A Happily Startling Advent

 

Advent at Grace

I suppose it is appropriate to be happily startled by the Nicene Creed on the first Sunday of Advent. That was my experience at Grace Episcopal Church in Woodlawn last Sunday when we came to that moment in the liturgy. 

Grace Church is an Anglo-Catholic parish in an old neighborhood that was once thriving but now bears that inner-city urban blight seen in the wake of white flight and new suburbs. The church sponsors a soup kitchen, a food pantry, a clothes closet, and a warming station on cold winter nights. Their motto is, “Where street and altar meet,” doing everything they can for neighbors in need.

I like to visit Grace, especially during Advent, for a dose of Anglo-Catholic liturgy. This past Sunday, the service moved along as expected with prayers, chants, and hymns. The service was printed out for congregants to follow. When it came time for the Nicene Creed, my first delightful surprise was in the gender-neutral language. Instead of talking about how Christ “was made man,” with the incarnation, the creed stated he “became truly human.”

Another gender-neutral turn was in reference to the Holy Spirit. I have never understood the Holy Spirit as “he,” anyway (if I were to think of gender, I would think in feminine terms). I usually just shuffle through those gender pronouns in the creed without giving them voice. This translation of the creed we read on Sunday, however, gets around gender altogether by saying, “who proceeds from the Father” and “who has spoken through the prophets.”

But the real zinger for me was that the creed I recited with the congregation had no filioque clause (the part where it says the Spirit proceeds from the father and the son. Instead, it harked back to the very early form which simply states that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father. Church history buffs know that the filioque clause was the final straw that launched a rift between the Eastern Orthodox Church and the Roman Church.

Tracking Down the Source

Maybe I’m a bit of a church nerd in this, but it was quite enlivening for me to hear the creed in this newer form that was also an older form. When I got home, I had to do some research to find out where this version of the Nicene Creed came from. (see the full text of the translation below).

I got help online from Trinity Episcopal Church in Concord, Massachusetts. In a letter to the congregation, their rector explains the “New Words for Old Words” that the parish would be using in their services. He explains that

The translation of the Nicene Creed we are using this summer comes from Enriching our Worship 1 which are supplemental liturgies prepared by the Standing Liturgical Commission of the Episcopal Church in 1997. There are three major changes in this translation: language around the incarnation, the filioque clause, and the removal of a gendered Holy Spirit.

In his letter, The Rev. Christopher Whiteman writes of the incarnation passage:

The difference here is the Son being “made man” or “becoming fully human.” The original Greek contains the word ánthrōpos from which we also derive the word anthropology. This word in its singular form is translated as “man,” but in the most common usage of its plural form means people of all genders. The Greek word anḗr means biologically male in both its singular and plural forms. If it was essential that Jesus was incarnated biologically male, the word anḗr would have been used instead of ánthrōpos. Of course, we can use “man” in the English language similarly to ánthrōpos in the Greek but practice has changed. In academic circles Christians believe that the Son being biologically male in the person of Jesus is significant and use that as the basis for excluding those who are not biologically male from the priesthood. In the fourth century, Gregory of Nazianzus, an early pivotal thinker of Christianity and one of the authors of the creed we use, suggests that to ascribe human relationships and our understanding of gender to any of the persons of the Godhead is like a perverse joke.1 This passage appears to suggest that the best way forward is emphasizing the Son becoming human in the person of Jesus rather than biologically male.and even in common language, we more frequently go to “humanity” or “humankind” to describe the collectivity of people.

In translating this Greek idea into English as “became truly human,” we are emphasizing that the importance of the incarnation is the Son becoming human–one of us. Some Christians believe that the Son being biologically male in the person of Jesus is significant and use that as the basis for excluding those who are not biologically male from the priesthood. In the fourth century, Gregory of Nazianzus, an early pivotal thinker of Christianity and one of the authors of the creed we use, suggests that to ascribe human relationships and our understanding of gender to any of the persons of the Godhead is like a perverse joke.1 This passage appears to suggest that the best way forward is emphasizing the Son becoming human in the person of Jesus rather than biologically male. 

Of the second major difference, the removal of the filioque clause, Whiteman writes,

In the Book of Common Prayer (1979) translation, we say:

We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life,

who proceeds from the Father and the Son.

In the Enriching our Worship translation, we say:

We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life,

who proceeds from the Father.

The filioque clause is the “and the Son” which suggests that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the two other persons of the trinity not just one. This clause is not original to the creed and was only officially added in the western churches during the eleventh century as part of the East-West Schism when the church broke in two. In 1976, Anglican and Orthodox theologians issued the “Moscow Agreed Statement” in which Anglicans agreed with Orthodox Christians that the filioque clause should not be included in the Nicene Creed. In 1994, the General Convention of the Episcopal Church resolved that any new liturgies from that point on would not include the filioque clause. The removal of the words “and the Son” corresponds to the original Greek text and aligns us with current Anglican liturgical practice.

 

Of the gender-neutral references to the Holy Spirit, Whiteman writes,

The third major change in this translation of the Nicene Creed is the removal of gender from the Holy Spirit. In the 1979 translation the pronoun “he” is used for the Spirit and in the 1997 translation “who” is used. It has become common practice in some Episcopal churches to replace the 1979’s “he” with “she” when reciting the creed, but this gets us into another sticky situation: one in which we ascribe masculine aspects to parts of the Godhead and feminine aspects to others. This could suggest a play between gendered forces within the nature of God and goes against Gregory of Naziansus warning that we should not ascribe human concepts of gender in our theological expressions even though we are given the language of Father and Son. The Greek word for spirit, pneûma, is neuter and so the authors of Enriching our Worship chose to render the Holy Spirit without gender. This is not a perfect solution, but no words we choose can fully encapsulate God.

I’m not sure how many of you find this sort of discussion interesting, but for me it was an enlivening turn to take on this first Sunday of Advent at Grace Episcopal Church, “Where street and altar meet.”

*   *   *

Nicene Creed 

We believe in one God,

the Father, the Almighty,

maker of heaven and earth,

of all that is, seen and unseen.

We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ,

the only Son of God,

eternally begotten of the Father,

God from God, Light from Light,

true God from true God,

begotten, not made,

of one Being with the Father;

through him all things were made.

For us and for our salvation

he came down from heaven,

was incarnate of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary

and became truly human.

For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate;

he suffered death and was buried.

On the third day he rose again

in accordance with the Scriptures;

he ascended into heaven

and is seated at the right hand of the Father.

He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead,

and his kingdom will have no end.

 We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life,

who proceeds from the Father,

who with the Father and the Son is worshiped and glorified,

who has spoken through the prophets. 

We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.

We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.

We look for the resurrection of the dead,

and the life of the world to come. Amen.

 

-

A Nurturing God

[As the COVID-19 threat looms, most churches have canceled Sunday services. This is a re-post from two years ago - a happy surprise that I encountered which bears repeating.]

Grace Episcopal Church in Woodlawn (photo from the church's website)

Last Sunday, I made a return visit to Grace Episcopal Church.  It is a parish that is Anglo-Catholic in its liturgy and is committed to its ministry to the needy with a daily soup kitchen, food pantry, and other means of relief for the poor and the marginalized.  On cold winter nights, the church opens its parish hall to provide a warming station, giving the homeless and the needy a safe warm place to sleep.  

We are in the middle of Lent.  Many churches observe the fourth Sunday of Lent as Mothering Sunday.  Mothering Sunday is traditionally a time for people to go back to the parish where they were baptized to honor their mother church.  I wasn’t thinking of Mothering Sunday as I entered that sacred space.  It was simply a time for me to attune myself to Grace in its worship and ministry.

The Sacred Feminine

I found myself unusually moved at the close of the worship service with the post-Communion prayer. It was a prayer that called to mind the feminine aspects of God in a beautifully personal way.

In the 1979 Book of Common Prayer, used in Episcopal Churches across the U.S., there are two basic post-Communion prayers.  In my experience, those two prayers had been used interchangeably at the end of each service, giving thanks to God for feeding us with the sacraments, taking strength for going out into the world.  As in:

“...you have fed us with spiritual food

in the Sacrament of his Body and Blood.

Send us now into the world in peace…”

Or,

“…we thank you for feeding us with the spiritual food

of the most precious Body and Blood

of your Son our Savior Jesus Christ…”

  

They are both beautiful prayers acknowledging God’s love for us and our role of service to humanity as living witnesses to God's eternal kingdom.* Like so many things that we say repeatedly or by rote, we sometimes fail to fully appreciate the beauty or the astounding impact of the prayers we pray in our sacred space during times of worship.

On this day, however, the post-Communion prayer had a definite impact upon me as I heard the words. It wonderfully reflected a maternal image of God.

Loving God,

as a mother feeds her children at the breast­­­­­

you feed us in this sacrament

with the food and drink of eternal life:

help us who have tasted your goodness

to grow in grace within

the household of faith;

through Jesus Christ our Lord.

The shift in that prayer got my attention and opened my heart in a new way. Knowing that there are maternal images of God in scripture that are often overlooked, I was thankful to have that loving and nurturing image brought forth in our time of worship.  In fact, I was so moved that I wanted to know where the prayer came from.

A Gift from the Anglican Communion

I asked the rector of Grace Church, Rev. Robyn Arnold, about the source of the post Communion prayer used that day.  She told me that it was from The Book of Common Worship, which is used by The Church of England.  I wondered if I had been blessed by this prayer because I just happened to show up on Mothering Sunday. Rev. Arnold told me, for my further enlightenment, that while it is especially appropriate for Mothering Sunday it works for any time the Church calendar or the scripture readings call to mind the nurturing qualities of God.

It is amazing what a shift toward the feminine can do for one's heart and psyche. I am reminded of such a shift that occurred for me years ago which I have written about before. That “shift” happened the first time I heard Bobby McFerrin,  also an Episcopalian, sing his version of Psalm 23. It was on a telecast with the Boston Pops Symphony Orchestra. He used  the feminine pronoun in reference to God, and that one change moved me to tears as I listened. 

At this half-way point in the Lenten season, I am thankful for my Anglican friends who can call to mind the feminine, nurturing aspects of a loving God.

_________________________

* Post-Communion prayers from the 1979 Episcopal Book of Common Prayer:

Eternal God, heavenly Father,

you have graciously accepted us as living members

of your Son our Savior Jesus Christ,

and you have fed us with spiritual food

in the Sacrament of his Body and Blood.

Send us now into the world in peace,

and grant us strength and courage

to love and serve you

with gladness and singleness of heart;

through Christ our Lord. Amen.

or the following

Almighty and everliving God,

we thank you for feeding us with the spiritual food

of the most precious Body and Blood

of your Son our Savior Jesus Christ;

and for assuring us in these holy mysteries

that we are living members of the Body of your Son,

and heirs of your eternal kingdom.

And now, Father, send us out

to do the work you have given us to do,

to love and serve you

as faithful witnesses of Christ our Lord.

To him, to you, and to the Holy Spirit,

be honor and glory, now and forever. Amen.

-

A Liturgical Reset Button

Last Sunday I visited my friends at Grace Episcopal Church in Woodlawn on Birmingham’s northeastern side. It is an old  part of town that is trying to revitalize, and Grace has long been a help to those in need as well as a witness to the Anglo-Catholic liturgy.

I like to visit there to offer part of my tithe to the work they are doing on the streets, and I also enjoy the liturgy, especially during Advent. On that second Sunday of Advent, the liturgy provided me with an important “reset.” Don’t we all need a reset button from time to time?

My reset came by way of the Prayers of the People. One of the things I like about the Book of Common Prayer is that the prayers offer a collective wisdom of what kinds of things we ought to pray for. In shaping our corporate prayer, we are also provided guidance on what things are important and how we should live our lives to help improve the chances that our prayerful intentions may be met.

I came to worship that day with concern over the state of our nation’s political mood. The selected prayers for that day were from the Prayers of the People, Form IV. The passages that resonated with me and helped me to bring some quiet to my soul were these:

Guide the people of this land, and of all the nations, in the
ways of justice and peace; that we may honor one another
and serve the common good.

Give us all a reverence for the earth as your own creation,
that we may use its resources rightly in the service of others
and to your honor and glory.

I took comfort that I could join with so many others in that prayer to honor the common good and to reverence the environment. I also took comfort that these words from the 1979 Book of Common Prayer perhaps will seep into the nation’s conscience. I found hope that there is this continued witness to how we should order our lives.

The next passage brought our prayers to a more personal level:

Bless all whose lives are closely linked with ours, and grant
that we may serve Christ in them, and love one another as he
loves us.

Lord, in your mercy
Hear our prayer

O Lord in your mercy, hear our prayer and guide my steps.

-

A Nurturing God

Grace Episcopal Church in Woodlawn (photo from the church's website)

Last Sunday, I made a return visit to Grace Episcopal Church.  It is a parish that is Anglo-Catholic in its liturgy and is committed to its ministry to the needy with a daily soup kitchen, food pantry, and other means of relief for the poor and the marginalized.  On cold winter nights, the church opens its parish hall to provide a warming station, giving the homeless and the needy a safe warm place to sleep.  

We are in the middle of Lent.  Many churches observe the fourth Sunday of Lent as Mothering Sunday.  Mothering Sunday is traditionally a time for people to go back to the parish where they were baptized to honor their mother church.  I wasn’t thinking of Mothering Sunday as I entered that sacred space.  It was simply a time for me to attune myself to Grace in its worship and ministry.

The Sacred Feminine

I found myself unusually moved at the close of the worship service with the post-Communion prayer. It was a prayer that called to mind the feminine aspects of God in a beautifully personal way.

In the 1979 Book of Common Prayer, used in Episcopal Churches across the U.S., there are two basic post-Communion prayers.  In my experience, those two prayers had been used interchangeably at the end of each service, giving thanks to God for feeding us with the sacraments, taking strength for going out into the world.  As in:

“...you have fed us with spiritual food

in the Sacrament of his Body and Blood.

Send us now into the world in peace…”

Or,

“…we thank you for feeding us with the spiritual food

of the most precious Body and Blood

of your Son our Savior Jesus Christ…”

  

They are both beautiful prayers acknowledging God’s love for us and our role of service to humanity as living witnesses to God's eternal kingdom.* Like so many things that we say repeatedly or by rote, we sometimes fail to fully appreciate the beauty  or the astounding impact of the prayers we pray in our sacred space during times of worship.

On this day, however, the post-Communion prayer had a definite impact upon me as I heard the words. It wonderfully reflected a maternal image of God.

Loving God,

as a mother feeds her children at the breast­­­­­

you feed us in this sacrament

with the food and drink of eternal life:

help us who have tasted your goodness

to grow in grace within

the household of faith;

through Jesus Christ our Lord.

The shift in that prayer got my attention and opened my heart in a new way. Knowing that there are maternal images of God in scripture that are often overlooked, I was thankful to have that loving and nurturing image brought forth in our time of worship.  In fact, I was so moved that I wanted to know where the prayer came from.

A Gift from the Anglican Communion

I asked the rector of Grace Church, Rev. Robyn Arnold, about the source of the post Communion prayer used that day.  She told me that it was from The Book of Common Worship, which is used by The Church of England.  I wondered if I had been blessed by this prayer because I just happened to show up on Mothering Sunday. Rev. Arnold told me, for my further enlightenment, that while it is especially appropriate for Mothering Sunday it works for any time the Church calendar or the scripture readings call to mind the nurturing qualities of God.

It is amazing what a shift toward the feminine can do for one's heart and psyche. I am reminded of such a shift that occurred for me years ago which I have written about before. That “shift” happened the first time I heard Bobby McFerrin,  also an Episcopalian, sing his version of Psalm 23. It was on a telecast with the Boston Pops Symphony Orchestra. He used  the feminine pronoun in reference to God, and that one change moved me to tears as I listened. 

At this half-way point in the Lenten season, I am thankful for my Anglican friends who can call to mind the feminine, nurturing aspects of a loving God.

_________________________

* Post-Communion prayers from the 1979 Episcopal Book of Common Prayer:

Eternal God, heavenly Father,

you have graciously accepted us as living members

of your Son our Savior Jesus Christ,

and you have fed us with spiritual food

in the Sacrament of his Body and Blood.

Send us now into the world in peace,

and grant us strength and courage

to love and serve you

with gladness and singleness of heart;

through Christ our Lord. Amen.

or the following

Almighty and everliving God,

we thank you for feeding us with the spiritual food

of the most precious Body and Blood

of your Son our Savior Jesus Christ;

and for assuring us in these holy mysteries

that we are living members of the Body of your Son,

and heirs of your eternal kingdom.

And now, Father, send us out

to do the work you have given us to do,

to love and serve you

as faithful witnesses of Christ our Lord.

To him, to you, and to the Holy Spirit,

be honor and glory, now and forever. Amen.

-

Grace in a Time of Hate

A side street view of Grace Episcopal Church

Some of us have been distressed by the season of hate that seems to have taken hold in the U.S. Earlier this month, the presence of white supremacy groups marching on Charlottesville to protest the town’s decision to move a statue of Robert E. Lee was disturbing to many. As a Southerner who seeks to live a Christian life, I was particularly distressed to see how so many white Christians could not bring themselves to denounce white supremacists and the hate speech they promote. Southern Evangelicals have been especially shameful, in my opinion, in refusing to call out white supremacy, and refusing to hold a president accountable for his blatant disregard for moral values and democratic ideals. 

The torches, the swastikas, the chants of "Blood and Soil," and "Jews will not replace us" were so out of place for the America I thought we should be living in by now. At the same time, so few white Christians were willing to speak out; so many conservative politicians stood silent, offering no opposition to the words and actions of hate.

Southern Confession

I will tell you a secret. I am “southern born and southern bred,” having grown up in Alabama. We have a state rich in natural beauty, but also steeped in racial prejudice. Here is my secret: I have been assuming all of my adult life that the rest of the country would help my state redeem itself. When I saw the success of the civil rights movement along with the advances made in the U.S. to bring about equity and justice, I thought that my home state would eventually realize its errors. I thought we would have to mend our ways as we came to realize the responsibility that comes with being part of “one nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all.”

I thought a just nation would bring my state in line so that humanity would flower and prejudice would subside. As I have looked out at our country over the past several months, I fear that Alabama has had more of an influence on the rest of the nation than the nation has had on Alabama. The fear, hatred, prejudice and violence that I thought would subside in my state, have instead spread across the country.  We seem to have dispensed with the guardrails of common decency in our public discourse.


Is This the New Normal?

So now you see why recent events have been demoralizing for me.

I know that not everyone is turning a blind eye to white supremacy and hatred. I know that last November a little over half the country voted against a right-wing demagogue. I know that many people at the time found his bigotry and sexism beyond the pale. Yet the fear is that this “beyond the pale” bigotry is in danger of becoming the new normal. Some days, it can all seem overwhelming.

By the end of last week, I felt the need to spend some time in prayer in light of what I saw as the state of our nation. Though I have my own faith community, I have also visited other churches in town. Having been to Grace Episcopal Church on a number of occasions, I felt that this would be the most beneficial church for me to visit. I knew that because of the prayers they pray, the music they sing, and the work they do on the city streets, this would likely be the place for me to find some respite in light of distressing national news. I hoped that it would be a place for me to settle my mind and spirit; a place to pray and contemplate; a place to hear a word of hope and encouragement.

Grace Notes

On Sunday morning, I headed over to Grace Church. I was not disappointed. The Anglo-Catholic liturgy, music, and prayers provided the space to settle. The homily, delivered by the Rev. Robyn Arnold, gave acknowledgement to the political distress that I felt. She stated as she began her Sunday message that her parishioners understood that she seldom spoke politically from the pulpit. Nevertheless, she felt the need to address the events of the past week. Because she spoke from the heart to the heart, I found her message to be more pastoral than political. 

I left with an encouragement that I can carry on and perhaps even do this hard thing that may be called for in the days ahead. Moreover, I was reminded that we can be faithful witnesses even in the small things we do right where we are and that can make a real difference.

I jotted down a few sermon notes on the service leaflet. In the margin beside the parish prayer requests there was enough space to write . Here is what I walked away with from the homily:

 
Remember who you are.  You are created by God and made in God's image.

Realize that anger  leads to hate and that hate will eat you up on the inside. It is possible to “be angry and sin not,” so take care not to let hate take control.

In the Gospel reading for the day, Jesus said that “it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles." (Matthew 15:11)

Bishop Desmond Tutu said, “Do your little bit of good where you are; it's those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world.”

We must remember that God is love and therefore trust in God’s love.

We must respond to hatred and injustice, but that response will differ with different people: some will respond publicly to oppose injustice, hate, and greed; others will respond more quietly to do small things in love right where they are.

We are to be Christ in the world at every opportunity.

We are called to show the peace of Christ in our words and in the work of our hands.

Benediction

The other thing I like about attending Grace Episcopal Church is that as I drive back home, I can listen to “A Writer’s Almanac” on NPR. I get to hear Garrison Keillor tell about literary milestones for this day in history and then share a poem. On this day, the words he always closes with were a particularly appropriate benediction:

“Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.”

And then the road home, to carry on tomorrow.

_________________________

Photo taken from the website for Grace Episcopal Church


-

Flashback: An Ordinary Life

[While I am working on another project, I have been re-posting some of my favorite past essays. This one was written around 2004, several years before I began blogging. This post appeared on my blog on November 9, 2010. I would later write more on this subject in my essay, Form and Substance: How a Sonnet Saved My Life, which was also featured in the current "Flashback" series.]

St. Andrew's Episcopal Church

"People who live with disabilities have something very important to say about what it means to be human"


I found myself getting a bit teary-eyed last Sunday during the closing hymn celebrating All Saints Sunday. The hymn was “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God.” In the old 1940 Episcopal hymn book it was listed under “Hymns for Children.” I knew it had been a favorite of my friend, Meg Parker. Hearing the song made me think of days past, and so I decided to post this essay I wrote several years ago after Meg’s death.



An Ordinary Life
by Charles Kinnaird

Meg Parker lived an ordinary life, which was quite an accomplishment given the obstacles that she faced. She lived in an apartment and had a daily routine with friends and colleagues. Meg had loves and conflicts. She knew joys and sorrows, gains and losses. The fact that she lived the life that she did is a tribute to her family, to the community at St. Andrew's Episcopal Church, and it is especially a tribute to Meg herself.

Meg Parker lived with developmental disabilities and a seizure disorder. St. Andrew's Foundation provided group homes for adults with mental retardation. It was there that Meg was taught daily living skills and was able to acquire some measure of independence. Eventually, she was able to move into an apartment with a roommate. There, with supervision, she was able to live a normal life with a normal routine. She was also able to move from a sheltered workshop to her own job in the community. She had a good life, and she was determined to enjoy life in spite of the difficulties.

At her funeral, the priest, Father Marc Burnett, said just the right things to commemorate the life she had lived before that final seizure "shook her from this life into the next." As I sat there listening to the eulogy, I could not help thinking about the day, eighteen years earlier, when I first met Meg Parker

I first visited St. Andrew's Church in March of 1984. I was a Baptist seminary graduate trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life. Meg was the first one to welcome me to the parish that day. Little did I know how my life would change after that encounter in 1984. Within the year, I had joined the Episcopal Church and had begun working at St. Andrew's Foundation (which was later named St. Andrew's Place). The parish and the group homes would become central to my life for the next twelve years. It was Meg Parker and others at the group homes who caused me to re-evaluate my worldview and to reassess my ideas about what things are important in living a meaningful life. I came to see the importance of ordinary things: a simple meal shared, a conversation about little things, an outing in the park.

So much happened during those years. I was able to immerse myself in Anglo-Catholic liturgy, social service, and progressive theology, all of which were a break from my Baptist roots. It was also there that I met my wife and our daughter was born. All of these things were changes for the better. I shudder to think how life might have been otherwise.

My life took a dramatic turn on that day back in 1984, and Meg Parker's welcoming of a stranger played no little part in its turning. It was at St. Andrew's that I came to realize that people who live with disabilities have something very important to say about what it means to be human. How we respond to people with disabilities says something very important about who we are as human beings. When I look at the ordinary life that Meg lived, I see it as a sign of hope. In the final analysis, is that not what we all want – an ordinary life? All of us achieve that ordinary life the same way that Meg did, only with help from our friends.


[Note: The group homes and supervised apartments of St. Andrew's Place are now under the auspices of The ARC of Jefferson County]

Where Grace Abounds

Grace Episcopal Church, Woodlawn

Having been raised in the Baptist faith, I came to adopt a more ancient Christian tradition after I began to explore the liturgical heritage in the Episcopal Church and then in the Roman Catholic Church. While I have been a practicing Catholic for 15 years, there are still some days when I am more Anglican in my leanings. I am sure that is why for the past two years I have chosen to spend Advent at Grace Episcopal Church in the Woodlawn neighborhood of Birmingham, Alabama.

A Long History in the City

Interior windows

Grace Episcopal Church is a small Anglo-Catholic parish in a part of town that has been declining for decades. It has a vibrant outreach to the community as it seeks to feed the hungry and offer clothing and assistance to the needy. One may encounter a panhandler or two while going to and from the worship service since the church is known for giving aid. Grace’s slogan is, after all, “Where Street and Altar Meet!”

Founded over 100 years ago in the early days of the iron industry boom, Grace ministered to families moving to the area to work in the mills and foundries of “The Magic City.” During the 1970s, the neighborhood shifted from being a middle class white neighborhood to predominantly African-American and Hispanic. Instead of fleeing to the suburbs, Grace shifted its focus to the needs of the neighborhood by starting a daily soup kitchen, a food pantry, and a clothes closet. They also offer emergency shelter and a summer camp for teens in the neighborhood. [1]

Altar in front of Christ the King stained glass window

The Anglo-Catholic Heritage

Grace Church offers a rich worship experience in the Anglo-Catholic liturgy. The Anglican tradition is said to be both Catholic and Protestant. While many parishes are more Protestant in appearance, with services that are somewhat sparse and plain in liturgical trappings ("Low Church"), a few embrace the full liturgical expressions of the historic faith: incense, bells, sung liturgy, etc., with the Mass being central to the worship service ("High Church"). (What many of my Catholic friends do not realize is that the Anglo-Catholic expression of worship is much more “Catholic” than most Catholic parishes these days.)

Advent wreaths at Grace

My Advent experience at Grace was one of re-connecting with some old friends, and a time of waiting in hope for the Christ event. Yes, there was the ancient liturgical witness that included the fragrant rising of incense and the tolling of the bells. There were white-robbed acolytes bearing torches, a cross, and a thurible. There was music from the organ and the choir. The Reverend Robyn Arnold, rector, effectively delivered thoughtful and heart-felt homilies (I found myself jotting notes in the margins of my church bulletin). Then there was the devotional recitation of the Angelus at each Mass during Advent as we honored the Incarnation and paid tribute to Mary’s role in the Incarnation. [2]

 Into the World

In addition to rich liturgical worship, there was the unavoidable connection to the world. For one thing, these people are wandering passers of the peace. That moment in the service in which we greet one another with the sign of peace is for Grace parishioners a time to leave their pews to greet everyone they can with handshakes, hugs (and even some kisses). It may have been a little bit past my introvert "comfort zone," yet I saw it as a sign that they were both a community and a family of faith.  The "sign of peace" is indeed an affirmation of our connection with one another.

The other unavoidable connection to the world was that while driving through the neighborhood, one is confronted with many who are in need. There are people who are not only in immediate need of food and shelter, but are also lacking in vision and prospects for the future. Grace Church dwells with the truth found in the Epistle of James, “Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,’ but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it?” (James 2: 15,16)

So if you want to get closer to the liturgy, or closer to the street, Grace Episcopal Church in Woodlawn is the place to go.

Side street view

[All photos were taken from Grace Episcopal Church's website and Facebook site]

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1. For more information about the outreach ministries at Grace, go to http://www.gracechurchwoodlawn.org/outreachministries.html

2. To read more about the Angelus, go to http://www.ourcatholicprayers.com/the-angelus.html

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An Ordinary Life

"People who live with disabilities have something very important to say about what it means to be human"

St. Andrew's Episcopal Church

I found myself getting a bit teary-eyed last Sunday during the closing hymn celebrating All Saints Sunday. The hymn was “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God.” In the old 1940 Episcopal hymn book it was listed under “Hymns for Children.” I knew it had been a favorite of my friend, Meg Parker. Hearing the song made me think of days past, and so I decided to post this essay I wrote several years ago after Meg’s death.



An Ordinary Life
by Charles Kinnaird

Meg Parker lived an ordinary life, which was quite an accomplishment given the obstacles that she faced. She lived in an apartment and had a daily routine with friends and colleagues. Meg had loves and conflicts. She knew joys and sorrows, gains and losses. The fact that she lived the life that she did is a tribute to her family, to the community at St. Andrew's Episcopal Church, and it is especially a tribute to Meg herself.

Meg Parker lived with developmental disabilities and a seizure disorder. St. Andrew's Foundation provided group homes for adults with mental retardation. It was there that Meg was taught daily living skills and was able to acquire some measure of independence. Eventually, she was able to move into an apartment with a roommate. There, with supervision, she was able to live a normal life with a normal routine. She was also able to move from a sheltered workshop to her own job in the community. She had a good life, and she was determined to enjoy life in spite of the difficulties.

At her funeral, the priest, Father Marc Burnett, said just the right things to commemorate the life she had lived before that final seizure "shook her from this life into the next." As I sat there listening to the eulogy, I could not help thinking about the day, eighteen years earlier, when I first met Meg Parker

I first visited St. Andrew's Church in March of 1984. I was a Baptist seminary graduate trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life. Meg was the first one to welcome me to the parish that day. Little did I know how my life would change after that encounter in 1984. Within the year, I had joined the Episcopal Church and had begun working at St. Andrew's Foundation (which was later named St. Andrew's Place). The parish and the group homes would become central to my life for the next twelve years. It was Meg Parker and others at the group homes who caused me to re-evaluate my worldview and to reassess my ideas about what things are important in living a meaningful life. I came to see the importance of ordinary things: a simple meal shared, a conversation about little things, an outing in the park.

So much happened during those years. I was able to immerse myself in Anglo-Catholic liturgy, social service, and progressive theology, all of which were a break from my Baptist roots. It was also there that I met my wife and our daughter was born. All of these things were changes for the better. I shudder to think how life might have been otherwise.

My life took a dramatic turn on that day back in 1984, and Meg Parker's welcoming of a stranger played no little part in its turning. It was at St. Andrew's that I came to realize that people who live with disabilities have something very important to say about what it means to be human. How we respond to people with disabilities says something very important about who we are as human beings. When I look at the ordinary life that Meg lived, I see it as a sign of hope. In the final analysis, is that not what we all want – an ordinary life? All of us achieve that ordinary life the same way that Meg did, only with help from our friends.


[Note: The group homes and supervised apartments of St. Andrew's Place are now under the auspices of The ARC of Jefferson County]



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