St. Peter's Episcopal Church, Port Royal, VA
We are a small Episcopal Church on the banks of the Rappahannock in Port Royal, Virginia. We acknowledge that we gather on the traditional land of the first people of Port Royal, the Nandtaughtacund, and we respect and honor with gratitude the land itself, the legacy of the ancestors, and the life of the Rappahannock Tribe. Our mission statement is to do God’s Will in all that we do.
Pieter Brughel, Pieter Brueghel the Younger, The Wedding Dance in a Barn, c. 1616
From John Pilch’s article on the Sunday website of Saint Louis University
"Some background knowledge of meals in antiquity sheds light on today’s parable. Meals reproduce in miniature the everyday social relations of a society. Who eats with whom at a given table reflects who can associate with whom in the larger society.
Edward Gomez
“What are you going to do with this?”
—Matthew 22:1-14
Many years ago, when I was studying for the priesthood, we were called to help on Sundays at some of the local parishes. That semester I was called to serve at St. Thomas More Church. New to the area, I was unaware that this church was one of the most affluent churches in the diocese. I entered the sacristy that Sunday and met the rector. He turned to me impeccably dressed in a black suit and with an extended hand and a broad welcoming smile, introduced himself saying, “Hi! Welcome to our church!” Then, almost immediately, from behind came another priest who did not fit the dress code of this marble-laden English castle, who gave me a surprising I’ve known you all my life embrace! I smiled — actually laughed — and said, Hi! He was a missionary in Africa and the guest preacher that day.
His sermon was moving as he shared his experience with the poor. I felt like I got hit in the chest with God asking me, “So what are you going to do with this?” The collection that day was for the missions. After the service I was invited to lunch with the rector, the missionary preacher and other guests of the ector. During lunch, a man entered handed a small envelope to the rector saying, “What shall I do with this?” The envelope contained a set of earrings and a note saying, “Take these and have them appraised, and whatever that amount is, I will sell them and give the money to the missions.” We were all taken aback by this act of giving. But it was not until almost a month later that we learned the earrings were valued at $175,000!
When you encounter God’s call, the almost immediate reaction is to let go of everything you thought important so that you can be free to love. Giving generously becomes easy because at some level you realize that what you have is not yours — but God’s. And if wealth or privilege has been entrusted to you, then you know — with certainty — that you must share it.
I don’t know who this woman was, or her life circumstances. I just know that when she ripped off those earrings, she responded to God’s question, “So now what are you going to do with this?” She acted and gave far more than expensive earrings; she gave of herself honestly, freely and out of pure love.
Edward Gomez is Vicar of St. Paul’s/San Pablo Episcopal Church in Houston. His ministry has led him from the Lancandonan jungle of Mexico to the Peruvian province of Madre de Dios as a missionary, to the nonprofit world, where he has served in various leadership roles, including as the Executive Director of El Buen Samaritano Episcopal Mission in Austin. He is married to Denise Trevino-Gomez; they have three children and one adorable granddaughter.
I.Theme – Preparing for the banquet to come.
"Parable of the Great Banquet"– Brunswick Monogrammist, 1525, Netherlands
The lectionary readings are here or individually:
Old Testament – Isaiah 25:1-9
Psalm – Psalm 23 Page 612, BCP
Epistle –Philippians 4:1-9
Gospel – Matthew 22:1-14
The texts today speak of a universal banquet. Only those who exclude themselves are left out. The people of ancient Israel were on their way out of the banquet through their fashioning of idols.
Poem – "Christ Has No Body"
"Christ has no body but yours,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours "
—Teresa of Avila (1515–1582), mystic, reformer, writer. Her feast day is Oct. 15.
Teresa de Cepeda y Ahumada (later known as Teresa de Jesus) was born in Avila, Spain, 28 March 1515, one of ten children whose mother died when she was fifteen. Her family was of partly Jewish ancestry. Teresa, having read the letters of Jerome, decided to become a nun, and when she was 20, she entered the Carmelite convent in Avila. There she fell seriously ill, was in a coma for a while, and partially paralyzed for three years. In her early years as a nun, she was, by her account, assiduous in prayer while sick but lax and lukewarm in her prayers and devotions when the sickness had passed. However, her prayer life eventually deepened, she began to have visions and a vivid sense of the presence of God, and was converted to a life of extreme devotion.
In 1560 she resolved to reform the monastery that had, she thought, departed from the order’s original intention and become insufficiently austere. Her proposed reforms included strict enclosure (the nuns were not to go to parties and social gatherings in town, or to have social visitors at the convent, but to stay in the convent and pray and study most of their waking hours) and discalcing (literally, taking off one’s shoes, a symbol of poverty, humility, and the simple life, uncluttered by luxuries and other distractions). In 1562 she opened a new monastery in Avila, over much opposition in the town and from the older monastery. At length Teresa was given permission to proceed with her reforms, and she traveled throughout Spain establishing seventeen houses of Carmelites of the Strict (or Reformed) Observance (the others are called Carmelites of the Ancient Observance). She died Oct. 4, 1582.
“When When it’s over, it’s over, and we don’t know any of us, what happens then. So I try not to miss anything. I think, in my whole life, I have never missed The full moon or the slipper of its coming back. Or, a kiss. Well, yes, especially a kiss.” -Mary Oliver (2010). “Swan: Poems and Prose Poems”, p.42, Beacon Press
As autumn begins to make its royal showing here in the Northeast, it’s a good time to celebrate the brilliance, the beauty, and the tender reverence of Mary Oliver’s poetry. “Try not to miss anything” was one of her instructions. It may sound a bit like FOMO (fear of missing out), but for Oliver, it’s all about quality, not quantity.
Her practice of present-moment awareness, evident in her poems about the natural world, has led some to call her “the poet of awe.” In her poem What Can I Say, for example, she writes, “The song you heard singing in the leaf when you were a child is singing still.” While some critics find her work to be lacking in complexity, others of us have folded her writings into our spiritual disciplines, prayer, and faith lives, precisely because of their freshness and simplicity. Oliver’s talent for viewing the world with the eye of the child and the reverence of a devotee makes her poetry resonant and visceral. She tries not to miss anything and invites us to do the same.
Pick up any Mary Oliver poem this month and experience her commitment to careful observation and deep listening. In fact, her definition of prayer is paying attention. She finds God through being truly present, especially to the natural world, leading her to experiences of wonder and moving the reader to compassion and gratitude. In Thirst, she prays, “Oh Lord, love for the earth and love for you are having such a long conversation in my heart.”
It is no mean feat to be fully present, so engaged and intimate with a subject, to truly see it — and to see yourself in it. To truly see it — and to see God in it. This is the secret that contemplatives and mystics know. And therefore the rest of us practice prayer and contemplation for a glimpse or two. Oliver asks in Invitation, “Oh do you have time / to linger / for just a little while / out of your busy / and very important day / for the goldfinches…” The line breaks seem to echo the start-stop ways in which we tend to live our daily lives, charging along and missing an abundance of beauty along the way.
We are surrounded by beauty and opportunities for thanks. And all we need to do is stop and stand in awe.
Her poems invite us to begin to slow down and focus on small details, as in The Summer Day, where she asks, “Who made the grasshopper? This grasshopper, I mean — the one who is eating sugar out of my hand…” Not just any grasshopper, but this very one, right here. If we were to stand still and look at it (or a tree, a river, tuft of moss, a goose or dog or wave) long enough, it might teach us something about prayer, too.
With her emphasis on presence and wonder, Mary Oliver models for us a posture of receptivity, which is essential in the spiritual life. We are called to live into our full humanity as made in God’s image — actively seeking mutual receptivity and mutual presence in the divine dance of living. Not just to observe, but to participate in what we observe and, in doing so, to receive its gift: to witness God in all things and all things in God.
This fall, let us practice noticing those things that point us to the presence of God. We are surrounded by beauty and opportunities for thanks. And all we need to do is stop and stand in awe.
So, practice silence. Practice paying attention. Practice observation as prayer. Practice listening for another voice. Dispose yourself to the mystery in front of you and allow yourself to experience awe as mutuality.
Mary Oliver’s invitation is to treat the details of your day as blessing. May we follow her example by remembering to be astonished. May we learn gratitude through loving this world and seeing God in all of it. May we experience the presence of divine love in all the blessings and sufferings that compose our lives. And may we bring our questioning spirits to the woods or fields or parks or porches, “with our arms open,” in a reverent search for oneness.
Blessings and peace,
Dr. Kathy Bozzuti-Jones and the Faith Formation and Education team
“When I fill out my pledge card this year, I’m going to try to remember that all that I have is a gift—as Richard Rohr says, “It’s all a gift!” –and that I can share my financial gifts freely with not only St Peter’s, but with many other groups as well, the groups that are doing what I would consider to be God’s work out in the world.”
Stewardship is … Everything I do after I say, “I believe.” Stewardship is our thankful and intentional response to the question, “What is God calling me to do with the gifts God has entrusted to me?”
Why pledge ? The pledges are the major way to support what St. Peter’s values – food distribution and meals in our community, education, outreach to those in need, Christian education and fellowship for all.
We are stewards, caretakers of God’s gifts. Everything we have was a gift from God, and God asks us to use it all for God’s purposes. Generosity flows naturally out of our gratitude for the gift of love, family, and life itself.