Pray like Wolves

Right now, in time zones around the world, there are Episcopalians with prayer books open to morning prayer, or services for noonday and evening. They're in church, or they may be in small groups, or they may be at home alone, perhaps with a dog at their feet.

Some Christian traditions don't value prayers from a book. They believe prayer should be spontaneous.

But I'm comforted, even awed, by the thought that fellow Episcopalians in all their circumstances, pray the same words, silently or aloud. At communion, I sometimes think how my kneeling, my holding up of my hands, and my sipping the wine, join me to churches across the country, across the sea, and even across centuries.

Can prayer be spontaneous and come from within? We know that it can. Can such prayers meander and become a kind of personal performance? We know that it can. Our church give us carefully prepared prayers with room for spontaneity.

For me, our ritual prayers call to mind, not a flock of sheep and a shepherd (root meanings of congregation and episcopal), but wolves.

In the Bible, wolves are vicious and fearsome, except for that wolf in Isaiah that lies down with the lamb. Jesus warns his disciples that they go into the world as sheep among wolves, and he says to beware false prophets who are "wolves in sheep's clothing."

Our culture has a different outlook on wolves. Because we hunted wolves almost to extinction, they have official protection. Except where they prey on domesticated animals, wolves have our sympathy, too. They've become symbols of strength, self-reliance, and pack solidarity. We've made wolves into team mascots and namesakes for super-heroes.

Wolves' baying at night may sound mournful to us, but no study has conclusive answers to why they do it. The wolves may be expressing belonging or psyching themselves up for the hunt. Maybe they're expressing hunger. Whatever they express, they're like my little terrier mix when she barks with the neighbor's Pomeranian at twilight, having a great time.

It's remarkable that wolves match each other's pitch and rhythm. Whether they're with the pack or alone far away, they're on the same page.

The nightly ritual of the wolves came to mind during a theological reflection in my Education for Ministry seminar (EfM). A beloved member of a close-knit summer camp cohort had committed suicide during the past year. The young woman relating the story told us that the old friends gathered in silence, finding no words for their feelings. It just felt right, she said, to hike to the camp's waterfall, as they had done many times before. Arriving at the place, they still said nothing. Then, spontaneously, they re-enacted a ritual familiar to Episcopalians from Holy Week: They washed each other's feet.

Like the wolves, they were each in their own place, inside their own thoughts and feelings, and yet together in this ritual.

The young woman, looking back, says there was mournfulness in this, and loss, but also a shared knowledge that they were serving each other in a way that goes back 2000 years. This shared action, though wordless, was instructive, and transformative.

Church should be more than a place to learn lessons, a place to meet like-minded people, or even a place to ensure our own salvation. Whatever the wolves are doing, raising their voices as one from their distant places, we also are doing as we kneel, hold hands up in supplication, confess together, and pray together -- from the same page.

Prayer - to - Square: Moving Church back to the center of town

Sunday, Jan Wilsden celebrated her 90th birthday with her family. She and husband Derek grew up in a place and time when the village church was literally at the center of everyday life. The church spire could be seen from everywhere (inspiring!) and bells rang for prayer morning, noon, and night. Would we all be more mindful of what Mo Mariclair called the abundance of God's love if we could all put St. James at the center of our lives that way?

Actually, St. James does still stand at the center, at least on Saturdays. Like the village markets of olden times, the Marietta Farmers Market sets up every Saturday morning where the sounds of our tower bells reach the stalls. Parishioner Susan Rouse has done the bulk of her shopping there for many years. It's a community, she says, where farmers, chefs, and discerning consumers all know each other. And it's all blessed by the bells of St. James.

After worship services, parishioners who don't go home right away can sample an abundance of good things, many of them family-friendly. This past week, as I came out of the Polk Street gate, I saw Jessica Reynolds and Matilda returning from an excursion via the Mountain-to-River Trail (M2R). They were passing by the striking works by professional artists and art students, all local. Some of the works are beautiful, some are surprising, all are intriguing.

If it's history that interests you, go down hill from the railroad tracks to the home of our church's founder William Root. Keep going, and you'll find our St. James Cemetery, where Root is NOT buried, because his wife disapproved of Episcopalians. To find where he's buried, go to the Marietta Cemetery located along the M2R trail not far from where the Reynolds ladies are standing. (I've walked my little dog that way many times.)

Mid-way there's the Marietta Museum, where grandparents might enjoy showing grandkids the toys and record players of the remote 1960s, and the 1940s-vintage kitchen that's just like their grandma's.

Then, there are opportunities for exercise. One Sunday, I saw a parishioner in track clothes running from our Polk Street lot towards Kennesaw Mountain on the M2R. I had just seen him dressed in his Sunday best at the hospitality hour. With a change of clothes, he used St. James as a base for his run. Inspired by his example, this past Sunday I brought my road bike and cycling shorts for a thirty minute round trip to the battlefield park. (See photo below) Another time, I'll leave from church to explore the way to the Chattahoochee River. (Call it Narthex-2-Spandex)

When we start our new series of Wednesday Family Game nights, consider coming to our regular Evening Prayer service, 20-30 minutes long, playing games until 8, and then strolling altogether to Marietta Square for ice cream at Sarah Jean's, a couple of doors away from the space where William Root ran his pharmacy, now housing a bakery.

And think of how you might invite neighbors or co-workers for worship and a stroll into town. Call it Prayer-2-Square.

This article was written for The Bells of St. James, the newsletter that I send out every week.

It's a Wrap

The bucks that stopped here are moving on. ("Dear Buck," said Lanie Baxter, "we will miss you!")

All the portraits of shady-looking lawyers have disappeared.

With them go the 2019-vintage desktop computers, boxes of fake legal documents, South Carolina lawbooks with the shelves that bore them, and heavy ornate furniture. Also gone are yard upon yard of thick cables, the trucks and cranes that filled our parking lots, and sheets of plastic wrap that protected our carpets when filming crews came in.

In other words, the filming of The Murdaugh Murders has finished. This week, the post-op crew removes the set pieces and restores our walls and halls to their ante-Murdaugh condition.

The Last Day I was at church before 7a on Friday for the last day of filming. Jim Chester relieved me around 10a. Bill Eubanks was here that evening from around 4p to 8:39p when the director yelled, "It's a wrap!" Bill wrote in an email that there was "much applause and hooting."

The end came not a moment too soon, according to Bill, since the thermostat had been re-set to cool the actors and crew who were crammed into our conference room with hot lights. "I won't say it was cold," Bill wrote, "but we pulled everything out of the kitchen freezers and huddled inside to warm up!"

The production wrapped early despite an unwelcome interruption. All work suspended when the fire alarm went off. Only later did Bill discover why: the Fire Safety Officer had unwittingly set off the system himself. Andrea Keener, member of both our church and the studio team, was relieved to hear it: "At least we know none of the crew was trying to get to recess early!"

The very next morning, a crew that Bill re-named "Tony and the Divine Dustbusters" came in to prepare the church for services. They cleared walkways, vacuumed, mopped, and wiped surfaces.

The Sequel Wednesday, film crew, actors, costumers, and even caterers came back for a single shot. All they needed was a train to blow past "Alex Murdaugh" at the crossing.

Marietta police closed a lane on Polk Street, crew kept their equipment ready, and the actor waited in a vehicle with the appropriate 2019 South Carolina license plate.

(Photo: At noon, Angel was optimistic that a train might show up before dark. It didn't happen.)

But our train, having delayed or interrupted numerous scenes throughout this project, didn't make an appearance.

Angel, the site manager, explains that Homeland Security regulations prevent the studio from seeing the schedule for trains.

L-R, Jim, Erik, Bill, Lia and Andrea. The studio awarded Jim a badge for his stunt work, for the film day in March when he took a dive out of a doorway.

On Thursday this week, Jim, Bill, Building Superintendent Erik Linso, the studio's site manager Lia Towers, and location scout Andrea Keener met for a walkthrough of our campus inside and out. They know each other well after sharing many 16-hour days. They compared church furniture and decor to photographs made in January. They also checked on floors, ceilings, walls, doors, walkways, landscaping etc. to list items for repair, cleaning, and painting.

Then this adventure will be over for good. "Unless," Sue Hannan wondered. "What if Murdaugh wins an appeal?" Stay tuned. Know any good news items about goings-on in the parish? Share them with me at the communications desk.

[This is this week's "Pulse of the Parish" column for the Bells newsletter of St. James Episcopal Church, Marietta GA]

Life on a Movie Set

Every day this week, from as early as 5:30a to as late as 11p, the Parish Hall was crowded with actors donning costumes and getting made up. Both parking lots were full of trucks and cranes. Dozens of men and women hauled things up and down the halls. [This is from the newsletter I edit at St. James Church, issued April 24 in the week following Easter Sunday]

The Marietta Daily Journal staked out St. James, reporting when "a dark van" left the premises, but no one on the crew would open up about what exactly was happening inside.

PHOTO: Life on a movie set: your Communications Director on Tuesday took a selfie near the elevator. The air was thick with smoke -- and drama!

Our Lawrence Chapel made a great setting for the funeral scene. That's artificial sunlight: the sky was dark. When the double doors open during a dramatic confrontation, it's not a parking lot you see on screen, but green hills and blue sky.

For parishes less accustomed to the film industry, all this activity might be very exciting. For the people of St. James, it's just another movie week.

But it was the film crew who got excited when a bird flew in the double doors by the parish hall. He took a tour of the halls before resting in the parlor, which had been set up for a scene.

Work was suspended for this emergency. The little guy bumped his head and left a little smudge of blood on the ceiling tile. He was dizzy awhile, but recovered and flew off to the nave. Someone played bird calls on their phone, hoping to entice him out the double red doors.

The story is picked up there by Lucia Bird (no relation), who was in the nave with Flower Guild cleaning up after Easter services:

He/she seemed to enjoy flying back and forth from the loft to the wall behind the altar. Several times he lighted on the children’s cross. Finally, with the back and side doors open, he flew to the pews and hopped one by one to the last row and flew out the double doors.

Do you remember a few years ago, the bird that explored the nave during services for Pentecost? We wondered if it was a sign from the Holy Spirit. Sign or not, we are blessed by birds, as we read in Psalms 84:3-7, "The sparrow has found a home where she can raise her young, even by your altar, O Lord."

Theology for Breakfast: Forward Day by Day Feb - Mar - Apr 2025 + Breaking News!

Every morning I read the scripture assigned by the Episcopal Book of Common prayer, then relax into a short reflection on those readings offered by the quarterly Forward Day by Day. Every quarter I've culled highlights. See my responses going back to 2013.

Breaking News: Today, the author from Forward's January 2021 issue becomes the Rector of St. James, Marietta, the Church where I worship and work. She's The Rev. Mariclair Partee Carlsen, and I wrote an appreciation of her daily meditations years before I knew she would one day be my priest and my boss. See Comfort Food from Forward Day by Day.

February 2025 - Reflections by Nikki Mathis The writer is rector of her Episcopal church, "wife and mother to 4-legged and 2-legged kids." She often finds an angle on Bible stories that I've missed before, particularly in regard to helping people to feel their own value.

• Gal 3.28 is the famous phrase about how in Christ "there is no longer slave or free, male or female," but Mathis cautions that "everyone is equal" is different from "everyone is the same," and we all need to appreciate the differences.
• Jesus listens to the Syrophoenician woman after he initially rebuffs her, listening with respect, and moved to act on her behalf.
• Mathis asks if we ever strike out in irritation when we're overwhelmed by personal crises and world news. Exasperated with the disciples, Jesus asks, "do you not yet understand?" With "yet," he implies that he's sticking with them even if they don't get it.
• He called Peter and Andrew from their fishing boat, without first interviewing them, imagining what they would become in his relationship with them. Us, too.
• Mathis sees that James and John aren't looking for power so much as reassurance that they will be okay in the time to come. Jesus gives them a chance to commit to "rise to the challenge" and assures them, they will. We, too, should hear how people are often asking, indirectly, for reassurance that they're okay.
• Seeing how the crowd is annoyed by the blind man who calls to Jesus for help, Jesus stays put and tells those same people to bring the man forward, enlisting them as partners in the cure that follows. Us, too.

Her takes on these stories illustrate Maya Angelou's observation, "People will forget what you said, they will even forget what you did, but they will never forget how you made them feel."

Reading Mathis in February prepared me for a chance meeting that month with a former student at a local food court. He called out, "Mr. Smoot???" I didn't know his name, how many years before retirement I'd taught him, or what class it might have been. But I could (and did) say, "Although I've lost all the details, what I do remember is a lot of strong positive feelings -- that you are courteous, curious, kind, and funny." He took a selfie with me "because no one will believe I saw you." I hope that means I made him feel valued, too.

Some other passages stand out in Mathis's writings.

"Blessed are those who mourn," Mathis quotes, for they have experienced love. Their mourning is a blessing. Mathis adds, "don't think that the one who mourns fastest" (and just "gets over it") wins.

Mathis recalls being enthralled by the language of the Episcopal liturgy, so like the Arthurian fantasy books she read as a little girl. Yet the sonorous "prayer of humble access" also let her close. "My little girl self still catches her breath at the thought."

The story of the widow brings the observation that she's giving her all, while everyone else is giving God a 10% tip.

In childhood, Mathis memorized Psalm 134, all two verses. Telling us of occasions when those words spoke to her, she observes, "What we pray when we pray together as a community forms us... I'm anchored... not only by the words said... but also by the power and presence of God experienced each time they are prayed."

March 2025 - Reflections by Tyler RichardsHe's an Episcopal priest at St. Anne's Episcopal Church in DePere, Wisconsin. Also, he's a birder, vocalist and gardener with wife and daughters.

When Hebrews tells us to pay attention, Richards notes the average adult'sattention span is now only 8.53 seconds, so "Some of you will have stopped reading by now." I can relate to how the Sanctus bells bring his wandering mind back "to attend the mystery."

About humility, Richards says, "It's one thing to be zealous for God. It is quite another to inflict that zealotry on others." When you take God into "the marketplace," he writes, don't forget "God is God, and we are not." Also about witnessing, he remembers how the TV lawyer Matlock used to "crack" witness testimonies. Every day, Christians are on the stand about Jesus. We're no longer persecuted, but, he warns, we are being scrutinized.

Richards tells about the first time he left his daughter at Preschool, how he could think of nothing else but her all day. Like the father of the prodigal son, like God. (And, I'll add, like me last month when I was in NYC away from Brandy.)

April 2025 - Reflections by Owene Weber Courtney The director of Christian Formation at St. John's in Jacksonville, Courtney has an educator's knack for clarifying the text with another story or image.

When Jesus says he's the shepherd who stands at the gate, I've always heard the negative connotation of "gatekeeper," i.e., one who excludes the wrong kinds of sheep, people, whatever. Courtney says that the shepherd would lie down across the narrow gate so that any predator had to cross him first. Jesus is not excluding, but offering protection.

Responding to Acts 2.36 ("They were cut to the heart" with regret for killing Jesus), Courtney illustrates repentance with a familiar anecdote about the priest in a French village who excluded the body of a Protestant soldier from the church's graveyard. His comrades buried their friend as close as possible to the cemetery wall. But when they came the next morning to pay last respects, they couldn't locate the site. The priest, unable to sleep as he repented his ban, rose in the night to move the wall to include their friend. "Repentance," Weber quotes another source, "is moving beyond the mind you have."

A couple of meditations stand out because they don't offer answers to distressing questions. Isaiah's poetry imagines restoration, good news for the poor, sight to the blind, prisoners released from dungeons. "We struggle more to believe that GOd's plan for this hurting world will be enacted." Then, she responds to a bit of the letter 1 John 2.14, addressing "young people" who are "strong." Courtney observes that young people are missing from the churches nationwide. She hears from them, "They are tired of being lectured or sung to all the while not having a chance to ask questions, disagree, and engage" She has no easy answers, but holds on to John's statement that young people "are strong and the love of God abides in them." [More to follow]