Bishop Knisely's Christmas Sermon

First posted on Bishop Knisely's blog 

Having just returned to the Northeast from the Southwest, it’s not the change in temperature or weather that has been the most striking. It’s the change in the length of and the darkness of the night. In the Southwest, we lived significantly closer to the equator, and being in Arizona, we didn’t “do” daylight savings time. That meant that the days and nights tended to be more the same length all throughout the year. There were no long, long summer nights and there were no short, short winter days. But having arrived in Rhode Island this fall, I’ve noticed that the sun sets much much earlier than I’m used to, and if the day is overcast – which it frequently is – what passes for daylight at this time of year is more like an extended twilight. There have a been a few days this December that I’ve found myself doubting that the sun rose at all – perhaps it’s just spent the day sliding along the southern sky, dropping back below the horizon at some point in the mid-afternoon.

But we didn’t just live in Arizona, we lived in downtown Phoenix – which is, by it’s own accounting – the fourth largest city in the United States. Even after the sunset the sky hardly ever got dark. The desert night was lit with the orange glow of the city lights – and stayed lit through out the year. You could see the moon, but few, if any stars on a typical night.

That’s not at all what I’ve experienced here along the coast in Rhode Island. Sure you can see the lights of Providence to the North, but looking to the South, the sky is as dark as any I’ve seen in a very long time. It’s both glorious and somewhat disconcerting to me.

We are just now past the darkest part of the year. It’s possible, if you pay very close attention to such things, to see that the days are now growing very slightly longer. The sun (when you can see it) is rising a moment or two earlier and setting a few moments later. But only people who know to look for such things can tell that the light is returning – having spent the season of summer and fall fading from the sky. And I suppose, as we stand at the gateway to winter, it can be hard to imagine the long midsummer nights that we expect to return – even as they are.

There’s an old chestnut – it’s always darkest before the dawn. I’m not sure that the saying is literally true, but in terms of our feelings and emotions, I certainly have found it to be exactly so.

As I meditate about darkness and the long dark nights of New England, and I see a sort of parallel in what we all are experiencing in our common life together. This has not been an easy time for our community. We’ve endured a nor’easter and a “super-storm” within weeks of each other, we watched our state unemployment rate refuse to drop while other states begin to finally fall, we learned that we are near last in terms of many measures of what makes a region desirable – and we’re one of only two states in the country to lose population recently.

It’s been a tough time for our common life as citizens of these United States as well – we’ve been through a divisive election that doesn’t seem to have settled anything in particular – we’re still waiting for the national economic recovery we’ve been promised, and we’ve been shocked by mass shootings that seem to be happening at random month by month across this land. It seems we’re just finished mourning one group of victims when the news comes of another, even more horrific set of killings in another part of the country.
And that’s just what I see in the larger picture here in the state and the nation. The world-wide picture isn’t much better. And I’m guessing that most of you here tonight have had to endure any number of shocks and blows these past few years. It’s been a hard time. A time when the darkness seems deep and often impenetrable. A time when it can get harder and harder to believe in the miracle of the birth of God in our midst, or that the light has come into the world, and will come again. In times like these, for many in the diocese, perhaps for many of you in this congregation tonight, believing in the promise that “all manner of things will be well” is more an act of spiritual discipline than a joyful response to what we are witnessing unfolding before our eyes.

When faith becomes a discipline, a thing to be stubbornly lived out rather than a gracious and overwhelming gift, it’s hard to find joy. It’s hard to remember that we are people, who above all others, have reason to HOPE.

But this is not the first time the gathered people of God have found themselves in such a moment in our history. Nor, sadly, do I think it will be the last. In the dark times of Israel under Roman occupation, the tribes scattered around the Mediterranean basin lost hope that God would act decisively on their behalf. In the final days leading up to the miraculous and longed for coming of the world’s Messiah which we remember this night, there was just a faithful remnant who still believed, who still longed and who still were keeping watch in the night. It was just as Isaiah prophesied in the 10th and 11th chapters of that great collection of prophecies, and yet I doubt that the people of the time of Jesus’ birth in Bethlehem imagined that they themselves were the people of those prophecies, or that they were the ones who were going to be witnesses to the fulfillment of the plan of salvation. And yet they were, and they did. God broke into their lives, into the life of the World that night and nothing has ever been the same for them, for us and for the World ever since.

Those faithful people, surprised by the events of that moment, were, most significantly in a spiritual sense, standing in long tradition of people who kept faith with God – that God had promised and that God’s promises were sure and trustworthy. They happened to be the ones who witnessed the fulfillment, but more fundamentally, they were part of the great host of people who had gone before and who have since come after, who have had the audacity to trust and believe against all reason that what God had done once in history, God would do again.
These faithful people, Zechariah and Elizabeth, Mary and Joseph, Simeon, and Anna the daughter of Phanuel – and those unnamed in St. Luke’s telling of the tale – like Ezra and Nehemiah, and Judas Maccabeaus, and those who come afterwards: St. Benedict, St. Francis, St. Julian of Norwich, Fr. Pusey and more, and all those we each remember with gratitude in our own hearts; were people that trusted, who had faith, that the light would dawn again. The are, and were, the people who believing in the light, became lights of their own to their day and their time. They became the lights of the world that shone forth in the darkness and gave Hope to those who’s hope had failed.

I think of their unbroken march of faith, of their witness to their own peoples, of the way their lives serve as ornaments to the tree of family of God when I see a Christmas tree dressed in finery and beautiful decorations in every Christmastide. The many faceted glass decorations, the tinsel that sparkles as it catches the light, the lights themselves that illumine and call forth the inner beauty of the tree have all become, for me, pointers, signs and signals to the more glorious, and wild beauty, of march of the faithful sainted remnant of God’s people.

One of the great gifts of Anglican spirituality – of the Episcopal Church in our case – to this moment – is our peculiar focus on the Incarnation of God in Creation and the implications that event and process has on our spirituality. We have a grand tradition of delighting in finding deeper meaning in things, whether it is in the symbolism of furnishings of the altar, the physical gestures we make in our prayers or the common homely traditions of our holidays. And I believe I stand entirely within this earthy, homely tradition of spirituality based in the Incarnation as I invite you to see our seasonal observances through such a lens.
But the ornaments of the tree, of the season are more than just pointers to people who believed in the promise. They are also heralds to us, and to those who have eyes to see, of the fulfillment of that promise as it happened on a particular night so long ago. It’s their pointing to what has happened and what is yet to come that makes them so profoundly moving to me when I see them again each year – and seeing them as signs and symbols of the life of the faithful people of God arranged on our family tree – reminds me that I must never lose my hope in them, in our time, or in our God.

And going one step further, I remind myself of my, our own, particular calling to take our place among them. Because that is why we gather tonight. To join that merry throng – that witnessed once and again and again that Mary and Joseph are come to Bethlehem – and in the darkness of that night, of this night, the Child that we have longed for was born to us and to the world.

You and I are called to be signs of the promise ourselves – to be little lights to the world that in the long darkness of these nights struggles to continue to believe in the dawn. We must take our place in that long train of witness because, without such witness, there comes despair.

How important is it for us to be signs? More than we often recognize. Because in taking up our task, we can be the light that breaks into the deepest darkness of human experience. Do you remember the story of the Christmas Truce?

When women’s groups and the fifteenth Pope Benedict asked the French, British and German governments to observe a day of truce on Christmas in 1914, the leaders of the war effort refused. But the matter didn’t end there. While similar events apparently took place up and down the western lines that Christmas Eve in 1914, the first truce broke out in the lines near Ypres. German troops began to decorate their trenches as darkness fell that night. They lit candles along their trenches and on their make-shift Christmas trees. Inspired by the decorations they had placed, they began to sing Christmas carols. British troops, in the trenches on the other side of no-man’s land, began to sing English carols in response. Eventually, as the darkness deepened that night, a few soldiers ventured up out of the trenches and made their way toward their enemies. The combatants met in the middle, framed by the lights of Christmas with carols sounding in the night. They exchanged presents and it’s said even the odd soccer game was begun as dawn began to break.

Though the generals looked on with great alarm, throughout the rest of Christmas day the enemies remembered that they were in fact cousins, with many shared customs and beliefs. And when eventually ordered, at gunpoint by their own officers, back into their respective trenches to return to the deadly work of the battle of attrition, those men remembered that time-out-of-time that they had shared with their foes.

How extraordinary that events of that night, now remembered in movies, songs and countless books, began by starting to light candles against the dark. Those Christmas lights, those decorations, recalled warring peoples to their senses and for the brief time they were allowed, they honored humanities better angels.
A dear bishop of mine once charged me, as one of his priests, to remember that, in a day such as ours, it is enough for the Church to recall that we are to sing Christmas Carols in the darkness of a culture and community that seems to prefer to war with itself rather than to strive for the common good. I’ve never forgotten that charge. And on nights like this, in days such as these, I recognize the wisdom of this words.

And so, this Christmas Eve in 2012, as I stand here among you as your new bishop, I ask everyone of you here, whether you are a member of this church, a friend, or a seeker after truth, to go out from this place proclaiming Christmas with all your might. The light HAS come into the world. The world now, and forever will, shines with the glow of the Christ child, the angels who announced his birth, and the joy of his family.
Keep Christmas well these next twelve days. Proclaim the angel chorus as best you can with whatever voice and instrument God has given into your care.

Light your candles, trim your trees, lift your voices in song. Help this world remember what has happened, and what is yet to come. Help the children of Abraham to remember whose they are and their high and glorious calling. Help the world to see, in our joy, a promise of what might be.

We are called to be light for the world. We are called to be a sign of the light that has come and will come again. We are sent out into the world as heralds of the Hope that the Prince of Peace gives as the gift to celebrate his coming.

Do you remember earlier when I mentioned the days are growing brighter, but it’s very hard to notice unless you’re looking? That most people just know that the darkness has come and are not aware that the light is once again winning its yearly battle?

We are the people who have noticed the light coming back into the word. We gather in the darkness of this night to bear witness to the light. We are sent out to be the heralds of the dawn.

May God give you the will and the means to be angels bringing hope to all who seek the light in the darkness.
Amen.

Tips & Resources for Talking to Kids About Tragedy

This afternoon The Rev. Linda L. Grenz, Canon to the Ordinary, sent out a document called "Talking with children about Tragedy", courtesy of LeaderResources.

We recommend you take a look whether you are a parent, clergy person, lay leader, teacher, or someone who interacts with children on a regular basis. When tragedies such as the shooting in Newtown Connecticut happen, it is difficult to know what to say to our little ones. Even so, it's important that we adults be able to answer their questions at their level, and be able to help them process thoughts, fears, and emotions in a healthy way.

Letter from Bishop Knisely: The Tragedy in Newtown, CT

From a letter sent this afternoon:

Dear clergy and people of Rhode Island;

We are all struggling to make sense of what is, at its heart, a senseless act of violence. I invite those who wish, to add the following collect to your prayers in the Episcopal churches of Rhode Island this Sunday. It is based on the collect for the observance of the deaths of the Holy Innocents (Dec. 28)

We remember this day, O God, the slaughter of the innocent victims of violence in Newtown Connecticut. Receive, we pray, into the arms of your mercy all innocent victims; and by your great might frustrate the designs of the doers of evil and establish your rule of justice, love and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you in unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. AMEN.

You are in my prayers as you work with your congregations in light of this tragic news. May God give you wisdom to proclaim hope in the darkness as you enter the pulpit this Sunday.

+Nicholas

Convention 2012: Bishop's Address

As I stand here and address this 222nd Diocesan Convention I’m aware of the great march of history that these meetings have represented, and how little of that history I share with all of you. Just two weeks ago I was in an upper room at St. George’s school sitting with a host of bishops nervously waiting for call to start the procession into the main room. Walking into that space was an experience that I’m still processing, and one that I expect I’ll be reflecting on for a long time.  It was the culmination of over a year’s discernment on both of our parts and the beginning of what I pray will be a long and happy shared ministry together.

I’ve been here in the state for three months as of this morning. For most of that time I have been learning about you, about the history and traditions of the diocese and about the amazing resources that you share and that you are. I wish I had the ability to tell you how extraordinary you all are, how inspiring your passion for God is and how much affection people have for all of you across the Episcopal Church. But I’ve gotten to know you all well enough in this short time to know that you’re already wondering who I’m talking about when I say this, and just what it is that I’d be going on about.

While this year of search, discernment and transition is growing to a close, I don’t think that the processes that brought us all to this moment have ended, and I don’t imagine that they will any time soon. There’s much we need to learn about each other, and more importantly, there’s much we need to learn about the world that is changing at an ever increasing pace all around us. I hope you’ll agree to keep walking with me on this journey, keep struggling to hear that still small voice of the creator that fills all of creation, and continue to have enough faith to believe in an exciting future in spite of the so many very real fears that confront us.

I do have one special request. I’ve been a bishop now for just under two weeks. As you listen to what I say this morning, and as you seek to tease out any hidden meanings, I’d ask that you keep in mind that short two week period. There are things that are still very new to me. Like being called “bishop”… I keep looking around to see who’s come into the room when people say that. I know that I will make mistakes in the first year, and that I will do things that will be interpreted to mean something that I didn’t intend them to be. And I expect you might do the same with me. That you will say things and do things that I will misunderstand. We both bring a lifetime’s worth of experiences with the church and with other bishops, to this new relationship or ours. Perhaps if we can both keep in mind that we’re all new at this, we can try hard to see what is happening and not read into a word or a moment more than is really present. This is a spiritual discipline I mean for both myself and all of you; and it’s something that I’ve learned is an excellent for all groups of people entering into new relationships with each other - both in parochial ministry and in everyday life.
At any rate, I’ll try and I hope you will too.

I have so many thank you’s to share that if I tried to just mention every one by name, we wouldn’t be out of here until next week. It’s been an amazing year and it’s been filled to the bursting with amazing people. My first contact with the Diocese of Rhode Island came when Lora MacFall contacted me to say that my name had been nominated as part of the bishop search and that if I was willing, she had some questions she’s like me to answer. Little did I expect where that would lead. And little did I expect how much respect, gratitude and even awe I now hold in my heart toward her. I suspect that the entire search and transition committee would join me in all of that. But Lora would be very quick to point out that she was not alone in the task that you all undertook, and so I want to say thank you both personally and on behalf of this entire convention to everyone who was a part of the search and transition process - as a member of the committees, as someone who helped out in a specific way or was willing to enter into the discernment process as a fellow participant. Thank you for all the late nights, the difficult decisions, the faithful actions and willingness to open yourselves up to God’s action in our community.

I want to say thank you as well to all the people who participated in the ordination service two weeks ago. I have heard again and again from people that it was a moving, beautiful and deeply prayerful experience. I know as a liturgist that such things don’t just happen. There were months of planning that went into the event, there were thousands of volunteers and tens of thousands of hours of work that made it possible for everything to seem to happen so effortlessly.
Thank you!

You should know that the Presiding Bishop remarked repeatedly on how well organized the whole event was and how thoughtfully prepared the liturgy and participants were. Thank you to the many people who traveled from across the country to be a part of the day, and who made the event a memory that I shall cherish the rest of my life. Thank you to my new colleagues in the house of bishops who made it here on that holiday travel week. And thank you to many musicians, acolytes and clergy who participated by offering their special gifts in service to our diocese.

The Presiding Bishop, in addition to praising the work of the Transition committee, was also clear that we all owe a debt of thanks to Bishop Wolf and her staff for the work they did to make this entire transition go as smoothly as it did. As one who was intimately involved in this process, I can testify that the 12th bishop was determined that the 13th bishop would have full access to whatever he needed to get started in this new ministry as quickly and as effectively as possible. Likewise the diocesan staff has been wonderfully helpful in making this transition work. From little things like making sure I knew how to find my way around the state to big things like helping to figure out how to get Linda Grenz on the staff as quickly as possible.

Just as I owe thanks to the diocesan staff, I owe thanks to the entire diocese. You all have welcomed me and my family warmly into yours. I have been stunned by the warmth and generosity of your welcome. You have made it very hard for me to believe in the myth of the taciturn yankees of Southern New England. The people I have met have been hospitable, generous, kind, and funny. I’m grateful that I am going to get to spend a very long time in your company.

I want to take a moment to thank the people of Arizona too. So many of you have asked me how the transition of moving from Arizona to Rhode Island was going, worried that I was going to be surprised by the cold and the rain. The people of Arizona know that it was actually the other way around. Moving there six years ago, I had to learn to manage with the heat, the dust and a much spicier menu than my PA dutch palate was used to eating. But they welcomed me into their community and put up with my very eastern ways. (Apparently most people don’t wear blue oxfords and dock-siders in the desert…) When I told them that I had been elected to serve as the 13th bishop of Rhode Island, they were as generous in saying good bye as they had been in saying hello. The cross I wear around my neck is a present from that congregation and some of the vestments that I was presented with at my ordination were purchased for our use by their donations.

Finally, in this long list of thank you’s I want to thank my family, my daughter Kenney and my wife Karen. It’s no small thing to have to uproot your life because someone you love has been called by God to serve in new place and in a new way. But that has happened six times including the initial trip to seminary. Karen and Kenney have handled each of the transitions in a way that gives witness to their deep faith in God and their willingness to answer God’s call to them.

I’m sure by now a number of you have wondered about my vision for the Diocese of Rhode Island. It’s a question that I expected to be explicitly asked by the search and nomination committee and one that I recall coming up as part of the walk-about interviews last spring. My answer now is the same as it was then. I’m not convinced that it is proper, much less effective, for the two week old bishop of a diocese to tell the diocese where they are to aim themselves. I just don’t believe it is effective at the diocesan level because I’ve not found it to be completely effective at the parish level as I’ve participated in early stages of transition.

Rather I believe it is important for the leadership of a community to learn to listen to the diverse voices within a community and then to reflect back to them what is being heard. Once the community recognizes their own voice - as their leader expresses their hopes and dreams as a people - they are ready to do the work of planning how to achieve what they are describing.
I do have some areas that I believe we must focus on within our diocesan life. As you’ve probably already noticed, I hold leadership development among the young people of the diocese to be a high priority. I also believe we need to be even more effective in communicating to the people of this state than we already are. But those are my personal goals and things that I will work to support during my time as your bishop.

But the vision of the diocese is yours to determine.

So in the coming year or so, I hope you will see me doing a lot of listening. I probably won’t be doing all that much talking. That can be unsettling if you’re not used to it. I’ve seen communities become concerned that there’s a hidden agenda since they don’t see one being revealed as quickly as they’d like. But I think it’s important to remember that you and I have time. God willing I’ll be your bishop something like the next 15 years, perhaps more. We don’t have to do everything overnight. We’re blessed to be in a place where we are, for the most part, not being dictated to by a series of urgent crises demanding a response. We are in a place where we can be strategic in our decision making, and I think it’s important for us to appreciate what this means.

So how will I listen? You have my email address: nick@episcopalri.org - or Nicholas or bishop or whatever else you can find on the web. They all work, and they all come directly to me. I do want to hear from you - particularly those of you in this room today. You are the elected and ordained leadership of the diocese and in my servant ministry among you, I need to hear your voices.
But it’s not just email. I’ll be trying to show up in your parishes over the next few years. Sometimes just to spend time with you. Sometimes as part of a formal visitation. Sometimes because you’ve invited me and I want to make that a priority. And I’ll try to hang out with you at coffee hour, and before and after the service. Talking directly with the people we serve is one of the best parts of being a member of clergy, and I don’t intend to miss out on the good stuff.

A number of you have contacted me on Facebook and on twitter. I’ve already gotten a reputation as being the “digital bishop” or the bishop of social media. (Remind me to say a special thanks to Bishop Kirk Smith for that… heh.) I do all that to be accessible to you. But I do it just as much because I want to hear your voices as much as I can. And I want to hear the voices of the other people in the state - the people who are not part of the Episcopal Church but who are searching to hear the Good News that God loves us and that God has been faithful to us even when we didn’t always reciprocate.
And then in the next couple of years, I’m going to start reflecting back to you what I’m hearing. And asking you to tell me if it seems genuine. And then together we are going to figure out what we need to do to get to where we believe God is calling us to be.

I admit that there’s one common thing I’ve been hearing already - and which I’m already ready to reflect back to you. And that is your concern about the future of St. John’s Cathedral church in Providence. From the moment it was announced that I had been nominated, I’ve been asked what was going to be done about the Cathedral. When the services at St. John’s were suspended last spring, the number of questions increased. And after I was elected, it’s been hard to have a conversation, an interview, or even just walk along Benefit Street in Providence, without having someone ask me about the Cathedral. As I’ve started to spend Sunday mornings with you, or meet clergy and leaders at deanery events, the same question is raised.
So, I get it. This is a big concern for all of you.

And the most common concern I hear raised is that people don’t feel that they were given a chance to participate in the decision making process. For some the news that the Cathedral was going to have its services suspended came as a complete surprise. For others it was a disappointing but not surprising announcement even if it the timing was unanticipated. And for some, who did participate in the decision making process, there’s surprise that any of this was a surprise.

The upshot from where I stand, is that the process by which this particular decision was made did not have much buy-in from the community. And that is why the community (both of the Cathedral itself but also of the diocese and the neighborhood around St. John’s) is struggling to understand what happened.
The good news is that the way the decision was made has left us an opportunity to revisit it - though to be honest the challenges facing the Cathedral are in some ways greater now that it has stood vacant and unused for the past six months.

But we can revisit the decision, and hopefully construct a different kind of process that will allow us to have a greater participation and buy-in once it comes to a conclusion.

So, all that said, with your consent, I am calling for the creation of a special ad-hoc task force to look at the ministry and property of St. John’s Episcopal Cathedral in Providence with the goal of reporting back to the 223rd Diocesan Convention a set of options for that convention to consider. I would hope that the committee to be made up of clergy and lay leaders of the diocese, of the former members of the Cathedral community and of the wider community of Providence would describe each option and list as much as possible what resources would be needed to act on any one of them. I envision a task force of something like a dozen people who would report regularly on their progress and process to Diocesan Council during the next year. I would like to present a list of names for the Task Force to the Diocesan Council for their consent at their January meeting.

At the presentation of their report, the task force will be disbanded. This is a different group than the existing Chapter of the Cathedral - which was appointed to a two year term this past July by Bishop Wolf, but which to my knowledge has not subsequently met. It is different than the Cathedral Corporation, who held the endowments of the Cathedral prior to returning them to the Chapter. But I expect that the task force will include members of the Chapter going forward.

A relatively well know  Chicago politician has been known to remark that it is a shame to ever waste a moment such as we have arrived at with the Cathedral. It seems to me that we are given the gift of an opportunity to learn a new way to make decisions as a community going forward. And that opportunity is too precious a thing to not be taken seriously.

I hope that you will not object to this proposal, and that in about a year’s time you will be ready to make some hard decisions about how we are going to use the assets that have been given to us in our moment of leadership to continue to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus as we move forward into the three hundredth year of ministry at the corner of Church Street and North Main.

There was another common question that I was repeatedly asked during the walk-abouts at St. Andrew’s last May. That was what I would do about allowing for a generous pastoral response to people in same-sex relationships who are active in the Episcopal Church, and who ask for the Episcopal Church’s blessing on their intention to live into a covenant of lifelong, monogamous, mutual loving relationships. I said then that I intended to vote for such legislation at General Convention this past summer, and given that it would be hypocritical for me, should I be elected bishop to block such blessings going forward.

I was indeed elected, and I did intend to vote in favor. But the vote came to the House of Deputies days after I resigned my seat in that body and had been seated as bishop-elect in the House of Bishops. But both houses of General Convention did vote in the affirmative by significant majorities to approve the provisional use of blessing liturgies for, in case of Rhode Island, same-sex couples entering into civil partnerships here in Rhode Island or a marriage in one of our neighboring states. I am going to give permission, indeed I have already done so in one case for a couple desiring a ceremony later this month.
But my giving of this permission represents a significant change in policy for the Diocese of Rhode Island. While Bishop Wolf did vote in favor of the blessing liturgies at General Convention, she did not allow such services to take place. That means that we don’t have the infrastructure that I believe we need to have moving forward. Because of that, I am going to create a small task force to work with me in December and January to quickly create guidelines for use by congregations in the diocese who wish to offer this pastoral office to their members.

There are a few questions that need to be decided. How do we make the decision that a parish would like to offer this ministry? I would strongly urge, in fact I have already required, that the vestry or bishop’s committee pass a resolution expressing their support of the offering of blessings to be communicated, along with a letter from the rector or priest in charge, before the first blessing takes place. No priest is required to perform a blessing service, and the legislation enacted at General Convention was very clear that there must be no penalty for a member of the clergy who’s conscience will not allow them to do so. Similarly, because the blessings take place in the context of a worshiping community, it seems important to me to know that the community in who’s presence these blessings are going to occur is committed to supporting the couple.

If a parish and priest decide to take up this ministry of blessing, what expectations should we as a diocese place upon those coming seeking the blessing? What requirements should there be for pre-blessing counseling? What requirements are most helpful in the case of a prior divorce? What resources shall we provide if there are children who will be living with their parents in a civil partnership? What extra legal resources must we be careful to discuss with the couple, given the present difference between civil partnerships and marriage here in Rhode Island, and in Federal law?

Many of the questions have been anticipated, and resources are provided in the official materials approved at General Convention. In addition, the Diocese of Rhode Island is part of Province One of the Episcopal Church and many of our sibling dioceses have had long experience with answering these questions and have shared that experience with us already. So the time to create the guidelines shouldn’t be longer than a month or two I would imagine. And again, in keeping with the recognition that Diocesan Council is the Diocesan Convention meeting in recess, I would like to bring the guidelines that are created to Council for their approval. Having received that approval, I will authorize them to be used by any parish or mission that formally requests to do so.

For those who have waited so long, I apologize that you must wait just a little while longer. But I believe it is important that in a matter like this that we have a chance to have a broad a consultation as possible (albeit quickly). I’ve only been your bishop for two weeks now, and as I mentioned, this represents a significant change in policy for our diocese. But if there is a pastoral necessity that arises here or there in the next two months, I will be happy to talk directly with the responsible clergy directly. As I mentioned, I have already done so.

On the topic of clergy… I have begun a conversation with the members of the Commission on MInistry. There are, as you might expect by this point in my address, going to be some changes in the process we use to discern ordained ministry and in the way it is expressed in the Diocese of Rhode Island. The first and most immediate is that I will be talking with them about guidelines for the recruitment of more deacons to serve in our parishes and ministries around our state. We will be talking about what the ministry of deacon might look like here in Rhode Island and what it is we as a people need to be able lift up women and men to serve as exemplars and living icons of servant ministry in our midst.

We (the COM and I) have already committed ourselves to a conversation about the ministry of the priesthood in the 21st century as well. While the classic vision of parochial ministry will still be with us, and still be an important part of our common life, there is a need for new forms and new sorts of preparation for priestly ministry in Rhode Island. And as we begin to share consensus on what that will be, we will need to begin to recruit new leaders who we believe have been uniquely gifted by God for that new sort of role.

I expect we will be issuing new guidelines about the schedule and structure of the process of discernment for ordained ministry as well. I believe the most effective discernment of ministry takes place in the person’s local community with their local clergy and fellow parishioners. I believe we will move toward a strengthening of that role going forward.

You should expect to hear news from my office in the next months about the ministry of the existing deacons of the diocese. I believe the Episcopal Church, particularly in Rhode Island, is poised to enter a period of growth and expansion. Indeed I am already hearing from a number of you about new people expressing interest in your communities, in growing children’s formation programs and in crowded worship spaces. Hallelujah! We will need workers to go into the vineyard as quickly as we can find them. But it would be shame to miss opportunities because we didn’t believe we had the resources we needed. I am hoping that the deacons and I will come to a common mind on how to respond to this need in the short term.
Like I said, stay tuned.

And finally, a common question I was asked prior and immediately following my consecration was “What do you want us to call you?” My response has been that I don’t have a particular title in mind, but that I’m fascinated to discover what the community will bestow upon me. Well that question seems to have been quickly answered. Bishop Smith called me the “Digital Bishop” in his sermon at my ordination, and local news and radio reporters have picked up on that theme. I was titled the “tweeting bishop” by Channel 12 in their promo the other evening of a TV interview I did with them on my use of social media.

Digital Bishop and Tweeting bishop were not exactly the titles I had expected, but he who opens his mouth… must abide by the decisions of the community.
So if that’s how I’m to be known for the moment, then I intend to embrace the implications. I do think we as a people must learn to be able to share the gospel with people around us in a way that shows them the same dazzling richness of God’s love that brought each one of us to this particular place. As a few people have quipped, “your tweet today might be the only gospel someone will hear.” Or your Facebook status, or blog post, or newspaper article or…

This is true for the clergy of the diocese in an obvious way simply by virtue of their having been set apart for the service of the Gospel. But it is just as, if not more true for the laity of the diocese because their voices have a unique power to speak to their neighbors without the overlay of stuff that often drowns out the voice of the clergy. I know for me it was the witness of my close friends that brought me back into the church when I was a student in Delaware all those years ago.

I’m hoping that in the coming years we will all build on the excellent foundation that has already been laid here in the Diocese of Rhode Island and continue to find new and compelling ways to share the Gospel with our neighbors. It’s not all social media you know. I’ve seen people use yard signs, use church socials, use beach cleanup events, use softball leagues, and even use coffee and donuts to effectively share the good news.

We are all called to be evangelists, and we all have exactly what we need to do what God asks of us. It’s going to be different for each one of us, but if we are faithful, we will be doing God’s will. We will share the vision of God’s dream for ourselves and our neighbors. We will take our place as missionaries and emissary’s a new and glorious way of living - and we will be doing this at a particular moment in history that I believe needs our voices as much as any we have experienced in our state’s history.

Thank you for calling me to labor beside you in this work. Thank you for gifting me and this community with all we will need to do what the tasks that God has set us to doing. Thank you for being courageous enough to live lives that witness to the hope that is in all of us.

Convention Evensong Sermon: St. Andrew's Day

The Rev. Linda L Grenz,
Diocese of RI Canon to the Ordinary

November 30th, 2012

I grew up on a farm in South Dakota where there is lots of land and not much water! We were farmers, tillers of the soil and not fishers in lakes. But every summer the day would come when my dad would declare that it was time for a vacation day. And yes, that meant a DAY, not a week or two. But we’d take a whole day off from work and all pile into the car and head off to a distant lake – to go fishing. My older brother hated fishing and I’m not sure what my mother and younger sister did, because dad and I were the fishers. We’d both happily head to the shores of some lake, slip an earthworm onto the hook, throw out the line – and then we’d sit on the shore and wait, and wait, and wait. Staring out across the water with an eye on the red and white bobber, waiting to see if some fish would take the bait.

Sometimes we got lucky and a couple of them would bite. Sometimes we went home empty handed, but it didn’t really matter. What fishing was for us was a day away from the hard work on the farm, a time to just sit in the sun, enjoy the peace and quiet, and do nothing.

That image of my dad and me, sitting on the lakeshore waiting for the fish to bite isn’t at all what the Andrew and his brother Peter were doing as fishers. We were recreational fishers. They were professionals. For them fishing was a job – and it was hard work, long hours, and a means of earning a living. They had to catch fish if they wanted to survive. We got to eat a fish if we happened to catch one.

I think we can learn something about life in the church and world today by looking at Andrew and his family of fishers, because I suspect that most of our churches today operate a lot more like my dad and me than like Andrew and his family.

When it comes to catching people for Christ, we’re recreational fishers. We sit in the warm sun, enjoying ourselves and occasionally throw a line into the water with a baited hook on it to see if someone might bite. An ad in the paper, a few posters promoting an event, a series of emails, a banner outside of our church. We toss out a line here and there and watch to see what happens, and mostly we despair of anyone taking the bait. We commiserate among ourselves about how church attendance is declining and how more and more people are choosing to declare themselves “spiritual but not religious.” We begin to think that the lack of hits on our fishing line is inevitable – that the fish just aren’t biting anymore.

I think that’s largely because we’re recreational fishers and aren’t fishing for a living. Andrew and Peter and their family weren’t throwing a couple of fishing lines into the lake – they got into a boat and tossed out huge nets. They were looking for big schools of fish where they could pull in hundreds, even thousands of fish at a time. They got up early in the morning and worked long and hard all day long. If they weren’t getting enough fish in their nets, they pulled up anchor and sailed to another place or threw the net over the other side of the boat. They went looking for where the fish were and pulled them into the boat.

“That’s a great image, Linda,” you say, “but where are the people who we can catch for Christ today? People don’t come to church anymore.”

You know, there’s another way to look at the situation today. When I was growing up, the town where we attended church had at least 90% of its residents in one of the churches on Sunday morning. The next closest town was about 40 miles away and it’s people were almost all going to church too. So there weren’t exactly a lot of fish to catch, so to speak.

But, our waters are teeming with fish! Rhode Island has one of the lowest church attendance rates in the nation. On any given Sunday morning, only about 25-30% of us are attending worship. That’s about 700,000 people in Rhode Island who aren’t in church on Sunday mornings. If we became fishers of people and only brought in 1% of those, that would more than double the size of the every church in the diocese.

The low church attendance rate in our state means there are a lot of people who aren’t part of a Christian community. There are tons of fish in the sea and lots and lots of people who are, at some level, longing to connect with God, eager to hear the Good News, or maybe just wanting something they can’t even name or identify.

Our problem is largely that we don’t see that and maybe we don’t even believe it. We’re recreational fishers and we’ve come to believe that there aren’t any fish in the lake because no one is taking our bait.  I think that’s because we’re throwing out lines when we need to be throwing out nets.

Fishing in these times and in these waters is hard work, and most of us are used to taking it easy – doing recreational fishing. No more. The time has come to make fishing our vocation! We need to get out in the boat and start casting the net. And you’ll notice that when the fishers do that, they often get a big haul of fish – fish of every kind and including a few questionable fish and an old shoe or two for good measure! That is because, as our lesson from Roman’s reminds us, God is drawing near to everyone – because fishing today requires us to go beyond our comfort zone and draw in people who haven’t been in our churches before.

When you’re doing recreational fishing, you can determine what kind of fish will bite by what lure you offer them. Want a trout? Use a worm or cricket on the hook. Want to catch a sunfish? Use a red and white lure.

And that’s what we do. Consciously or unconsciously, we throw out a line that has a lure that will attract our kind of people. If we are going to be vocational fishers, we’ve got the throw the net out and pull in all kinds of fish. We’ve got to learn how to reach out to people we don’t normally encounter and don’t naturally relate to.

So some fishing lessons we can take from Andrew:

• Vocational fishing requires a net and not just a fish hook and line.
• Using a net means bringing in anything and everything – anyone and everyone.
• Vocational fishing is hard work, not just some time in the sun throwing out a line and waiting to see what happens.
• When there are lots of fish in the lake, you can catch them!

But there’s something more that Andrew has to teach us this evening. You’ll notice that Jesus doesn’t show up, stand on the shore, commend them for their fine fishing skills, stop at the snack shack for some fish and chips and then move on. Jesus calls them to leave their boats and follow him.

Now we’re so used to hearing this story that I think we miss the impact of what that implies. Jesus shows up and calls out to these two young men working the nets with their father. They immediately get off of the boat, leave behind their family, friends and neighbors; abandon their life’s work and family’s fortunes and follow this guy. They don’t seem to know him. They don’t know where they are going. They don’t know what they are going to do, how they will earn a living, where they will get food to eat, where they will sleep at night, or what will happen to them but they go anyway. They leave absolutely everything that is important, loved and familiar to them to follow Jesus into the completely unknown.

And, by the way, you notice that their call didn’t require a discernment committee or a Commission on Ministry; they didn’t go to seminary for three years, take the General Ordination Exams and get ordained. It’s probably a good thing. If the disciples had to go through some of our ordination processes, Jesus would have been dead, buried and rose again before any of them would have gotten to be a disciple!

There’s another reason why I’m focusing on the fact that they immediately followed the call of Jesus, and that is because the disciples weren’t being called to a job in the church as an ordained person or even to a lay ministry in the church. The disciples were being called to follow Jesus – to hear his Word, see him in action, to learn from him and to practice his ministry of proclaiming the Gospel, teaching and healing the sick.

Being a disciple of Jesus probably wasn’t that easy for Andrew and the others. Preaching, teaching and healing aren’t exactly the skills you acquire as a fisher. Andrew and Peter knew a lot about how to sail boats, cast nets and haul in fish. They didn’t know much at all about preaching, teaching and healing, but that’s what they, and we, are called to do. All of us. Not just the ordained or the laity who are active in church life, but all people and all kinds of people are called to follow Jesus and share in his ministry of proclaiming the Kingdom, teaching and healing.

To do that today is just as challenging to us as it must have been to the disciples. They didn’t have those skills and most of us probably believe we don’t either. They had to leave everything familiar behind – and so will we. Like them, we need to get off of the boat and head out into the unknown countryside. We need to follow Jesus – wherever that leads us. The disciples ended up following Jesus into some pretty unfamiliar and often uncomfortable territory. They headed off to the big city and into enemy territory. They didn’t have a familiar home where they could lay their head each night. They didn’t have a lot of time to go fishing for fish – because they had a new task of fishing for people.

We too are called into the unfamiliar places and called to do unfamiliar things if we are to follow Jesus and become fishers for people. There are people out there, right outside these doors, right in this neighborhood, who are longing for God, who want to see Jesus. There are people, lots and lots of people, right outside of the doors of your church and just outside of the doors of your homes who want to see Jesus.

As Paul says...
But how will they call on God if they do not believe?
And how will they believe, if they do not hear?
And how will they hear, unless someone proclaims the Good News?
And how will they proclaim it, unless they are sent?

My friends, in this day, more than ever, we are called – and we are sent. We are called to follow Jesus. I know we have a new bishop now and we’re all looking to him for leadership, but we aren’t called to follow Nicholas (sorry boss), we’re called to follow Jesus.

We’re called to follow Jesus, and Jesus will proclaim the Good News to us, will teach us and will heal us. Jesus will send us, just like he sent the disciples, out into the unknown to proclaim that the Kingdom of God is here, to teach, to heal and to make disciples of all people in all places.

How will we do that? Fear not, as Paul says, “the Word is very near you, it is on your lips and in your heart.” The Word IS very near you. It already is on your lips and in your heart.

So, let’s go fishing! Because WE CAN DO IT! We can be fishers who haul in nets full of all kinds and sorts of fish.

Let’s be brave and head off into the unknown. Because WE CAN DO IT! We can proclaim that the Kingdom is right here Rhode Island, we can teach others about the Jesus we know and love, we can heal the sick and we can make disciples.

So let’s do it! Let’s just do it.

Because God, acting in and through us, can do far more than any of us can ask or imagine. For that we give thanks and praise, in Jesus name. Amen.

Diocesan Coordinator of Youth & Family Ministry Named

At the Diocesan Convention, Bishop Knisely announced the appointment of The Rev. Meaghan Kelly as the Coordinator of Youth and Family Ministry. This is an expansion of the position Meaghan already holds as the Director of the Episcopal Camp and Conference Center (a part-time position) and will enable her to serve fully as a member of the senior staff of the Diocese.

In this role, she will help congregations support the faith formation of children, youth and young adults, their families and those who work with them. She will work with diocesan groups to offer diocesan events and leadership training, and to facilitate participation in provincial and national events and networks for youth and their families. This will include expanding the offerings at the ECC for both youth and adults.

This position was made possible through the use of funds and properties owned by the diocese. The Grant House, which is located on the grounds of the Episcopal Camp and Conference Center has been used as a retreat house to clergy and occasionally as a temporary home. In the last couple of years, there has essentially been no use of the house. The Bishop and Diocesan Council decided that providing housing to the Director of the Episcopal Camp and Conference Center would be an appropriate use of the facility, and having it used rather than empty, would be good stewardship.

The decision on the use of the Grant House and the contribution of income from the Bishop’s discretionary fund made it possible to move Meaghan to full-time position. The intention is for the support of this position to be gradually included in the diocesan budget over the next three years. So the Director will live in Grant House for the time being to support the ministry during the transition.

This decision has been enthusiastically embraced by the Board of the Episcopal Camp and Conference Center and echoed by many past and present campers, counselors and friends of ECC. The appointment of a staff person to focus on youth and families enhances the diocese’s work in developing future leaders of the church and the world.

Meaghan and her husband, Jonathan Brower, will take up residence in January. Meaghan will be in the diocesan house in Providence on Wednesdays and will continue to be available as a supply priest during the winter months. We encourage you to invite her to preach, celebrate, meet with your leaders in youth and family ministries and share new about the ECC and the diocese’s work with youth and families. 

Bishop Nicholas Knisely to appear as St. Nick

This Sunday Bishop Nicholas Knisely, the 13th Bishop of RI, will make a special appearance as the original Santa Claus, jolly old St. Nicholas, Bishop of Myra.  The event is the 32nd Annual Pawtuxet Village Ecumenical Christmas service, check out the flyer below for details. If you need more of an incentive to come than seeing our newly ordained Bishop dressed up as everyone's favorite Saint, come for the chocolate gold coins. Learn more about St. Nicholas here.

13th Bishop of RI Ordination: Video Online

If you weren't able to join with the 2,000 Episcopalians who attended the November 17th Ordination of The Right Reverend W. Nicholas Knisely, 13th Bishop of RI, you can now watch the entire service online here. Enjoy.