Nativity of St John the Baptist - Jun 24, 2015

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
The Rev. Matthew Wright
Nativity of St. John the Baptist, Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Isaiah 40:1-11
Acts 13:14b-26
Luke 1:57-80
 

John the Baptist preaching

“Come people, praise the prophet and the martyr, and the Baptist of the Lord, for he is an angel in the flesh.”

These are word from an Orthodox liturgy dedicated to John the Baptist, whose nativity we celebrate today.  And it’s significant to take note that we are celebrating the nativity of John the Baptist.  This isn’t what Christians do.  We honor saints, whether martyrs or not, by observing their death anniversaries.  Beyond Christmas, the Feast of THE Nativity, the birth of our Lord, we observe the nativity of only two saints—the Blessed Virgin Mary and Blessed John the Baptist.

And this is in recognition of the special place these two hold within the sacred world, within the spiritual geography, of Christianity.  Next to the Mother of God, St. John the Baptist is given the highest place of honor of all the saints.  So high indeed that he gets his own “Christmas”—his own nativity feast.  And this feast traditionally, like Christmas, was honored with the celebration of three masses; one in the dead of night, one at daybreak, and one in the afternoon, symbolizing John’s preaching before the coming of Jesus, his baptism of the Lord, and his own sanctity and martyrdom.

So why such a high honor?  What’s so important about John?  John’s mission and ministry was greatly remembered by early Christians, and it’s obvious from the Gospels and from the Acts of the Apostles that some of Jesus’ own disciples, and many of the first Christians, actually started out as disciples of John.

We often call him the forerunner or the harbinger of Jesus, and the reading we heard from the prophet Isaiah gives us those familiar words remembered as a prophecy of John’s own preaching: “A voice cries out in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way of the Lord!’”  John was the voice preparing the way.  Now we know from history that he started a religious movement in his own right, and there’s at least one living religion today—the Mandaeans, mostly in Iraq and Iran—who trace their beginnings back to the preaching of John the Baptist.

And so John’s preparation wasn’t just a pointing to Jesus, and some scholars would go so far as to say that he didn’t simply prepare for Jesus, but that he actually prepared Jesus: that when Jesus sought out John and received his baptism, he was actually apprenticing himself to John, taking John as his teacher, his rabbi and mentor, and essentially joining John’s movement.  Of course, time is greatly compressed in the Gospels, so things seem to move very quickly, but perhaps Jesus’ time spent in the wilderness was actually his tutelage under John.

The reading we heard from Luke’s Gospel comes from Luke’s first two chapters, where he actually parallels the births of Jesus and John.  And he sets them up so closely together that John almost becomes a second Christ, and John will later be believed by some to actually be the Messiah.  Now most scholars will tell us that Luke’s parallel birth narratives are less history remembered and more history stylized in service of the Gospel proclamation.  But what’s clear is that John’s and Jesus’ ministries were remembered as being very closely related.

And the Gospels remember that it was around the time of John’s death that Jesus’ own preaching mission really caught fire, as if the torch had been passed.  But what becomes clear is that the ways of John and Jesus—the style of their preaching and mission—began to diverge.  John lived in the wilderness and waited for the people to come to him; John was remembered as an ascetic who fasted and refused strong drink; while Jesus was remembered—by his opponents, at least—as a drunkard and a glutton who hung out with sinners.  But while Jesus moved in the world and among the people, he never seems to have forgotten what he learned about solitude in the wilderness with John, and we see him returning again and again throughout his ministry to the wilderness, to a deserted place, to a quiet place, to be alone.

            So I sometimes think we can overemphasize the differences between Jesus and John—John was the harsh, ascetic separatist in the desert while Jesus embraced the world out in the marketplace.  It’s not entirely untrue, but we shouldn’t lose sight of their close similarities, and particularly that John, like Jesus, embraced all manner of people in the wilderness, whoever came to him, and generally speaking he seems to have sent them back into the world.  Perhaps as Jesus’ mentor, it was even John who gave him the instruction to begin carrying the message into the towns.

            And so as we celebrate the birth of John the Baptist today, we’re celebrating the great “hinge of history” within our Christian sacred world.  John is remembered as the last prophet of the old covenant and the first prophet of the new.  He has a foot in both worlds, and we essentially don’t get Jesus without him, much in the way we don’t get Jesus without Mary.  These two above all others are the preparers of the Way.  Mary as his mother and first teacher, John as his rabbi and mentor—they prepared the Way; they literally prepared Jesus.

            In that great icon called the Deesis, the Supplication, which you can see at the very top of the Icon Cross above the altar, it is always John and Mary pictured on either side of Christ, offering supplication on behalf of all humanity, always these two great saints whose nativities we celebrate, these two saints who are the two great hinges of Christian history.

Jesus says of John in the Gospels, “there is none greater born of woman” and Luke tells us that John was filled with the Holy Spirit before he was born.  And so just like Scripture’s understanding of Mary, it’s a pretty high view, and one that shouldn’t be taken lightly.  Traditions even developed around John, as they did around Mary, that he was free of the taint of original sin.  And more than that, that he was actually an incarnate angel, preceding the incarnate Word.  The words of the prophet Malachi, “See I am sending my messenger [angelos, angel, in Greek] to prepare the way before me” were taken literally as a reference to John.  John was the incarnation of an angel.  And this, too, is often reflected in iconographic depictions—you need only take a look at the icon of John above the holy water stoup as you enter the church to see his wings unfurled.

            I’ll leave you with one final image of John, since we are at Holy Cross Monastery.  St. John Chrysostom called St. John the Baptist “the prince of monks” and St. Jerome called him “the true founder of monasticism.”  He wrote: “Realize your nobility, monks!  John is the first one of our calling.  He is a monk.”  We can see monastic life, then, as that witness within the Church most closely tied to the vocation of John.  That witness which is continually preparing the way of the Lord and pointing the world most clearly to Christ.

And so, on this feast of his nativity, “Come people, praise the prophet and the martyr, and the Baptist of the Lord, for he is an angel in the flesh.”  Amen.

Proper 7 B - Jun 21, 2015

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Scott Borden, OHC
Proper 7 B – Sunday, June 7, 2015

Job 38:1-11
2 Corinthians 6:1-13
Mark 4:35-41

Storm on the Sea of Galilee - Rembrandt van Rijn

In the early parts of the Gospels, a lot of activity centers around water. And pretty much anytime a body of fresh water is mentioned in the Gospels, it is the Sea of Galilea. Even if its called by another name, such as the Sea at Tiberius, it is the Galilea. And although today's passage never mentions, the name, the boat in which this adventure takes place is on the Sea of Galilea. So lets talk about the Sea of Galilea.

The first thing to note is that the fairly common name "Sea of Galilea" is misleading. The term sea is one we generally use to refer to large water bodies - like the Mediteranian... the North Sea... the Baltic... Purists hold that the term refers to expressions of the oceans. But we also think of great fresh water bodies as seas, in particular the Great Lakes - those great inland seas that hold something like a fifth of all the fresh water on earth. Or Siberia's Lake Baikal - itself as large as the great lakes combined. Seas are big... The only bigger thing is the ocean itself.  

But the Sea of Galilea is not big - not by world standards... It is about a quarter the size of Loch Lomond. Maybe half the size of Lake George. It is a bit bigger than our nearby Ashokan Reservoir... It is certainly not big enough to properly be called a sea. It is, at best, a medium sized lake. 

The Galilea is about 12 miles long and 8 miles wide and never more than 200 feet deep. While it is not particularly vast, standing on one shore you could not see the other shore. From the surrounding hills you could see all the lake, but once on the water, particularly in the middle of the lake, several miles from any shore, you could not see land. 

This medium lake appears in a many familiar stories. This is the lake where the sermon on the mount is given. On its shores Jesus defines his moral theology. Disciples are recruited on its shores. On this shore a few loaves and fishes feed a great multitude. This is the water that Jesus walks on... And the River Jordan, so central in the story of John The Baptist, flows from this lake - and by the way, the River Jordan is neither chilly, nor is it wide. Is  there may be milk and honey on the other side? I can't say... 

The disciples knew this lake very well, especially the fishermen. It was the center of their daily lives. So getting into a boat and setting out on the water was an ordinary thing to do. But while being on the lake in a boat may have been ordinary, the disciples would have been wary.
One of the weather features of this lake is that high winds can descend on the lake from the surrounding hills. And because the lake is relatively small and shallow, these winds whip up the surface in very dramatic ways - ways that are not possible in deeper lakes. So when the storm comes up and starts to threaten the disciples, it is really a frightening gale. The waves can easily swamp the boat. And their lives are truly in peril. 

All that is the setup... 

So the disciples are facing this truly dangerous threat. And Jesus is asleep in the back on the cushion. This is a little hard to imagine - and the temptation, just as we want the Galilea to be a big body of water, is to want the boat to be a big boat. In my childhood imagination, somehow this fishing boat had a below-deck hold - just like the boats that sail the Great Lakes or the New England coast... but it is a very small boat. It is odd that Jesus could be asleep, because he had to be getting wet... He had to be tossed about... What a sound sleeper he must have been... 

I like to read online commentaries on scripture, usually because they make me crazy. I read an article on this story that asserts that the entire point of the story is to establish beyond any doubt the full humanity of Jesus and the full divinity of Jesus: The full humanity in that Jesus is so tired and so desperately in need of sleep, like a human, that he is all but passed out in the back of the boat; and the full divinity in that the weather responds to his command.  

I don't suppose any of that is wrong... but it is resolving a dispute that is not going to come up until long after this story... And Jesus, when they wake him, doesn't say "see how fully human and fully divine I am..." First he rebukes the weather and then he rebukes the disciples: "Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?" 

So let's see... the disciples are out somewhere in the middle of this lake... their tiny boat is being swamped by a powerful storm... its dark... There is no land in sight... I don't suppose they had life preservers... Why are they afraid?...  

I've spent a good deal of time on the details of this story - but I think the meaning, at least for me, lies in metaphor. It is tempting to believe that following Jesus is a clear path - a highway straight through the wilderness. Certainly getting in the boat with Jesus should be the safest of things to do... and yet it is not. 

We seem to believe that following Jesus should free us from temptation, but it does not. Following Jesus should free us from conflict, but it does not. Following Jesus should save us from peril, but it does not. And Jesus never promises any of these things.  

Jesus never promises an easy life. Jesus does promise to be with us through the hardship and dangers and sorrows - and joys of this life. Its not that we will never weep... its that Jesus will wipe away the tears.  

The storm on the lake is with us today. When a group of faithful people gather at Emanuel AME Church in Charleston to study scripture - to be in community with Jesus, to get into the boat as it were - it is easy to think that Jesus should keep them safe. And when an angry young man comes into their midst, his heart filled with racial hatred, it would be wonderful to think that their love and the power of Jesus will calm the storm in that young man's heart. 

But that isn't the story. The storm in that young man's heart raged until it had taken many lives. 

But that still isn't the story. For family and loved ones from Emanuel Church have now faced that young man in court and one after another expressed their pain, their sorrow, and their forgiveness. The disciples in the boat with Jesus are filled with fear - their faith is not yet strong. These disciples at Emanuel AME Church have an unshakable faith. In the face of unimaginable pain and sorrow their faith abides unshaken. 

Proper 5 B - Jun 7, 2015

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Roy Parker, OHC
Proper 5 B – Sunday, June 7, 2015

Genesis 3: 8 - 15
2 Corinthians 4:13 - 5:1
Mark 3: 20 - 35

This is a story about Markʼs Deli in Caeserea, a favorite rest stop for Jesus and the Twelve whenever they were on the road. This explains why Markʼs Gospel is known for something called “The Markan Sandwich,” in this case not a killer lunch item as it was, but a literary device to illuminate particular episodes of the Gospel. Here are some examples:

TWO SANDWICH DIAGRAMS

(Concluding with Todayʼs Gospel) Mark uses the Sandwich device so that the bread and the
filling become commentaries on each other . . .

(1)Jairusʼ Daughter & the Hʼd Woman: Jairusʼ twelve-yearold daughter is at deathʼs door. As Jesus is on the way to heal her, a woman whoʼs been afflicted with hʼing for twelve years, and therefore unclean, also unsusceptible to ordinary medicine, sneaks up to touch him and is healed. She has to confess her taboo action and is assured that her faith has saved her whom Jesus addresses as a beloved daughter of God. Itʼs a kind of deliverance from death. Thereupon another daughter of God, of a similarly hopeless situation, linked to the hʼing woman by the figure twelve, is also delivered from death by the faith of her parents united to Jesus.

(2)The Special of the Day:
The Bread: Family Intention to Restrain Jesus on the basis of Nutsy Behavior Attributed to Unclean Spirit Possession. The Filling: The Binding of Satan by the Stronger One: The Centerpiece is Jesusʻ arrival as the one capable of binding and despoiling Satan, which Mark underscores five times by using the verb from which we get dynamite, dynamo, dynamic and so forth, the evangelistic equivalent of kryptonite.

Itʼs the key point which ignites the opposition of the scribes and that of his family, including Mary, which raises the intriguing question of how could she, of all people, regard her son as nuts and possessed of a dirty spirit if heʼd been miraculously conceived? The key point is that a stronger than Satan has arrived to tie him up and repossess the stolen goods.

This overpowering of Satan has been described in terms of the Crucifixion as the offering of a kind of bait which the devil swallows to his undoing, giving rise to the expression: The Place of the Skull has become the Gate of Paradise. Archbishop William Temple, one of our spiritual forebears, riffs on this to describe how Jesus becomes the stronger one who binds the devil in captivity to love for ever. His words are from the article Mens Creatrix: “It is out of the uttermost gloom of ʻMy God, my God, why have you forsaken meʼ that the light breaks. The light does not merely shine upon the gloom and so dispel it; it is the gloom itself transformed into light. 

For that same crucifixion of the Lord which was, and for ever is, the utmost effort of evil, is itself the means by which God conquers evil and unites us to (Godself) in the redeeming love there manifested. Judas and Caiphas and Pilate have set themselves in their several ways to oppose and to crush the purpose of Christ, and yet despite themselves they become ministers. They sent Christ to the cross; by the cross he completed his atoning work; from the cross he reigns over (humankind). God in Christ has not merely defeated evil, but has made it the occasion of (divine) supreme glory.

Never was conquest so complete; never was triumph so stupendous. The completeness of the victory is due to the completeness of the evil over which it was won. It is the very darkness which enshrouds the cross that makes so glorious the light proceeding from it. Had there been no despair, no sense of desolation and defeat, but merely the onward march of irresistible power to the achievement of its end, evil might have been beaten, but not bound in captivity to love for ever. God in Christ endured defeat, and out of the very stuff of defeat . . . wrought (the divine) victory and achievement.”

Evil bound in captivity to love forever. Therefore the binding of Satan in todayʼs passage must be related, but how on earth and in what outlandish behavior could Jesus have engaged which would cause his family and the scribes to certify him crazy and to sin against the Holy Spirit by declaring him motivated by a dirty spirit?

For one thing, the apparent craziness isnʼt hard to imagine in consideration of the prophetic tradition of Israel from which Jesus comes. One only need recall Samuelʼs advice to the newly-anointed King Saul that he, Saul, was about to meet a band of prophets who would be in a prophetic frenzy accompanied by musical instruments. At that point the spirit of the Lord would possess him and he would be in a prophetic frenzy along with them and be turned into a different person. Sounds pretty certifiable to me.

It also sounds as if Jesus in a kind of prophetic frenzy will be operating with an undomesticated, apparently soiled spirit, which is what scares us, as it scared one of Alan Whittemoreʼs directees back in 1929 with this advice: “The glory of the mystery of Free Will is that one may reveal and express the Will of God, very often, through following oneʼs own deepest desires. We ought to remember this fact and rejoice in it much oftener than we do. Instead of spending all our lives in terrified inhibitions and scrupulosity, we should be learning . . . to live forthrightly and boldly; and not to be afraid to follow the desires of our heart, for (Godʼs) sake. . // . 

I feel confident that, were it unmistakably revealed to you that God wished you to take this or that course, you would want to do it with all your heart. (In the absence of any such clear revelation) will you not be bold enough to believe that God the Holy Spirit who indwells you will guide you in and through your desires? It takes great courage, sometimes, to quietly ask ourselves what, really and truly, in our heart of hearts, without any consideration as to right or wrong, or expediency, we would most like to do, and then do it wholeheartedly to the glory of God.” (Joy in Holiness, pp.27-28)

For us particularly concerned with monastic rules, their caution about spontaneity and their warnings against the soiled spirit, the conclusion of Ronald Hansonʼs book Mariette In Ecstacy is noteworthy. Those whoʼve read this delightful work will recall that Mariette, while a religious novice, receives the stigmata. This proves such a disturbing factor in the convent that sheʼs eventually asked to leave the community. Living in a town nearby she remains in correspondence with one of her dear friends in the novitiate to whom she writes on one occasion that sheʼs managing her new situation satisfactorily and, continuing her habit of prayer, is occasionally consoled by Jesus whispering to her, “Surprise me!”

Corpus Christi B - Jun 4, 2015

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Peter Rostron, OHC
John 6:47-58 , Thursday, June 4, 2015

Several years ago I saw a movie  called King Corn. Not King Kong, but King Corn. It’s a documentary that came out in 2007 about the politics and economics of corn and how that has contributed to a decline in the healthfulness of our diets. The focal point of the movie is a one-acre plot of corn that the two young filmmakers cultivate in Iowa, and they follow and explain the entire process from planting to selling the corn. The film vividly describes the serious, negative consequences of the politically-manipulated corn industry in this country. The opening scene especially is quite startling, as a University of Virginia professor analyzes a hair sample from one of the filmmakers, which reveals, based on the substances in his body, that over 50% of his diet is corn. Farm animals are corn-fed, soda and many juices are largely corn syrup, and corn oil is a very common choice for cooking fried foods. The subtitle of the film is You Are What You Eat, and indeed the film disturbingly reveals the ill state of health of our own physical bodies as well as our collective social, political, and economic body because of all the corn and corn byproducts that we ingest.

It matters what we eat. It matters for our own, individual health and for the health of our society. But, there are so many bad foods that taste really good, and often they’re very convenient, so it takes a lot of self-discipline in order to make the right choices. And that’s tough. It can be a challenge to consider the larger ramifications every time we make a food decision throughout the day. Do I eat this hamburger? Should I give in to my craving for some Twizzlers? What about this glass of cranberry juice? What are the ingredients? What fertilizers or additives were used? Where did it come from? I must admit that I can be lazy when it comes to such things, and too often I choose to eat foods without investing much reflection, investigation, or discernment in the process. And I suspect this is true for many of us. We have a desire, and we seek to satisfy it. That’s it. Unfortunately, what we desire and how we satisfy that desire may not be good for us. As the film says, we are what we eat. We might become corn, or at least unhealthy, and I don’t believe that is what God desires for us.

Just as this may be true for us now, it was true for the Israelites wandering in the desert millennia ago. They did not live as God wished them to. We know there was plenty of grumbling among them on their journey. In Exodus, we are told that “the whole congregation of the Israelites complained against Moses and Aaron…[saying] ‘if only we had died by the hand of the Lord in Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread.’” In other words, “we’re happy with the status quo; it’s too much trouble to pursue change.” And today in the book of Deuteronomy we heard Moses tell the Israelites that God led them to hunger so that they would learn to desire what he would provide and change their ways. And we heard Paul point out in his letter to the Corinthians that the rock from which the Israelites drank was Christ. He went on, though, to say that, “nevertheless, God was not pleased with most of them, and they were struck down in the wilderness. Now, these things occurred as examples to us so that we might not desire evil as they did.” The Israelites did not know Christ, for God had not yet revealed him to the world, but we do. And we hear Jesus tell us in John’s gospel, “Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died…[but] I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever.”

This truth is central to our Christian faith. We declare it each time we gather around the table to celebrate the Eucharist and partake of the body and blood of Christ. On this Feast Day of the Body of Christ, we are placing special emphasis on the significance of this truth, yet we do not always live accordingly. Like the ancient Israelites, we do not always choose to feast solely on God’s word. In many ways, we are wandering in our own, 21st-century wilderness, lost, grumbling, often wanting to eat and live simply to satisfy our selves, not God. We do not fully listen to God or act based on what God wants for us, we do not live in community as God wants us to live, and thus we are not yet ready or able to enter the Promised Land, not yet ready or able to establish God’s Kingdom on earth. We must keep in mind Paul’s words of warning. Still, like the Israelites, we keep going, we keep trying, despite the hardships and setbacks and discomforts. We stray, we grumble, we sin, but God keeps forgiving us and calling us back. We continue on our journey, we hunger, and we look to God for sustenance. And, as the Israelites did not, we have the benefit of the presence of Christ.

God sent us his son, and God does provide for us, but still we must choose to eat the good food and to say yes to God’s word. We can choose wisely or we can choose foolishly. We can eat food that is unhealthy, out of laziness or impulse or convenience or cost, or we can eat food that will truly nourish our bodies and energize us. We can also think beyond just food and include everything that we take in and that becomes part of us: the air we breathe, the music we listen to, the movies we watch, and the ideas and politics that inform our opinions and behaviors. All of the things that we ingest become us. And by us I mean each one of us as an individual, but also, all of us who together make up one single us, a social, political, economic, and spiritual body. This is a concept that the Israelites were much more attuned to than we are, but it is significant. All of our individual little choices add up to become the path that our community, our nation, and therefore each of us, will take.

So, choose well. As indeed we will in a few moments when we gather around the table to consume the ultimate food, the spiritual food of the body of Christ. When we do this, we become the living Christ, nourished and enlivened to do God’s work, to create God’s kingdom on earth, to move toward the promised land. So, on this feast day of Corpus Christi, come, celebrate, joyfully eat this bread that has come down from heaven and that will lead us to eternal life. We are what we eat.

Br. Andrew Colquhoun's funeral - May 31, 2015

Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Br. Scott Borden, OHC
Br. Andrew Colquhoun's funeral – Sunday, May 31, 2015

This is a day of powerfully mixed emotions. We remember the life of Br Andrew – and that is a joyful occasion. And at the same time we say goodbye to Br Andrew – an occasion of immense sorrow.

Andrew was, like any true Scotsman, a teller of stories. And one of the stories he loved to tell was the way in which he entered Holy Cross Monastery. He'd been coming on retreat with increasing frequency and each time he came, he found it harder to leave. At some point he was really agonizing as he went up the driveway and this thought went through his mind: “You don't have to go... You don't have to say goodbye.” And so he discovered his monastic vocation.

This story is in my mind because, just as Andrew hated to leave the monastery, I hate to see him go. But in some sense he still doesn't have to go. Andrew remains with us in spirit in a very real way. Our task is to remember him in loving and honest ways so that his spirit remains with us. And I can hear Andrew saying if don't tell the truth, I will haunt you... So lets begin the remembering...

Andrew's life was complex. Anyone looking for linear story telling should not look to Andrew. He was born in Scotland as the 2nd World War was starting. His father died when he was a young lad and his mother determined that their future was brighter in the United States – so they boarded a ship and sailed for America. Andrew completed his education in the US, including college and seminary, and was ordained in the Presbyterian Church. But his believed his heart was in Scotland and so, as a young man, back he went.

He served in Edinburgh at the Kirk of the Canongate. Anyone who has visited Edinburgh will likely have walked past this historic church. It is about half way between the castle and the new home of the Scottish Parliament. These days the neighborhood is posh beyond words, but in the 1960s it was grim. This was Andrew's first adult encounter of true poverty and it inflamed his passion for social justice.

It was also at this time that Andrew met Helen and the two were married. They moved first to the south-west of Scotland, but then Andrew had to deal with the reality that Scotland was not his home. And so he and Helen emigrated to the US – Andrew was always quick to point out that he was the only person he knew who emigrated twice...

Andrew served in a number of Presbyterian Churches and two sons, Rob and John came into Andrew and Helen's lives – but Andrew became increasingly aware that parish work was not where he was called and so he began the transition to Hospital Chaplaincy and undertook the training to be a Supervisor of Clinical Pastoral Education. You see how cluttered the story is already... we're just getting started...

The work of Clinical Pastoral Education begins with learning about yourself. You must know yourself very well in order to be able to help others. Andrew, never one for half measures, delved wholeheartedly into this work. And he learned powerful things. Among other things, he learned that he needed to get sober. And he learned needed to come out. And he learned he needed to become an Episcopalian. I'm certain that for Helen, Rob, and John, who were with him on this journey, it was a complicated and painful time – but ultimately grace-filled.

Through the various pieces of Andrews life so far – emigrating, changing careers, getting married and starting a family, getting sober, discovering himself, ending his marriage... one thing becomes clear: Andrew gave his heart away many times, but more importantly, he never took it back.

Andrew gave his heart to Scotland and, though he emigrated not once but twice, he never took it back. He gave his heart to Helen and, even though the marriage was dissolved and they got on with their lives, he never took it back. He gave his heart to Rob and to John and though I know the path from childhood to adulthood is complicated and rocky, he could not have been more proud of the adults his sons have become. And Ian, his grandson, well there wasn't anything on earth Andrew loved more than being a Grandfather... Andrew gave his heart freely and totally and he never took it back.

Andrew, in the fullness of time, fell in love with the Order of the Holy Cross and Holy Cross Monastery and gave his heart to us. And so began a new adventure. Andrew was always a man of deep passion and his anger could be quickly roused. When someone was being ill-treated, Andrew's fire could burn. When someone was being irresponsible, Andrew's tongue could lash. Andrew could give the Old Testament profits a run for their money when his righteous anger was stirred. And in the monastery he found a home for his passion.

But lets be honest... Andrew's passion could be just as quickly stirred and his tongue just as sharp at a jar of peanut butter left on the counter... or a coffee cup left on an end table... an indignant and self-righteous rant was sure to follow. And Andrew's humor, always sharp and frequently outrageous, could slip from biting to brutal. And when his humor had been cruel or his righteous anger unrighteous, just as quickly, an apology would follow. And this is another fundamental piece of who Andrew was – he did not leave things unsaid.
Truth came quickly from Andrew's mouth. And when he regretted what he said, or how he said it, apologies came just as quickly and they were very real. The Rule of Benedict tells us not to go to bed carrying angers and hurts from the day. Andrew, to the very best of his ability, lived this. So while his death leaves many hearts broken, few are left with unfinished business. Andrew loved enough to tell the truth and hear the truth.

Andrew spent much of his monastic life in South Africa – yet another migration and another great adventure. He was instrumental to the forming of a new community in Grahamstown and he gave his heart, as was his custom, to South Africa, and most passionately to the children who gathered around the monastery. These were kids who's home life was frequently terrible. Poverty and alcoholism, which seem to walk hand in hand, had left their families in tatters, and so Andrew gave his heart to loving these kids and to helping to bring others to the work of sobriety – and as we know, once given, he never took back his heart.

We really couldn't remember Andrew without thinking about music and laughter and the warmth of true hospitality. He loved a crowd – because he loved the people in the crowd. Since Andrew's death I have been quite startled by the number of folks who have said the same thing... I was in some sort of trouble and Andrew knew what to say... I was sorrowful and Andrew knew how to comfort me... I was on the wrong track and Andrew told me the truth I needed to hear to get myself turned around... These were not long, massive, deep conversations, they were casual, over-the-dinner-table, in-a-crowded-room sorts of conversations.

Andrew loved people. At the same time, people frequently drove Andrew crazy... he did not suffer fools gladly. And many is the time when he told me how out of patience he was for so-and-so only to sit down a little later with that same person and have a life changing conversation. I'd tease him and say – I thought you couldn't stand that person... and he'd smile and say something like – well I got over it...

I know this is a room filled with loving memories of James Andrew Colquhoun. We say goodby to his incarnation, but not to those memories... not to his spirit. And at the conclusion of this service, as we place his ashes in the columbarium in our crypt, I hope you will stay and share some memories and some refreshments... Andrew would love that. And more importantly, Helen, Rob, John, and all of Andrew's brothers in religion would love that too.

Throughout our Christian tradition and long before, spirit and breath were understood not just as closely linked, but as the same thing. So in Genesis, God breaths on us and we become living souls. And Jesus breaths upon the disciples and they receive the Holy Spirit.

Andrew was, more than just about anyone I have ever known, a person of great spirit. And so it was all the more painful to watch as Pulmonary Fibrosis claimed his life – a disease which literally takes the breath from you. And in the last few months many of us have watched as day by day there was less breath, less spirit in Andrew. And Andrew, who as we know did not leave things unsaid, made it abundantly clear that this was not a way he could live.

I truly don't think this was just Andrew being concerned about quality of life – though that was part of it. I think it is more that Andrew could not live this way, rather than he would not. Andrew's spirit was huge, fun-loving, justice-seeking, judgmental, loving, angry, nasty, outrageous, boisterous, perhaps occasionally obscene... the list goes on and on... He he could not live his life otherwise.

As Pulmonary Fibrosis restricted his life to less and less – because he could not get enough breath to do things – he still found joy in living. He remarked to me not long ago that people would be shocked if they knew how many different women he had showered with in the past few months... I doubt I could have faced the reality that I could no longer even bathe myself with such good humor. But Andrew, characteristically, chose to give his heart to the aids who came each morning to help him – he welcomed them with love and gratitude. And finally, he welcomed death with love and with gratitude. For now his spirit is set free.

I hope you will help us celebrate who Andrew was and who he is. Perhaps in story, perhaps in song, perhaps even with dancing... who knows. But I do know that if we celebrate joyfully and remember truthfully, then Andrew will be honored and we will be blessed.