A Crazy Week…

…on Friday we headed off to Grace, Little Rock. A seminar on Saturday on the Church’s song (got to meet so many great folks, including Pr. Schoop, and caught up with old friend Dana and Harold and Eileen’s niece and two great bros from around Texarkana), followed by Kantor Magnuson’s awesome hymn festival on hymns of Luther in honor of the Achtliederbuch, featuring not only her masterful organ work but also her choir! But I found out yet once again, I’m simply not able to teach for hours on end and then sing. Ugh. The voice was dead by day’s end and I couldn’t sing with energy all those great hymns at the festival. Sadness. 

Fortunately, the voice mostly recovered by this morning and I was able to lead Bible class and celebrate and preach at the Divine Service. And again, Kantor played an awesome liturgy! So blessed to be with these saints, and hear that they’re preparing to call my buddy Pr. Michael Kumm as a interim!!! They will be so blessed by him. 

We pulled into Hamel before sunset. Tomorrow will be busy with lots of writing AND prepping for Dave’s move on Tuesday. Whew. And preaching and leading Bible Class at St. Paul’s this weekend, besides also doing the St. Luke’s service on Friday and St. James next week. 

The voice thing, though. It’s happened like three or four times in a row. I think I get the message. I have got to limit the time I speak in a day. Three hours a day is about the limit.

It Seems Strange

To think that today I enter my 64th year in this world. It didn’t look like I’d make it when I was born. They realized something was quite wrong when I kept throwing up any food they gave me, and apparently the crying was nonstop. I was slowly starving to death. After getting me over to Children’s Hospital in D.C., the doctors did surgery. They found the insides quite a jumble, and finally (almost miraculously back in 1960), located where a malformed intestine was folded over on itself, blocking any nutrition from being absorbed. My mom said they illustrated it with a folded washcloth that was at an angle rather than being straight. I wish I knew the name of the surgeon who found it, but whoever he was, he left a gaping slash down my belly but a functioning digestive system. I lived. 

My mom never forgot that miracle and never wanted me to forget it. She sent me around the neighborhood each year to collect for Children’s Hospital. She reminded me: “You wouldn’t be here today without them.” I confess, introvert that I am, I DETESTED the task. Knocking on the doors of neighbors to ask for a donation was not at all a comfortable task. But mom taught me that comfort has nothing to do with it when it is the right thing to do. So off I went. She even told me that if anyone tried the old “I gave at the office” I was to politely correct them and tell them that Children’s wasn’t part of any other charity network (I assume that has long since changed). 

So here I am, alive at 64. That’s five years older than my poor dad got to be. And it’s only 13 years shy of my mom’s age at death. Anyway you slice it, I’m looking down the last bit of my earthly pilgrimage. Which truly seems so weird. I still feel great most every day. It’s only when I look in the mirror at the wrinkles and the graying hair that I realize I’m not a kid anymore. I never stopped feeling like one! 

Oh, there’s some arthritis in the hands, and opening things is not as easy as it used to be by a long shot. But I still walk almost every day upwards of five miles. I can do pullups and pushups. Physically, I’m still in pretty decent shape. 

And there is no question that I have been blessed way, way beyond my deserving and even my imagining. A wife who has been the very image to me of God’s grace and mercy, and of whom I am not worthy. Three absolutely stellar children whom I am so proud of, and they each married the perfect spouse and I’m equally as proud of them. Best of all, they gave me my grandchildren: 13 of whom I’ve gotten to know and hold, and 2 of whom are in utero at the moment. At their birth I’ll have matched the number of my parent’s grandchildren! They, however, did that across 25 years and my children gave me these wondrous gifts in a mere 12.5 years. 

What’s ahead? I still have three years (God willing) of writing and teaching for Lutheran Public Radio and doing a handful of conferences a year. But when I turn 67 I intend to turn that responsibility over to others. I’ll happily continue to serve as an assistant at St. Paul’s, and once I no longer have to write and record 6 podcasts and 1 Issues show a week, I could probably help out there more. If God spares me and I live to 67, I hope to take a solid three months off from any work and just work on things that I’ve wanted to do and not had the time to. My grandkids will range from 16 to 2.5 by then! They should keep me more than busy. 

Thank you, God, for the doctors at Children’s in D.C. Thank you for my wonderful mom and dad and brothers and sisters. Thank you for my wife and all her family. Thank you for our children and grandchildren. Thank you for the opportunities you have granted this most unworthy servant. Thank you for the laughter, the cards, the feasts, the singing, and the lazy afternoons floating in the pool. Thank you for dear friends to travel and relax with. Thank you for all Your gifts! “Glory to You, O Lord, for all things!”

Sadness

I had occasion today to send an old blog posting to a friend. It led me to randomly look through old back and forths, and the name of my buddy Paul McCain came up again and again. I miss our back and forths. He could get under some folks’ skin, I know. Tact was just not one of his skills. But I loved the man, and I miss our occasional lunches and our almost daily correspondence. You know, the little bit that shows up on the blog…that’s the least of our discussions. Anything that either one of us found of interest, we’d almost invariably send an email to the other detailing it. And, to be truthful, I also miss receiving his surprise packages from CPH. He’d send them along and I’d write to say thanks, and he’d say: “I knew you would read them and put them to use in teaching the Church.” Old friend, I hope you know how much we miss you!

+Asleep in Jesus: Ralph C. Schultz

“Doc” was President of Concordia College when I attended there. He also was the director of the Festival Chorus (Gerry Coleman—may he also rest in peace—conducted the Tour and Chapel Choirs). When I heard of his passing this past week, my mind went back to a poem his wife had written and that he had set to music.We loved to sing it.

 In part it ran:

Joy is budding trees and raindrops,

Sunswept waves and golden sand;

Joy is amber-tinted forests,

New, white snow from God’s own Hand.

Joy is mother’s tender caring

For her tiny newborn child;

Joy is father’s gentle pruning

Of the young tree growing wild.

Joy is faith and hope and loving

Growing stronger through the years;

Joy is meeting life at sunset

Feeling no despair or fear.

Joy is being truly thankful

For the dawn of each new day.

Joy is working, praying, sharing

Ev’ry step along the way.

Joy is telling little children

Jesus shelters them from harm;

Joy is leading hopeless sinners

To His ever-open arms. 

Joy is Jesus’ strength around me;

Joy is Jesus’ love within;

Joy is knowing my Salvation;

That I’m free from death and sin.

Joy is living here for Him

Who gave Himself for me.

Joy is living there in heaven

To sing for joy eternally.

Life at sunset feeling no despair or fear.. I am sure that is how Doc met his end. For this wonderful man of God and the huge blessing he was to so very many in Christ’s Church: glory be to Thee, O Lord!

My last exchange with Doc was a couple years ago. Choir was singing one of his pieces (a setting of God of Grace) and I let him know we were doing. He asked me if I noticed anything interesting about the bass line. I had not! It was the melody line written backwards. He was truly a marvel. His “To Thee, O Christ Child” will always be one of my favorite Christmas pieces.

As our Eastern friends are wont to say: May his memory be eternal! And as we Westerners say: Rest eternal grant him, O Lord, and let light perpetual shine upon him.

(Thanks to Pr. Jim Krauser for finding the text for this song)

Count your many blessings, see what God has done!

 

Sawyer, Flynn, Evangeline, Henry, Felicity, Emmett, Kloe, Chancellor, Griffin, Lydia, Annabelle, Winnie, Oliver. I told Lauren she should get her belly in the picture for the twins, but she declined. Where on earth will be put them all next year for a pic?

Pastor Gleason’s Outstanding Homily for 17 Trinity

Sermon for Trinity 17, 2024
Luke 14:1–11 • Rev. William Gleason

Our Collect of the Day gets at the heart of God's word to us this morning. “O Lord, we implore You, grant Your people grace to withstand the temptations of the devil and with pure hearts and minds to follow You, the only God.” That's a good prayer. We may say it’s a prayer in response to Paul’s words in the epistle: “I ... urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace.” That manner of walking is what it means to follow the only true God with pure hearts and minds. And for that we absolutely need God's grace.

Of course, you know, as well as I, our hearts and minds are not pure. Quite the contrary, they are polluted with sin. An inbred sin that produces all manner of outward sins. And it’s all those outward sins that trip us up in our Christian walk and cause us to fall.

Chief amongst those outward sins is pride. That's pretty much the consensus of the church fathers, too. St. Augustine summed it up when he said pride was the original sin of man and led to The Fall and all its horrible consequences. Picking up from that, Martin Luther said, “Pride is the mother of all heresies; indeed, as both sacred and profane history testifies, it is the source of all sin and ruin.” The Bible is full of passages that speak of pride’s destructive nature: “​When pride comes, then comes disgrace.” (Prov. 11:2) “Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” (Prov. 16:18)​ Our Lord Jesus listed pride as one of the many evils that come from the hearts of men. And I do not think there is any irony in the fact that one of the most socially destructive perversions in our world marches under the rainbow banner of “pride.”

Now, not all pride is sinful. It may carry a positive sense of respect and confidence in someone, such as a child or another loved one. St. Paul spoke proudly of the Christians in Corinth. In 2 Cor. he wrote, “I said before that you are in our hearts, to die together and to live together … I have great pride in you…I am overflowing with joy.” (7:3-4) And I confess, I have a great deal of pride in a wonderful church and school in Hamel, Illinois.

Pride becomes sinful when it is self-focused and self-elevating to the point of excluding God and his word from your daily walk. If God and his word is not a part of your daily routine, check yourself. It may be due to an overinflated sense of self-importance. In Psalm 10:4, King David nailed it when he wrote, “In the pride of his face the wicked does not seek [the Lord]; all his thoughts are, ‘There is no God.’” That was the original Sin, of Satan and of Adam and Eve. And if you ever listen to an atheist trying to defend his unbelief, especially in the face of the overwhelming evidence of a good and gracious Creator, it always boils down to a question of his pride. In the end, he just arrogantly and defiantly refuses to bend his knee before almighty God.

Christians are not immune from the sin of pride, either. Whereas the atheist denies God’s existence, the Christian acknowledges his Creator. It's God's word that is his problem. Whenever you see a Christian, layman or clergyman, who is not “walking in a manner worthy of the gospel,” his unchristian behavior almost always hinges on the Scriptures, on the Word of God. He's either misinterpreting it to justify himself or, more likely, he's ignoring it. The atheist may think, “There is no God;” but the haughty Christian thinks, “Did God really say that?”

Satan’s temptations always appeal to your pride to entice your flesh and to subvert God's word. If you, dear Christian, ever find yourself dismissing God's word as unimportant, carelessly living in some sin, and then think “Oh, I'm good; it doesn't matter;” then repent! For it does matter! The salvation of your soul is at risk.

That kind of pride was on display in the gospel. The Pharisees were being hypocritical when they justified work on the Sabbath that helped them but condemned the deeds of others. But it was their puffed-up pride that kept them from simply asking, “What does God say? What is His intent with the Commandment?” In a similar setting in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus asked them plainly, “It is lawful to do good on the Sabbath?” But there, as here, the Pharisees were silent, too proud to admit what they knew to be true. To every proud spirit Jesus says, “For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”

When He says, “Whoever exalts himself,” he's means those who think too highly of themselves and too little of God. Such people are called sinners. And pride, just like every other sin, condemns us to God's wrath.

And yet, out of His patience and love He does not condemn us. But he does humble us. God pulls us off the proud seats of honor we choose for ourselves, calling us to a penitent life before Him. He holds up His Holy Law before our hearts and minds that justly condemns our self-righteousness and against which we cannot stand before Him. But with that, He also makes us walk down paths of painful trials and humbling tests to kill our prideful flesh; to kill the old man in us that fights tooth and nail to stay alive.

If you are going through a time of trial right now, or anytime, and you're wondering what’s happening, almost assuredly it is your heavenly Father disciplining you and calling you to repentance, to love you and to draw you closer to Him. Hebrews 12:5-6 apply here, “My son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord, nor be weary when reproved by him. For the Lord disciplines the one he loves and chastises every son whom he receives.” In other words, He’s putting a cross on you for good reason: to crucify the proud Pharisee in you that exalts himself above Christ. Let us not complain about the burdens God places upon us; they are a part of the humble walk to which we are called as Christians. Rather, let us say, “God have mercy on me the sinner.”

In fact, when God crushes your arrogance with the cross, rejoice! For He’s reminding you of two crucial things: first, the wages of our sin, which is death; and we must always be reminded of that because we don’t want to hear it. But more importantly, he's pointing you to the cost of your redemption. The cross of Christ is the ultimate sign of God’s humbling of humanity. On the cross, He crucified the pride of all people when He sent His Son to bear our sins in His body. The meaning of the parable in our Gospel is found in Jesus, who humbled Himself before God for you. Christ Jesus, the holy and righteous King of heaven and earth, was humbly born, lived a humble, obedient life under His Father, and went most humbly to the cross. All this to suffer the punishment for our sins of self-righteousness, carnal pride, and stubborn unbelief.

When you begin your Christian walk from the foot of the cross, kneeling before the crucified Savior, pleading for mercy and forgiveness in the agony of Calvary’s tree, then you are making a most humble confession; one truly worthy of your calling in Christ. And those whom God humbles by the cross, He exalts with the only declaration that can purify your heart and your mind: Rise up, your sins are forgiven you. Go in peace. 

And so forgiven we go, walking in a “manner worthy of the calling to which we have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.” May God give to each of us His grace and Spirit so that we may walk in such a manner; to withstand the temptations of the devil and with pure hearts and minds to follow Him…the only God through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

It’s been so long!

It’s been way too long since I posted. I just find that I’m writing so much that most days, when I’m done writing my podcast or Issues shows or devotions for Advent or Lent, well, I’m DONE. I don’t want to sit down and write anything more. Kind of on empty.

But today I have half a cup of tea left, so thought I’d throw out there what a typical Tuesday for me involves:

Cindi and I don’t set alarms (save for Sundays), so we let the sun get us up. We walk out to see the sunrise just as it is coming up, and doing that daily seems to keep me waking on average about an hour prior. So I get up, make up our crio brew chocolate, pray Matins and read from the Book of Concord. After the chocolate is ready, I throw it in the blender with some butter and pour Cin and me a cup of deliciousness. 

Then I get back to my reading. As I mentioned before, Pr. Kevin Martin talked me into using the LW Daily Bible Reading schedule, and I absolutely love it. I read along in The New Living Bible translation. No, it’s really NOTHING like that old The Living Bible of my youth. This one is actually decent and superbly honest in its footnotes. Anywho, once I finish up the reading it is usually time for sunrise.

We walk out to old Route 66 and then head home, hopefully remembering to throw the bacon in the oven. Each morning I prepare four slices, two for each of us. When we get back, I’ll usually settle down to doing my internet puzzles and Cindi finishes up her readings as the steak cooks and the pan heats up for eggs. We split a steak (usually NY Strip, sometimes Ribeye) between us, and then each have two eggs (hers are fried, mine scrambled with hot sauce), and our bacon. Voila! The perfect breakfast. We have it most every day and NEVER get tired of it. The steak is frozen, and popped into the airfryer to cook and it turns out perfectly without fail.

After breakfast and clean up, we head for our post-prandial stroll. We get back and I brew up a cuppa Joe and finish anything I haven’t done yet on my puzzles and then read the news from 1440. What a great service that is!

When that’s gone, I head out for the rest of my 10K steps. If I walk the perimeter of the concrete streets in our neighborhood, that does the trick. I head back in for another cuppa Joe (I’m experimenting with upping it to two cups a day and so far, no problems), and head to my office to write.

When the first show is finished, I do half my workout: 100 pushups, 20 pullups, 20 45-lb. KB swings. Then get a cup of tea (with splash of raw milk) and write the second show. Then off to do the second half of workout. So today I got in 200 pushups, 40 pullups and 40 KB swings. THEN it was time for another cup of tea and writing two more Lenten devotions. Aiming to finish that booklet by October 5. 

Now that all that is through, I’m heading out to the pool for a late summer float in the sunshine. Still ahead: Vespers; dinner with Opa at 4 p.m.; a game of Liverpool; more reading in Chemnitz’ The Two Natures in Christ, some practice with Duolingo in Spanish, some meditation and other reading. Then it will be bedtime. 

So that’s what I’ve been up to lately. At least on Tuesdays! 

Fall is coming…

 

Be Sure

To check out Pastor Schooping’s fine piece in this summer’s Issues, Etc. Journal. He served as an Orthodox priest for some five years and now he is a Lutheran pastor. Here’s a link (it takes a while to load). 

Fun Video to Do

With my brother in Christ, Javier. Enjoy! Video

The Prayer for Vespers, Trinity 10

From The Daily Office, page 389:

O Lord, we beseech Thee, remember Thy holy church that is from one end of the earth to the other, and pacify her that Thou hast purchased with Thy precious blood, and stablish her even unto the end of the world; remember them that bring forth fruit and do good works in Thy holy churches and are mindful of the poor and needy; recompense them with Thy rich and heavenly gifts; remember every Christian soul, especially the afflicted and oppressed and struggling and those needing Thy mercy and helping hand, supplying return to the wanderers, health to the sick, and rest to them that have fallen asleep in Jesus Christ, Thy Son, our Lord. 

Published by CPH in 1965. Why, it is almost as though whoever composed that prayer believed what we say in our Book of Concord: “Epiphanius testifies that Aerius believed that prayers for the dead were useless. This he rejects. We do not support Aerius either.” Ap XXIV:96

Divine Service from the 2024 Issues Etc. Making the Case Conference

Click here. 

Another Making the Case in the Books…

…and if you weren’t there, why not? It was a great conference. I told Jeff I think it’s the perfect length: just part of the day Friday and all day Saturday. Outstanding speakers, joyous yet reverent liturgical worship (Compline, Matins, and Divine Service), and our hymn sing on Saturday afternoon. And I was given the most moving gift at the conference from the Ukrainian Lutheran bishop, Vyacheslav Horpynchuk (who due to the war was unable to be present with us): a copy of their service book, damaged by a Russian soldiers tossing a hand grenade into their facility when they saw the word Lutheran on it. I will treasure that! It was awesome to serve with Chaplain Simeon Raddatz and what was icing on the cake was being able to WEAR a chasuble and stole that belonged to my old friend Karl Bachman (that are now Simeon’s). See you there next year, folks! You don’t want to miss it!

I THINK…

…I’ve finally got everything ready for the worship at Making the Case 2024. Hope to see some of you up in River Forest! And in case you haven’t been following along, check out the great stuff happening at the Synod’s Institute on Liturgy, Preaching and Church Music happening in Seward, right here. 

My daughter…the champion of baby-led weaning!

Winnie and her piece of steak:

So Cindi and I were talking just the other day…

…about how great the extra daylight is in the summer. We woke up about half an hour before sunrise today. I got the bacon ready to toss in the oven and made us a cup each of crio-brew. We enjoyed that before we headed out for our “sunrise walk.” Absolutely gorgeous today. So crisp, in fact, I had to put on my flannel shirt. We walked up to Old Route 66, turned around and headed home. Time then for a cup of Irish Breakfast as we did our personal prayers and Bible reading (Matins with that Southwell Litany—oof!—Book of Concord on the Mass and then 1 Samuel 28-31 and Deut. 32:1-4). I finished up and set the table outside on the deck and that’s where we enjoyed a chuck-eye (split), eggs, and bacon. Then we did our post-prandial stroll and chatted a bit. Came back in and prayed Treasury (with yet another cuppa). Did my internet puzzles and workout. Went for another walk on my own, listening to music. Then home to make my cup of coffee and prepare for the workday. A leisurely and peaceful way to kick off the day. Thank you, Lord, for such a beautiful day on July 1 (Eve of Visitation). 

Great Quote from Book of Concord

It can easily be judged that if the churches observed ceremonies correctly, their dignity would be maintained and reverence and piety would increase among the people.—AC, Part Two Intro (6)

Verna Langendorf Thoughts

The day we pulled into St. Paul’s from North Carolina was July 15, 1992.  Easy to remember, because it was my son’s fourth birthday (he got a football that year—which, if you know him or me is really funny. Neither of us had the first clue what to do with it!). We had been in St. Paul’s parsonage many times as students. Mrs. Dressler loved to invite the students over after service. She’d have some cold beers ready for the gents and some iced tea for Cindi. But this time we looked at the house in a different way: it was destined to be our home (and though we didn’t know it then, it would end up being our home for nearly 20 years). We got out, stretched, and made our way inside. 

And there she was. Verna, you see, was not completely satisfied with what the trustees had done to get the place ready for the new pastor. She thought it needed more cleaning. Even though there was a funeral going on in the Church (for Mae Isenberg), she opted to work on cleaning up the parsonage a bit more before we arrived. I remember she was embarrassed because she was dusty and dirty from her labors that day, but that smile. I will never forget that smile. She welcomed us back to St. Paul’s with such warmth and then promptly cleared out so we could unload the little bit of stuff we had.

By the time we came back to St. Paul, she no longer sang in the choir. “I can’t sing anymore.” I remember both her and Norma (Toots) saying that. But they told me that when they were younger, they loved to do the dishes after dinner, because how else do you do them but standing at the sink and singing their favorite hymns? Verna was always in Bible Class and she and Leroy next to never missed a regular service. They’d be there New Year’s and Ascension and well, just about any time the bell was being rung!

I can see her laboring in the kitchen before sausage supper. She fried up the bacon that flavored the green beans. She shared with me at the last sausage supper how in the old days they had to dress up to serve the sausage supper: dresses and heels even! I think she was very glad that we’re a bit more relaxed these days.

And she was famous for her meticulous care of her front yard. She was still out there with her push mower not too many weeks ago.  

She always was faithful not just at the early service (7:45 is going to have a BIG hole in it!), but at Bible Class. She rarely raised her hand to add in a comment, but you could tell from her alert eyes that she was totally engaged in whatever we were studying. She loved the Word of God, even as she loved the hymns of the Church.

Today we buried her. Pastor Gleason kindly asked me to assist in the liturgy. I think she’d pretty much picked out the readings herself (just like I’d encouraged folks to do years ago). Isaiah 40, Romans 8 and Matthew 6 (from which her confirmation verse was taken). The hymns were “A Mighty Fortress”, “I Know that My Redeemer Lives” and “For All the Saints.” Pastor delivered a beautiful and comforting homily. The school children sang “I am Jesus’ Little Lamb” and “God Will Wipe Away All Tears”. There were trumpets and Austin treated us on the Violin. The family had asked Cindi to sing “Eagle’s Wings” which she did. I am always amazed at all the music that Kantor manages to pull off for us—and I was so thankful she did it today for Verna. 

As we got into the lead car to head down to the cemetery for the committal, Cliff (funeral director) jokingly asked: “So what? You have to pass a music test to join your church?” He said that of course they did funerals at tons of churches but none of them sing like St. Paul’s. It’s true! And the singing was particularly joyous today. We were thankful to God for the gift of Verna, and for the eternal life that He has promised her (and Ron too, very much in our thoughts and hearts today). Her only sibling still on the pilgrimage, Frieda, made it to the service and to the graveside. She joined the many, many folks who gathered to offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving for the gift Verna was to her beloved husband, to her children and grandchildren, to all her family and to her family of faith at St. Paul’s. The church was quite full.

We’ll miss you, Verna. Big time. 

Daily Office

I remember the day I picked up this little volume as a student at Concordia College in Bronxville. My Anglican friend, Duncan, and I disagreed on whether or not there existed a Lutheran breviary. He insisted that he had seen one, but I never had. So I went hunting at the “Coop” (where you could buy candy bars, soda, and also theology!). And lo and behold! Duncan was right and I was wrong. It was with great delight that I purchased this little volume and have used it off and on over the years ever since. That was in the fall of 1980! 

What I originally thought was a bug in the layout, turned out to be a feature. I mean that it assigns, but one Psalm for Matins and another for Vespers on a given week (it does have the minor festivals included). And that it didn’t include the full readings, instead it follows the German custom of providing a “Spruchvers” from the table of readings provided in The Lutheran Hymnal. 

Since I’ve been doing my daily Bible reading for a few months by following the old Lutheran Worship schedule (thank you, Pr. Kevin Martin!), I’ve learned to content myself with praying from The Daily Office exactly as it is printed. So I repeat the same Psalms morning and evening for a week (if there are no festivals) and just use the single verse. And wow! It works. It works very, very well. 

One of the amazing features of the work is the provision of a variety of litanies. During Pentecost week there was a Litany to the Holy Spirit. This past week has provided a litany for the mission of the Church. As I indicated in a prior post, CPH has wisely in my opinion re-released this classic Lutheran breviary and it can be ordered here. It really is great work for any who desire a simple way to join in the church’s tradition of the canonical hours. It also provides in an appendix for the office at Prime, Terce, Sext, None and Compline as well as an Iternarium before travel. 

Cindi and I continue to pray together from the Treasury, but as Pr. David Petersen noted years ago, that’s kind of a “single office” book. This return to the old classic has been a refreshing change. It just makes praying Matins and Vespers each day so very simple. 

Don’t Mess with the Ladies

In traditional Western art, you will notice that it is the Blessed Virgin whose foot stomps the serpent’s head. This is due to the Vulgate rendition of Gen. 3:15: SHE will crush your head. The Woman will crush the serpent’s head? Hmm. Well, see Treasury p. 40, where Luther’s Babylonian Captivity supplies the writing for the day: “In this word of promise Adam, together with his descendants, was carried as it were in God’s bosom, and by faith in it he was preserved, waiting patiently for the woman who should bruise the serpent’s head as God had promised.” But then also think about this:

You read in Judges the story of Jael and Sisera, and there is no way that Gen. 3 does not come to mind.

Judges 5:23-27 (ESV) 23 “Curse Meroz, says the angel of the LORD, curse its inhabitants thoroughly, because they did not come to the help of the LORD, to the help of the LORD against the mighty. 24 “Most blessed of women be Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite, of tent-dwelling women most blessed. 25 He asked for water and she gave him milk; she brought him curds in a noble’s bowl. 26 She sent her hand to the tent peg and her right hand to the workmen’s mallet; she struck Sisera; she crushed his head; she shattered and pierced his temple. 27 Between her feet he sank, he fell, he lay still; between her feet he sank, he fell; where he sank, there he fell--dead.

Says the angel of the Lord! That is, the words “Most blessed of women be Jael” are words from an angel! She proved to be the unlikely instrument through whom God wrought a great salvation in Israel, as the angel made this clear in the song, and she did so by crushing the enemy’s head.

Then, of course, there’s another text along similar lines. This one from the Apocrypha. A woman again, this time Judith, triumphs over the enemy by…removing his head! (You noting a pattern?) As she carries General Holoferenes’ head back to Uzziah, the old man says to her: “O daughter, you are blessed by the Most High above all women on earth!” (Judith 13:18) A woman again became the unlikely instrument through whom God wrought a great salvation.

NOW you go to Luke 1:28 (reading with the Majority Text), and another Angel, Gabriel, announces to Mary that she is “blessed among women” and later Elizabeth will declare the same (Luke 1:42). That should make Satan VERY nervous about the state of his head!

With this declaration, and the connection to the Judith and Jael, you can see why Western art pictures the Blessed Virgin stomping on the serpent’s head and crushing it. Of course, she does in very different way from her two predecessors among womanly blessedness with their bloody violence; Mary simply does it by speaking her fiat to God and then by giving birth to her Son, giving birth to the One Human that Satan never could and never would get his claws into. 

If you ever want to understand Satan’s hatred of women and children, it takes its origin right here. He knows through whom he was defeated. A mother and her Child.

An unobserved anniversary

The day was June 15 back in 2004. That was the day I began this blog. So the old thing has been around for 20 years! I almost killed it off a time or two, but I didn’t have the heart. It still provides a place for me to share my writings on this or that in a most simple way. Belated happy birthday, ye olde Blog!

A Beautiful Our Father Reflection…

…from my friend and poet, Pr. Harvey Mozolak:

Our “Our Father” prayer is a prayer spread out in eternity, a merciful map surveyed and read by the Father who in the Son is the truthful, living Way--  

Jesus’ tongue heard before it is voiced, understood in today’s need for bread and hungers even unappreciated, it is spoken by saints long dead and baptized infants too young to know words and even from the lips of those not yet conceived. 

We offer it for all of the holy catholic and apostolic Church of all time and places as the kingdom bought in forgiveness. 

Christendom’s pilgrims in their long line from Eden barred to Eden released in the resurrection is blessed from earth to heaven in the hallowing of the Lord God’s name. 

Temptation, trial and evil are routed in the procession of the Spirit’s deep, groaning power anthemed as an unending Amen in glory.

And…

…the men won both games. About time!

The way a crazy mind works…

…. Truth is, I have an order that I like to do things in. I get set in my ways. Yesterday, Dave needed a hand early in the morning, and so Cindi headed over to help him. We’d started breakfast, but we just put it on hold. And so I waited and didn’t do much of anything besides making sure the steak got taken out and the pan for the eggs was turned off. I did look at the phone a little bit. Cindi made it home and we resumed right where we had left off with our normal routine. And then I didn’t really have time to do my workout or puzzles as I usually do. So I decided to skip workout for the day. I was taking a walk later when it hit me what an absolute idiot I was not to just do the workout while Cindi was gone. It never even occurred to me! I mean, that would require shuffling my routine. Good gravy! How pathetic is that? Well, at least I hope I have stored it in the old brain: “your schedule is not written in stone like the Holy Ten Commandments; you can change it to work better with your day.” I’m going to say this to myself repeatedly until it finally sinks in. 

Installation of Pastor René Castillero…

 …as associate pastor and headmaster of St. Paul’s Hamel. And Kantor outdid herself (again): timpani, trumpet, violins, violas, cello, bells, children’s choir and adult choir on Bach’s “Who Puts His Trust in God Most High” and “Thee, Lord, Would I Serve.” Oh, and there was “smells, bells, and yells” too (incense, bell at the consecration, and chanting). Liturgy was the Common Service, of course, with propers for Christian Education. 

To watch FB video, click here.

We’ve had a plenty of these days lately…

…but the spell seems to have ended and the heat to have returned. Still, when we have those clear June days, I cannot but remember my mother reciting James Russell Lowell’s “And What is So Rare as a Day in June?”

And what is so rare as a day in June?

Then, if ever, come perfect days;

Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune,

And over it softly her warm ear lays:

Whether we look, or whether we listen,

We hear life murmur, or see it glisten;

Every clod feels a stir of might,

An instinct within it that reaches and towers,

And, groping blindly above it for light,

Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers;

The flush of life may well be seen

Thrilling back over hills and valleys;

The cowslip starlets in meadows green,

The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice,

And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean

To be some happy creature's palace;

The little bird sits at his door in the sun,

Atilt like a blossom among the leaves,

And lets his illumined being o'errun

With the deluge of summer it receives;

His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings,

And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings;

He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest,--

In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best?

Now is the high-tide of the year,

And whatever of life hath ebbed away

Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer,

Into every bare inlet and creek and bay;

Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it,

We are happy now because God wills it;

No matter how barren the past may have been,

'Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green;

We sit in the warm shade and feel right well

How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell;

We may shut our eyes but we cannot help knowing

That skies are clear and grass is growing;

The breeze comes whispering in our ear,

That dandelions are blossoming near,

That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing,

That the river is bluer than the sky,

That the robin is plastering his house hard by;

And if the breeze kept the good news back,

For our couriers we should not lack;

We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing,--

And hark! how clear bold chanticleer,

Warmed with the new wine of the year,

Tells all in his lusty crowing!

Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how;

Everything is happy now,

Everything is upward striving;

'Tis as easy now for the heart to be true

As for grass to be green or skies to be blue,--

'Tis for the natural way of living:

Who knows whither the clouds have fled?

In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake,

And the eyes forget the tears they have shed,

The heart forgets its sorrow and ache;

The soul partakes the season's youth,

And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe

Lie deep 'neath a silence pure and smooth,

Like burnt-out craters healed with snow.

Photo by my brother Butch in Idaho

 

Well, I am a poorer man…

…but at least now the power is on for good. We just had a whole-house Generac installed. I read somewhere that it actually increases the value of the house by about 5%. I expected it to be noisier in the house when it was running, but it wasn’t bad at all. So, the next time a raccoon or squirrel decides to fry itself around here, I can STILL enjoy my coffee and heat or AC. Cindi thinks it’s about the freezer and the sump; it’s really ALL about the coffee. 

Yet Another Gem…

…from my dear friend, Kurt Reinhardt, inspired by some reading he was doing in Cardinal Bona. 

Our Sins and Misery Are All 

Our sins and misery are all 

That we can call our own.

For ev’ry other work or thing

Is ours by grace alone.

Our faults and failings we can claim;

From You they do not flow.

Our wretchedness is also ours;

For it You did not sow.

You are the Author in our lives

of all that’s good or grand.

All that is praiseworthy in us

Is penned by Your great hand.

Since You alone are truly good,

All good must come from You.

Since we are sinful to the core,

We sin in all we do.

Forgive and save us, Gracious Lord, 

From all that we can claim,

And fill our lives in ev’ry way

With all that bears Your name.

On Tea and Coffee

I was experiencing some health issues a while ago that led me to eliminating my most beloved beverage: coffee. It was hard, but I did it. I gave up all caffeinated drinks for over six months upon my doctor’s advice. But then I decided in the winter to return to an old favorite: tea, something I also enjoy very much.

These days, mornings usually start out with several cups of my favorite: Irish Breakfast Tea. It’s strong, it’s rich, and it goes like a charm with, well, breakfast! Who’d a thunk? So I’m typically enjoying it with my steak, eggs, and bacon. By late morning, I usually want a change from that robust flavor and opt for the more delicate Darjeeling, or very occasionally, an Earl Gray. At first, I was drinking them with a splash of raw milk, but we’ve stopped going to the dairy to pick that up, so now I’m drinking them straight (though very occasionally will add a bit of cream). 

Growing up, my mom was always the tea drinker. She had numerous cups each day. Sadly, though, she used to fix it with hot tap water and stir in no less than three heaping teaspoons of sugar per cup. Her favorite was Red Rose (and I was delighted when visiting Pr. Peters and family in Canada for them to serve us up some Red Rose after supper!). In mom’s case, I think it’s more accurate to say she liked sugar than that she liked tea. I am not sure she ever tasted a plain, unsweetened cup of tea in her life. That’s a pity, since it is quite satisfying in its own right. And for some reason (even with the caffeine) I find it to be utterly calming.

After over half a year off the java, I have cautiously added back in a SINGLE cup of joe a day, and have not had any of the health issues recur. So I’m keeping it at that. Limiting the coffee, I find I look forward to it more than ever. I plop in a pat of Irish butter, put a metal mesh cone on top of my cup (same cup that the tea was in earlier), line it with an unbleached filter, and then put in two small scoops freshly ground organic coffee beans from Peru (thank you Aldi!). After the cup is full, I dump it into a metal blender and mix it well. It comes out frothy and delicious, and I pour it right back into the cup.

Now, if tea was always mom’s beverage, daddy was the coffee drinker. He usually had a couple cups to start the day - back in those days, it was a percolator that brewed the beverage and it sat on the breakfast table. He fixed it with half and half and some sugar (not as much by a long shot as mom used in her tea). He must have had a shaky hand, because I remember his saucer always had a bit of coffee in it. That’s how I learned to drink coffee. I sipped the cooled stuff he had spilled and found that I liked it. As in, a lot! I used to drink it that same way until I went to Concordia College, Bronxville, where I made the happy discover that if there were no sugar in the cup and you spilled it on your hand rushing from class to class, it wasn’t sticky! Thereafter, I came to mostly drink it black. And drank it in great excess. Before the doc ordered me off of it, I was regularly downing two to three POTS of the stuff a day, not counting stopping at every Starbucks I passed! 

So these days, I’m loving my tea (about four cups a day) and enjoying that single cup of joe, and am grateful to God for them both! 

Want a taste of Making the Case?

Check out last year’s hymn sing at CUC!

Happy 42nd Anniversary to us…

 

Sadly, Three of my groomsmen are now dead: Maup, Bob, Joe.

Been a wild and crazy ride! But wouldn’t have it any other way. Here’s to my best buddy since Jr. High: thank you for saying “yes”!