea there was an instruction manual for living a life! Had I known this a long time ago things might have gone a little differently. I find I know so very little. In my 20’s I thought I knew everything, and in my 30’s I realized I didn’t know everything but somehow still valued the goal, and now in my 40’s I am perfectly content to know next to nothing…but these three things…pay attention…be astonished…tell about it…I know these to be true.

So what does it mean to pay attention? Scripture tells us “We must pay the most careful attention, therefore, to what we have heard, so that we do not drift away.” You all know how to pay attention. But I know many of you, and I know your version of paying attention and Mary Oliver’s version are often at odds with one another. You are barraged in your daily lives with demands for attention. Your significant others, your parents, brothers, sisters, friends, teachers, professors, pets, television shows, sporting events, homework, deciding what to have for dinner, and then breakfast, and then lunch and of course dinner again (my fave so I said it twice...deal with it)…

But where and when do you begin to draw lines? How do you know how to prioritize? Simple…pay attention. Simple yes…but not easy. And it takes practice. Is your heart full when you are with him? Do you feel safe and relaxed when you are with her? Are you balanced? Are you laughing? Pay attention. Feelings are not facts but they are, I believe, God’s traffic lights. They direct us perfectly and yet we ignore them. Pay attention to your feelings. Sadness, for example, is a part of life and a signpost directing us to feel, to allow, and to be simply human. Peace and joy are God’s gifts to us and we pay attention when we accept them. Pay attention to the cries of others, the laughter of children, the wind, the trees, the sun, the rush of accomplishment and the devastation of mistakes. Pay attention to the world around you and the suffering of those in need. Take the time and pay attention. And while we are called to simply pay attention, we must choose to be astonished.

I want to let you in on a secret that used to embarrass me but not any longer. I have in my house several objects that I believe to be imbued with magical powers. Two specifically are boxes in which I place dirty things, I push all these strange and mysterious buttons, and soon thereafter, the dirty things are clean. I know not how this happens. But I choose to believe it is magic. I choose this because it makes the world a more welcoming, exciting place. I choose to be astonished. It is a choice after all to find the world and all its trappings astonishing. The morning sun on our faces, clean dishes in the dishwasher, anesthesia, fried chicken, antibiotics, a friends hand in ours, warm chocolate chip cookies, mountains, the way our dog’s fur feels after a bath…choose to be astonished and the world is a place of never-ending wonder.

Now, when Mary Oliver says to tell about it I am certain she means to share our truth. So often we hide our pain, our suffering, our fears. We hide our joy, we hide our laughter. Share your truth! Tell about it. My truth is that 18 years ago as I lay in a hospital bed and the priest came to give me my last rites, I said no to leaving the fight. And I said no two years later and a year after that. And with God’s help and a slew of angels in the guise of doctors, nurses, friends, therapists, teachers, professors…I was able to survive to tell about it. I had been given the gift of immediacy…knowing that paying attention, being astonished and telling about it are what we have. Tell your story to others because it is in the living, in the sharing that you allow for a community to truly be built around you and there is nothing that will make you happier than being an integral part of a community.

Pay attention to your better angels and don't allow your inner demons to shout them down. Be astonished because I promise you every day there is something to be astonished about. And tell about it because there's nothing more powerful than sharing your truth.

Have a beautiful and blessed Sunday my friends.

--Andrew Troi blogs at TroiStories.com

Was it Fate, Timing, or a God Thing?

Have you ever question how or why certain situations appear at your front door (metaphorically speaking). Lately, this has been happening to me whether it’s my impeccable timing or just cause. Here are a few stories that I want to share.

Initially the weekend of April 8th-9th I was supposed to be up in the bay area visiting my uncle, but plans changed. With the change it allowed me to participate in our monthly Showers of Blessings and it was my first Sunday to go get sliced bread donated by Bread and Cie for our homeless guest. Also, I was able to join in the celebration of our 2nd year anniversary of Showers of Blessing; Claudia Dixon brought 2 cakes to celebrate the occasion with the First United Methodist and our homeless guest.

Was that a fate thing?

On Palm Sunday, April 9th I attended the 8am services and then stood in the courtyard chatting with others prior to the forum. The forum was our last week of our interfaith book club session held in the Great Hall and the people who attended were muslim women, different age groups and cultures , definitely a diverse group. Towards the end I sat next to Don Pelleoni and we started discussing a little about the book and the word “Fear”. We have known each other for a bit and served on chapter together but had not had one on one time. It was a great to be able to share our beliefs and experiences. We both have busy lives and its hard to find time to fit stuff in but I felt we stopped and took that moment to spend time to get to know each other better .

Was that fate or timing?

The Samba dancers and the congregation, and clergy were processing into the courtyard from the Palm Sunday march. After a few pictures were taken people were headed inside for service. I lingered in the courtyard by myself repositioning my signup table. As I was about to leave I was looking for my sunglasses and couldn’t find them so I thought I must have left them on the pew.

I started to enter the cathedral but something caught my eye on the sidewalk, there was this young gentleman pushing a woman (looked like his mother) in a wheelchair looking lost. I asked if they needed help and he responded that his mother wanted to go inside but they were only going to spend 5 minutes. I opened the cathedral doors and escorted them inside towards the back and gave them a bulletin; it was around 11:30am.

I stood in the back for a moment to make sure they were okay and heard them speaking in another language I thought was Spanish, I went over to ask and was going to tell them about MISA service it was. He replied that is was

Arabic, some strange thing came over me and I presided to tell them about communion or if they wanted just a blessing what to do at the altar.

Normally I wouldn’t get into people’s space not knowing their beliefs. He turned and asked his mother in Arabic and she said yes she would like to go up for a blessing. About 5 more minutes went by and I notice he was getting antsy, he called me over to say they were going to leave because he had lots to get done today and his mom couldn’t swallow a wafer anyways.

I felt a strange nudge (had to be the holy spirit- or I call it a God thing) and told him give it a few more minutes and communion was about to start. When it was time I speedily escorted them down the aisle passing everyone and made it to the far left altar ; Rev. Collins was posted there so I gave him the run down of her not speaking English and she couldn’t swallow a wafer but could he give her a blessing .

I was trying not to be intrusive standing to the side, but when he put his hands on her and gave a blessing she looked very peaceful and that was what she needed. It warmed my heart knowing she got what she needed from the blessing and that her son agreed to wait a few more minutes. We quickly walked back down the aisle and I held the doors open so he could wheel her out and right as we exited the last doors she looked up at me and said “ Thank You” and gave me a big smile. What a moment I had just then with her, I went to the greeters table to get them a card with our service times but within those few seconds they were gone.

Was that a God thing?

Have a Happy Easter everyone!!!

Blessings,

Jen

Jennifer Jow
People’s Warden and Outreach Chair

Welcoming All

The Rev Jeff Martinhauk shares, 

Tomorrow we will welcome four new members into the congregation!

There have been many more new members in the congregation over the past several months, but in the changing world around us, lives are busy, and expectations from the church are changing. So is the way people relate to church membership. We are working to create new ways to respond to those changes.

We make a big deal at St. Paul’s out of “Welcoming All.” I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately. The celebration of new members is a good time to have some reminders on what Welcoming All looks like in practice. One thing I love about St. Paul’s is that “Welcoming All” is not just my job or just the greeters’ job-- it is everybody’s job. We are all in this together.

We have so many people that go above and beyond in welcoming it makes my heart sing! There are some things I wonder if we might think about to continue that journey. For example: how important is it for us to wear name tags as newcomers work on becoming new members? Long-timers have a few newcomers’ names to learn as they arrive constantly, but each week newcomers struggle to learn hundreds of names as they try to incorporate. How will we help them? (If you need a name tag, order one at the Greeters’ table, “Welcoming Central”.)

Coffee hour can be intimidating as well. The Greeters are focused on identifying newcomers so that we capture their information for welcome letters and formal institutional processes. But I wonder what we can all do to identify anyone-- long-timer or newcomer- who is standing at coffee hour looking for Christian fellowship?

Speaking of Greeters, did you know that newcomers often make up their mind whether or not they will return in the first ten minutes of their visit! We are working on making sure we have Greeters at all our services to make sure that those 10 minutes are full of friendly faces to give directions, answer questions, and just be helpful-- but we are in need of more greeters. We need Greeters especially at 10:30, and I would love to be able to add greeters to the Evensong service as well. If you are interested, please email me at martinhaukj@stpaulcathedral.org. We try to limit service to one Sunday a month. I wonder what you might be able to do before the service to be intentional about Welcoming All to make those first 10 minutes count?

But beyond the “standard” hospitality of hand-shakes and name-tags, the real focus of Welcoming All is to communicate to people that they belong. There is so much pain in the world, so much exclusion- even in churches- that if we are not instruments of God’s unconditional love, how can anyone understand that St. Paul’s is a safe space, a place of hope, a place where you can just be who God made you to be and heal? And that job starts with name tags and handshakes but must move beyond to something deeper.

It is for that reason we have changed the structured incorporation process starting last fall. The institutional church of the 1950s focused on belief first: people came to church and expected to be told what to believe. That is not the case anymore, and is not in line with our Anglican heritage of Elizabeth I’s not wanting to “create windows into men’s souls” -- where common worship holds us together instead of confessional belief. And so we have shifted our newcomer program to focus on belonging first: the newcomer’s class starts with a modified spiritual autobiography course now. We have just finished a series of that modified course and the feedback was great.

The “What is an Episcopalian” course will still be offered for Confirmation, to be timed with bishop visitations, because let’s face it: if you have not been Episcopalian there are a lot of questions you might have: “What is a patten, a verger, a purificator, the crazy bishop’s hat” and so forth.

But my hope is that we as a community will continue to deepen our ownership for each other’s spiritual lives, and for the lives of those who seek welcome from us. That may mean things like inviting newcomers to your home for gatherings you already have scheduled with long-time members, or to lunch after church, or other ways of intentionally Welcoming All as we informally gather and share stories as a church community. It may mean risking relationships with new people who may or may not stay around as long as others, sharing long-time relationships with them-- but getting a different kind of “payback” in that vulnerability and self-offering. I have to wonder if that isn’t what the call of the gospel is about, really? We strive to Love Christ, Serve Others, and Welcome All, and the riches of radical hospitality continue to make St. Paul’s what it is and who God has called us to be. Thanks be to God!

The Tuft of Flowers Revisited: Navarro River Strings Camp

You may know Robert Frost’s poem The Tuft of Flowers, but if you don’t, I commend it to you. The scene is a hay field in the late morning when the speaker has gone to turn the newly mown hay. The mower, having been there at dawn to complete his work, has gone his way. The speaker finds, thanks to a determined butterfly, that in the middle of the field of cut grass, the mower did his job well, leveling all of the hay, but on purpose left standing a single tuft of flowers.

“The mower in the dew had loved them thus,
By leaving them to flourish, not for us,
Nor yet to draw one thought of ours to him,
But from sheer morning gladness at the brim.”

On Thursday evening, I came upon a tuft of flowers. Not real flowers, metaphorical ones, notes on a page, the cello line of the third Brandenburg Concerto. J.S. Bach was the early morning worker who left us the splendor of that concerto, not with any thought of ‘ours to him,’ but with the same motives that the mower had, simple beauty.

The cello and I are fairly recent friends. It’s true that I played the cello in my 20s, but frankly, I remember next to nothing about how I played in those days, perhaps one benefit of a poor memory. When I began (again) last July, I brought the ability to read music, and I knew the names of the strings. So within twelve months to be sat down in front of a composition by Bach didn’t fill me with confidence.

“Come on, Robert, here’s the cello score. We’re going to sight read it so get your cello and join us.” That was from another cellist named Shirley from California’s gold country. Okay, I thought. It’s been a friendly and supportive group and no one at camp rose to be critical of the musical efforts of others. So I sat down and shared the score with her and about ten or fifteen others of us, forming a small chamber orchestra.

There is no easy Bach. Anyone who has ever attempted playing his music knows that, and I was sure that I couldn’t read the score, much less keep up with the group. Fine, I would play what I could and stop when I couldn’t. I’d listen to the ensemble. That would at least be instructive. But we started slowly, counting two measures of 4/4 time, and we read through the first movement. Then we read through it again, this time up to tempo.

I was keeping up! I was reading the score, and I was keeping up! The third time through, I was playing the music, not merely sawing out the notes on the cello. By the time we got to the final chord, I understood what Bach saw when he wrote this work. The beauty of sharing it with this small impromptu chamber group, and with Bach, filled me with inexpressible joy.

“But glad with him, I worked as with his aid,
. . .
And dreaming, as it were, held brotherly speech
With one whose thought I had not hoped to reach.”

I sat there beaming, perfectly ecstatic, reveling in the epiphany of the moment. The woman who had organized our playing looked over to see me grinning like an idiot. “I think Robert would like to play it again,” she said. And she was right. And so we did.

I suppose this all sounds a bit syrupy and gushy, but some of our dearest, deepest emotions, when we own up to them, often do sound that way when we try to tell them out loud or write them down. I can only say that I cannot remember any musical experience before in my life that produced the level of elation I experienced that evening, of being able to play the music of perhaps our greatest composer, coupled with genuine gratitude for Bach’s genius, for the music that reaches across nearly three hundred years, and for his bequeathing us his gift of a tuft of flowers.

Robert Heylmun