Lesser Feasts

The clergy and staff at the Cathedral were asked to write short pieces for the parish newsletter about our hopes for the next year. I went all Romans 5:5 ("hope does not disappoint us") and noted that I was glad we weren't asked to write about our expectations, wishes, or resolutions. The kind of hope that does not disappoint us doesn't cover everything we'd express by saying "I hope . . ." There's something between hope and wish, or between hope and daydream, that doesn't come with a nice Scriptural warrant but is still worth musing on at this time of year. So here are some hopes for 2021, or wishes, or daydreams, or just generally things that would be nice and don't seem impossible. I hope I figure out some new way of offering teaching and formation. I'm toying with the idea of a podcast. I hope I find some new activity in 2021 that I enjoy as much as I enjoyed hillwalking in 2020. Kayaking? I hope I get elected to the General Board of

I suspect we all have things that are perfectly innocuous in themselves but we postpone as long as we can because they just irritate us for some reason. Getting my car serviced is one of those things. But when the low-tire-pressure light is on, even I feel a certain degree of urgency. So I made my appointment at the dealership and interrupted the pressing business of the day -- which was already urgent enough to displace the more-important-but-less-urgent work I should  have been doing -- to have my car looked after. I am about to sit down at a table in the waiting area when I hear someone call out, "Father!" (I do love to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces. And I wasn't even wearing my phylacteries.) One of my brother priests is also having his car serviced. He invites me over, and I sit down and we talk, first about nothing very much, but gradually more seriously. Parish ministry -- he is a rector -- can be difficult, and he has had a rough time of it lately, t

   Robert Traill Rose, "Primordium Vitae," 1899  Salvation to all that will is nigh;   That All, which always is all everywhere,   Which cannot sin, and yet all sins must bear,   Which cannot die, yet cannot choose but die,   Lo! faithful Virgin, yields himself to lie   In prison, in the womb; and though he there   Can take no sin, nor thou give, yet He'll wear,   Taken from thence, flesh, which death's force may try.   Ere by the spheres time was created thou   Wast in His mind, who is thy Son, and Brother;   Whom thou conceivest, conceived; yea, thou art now   Thy Maker's maker, and thy Father's mother,   Thou hast light in dark, and shutt'st in little room   Immensity, cloister'd in thy dear womb   --John Donne, "Annunciation"