Category Archives: Religion

April 20, 2009 · 21:05

How can a Opening Day Rain Out be God’s Will?

Tonight was where I need to take exception with Saint Augustine and John “no I’m not having fun” Calvin.  Now I have to admit that I am not a very good Augustinian or Calvinist unless perchance it suits me at the time.  Where I really have a problem with them in in the subject of Predestination.  Now before all the hyper-Calvinists or neo-Augustinians get their panties in a wad or knickers in a twist, I am not referring to the subject of salvation, election, double predestination, or even double secret predestination.  These subjects were argued between my fellow students back in seminary until I wanted to throw up.

I figure that the Deity Herself is not stupid and since She created everything, of course in cooperation with Jesus and the Holy Spirit…I am after all certainly an orthodox Trinitarian in such maters, I figure that She knows who are Hers.  Where I do however differ with the former party animal (Augie)  and frustrated lawyer (John Boy) is in the matter of how this applies to baseball.

Tonight was an interesting night.  I got to the parking lot and the heavens opened.  For 30 minutes rain came down in buckets.  There was lightening and thunder, but the storm passed.  The tarp was rolled away from the field but the infield was in great shape.  However the umpires ruled that the outfield was unplayable.  Now I have been to plenty of games at Harbor Park and seen much worse conditions which were ruled playable.  Obviously this was a case of the Devil’s mischief and not a case of God’s will.  For had Calvin and Augie known about Baseball and the fact that it is the preferred sport of the Almighty, they could not have made such statements about Predestination.  Certainly a rain out of a home opener cannot be God’s will.  I am actually predisposed to believe that the postponement or cancellation of any Baseball game is not the will of God but the work of the Devil.  Now I am not one to give the Devil a lot of credence, because I believe that Christ has defeated him.  Likewise I am not one to find a Demon behind every bush.  However, to be sure, for God to to taunt us with beautiful weather on opening night after a deluge of the type that we experienced was not the work of God.  Indeed this opening day rain out  had to be the Devil’s work.  I remember opening day of 2005 when the weather was 38 degrees at game time, the field wet and winds blowing 20-30 Mph with gusts to 50 mph from Center Field.  That game was played, and numerous others in awful conditions.

I guess there can be a caveat in this, perhaps if the Giants or the Tides are behind in a game and it is before it becomes official that might be the work of the Deity herself, spot of Divine intervention as when Jesus turned the water into Ale (the Saxon translation) at the wedding at Cana.  Of course such speculation leads to certain irregularities and inconsistency on belief, however, one has to take such matters in stride and simply trust God.  Humm…trusting God, what a concept.  I think I’ve read something about that before.  Maybe my time in seminary actually has paid off.

Anyway, there is always tomorrow.  My ticket can be used in another game, which means that I will be able to take someone  with me sometime.  The beauty of the season ticket is that if you miss a game for any reason you can exchange it for another game.  I think that I will have a number of opportunities to take friends to games this year, as I am sure that the Devil will work to keep me from this wonderful gift of God. Tomorrow I go out again, same time, same seat, but hopefully better weather.

Peace,  Steve+

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April 19, 2009 · 21:16

The Church of Baseball at Harbor Park- Opening Day Tomorrow


1972-oak-park-al-rams

The 1972 Oak Park Little League Rams sponsored by Alex Spanos. I am to the left of the coach in the back row.

“Little League baseball is a very good thing because it keeps the parents off the streets.” Yogi Berra

Baseball is back at Harbor Park tomorrow as the Norfolk Tides take on the Charlotte Knights in their home opener. Weather could make this one a bit sporty.  Rain and thunder during the day tapering off overnight.  Hopefully my prayer vigil will succeed in persuading the Deity Herself to intervene.  This has not always been the case, a few years back the opening day was in early April.  The weather was 38 degrees with winds gusting to 45 mph coming out of center field. This was a tough game even by my hearty standards.  I finally took my ever long suffering and nearly hypothermic wife home after the 7th inning stretch.  Since then she has been wary of opening days here in Hampton Roads.

This season is cool because I have a season ticket for the first time.  Section 102, Row B Seat 2.  Right behind home plate, field level.  It doesn’t get any better than this for me.

If you haven’t figured this out yet, baseball is a passion for me.  I was out in town at a Starbucks following a meeting and I had my Tides hat and warm-up jacket.  The barista asked if I worked for them.  I simply replied “No, I’m a Priest, and a proud member of the Church of Baseball.”  This elucidated a laugh from the charmingly polite girl who promptly gave me my non-fat mocha, sans whipped creme. I’m not sure if she understood the significance of what I said, but to quote George Will: “Baseball is Heaven’s gift to mortals.”

I’ve never played for a baseball team, or softball team that won it all.  I guess in some ways I can empathize with fans of the Cubs and Giants, who wait every year to once again be disappointed as their team finds a way to salvage defeat from the jaws of victory.  This years Tides, who are the AAA farm team of the Baltimore Orioles may be up to something good.  They are 6 and 4 and seem to be playing pretty well.  They have a 5 game win streak coming into the home opener.  The Tides have 3 of the International League’s top ten hitters at this early point of the season.  Their pitchers have a team 2.60 ERA which right now is second in the league.  This is a far better start then the last few years and hopefully it bodes well for the team. When I was a kid, I used to watch the Stockton Ports of the California League when they were an Orioles farm team in the early 1970s.

The closest thing I have been to a championship baseball team was back in 1972.  I was a member of the Stockton California, Oak Park Little League Rams, sponsored by non other than Alex Spanos, the current owner of the San Diego Chargers. We were probably his first team to almost win a championship.  It seems fitting.  We wore the same colors as the Chargers and lost in the championship series, losing by a run in the final game.

I think that Little League, if you can get parents who want to run their kids teams out of the picture, is great for developing virtues that help kids later in life.  At least it did for me.  We had a great coach.  A guy named Phil Deweese. At least that’s how I think that he spelled it.  He was a great coach for us and actually spent time teaching us how to do things like hit, pitch,field and run the bases.  I did better at fielding, was a less than stellar hitter and usually played 2nd Base though occasionally I would play 3rd, Center Field or Catcher. Phil was great with us.  He taught us to have fun while working ahrd at the basics. We did well, had a great season and came close to winning the championship.  I was able to drive in a run and score a run in our one win of that series. My hitting in the playoff series was better by far than at any time in the season.He added to the things that my dad had been teaching me patiently for years in our back yard.  Unfortunately dad was deployed to Vietnam and did not see us play.

I was kind of a utility player, something that in today’s game you seldom see.  Utility players were guys that could be plugged in either in the field or as a pinch hitter.  They were not the team all stars, but could be counted on to give a solid performance.  That was me.  I kind of continued this as an adult playing softball, but more often than not ended up at 2nd base, occasional 1st or 3rd base.  I caught one year and was run over at home plate by a really big guy as I was going in the air to catch the throw from the outfield.  I landed hard enough to break my throwing arm.  At the time I was having my best year ever hitting.  After cussing the guy out I was finally pulled when it became apparent that I could not throw the ball. What is amazing to me is that I endured the pain to play another inning and even hit, an infield single.

Anyway.  This game is in my blood, God speaks to me through baseball. The ballpark it is one of the few places, besides my ICUs and a small Episcopal Church that I worship at that I can feel safe in public, praise be to PTSD.  At least the Deity has helped me in this regard.  Anyway, as I go back to my rounds about the medical center tonight I also maintain my prayer vigil for tomorrow’s weather. I can’t wait.

Peace, Steve+


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April 14, 2009 · 21:21

Minor Holy Days…The Tapping of the Maibock

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Today was the occasion of a minor feast at the beginning of the Easter season. Of course such things are important.  As Benjamin Franklin said “Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.”

Today was the “tapping of the Maibock” a seasonal Lager at Gordon Biersch here in Virginia Beach.  We always attend the “tapping” of the new seasonal brew.  As I noted in a previous post entitled “the Fellowship of the Pub,” these are important events, especially in a season that is is a festival, such is Easter.  Patently the season of Easter being of course the season of the Resurrection and worthy of celebration.  Lent is over, and it is time to celebrate.  I’m glad that the folks at Gordon Biersch, whether intentionally or unintentionally waited until after Lent was over to re-introduce this seasonal lager.  After all as Martin Luther said: “It is better to think of church in the ale-house than think of the ale-house in church.”

It seems to me that God does indeed care for us, that She would indeed give us such a drink for our edification.  Jesus of course is not quoted about beer, but he did make some good wine, at least according the the chief wine steward at Cana. I’m sure had the Hebrews been more into beer than wine that he would have turned the water into beer.  However, Michael Jackson, a British historian  notes: “in the Saxon account of the Marriage Feast at Cana, where Jesus allegedly turned water into wine, ‘ale vats’ lined the room.”  The question that Jackson asks is “Was this a Saxon misunderstanding? Or did the Greeks introduce ‘wine’ from the Aramaic ‘strong drink”‘? Did Jesus actually turn water into beer?”

Being that my “inner nationality” according to a recent quiz that I answered is German, I have to side with the Saxons on this.  No offense to the Greeks, but obviously this had to be beer.  My logic is this.  God loves us, God made beer, and vats or kegs of beer are more likely to be at at wedding than vats of wine. Wine obviously would have been a more expensive drink and in would have come in wine-skins, not vats, at least not at a wedding. Since it is clear that the hosts of the wedding were obviously trying to cut costs we have to be skeptical of the claim that this was wine.  We also have to note that the stewards said that what Jesus made was better than what they had on hand.  It is patently obvious to me that Jesus produced a really good beer, or possibly an ale and not wine. Since Jesus is fully God and fully man then what Saint Arnold of Metz, the patron saint of brewers said is true: “From man’s sweat and God’s love, beer came into the world.”

Peace and blessings, Steve+

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April 13, 2009 · 20:00

The Call

Note:  To clear up some confusion my references to “The Deity Herself.”  God is neither male nor female and Scripture records that God made Man and Woman in his image, not just Man.  Likewise there are both male and female images used in the Hebrew which refer to God.  I am not turning to “goddess worship” if anyone is concerned. I patently, as anyone who knows me well, understand God within the accepted bounds of the Trinity.  My use of the female imagery is for the most part to get people to think and maybe actually notice that I am referring to God. Maybe too it will encourage women who have been hurt or victimized by men, especially abusive fathers to see that the Christian message is not something that excludes them.  While some may not approve, or even think that I have succumbed to “political correctness,”  I see this as legitimate use of the language, which because of its limited nature can never fully show us the glory of God. Peace and Blessings, Steve+

I’ve been asked by some how I was “called” into the ministry or my vocation as a Priest and Chaplain.  I have done a lot, I mean really a lot of reflecting on this over the years.  Honestly, I don’t really know how it happened.  I mean I like sort of know, but the “how it happened” is pretty much a God thing I guess.  Looking back I think I get it, but am still amazed that I get to do what I get to do.  To use the words of Elton John “I’m still standing after all these years.” The reason I say this is because I’m NOT the greatest theologian, preacher, pastor, or even chaplain around.  Likewise, I know that I am certainly not among the most “spiritual.”  For me the Christian life takes work, really hard work.  There are guys and gals around who who can do circles around me in most of these facets of the Christian life and ministry.   Now on the other hand I don’t think that I drag up the rear, but I’m not going to over play my hand.  There are things that I think that I do pretty well, but I consider myself kind of a journeyman.

General George Patton recounted in his memoirs that “he prayed that he would never get ‘the Call’ because he knew that he would have to leave the Army.”  In some ways I think I can understand that.  Now I know that I was called.  In fact that call probably goes back to a pretty early age.  I found among things grandmother had saved a short paper I had written in the 4th Grade about Easter.  It was not about the Easter Bunny but it was about the Resurrection of Jesus.  So I guess that I had some kind of faith stuff going on back that far.  I think that the first inkling of a call came when I was 11 or 12. At the time the Roman Catholic Chaplain at our base took care of my Protestant family when a local church Sunday School teacher told me that my dad was a baby killer.  Toward the end of high I felt  that call during a NJROTC cadet cruise from San Diego to Pearl Harbor and back.  I wrote my grand parents that I felt that I was being called to be a Navy Chaplain.  I did a short term mission with a Christian Singing group called the Continental Singers and Orchestra in the summer of 1979.  By the way I was the spotlight tech, I did not sing, the Deity Herself was wise enough not to inflict my “joyful noise” on our audiences.  That trip was remarkable, but when I was getting ready for it my local church had a nasty split.  As a result I got caught in the middle of it.  I was in military parlance “collateral damage.” To tell the truth, that experience was kind of sucky.

That was rough, in fact my reaction was to withdraw.  I left that church when I returned and started attending the church of my girlfriend. Patently she is now my ever patient and long suffering wife.  The poor girl should have realized what she was getting into with me when about a month into our dating relationship I left for three months.   Yet she has persevered.

What I figured during this time was that the Deity and I would make a deal.  I would stay in church.  I would even teach Sunday School, and that I would go in the military as a “good Christian officer.” She being the Deity of course would agree to that deal, everything would be copasetic and we would cooperate on my terms.  Pretty arrogant for a 20 year old, but hey, like most young people I had my really dumb moments.  She of course had other plans….

So I went in the Army because Judy forbade me to join the Navy.  She had good reason. Her two sisters married knuckle-headed sailors who were always deployed.  Neither of course were good husbands.  She however let me go into the Army.  I said “cool beans” and I thought I was on my way to fulfilling the deal I had made with the Deity.  As I made my way through my young Army career it seemed that She used very unfair and devious means to rub the call in my face.  Chapel friends would tell me that I needed to stop running from God.  A good friend left the Army for seminary.  In fact the good Deity ensured that I was miserable even though I loved being an Army officer.  Finally in 1987 She used my Brigade XO, LTC Ike Adams to kick me in the teeth. We would run together at lunch. One day while running he asked: “Hey Captain, what do you think your doing with the rest of your life?”  I responded in typical junior Army officer fashion: “Well, I’m going to the Advanced Course, take another Company and after that get promoted to Major.”  I mean I had this planned out, and then he cut me off…”Well I don’t think that’s what God has in mind, you were called to the ministry and are running from it.”

If there was ever an “oh crap” moment, this was it.  People had been pinging on me for five or six years about this, but nobody, ever ever  dropped the bomb like that.  I could have died.  I had never mentioned anything about this to the man. Yet here he was, or God was, reading my mail.  This was not fun.  So I asked him: “How do you know?”  I was stunned by the reply.  “Well the Holy Spirit revealed it to me.”  Now Ike was not and is not a flake.  He was a Social Worker and career Army officer.  He retired from the Army and went to Asbury Seminary where he got his M.Div and University of Kentucky where he picked up his Ph.D.  He’s now the Chair of the Social Work Department at Asbury College.  Shaken by the incident I took myself home.  I told the long suffering Judy what had happened.  She told me “Well I could have told you that.”

So a year and some change later I left the Army to go to seminary.  I was accepted at Asbury, Austin Presbyterian and Southwestern Baptist.  I chose Southwestern for the simple reason that it was cheaper.  Back in those days before the Fundamentalist takeover of the seminaries, the Southern Baptist “Cooperative Fund” underwrote the majority of even non-Southern Baptist students tuition.  What would have been a $5,000 per semester or so bill was reduced to $1,000 a semester give or take a bit depending on the semester.  It was a good thing, because seminary was hell on earth.  How we made it through that ordeal is beyond me. It was like going through the gauntlet of Klingon Pain Sticks in the Rite of Ascension.

First Judy got sick and had to leave her job, a crummy one working for the government in an office rife with sexual harassment.  I left active duty during the Texas Oil bust of 1988.  I couldn’t get a job.  Seminary students without a technical skill were a dime a dozen, and the attitude of many employers was that they didn’t need you and if they did, they would not pay you much.  We lost everything, I mean almost everything but our books and our dogs.  We lost our house, our cars, and were pretty much poverty stricken despite working  full time in social service agencies, night shelters, pizza parlors and part time as a janitor.  Finally I had to take a semester off just to try to get back on our feet.

About that time I was accepted into the Chaplain Candidate program in the National Guard.  I got back in school, but once again came to a point were my job was drying up and with it the money I needed to go to seminary.  I had been given my two week notice.  I was the highest paid hourly worker, expenses had to be cut and I was gone.  At that point I thought stick a fork in me, I’m done.  I took my last finals that semester in absolute despair thinking that all had gone for naught.  Walking down the hallway in tears I met a couple of my Professors, my Church history and Missiology professors. They saw me.  Both simply let me cry and then prayed for me.  I got home that afternoon, ready to quit. I figured that it was over and that I had failed. I was going to find a regular job and start over, maybe go back in the Army.  As I walked in the door the phone rang and I got a call from a Christian ministry that Judy forced me to apply to. They offered me a job doing counseling.  It paid better than anything I had since the Army and even had, get this, tuition assistance and medical benefits.   Now we still had some more rough times but somehow God got us through this incredibly difficult but formative time in our lives.  I think that She was ensuring that I would be able to care for those going through similar circumstances and never let me forget Her care and assistance as I slogged my way through seminary.  The weird thing about seminary was that this independent evangelical guy came out on the Anglican and Catholic side of life.  I had my Baptist and Assembly of God friends ask me if I was a “closet Catholic or Anglican.” Believe me, that was not a cool thing to be asked in a Southern Baptist Seminary that was getting hit hard by a Fundamentalist assault.

I finished seminary and was ordained in 1992, at which time I also became a National Guard Chaplain.  I did a Clinical Pastoral Education Residency at Parkland Hospital in Dallas from 1993-94.  That was an experience that helped me continue my education, formation and discernment at I continued to track in this Anglican-Catholic manner.  On top of this Judy became Catholic in 1994 and we moved to West Virginia where I took my first post CPE Chaplain job. This was a contract position at a hospital in the town where my parents were from and where my both of my grand mothers lived.  Unfortunately I worked bad hours and spent weekends on call at the hospital or with the National Guard or Reserves.  I had no fellowship, pretty much no life outside the hospital.  I was isolated and I knew that I did not fit in many of the churches in the town.  At a chaplain conference I met a Priest from a Anglican “Continuing Church” who told me about the Charismatic Episcopal Church in 1995.  My friend told me that he thought that it would be a good place for me.  I met with the local bishop and in July 1996 I was ordained as a Priest.  It should have been September, but the time-line was moved forward when I was mobilized for the Bosnia operation.  The day before my ordination my bishop made a comment to me.  He said that this was no longer about simply “doing ministry.”  He said it was about a Sacramental Grace that was ontological in nature.   In other words, it was something that God would do to change me in that Sacrament.

When I was mobilized I lost my contract job.  Thankfully, the Army managed to find ways to keep me employed as a base chaplain when I returned from Europe. This let to a string of events which eventually led me to the Navy Chaplain Corps.  I know that my call is that of a Priest.  That now is my identity, though I function as a Chaplain within that vocation.  I have been blessed in every assignment with wonderful people and almost in every place a supportive atmosphere.  My long military and Chaplain experience has helped me not screw up a lot since coming to the Navy.  I had made plenty of mistakes in the Army. The cool thing is that like changing services is like going from the National League to the American League in mid-season. All of your stats start over.  Kind of like the Bible says, “old things passed away, behold all things become new.”

I am a proud journeyman. I love what I do and the people that I work with and serve.  At the same time one day I will retire from the Navy.  I am sure that the Deity Herself will patently guide me into whatever She has for me as a Priest in her Church. I cannot imagine anything else.  I love being a mentor to young people, especially young ministers and seminarians.  If I have my way I hope to be serving as a Priest until the day that I’m really finished.  This is not about preaching, it is about serving God’s people, in Word and in Sacrament in whatever capacity the church decides to use me until I am done. I figure that since Jesus and the Holy Spirit and a whole lot of persistence  have gotten me this far that it must be right.

I hope that this somewhat explains my call and vocation as a Priest.  It has been to use the words of Jerry Garcia: “A long strange trip.”

Peace, Steve+

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April 12, 2009 · 14:40

Alleluia! Memories of Easter…Past and Present

easter-2002-on-hue-cityEaster aboard USS Hue City CG-66 off the Horn of Africa 2002

I find Easter to be an interesting time.  I tend to get reflective and while I do joyfully say “Alleluia! Christ is Risen!” I also tend to be somewhat subdued.  By nature I am reflective person, I like to watch, observe and think.  I am not into big Easter productions and extravaganzas. I prefer much more simple expressions of the Risen Lord.  I think that Jesus would go along with me on this as he spent that first Easter walking with friends, who failed to recognize him, and then breaking bread, he celebrated the first Eucharist after the Resurrection at Emmaus.

For me my most memorable Easters have been connected with my life in the military.  They have almost always been simple affairs, and most involving the liturgy somehow.  I think the first Easter that I remember was at Cubi Point Naval Air Station in the Philippines, it was seeing the Chaplains in their Summer White uniforms that still stands out to me today.  I remember a Easter Sunrise service at Naval Station Long Beach and looking in wonder at two “mothballed” carriers of World War II vintage, the USS Boxer and USS Princeton moored near the site of the service on the waterfront.  When my dad was in Vietnam and we had been made unwelcome in a civilian church, we attended Mass at the Quonset hut that served as the Chapel on the little Naval Communications station.  In my senior year of high school I made a cruise on Navy ships to and from Pearl Harbor Hawaii.  During the week at Pearl I made the trip to the Arizona Memorial on Easter Sunday.  For some reason that experience reverberated as loud as any church service I have ever attended.  When I was a young Army Officer running from God and hiding in the Chapel, the Deity Herself patently used the events of Holy Week to “rend my heart” so to speak.  I left the Good Friday Tenebrea service praying that Easter would come.  Our good Lutheran Chaplain, Lee Rittenbach had driven home the reality of Jesus’ death so well that I really started to understand what the disciples went through.  When Easter came I learned to say “Alleluia! Christ is Risen!”

After that I went through kind of a spiritual desert as far as Easter was concerned.  In seminary I was attending mega-churches which did nothing with Holy week, and made a big evangelical production of Easter, complete with overly loud and insipidly shallow “worship” music and laborious preaching.  I have to say that these big productions were more of an ordeal than a celebration for me.  During seminary we were going through sickness, financial disaster, loss of our home, cars and struggling to survive working multiple jobs while being a full time student.  How we got through seminary I will never understand, other than that the Deity herself provided for us through a lot of wonderful people.  The “happy talk” at church, the prosperity Gospel, focus on signs and wonders seemed to reflect almost a gnostic other worldly view of life that I did not see in the Scriptures.

Academically and from a theological point of view Easter began to rally take shape for me.  Reading the Church Fathers as well reading Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s The Cost of Discipleship, Emil Brunner’s The Scandal of Christianity, Alister McGrath’s The Mystery of the Cross, Hans Kung’s On Being a Christian and Jurgen Moltman’s The Crucified God brought me to greater understanding of the connectedness of Easter to the Incarnation and the Passion.  One of my professors, a kindly gentleman named Yandall Woodfin, made a comment in his Philosophy of Religion class:  “We do not do Christian Theology without coming to grips with the reality of suffering and death.”  That comment was at first offensive to me because my mega-church pastors all focused on the Resurrection.  Death to them seemed to be a bother. One pastor said in a sermon how he did not do visits to the sick.  When asked by someone how sick they had to be for him to see them, he stated “You don’t want to be that sick.”

However, what Dr. Woodfin said planted a seed in me.  This went from an academic question, to daily reality during my Clinical Pastoral Education Residency at Parkland hospital.  Doing various Holy Week services there, in the midst of the amazing amount of pain, suffering and death in that gargantuan Medical Center brought into focus and made real what Dr. Woodfin said.  At Parkland there was no avoiding death or suffering, and what Dr. Woodfin said was right.  We don’t begin to do Christian theology until we we deal with suffering and death.  Easter and the Resurrection don’t happen without the Incarnation and Passion of Jesus.  Easter disconnected from the reality of suffering and death is nothing more than a “happy thought” or escape that avoids the the great Mystery of Faith: Christ has died. Christ is Risen. Christ will come again.

After Parkland my understanding of Easter grew as I was immersed in the liturgy, began to observe the liturgical year, and occasionally “clandestinely” attend Anglican churches during Christmas and Easter. During this time Judy became Roman Catholic, something that accelerated what was already going on in me.  During my formation process and following my ordination to first the Deaconate and then the Priesthood, the understanding deepened as I saw how the Gospel in Word and Sacrament. As an Army Reserve chaplain serving on active duty I experienced the life of a parish pastor at a small base in central Pennsylvania.  There I saw how the how the liturgical year and life are so intimately connect.  In life and death, in sorrow and joy, in good times and bad, the Holy Spirit touched people.

Easter became even more part of my life when I became a Navy Chaplain and left the Army in the “rear view mirror.”  Here I began to see how wonderful Easter is when you do not have all the “smells and bells” “praise teams” or great music or facilities.  It goes back to simplicity.  On Easter Sunday 2001, I was on the USS Frederick, LST 1184 with my Marines going from Korea back to Okinawa.  It was on Frederick 23 years before that I had first felt the call to be a Navy Chaplain during the trip to Pearl Harbor.  In 2002 I was deployed on USS Hue City CG-66 at the beginning of Operation Enduring Freedom. Off the Horn of Africa we had both sunrise services as well as a morning Eucharist on our flight deck. While with the Marine Security Forces I spent an Easter celebrating Eucharist on the fence-line adjoining Communist Cuba.  I now have come back to critical care hospital ministry in my ICUs.  Here we live Good Friday every day.  For me Easter is not just a nice thing to observe, but a necessity in life.

This morning I attended the early Mass with Judy at Ascension Catholic Church.  I love the church, though it is a bit big and busy for me now after Iraq.  So I found me a corner near the choir where I could sit with my back against the wall, an emergency exit to my left, and where I could observe what was going on.  Yes I was having a PTSD moment, but I got through it with the help of the Deity herself and a little ant-anxiety medication.  But the really cool thing was seeing a man who was one of our patients on the ICU a couple of months back.  A man who almost died on us several times, and his wife.  We had grown close during that 2 1/2 weeks and he made it through.  He looked great this morning.  We all hugged and talked of how good God is before Mass, exchanged the Peace and then spent some time together after Mass. That was really cool.  What a way to celebrate Easter.

Life and death, pain and suffering, healing and resurrection.  Alleluia, Christ is Risen. The Lord is Risen indeed. Alleluia!

Peace, Steve+

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April 11, 2009 · 19:19

In Memorium: Chief John Ness and LCDR Jim Breedlove USN

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LCDR Jim Breedlove (Left) and Senior Chief John Ness 1975-76 Edison High School NJROTC

I have found that as I get older I find there are moments where eras end.  Today was one of those days. I came home from my overnight on call at the Medical Center I checked my e-mail and found a message from Maggie Ness.  She was the wife of my1st year NJROTC at Edison High School, Stockton California, Chief Petty Officer John Ness. She wrote to inform us that John had passed away on Good Friday after a long illness.

The death of “Chief” was expected.  As I said he had been sick for many years and had come back home in hospice care. His death followed that of our Senior Instructor and Detachment OIC, LCDR Jim Breedlove by about 14 months.  LCDR Breedlove died unexpectedly after a short illness shortly before I returned from Iraq last January.  Both of these men had a profound influence on me and taught me many lessons.  From them I learned a lot about responsibility, honor and commitment.

They had founded the detachment in the early 1970s which was not when you think about it a great time to begin any military activity on any campus as Vietnam was winding  down.  Both men had recently retired from the Navy.  LCDR Breedlove was  what we would now call a Surface Warfare Officer who spent a lot of his career in ship’s Engineering Departments serving often as the Chief Engineer.  Chief was a Cryptologic Technician.  In short, a codebreaker.  Chief has spent a lot of his career working in the intelligence side of the house.

These men were the glue that helped guide me through high school.  Their efforts expanded my world.  My world had become much smaller when my dad retired from the Navy in 1974 and I was miserable.  Yet because of these men  my world expanded, in fact the world again became a place of wonder.  During the fall of my sophomore year I was able to go to San Diego and ride the USS Agerholm DD-826 up the coast and home.  Later in the fall we went to Mare Island to spend time with the “Riverine” forces of Coastal River Division XI.  That spring I went to a “mini-boot camp” at NTC San Diego.  The next summer I spent a couple of weeks on the USS Coral Sea CV-43 and get some “on the job training” in the ship’s Medical Department.  On Coral Sea I was able to see the intricate workings of flight operations on a aircraft carrier. Coming back to school we got a ride on the USS Pyro AE-25 a ammunition ship based out of Alameda California.  On Pyro I met a Navy Chaplain and talked with him about the chaplaincy.  I also saw my first burial at sea.  The next winter we traveled to Portland Oregon to board the USS Mount Vernon LST-39 coming out of the yards and going back to California.  My senior year was the highlight of my time in High School.  A group of us went down to San Diego and took USS Frederick LST-1184 from San Diego to Pearl Harbor. We spent a week at Pearl seeing the history of the base, the USS Arizona and USS Utah memorials and spent Easter Sunday there.  While there I spent a day snorkeling at Hanauma Bay and came out with the sunburn from Hell.  One of my friends, Jeff Vanover still remembers me as the “Lobster man” after that experience.  We rode the USS Gray FF-1054 back to San Diego and again learned a lot. On Gray I met with a destroyer squadron chaplain and learned more about the Chaplaincy.  I sent a post card to my grandparents from the Gray.   I found it when visiting my grandmother in 1995.  It said: “Dear Ma Maw and Pa Paw, I think that God is calling me to be a Navy Chaplain.”  At the time I was a civilian hospital and Army Reserve Chaplain,. I chucked and to her that “At least I got the chaplain part right.”  I had no idea that the Deity herself would lead me into the Navy a few short years later.  Other Cadets went on other cruises.  Several rode the USS Blue Ridge LCC-19 to Acuploco Mexico.  Others went on a Coast Guard cutter for 60 days in the summer on Alsakan fisheries patrol.

There are several things to note about the Hawaii trip.  It was over three weeks long, which because part of the time was Easter break (yes it was still Easter back then) we missed two weeks of school.  Some people would say that this would hurt students academicly, but I think not.  Sometimes I think that kids need to get out and see the world under the care and supervision of mature people. You can always catch up on academics, but to experience the world is something most kids miss out on. Commander Breedlove and Chief Ness gave us the chance to explore and see things that other kids would never see.  For me the more important facets were that the trip put in my heart a love of the sea, and the call to be a Navy Chaplain while on Frederick, something that was driven home at Pearl Harbor and coming back on the Gray.  Even more interesting was that in April 2001, about 23 years after that I celebrated my first  Holy Eucharist underway on Frederick. She was then the last LST on active service in the US Navy when she picked my Marine unit up in Pohang South Korea.  The Eucharist happened to be on Easter Sunday.  Talk about almost impossible occurrences. If there is such a thing as confirmation of where you are supposed to be, I think that this qualifies.

Anyway, those are experiences that these two men allowed us to experience.  I don’t know of many high school students who got to spend about 70 days underway on Navy ships and have all the other experiences that these emn allowed us to have.

Now it is time for some “Sea Stories.”  Chief Ness was a colorful man, as many Chiefs of his era were.  If you have seen the movie Men of Honor you can get to understand a little bit of the Navy culture that shaped Chief Ness.  He was not profane like Robert DeNiro’s character, Master Chief Billy Sunday, but he was a man who pushed us.  He was to often blunt and to the point. At the same time he was caring while not taking any crap from anyone.  He taught us to were the uniform correctly, close order drill, basic seamanship and other subjects that would be common to any new sailor.  As far as academics, he was a good teacher.  Like I said he didn’t take any crap.  We had a couple of guys who cheated on a test that sophomore year, both scoring an “A.”  Chief caught them, it’s hard to fool a codebreaker.  He brought them to the front of the class and told them that they would each get half on an “A.”  They both thought that meant a “C.”  Instead chief drew an “A” on the chalkboard and erased the right half of the letter, leaving the figure of an “F.”  He also taught us to be on time. Something that in my later years I have become almost pathological about.  We were getting on a bus to go to NTC San Diego.  There was one Cadet who was late.  At the appointed hour Chief directed the bus to start moving although a car was pulling into the parking lot and the cadet was getting out.  The Cadet did not make an effort to flag down or chase the bus, so Chief left him.  He then told us if the young man had made an effort that he would have stopped the bus, but the Navy would not delay a ship’s departure for one person and that we needed to see the consequences of being “UA.”  He also had an award that he gave to Cadets who had problems goofing things up.  It was a 10 pound shot put mounted on a plaque.  He called it the “Iron Ball” award for people who could “foul up an iron ball.”  He let us settle our class grades.  He used a “Bell curve” to do our final grade.  A the end of the quarter he would put every student’s cumulative point total on the board with no names shown.  He would then ask us to figure out who should get what grades using the Bell curve as our standard.  Thus we selected 10% for “A’s” 20% for “B’s” 40% for “C’s” 20% for “D’s” and 10% for “F’s.”  Now he allowed some room for maneuver if there were natural big breaks between scores, but he made us make the decision. He did because he knew that we would all have to make hard decisions that impacted other people later in life and that we had to learn that lesson early.  Chief almost always had his ever-present cup of black coffee, with a ceramic frog inside of it eyes looking up.  We used to joke that his forefinger was permanently molded ino the shape of a coffee mug handle. Chief had a heart of gold. He had nicknames for us, and he gave us a hard time, but when we were down he wouldn’t kick us.  He taught leadership lessons that I will not forget.

LCDR Breedlove was my mentor and later in life friend.  He taught us more advanced Naval subjects including Naval History, Law and customs.  He also taught us navigation, damage control, weapons systems and combat systems. He arranged for all of our trips and went with us on many of them.  In short he began to teach us to be Naval Officers. After I graduated I staying in contact with Jim.  He was always excited to hear what was going on in my life. Whenever I went home to visit my family I always set aside time to meet him for lunch and have a couple of beers together.  He was a gentleman, a family man and a Christian. His death, coming at the end of my time in Iraq was devastating.  We had stayed in contact during the deployment and his sudden death shook me.  I have been looking forward to once again sharing a meal and a beer or two together.

I have gone on a little long, but these two men meant a lot to me.  They were fine men, loved their families and cared enough for us to let us hard lessons before they became lessons that would kill us later in life.  A fair number of us went into the military, some for just an enlistment and others for full careers.  I’m the last of our class on active duty.  I even met one of my classmates when I was an Army Lieutenant going through West Berlin back in late 1986.  We had been in Chief’s class that first year and he happened to recognize me.

Tomorrow is Easter and I know that John and Jim are present with God.  Pray for their families, especially Maggie. May their souls and the souls of all the departed, rest in peace.

Peace, Steve+

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April 10, 2009 · 18:55

The Long Good Friday

Lent is over and today is Good Friday and I have the duty at the Medical Center that I work at.  Yesterday I celebrated a Maundy Thursday Liturgy here, and today we had our Good Friday service.  Since I am a Priest, but in a more Anglo-Catholic type church, I get to do the “Protestant” services.  Both Maundy Thursday and Good Friday were very meaningful to me this year.  It is the first time in a long time that I have had chapel responsibilities during Holy Week and good for me to be able to share in those sacramental acts. I make sure that like Bishop Blackie Ryan, that I look at the person receiving the sacrament and give them a smile.  It may be one of the few good things that happens to them during the day or week.

In my previous posts about surviving Lent I noted how that I was going to try to be happy.  I altered a few things to do this and found that instead of being an ordeal like past years that this Lent was not too bad.  In fact with the exception of stuff that was PTSD related this was a pretty good Lent.  I actually think that I had some spiritual growth.  Kind of way cool that the Deity Herself would give that grace to me this year.

Getting back to today, Good Friday.  For some people Good Friday is simply another day, even for those that observe it.  It comes and goes, just a speed bump on the way to Easter so we can all get happy.  But those for those who live in my world, that of the Intensive Care Unit and Pediatric Intensive Care Unit, Good Friday is a year round event.

How is that so?  Well since you asked, let me tell you.  Here we live in the constant shadow of life and death.  We have flesh and blood people who suffer.  People who find out suddenly that they have an illness that will kill them. They are people who face their own mortality in what often is a long and painful ordeal.  Sometimes they face this alone and even if they have friends and family present may still feel very much alone.  In fact, they may even feel God Forsaken.  The cry of Jesus uttered from the Cross can be their own.  “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”   For some this is an incredible burden, the pain which is not simple physical, but spiritual and emotional as well.   Here at our medical center, and thousands of others, we live at the intersection of life, death and eternal life.

Today has been a busy day already, multiple calls and visits with people going through various ordeals, both patients and staff. We have a number of people on our wards who may be with Jesus by Easter Sunday. Many I have gotten to know over multiple stays here.

There are those also who spend this Good Friday like Jesus’ mother, and the others gathered with her at the foot of the Cross. These are the families and friends who can do nothing more than watch and pray, comforting their loved one and each other.  There are those who patiently and lovingly care for people, the doctors, nurses, Corpsmen and technicians all hours of the day.  There are some who think that medical professionals have an easy life.  Some may, but those that I know do not.  They are in a combat zone without the bullets knowing that every day that they come in to work that there is a good possibility of dealing with death, and certainly with the pain and suffering of those who feel forsaken.

Among the crisis there was the homecoming of a number of our Corpsmen returning from Iraq. There are babies being born and people getting well.

At the same time there is joy.  There are those rays of hope where somehow beyond all expectation someone recovers. There are the patients who despite their suffering constantly look out for other patients and the staff.  They have overcome by reaching out to care for others, and they radiate joy.    There is also joy in seeing someone have a “good Christian death.”  You know, the kind like the movies, where the dying person knows it is there time, gathers the family and friends around and gives them his or her blessing, shares stories, laughter and tears at the same time and when everyone is done, the Priest says a prayer, maybe the person is anointed, the Our Father is said and the person passes to the next world.

Today in the Good Friday Liturgy I had a short homily.  And it focused on this understanding that God is with us.  That God who entered time and space in the Incarnation is with us in life and in death.  Good Friday is they way that God puts flesh to the words of the  23rd Psalm, “even though I walk though the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me.”  Jesus enduring this death, is not a God who is distant or uncaring.  He knows what it is to not only feel, but to be God Forsaken.  The Cross is that portal by which we know God, the portal by which we come to know the mystery of the Trinity, the place where a simple Roman Officer, a Centurion gets what almost no one else gets. “Surely, this is the Son of God.”

Here at the hospital I will walk the halls, and spend my time in my ICUs, watching and waiting throughout the night.  For many here, this Good Friday will not end tonight, but Easter will come.

Well I have eaten my pea soup and bread, taken my short break and time to get back out on the floor. Pray for all who labor tonight in hospitals, those who care for the sick and dying, those who deliver babies, those who maintain vigils in ICUs and await crisis in Emergency Rooms.

On Monday I’ll be doing the memorial service for a young 4th year medical student who was killed in a motorbike accident this week.  He was just weeks from graduating and entering our Surgical internship program.  He was a good officer and promising physician.  Pray for me a sinner.

Peace, Steve+

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April 7, 2009 · 20:30

So this is it what it feels like to be the Anti-Christ…Cool

Note: I received a reply from a Jehovah’s in reply to my “Saturday Morning Distractions…” post from a Witless Witness, defending, or witnessing to his faith.   While I appreciated his input, I have to say that is was long, pedantic and didn’t make much sense, even from a Witness point of view. It was just a conglomeration of quotes from witness literature and their extra special “New World Translation”  of the Bible.  It was very Karaoke. In other words my inner Simon Cowell dictator couldn’t in good conscience approve it.  Now I’m open to criticism and dialogue, but this was just not up to par.  If the gentleman is out there and wants to reply, send me another, shorter and too the point response, not a diatribe. As for his post it was rather weak. As Anne Robinson would say: “Sorry. you are the weakest link…Goodbye.” Try again my friend, a little more work and maybe your post will be seen, but then again maybe not.

Today was really cool.  I have discovered what it is to be the Anti-Christ….well at least to Jehovah’s Witnesses.  Of course this is an honor that I do not take lightly, and in fact do not assume alone.  All of us who are Christian ministers of any denomination, liberal or conservative are Anti-Christ. This is especially of Priests of any type, yours truly included.  It’s kind of strange, since all of us Christian ministers regardless of denomination are at least part of the Anti-Christ.  It’s kind of like how Christians talk about the Body of Christ having many members, only the opposite, the body of Anti-Christ having many members.  So all of us in the Body of Anti-Christ need to stick together.  It’s tough to do this alone.

Not only am I the Anti-Christ to the Witnesses because I am a Priest, but I am also, by virtue of being a commissioned officer of the government, I am a servant of Satan because all worldly Powers are his servants. I guess that this makes me part of the  Witness “Axis of Evil.”   Throw in my love for a really good beer and working in a hospital ICU that routinely gives blood transfusions and I am a top level bad guy.  It’s almost like being Osama Bin Laden, only worse. I find this cool that a group could think so highly of me. If only they could send me to hell, but wait, they don’t have hell, just damnation through annihilation.

Of course damnation for the Witnesses is kind of lame.  Those who are faithful Witnesses, the 144,000 or those left picking fruit and petting animals for eternity get to avoid Armageddon and annihilation.  For the rest of us, especially those of the Anti-Christ caste, it’s simply annihilation, poof and it’s done.  That’s lame.  There is no eternal Lake of Fire, no brimstone, no eternal punishment, torture or any of the things that give Hell its own particular ambiance. Dante would not be impressed.

Now when I think of hell I am drawn to the Lake of Fire imagery.  You take heat and humidity and combine them, like summer in Louisiana on steroids for eternity, and that is my image of hell. I hate heat and humidity.  Add to it Demons who are like super-sized mosquitoes on pro-wrestling kind of really great ‘steroids and that would suck.  Add to this the horrible clothes, sackcloth and ashes, and the lack of a good wifi-fi connection or cell phone coverage and hell really is hell.  Simply being annihilated is easy, really no punishment at all, especially when the alternative is working in orchards and petting animals for eternity.  That’s like being sentenced to being a migrant worker with your lovable dog in a San Joaquin Valley Orange grove in the heat of the summer. Perfect world or not, that blows, especially if you worked you ass off to get to real heaven only to get bounced by someone that you converted.

This goes back to the odds of a faithful Witness getting into heaven.  With approximately 6 million living Witnesses fighting for 144,000 slots, the chance of getting in is pretty low.  Even not counting the millions of Witness who have already passed on, only 2.4% get to real heaven.  If you add the guys who got in at the beginning the odds have to be well under 1% of all Witness who get to go to real heaven.  Of course those who do are really special.  They get to rule the world.  The world that they get to rule consists of lower performing Witnesses, orchards and domesticated animals.  In other words you have 144,000 bosses ruling over a Zoo, an Orange grove and it’s pissed off attendants who thought that they were going to be where you are. No wonder there is another revolt in the Book of Revelation, that would positively suck.

So to all my brother and sister Christian ministers and Anti-Christs I send you my regards.  You are not alone, we are one Body, one spirit in Anti-Christ.  Take heart, we’re in this together.

Peace, Steve+

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April 6, 2009 · 22:59

Holy Week Superstitions

Holy Week is a funny thing for me.  While I generally look forward to Easter, I always have a sense of foreboding.  I think this actually goes back to childhood.  Family members dying around the time, major events and crisis’s that unfold.  My dad was in Vietnam during Easter 1972 when the North Vietnamese launched their offensive.  So I guess that I’m somewhat superstitious. This week a dear friend lost her father to cancer.  My own parents are not in great shape. My dad lost 7 pounds this month and weighs under 120 pounds.  He is doing worse and worse.

I was talking with one of our attendings today who reminded one of the nurses what weekend was coming up.  She asked why, and he said, think about it, something bad almost always happens around Easter. I patently concurred with the good doctor. My experience in other hospitals always involved really tragic events. It seems that something tragic always happens, a mass murder, a series of tornadoes that wipe out whole towns, fires that kill families, Tsunamis and other events.  This week there has been a killer earthquake in Italy.  I am not alone in the way that I feel. Snopes.com even has a page devoted to Easter superstitions.

So with a twinge of anxiety I face this week.  I do look forward to what this week means. Maunday Thursday, Good Friday and Easter.  I will celebrate each, but at the same time I feel strange. I hope that this is just a bit of PTSD and nothing more.  May everyone experience the joy that Easter  should bring and I pray that no disasters overtake anyone this year. Peace, Steve+

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April 5, 2009 · 22:16

Lenten Journal: Passion Sunday

Lent has been interesting this year.  I did a number of things different. First off I decided that I would try to be happy and not morose.  It seemed to have worked, with few exceptions my mood has definitely been better.

This year I decided to be less concerned with the physical and dietary aspects of Lent.  I actually needed to do this this year. Physically and emotionally I was not as good off as I have been in years past.  As far as Lent was concerned, I had become a slave to the season. Lent had become something to be endured, not enjoyed. Where in the past I would have done things out of a legalistic mindset and obeyed simply because it was written, I did not this year.  This meant I occasionally got a bit of meat on Wednesdays and Fridays. But again, this was not because I was simply defying the rules, I can do that well if I need to, after all I’m a Myers Briggs INTJ, rules need not always apply if they are not helpful.   But I had to do this now, because I had, like the Pharisees before me put the observance of the rules higher than my relationship with Jesus.

Spiritually, because of my emotional state I decided to let go of the daily office for Lent, and Lent only. I will be going back to it on Easter Sunday.  What had happened was that in my rigid adherence to doing it I was grinding myself down to spiritual dust.  I was not reflecting on the Gospels or other readings, I was just doing them.  I was spiritually exhausted. Prayer was becoming forced and rote. I knew that if I continued in this manner I would not be any good for anyone.  Instead of this I simply began to pray on my way to work, and my way home and when I went to bed.  I never prayed for me except in regard to being able to care for others. Sometimes an Our Father, or a Hail Mary, maybe a recitation of a couple of decades of the Rosary, maybe extemporaneous intercessions for people that I know.  Sometimes just a simple thank you to God, after all She does deserve to be thanked at least once in a while.

As far as prayer goes and seeing answers, I guess I am a bad fit in a “Charismatic” church.  I believe that God can heal people. But there were many times early in my hospital ministry that most of the people that I prayed for died.  Talk about having a complex….When I was asked if I would pray for someone I would hesitate.  I would sometimes want to ask  “Are you really sure that you want me to do this?”  Today, working in ICUs and critical care I approach prayer from a glass half-empty or there is something wrong with the glass point of view.  I am not a Pollyanna type of person.  Somewhat jaded, I can be like the Chaplain version of House MD. Yet at the same time I’ve been surprised by Her grace during this Lent.  Things that jaded ICU attending physicians and I but can only chalk up to something really unusual. Possibly even miraculous and maybe even done by the Deity Herself.  Thus this Lenten season has been marked with spiritual surprises.

Instead of beating myself to death to observe rules that were forced on us when it became easy to be a Christian following Constantine (See an earlier Lenten post here), this Lent I decided the Lent let the Deity work Her grace in me.  I decided to get out more and take part more in the life of a local parish. This has been hard since we moved here. I travelled a lot in connection with my assignments and after Iraq I got really wierd about being in crowds of people and really sensitive to noise and light. My wife belongs to a really cool Roman Catholic parish near us, but since Iraq it is just too much for me.  It is big and like I said,  large crowds of people that I don’t know, often unfamiliar worship music and too much exposure to noise and light really get to me. That’s the damned thing about PTSD, it makes simple stuff hard. I used to go to mega-churches, and now the bigger the church the scarier for me.  So I met a wonderful Episcopal Priest, Fr John,  over at the hospital who is the Rector of Saint James Church in Portsmouth.  We became friends. He invited me and I decided to to crawl out of my protective shell that I have lived inside spiritually since Iraq.  The Church is historic, it is the African American church, many of the parishioners had ancestors that were slaves, or who were themselves part of the civil rights movement. Many are prominent in the life of the city. These folks love Jesus and a lot are connected in some way with the military.  The church itself is not large, but is caring and involved in the life of the community.  The Gospel is proclaimed in word and deed.    Since my small denomination has nothing anywhere near me, this has become my local home and I hope to grow in community with these wonderful people of God over the coming years.

Today of course was Passion Sunday. We began with the Liturgy of the Palms outside the church and moved inside singing as we went.  There is nothing like a “high church” primarily African American Episcopal choir that can do both traditional and majestic hymns as well as spirituals and Gospel.  We followed with the Liturgy of the Passion followed by Eucharist.  The service cemented some things that God has been doing in me since I came back from Iraq, and what God has been working in me this season.

I hope that as I celebrate Maunday Thursday and Good Friday services at the Medical Center that God will continue that work in me, and hopefully in some way touch others with Her grace.  For once I am really looking forward with anticipation to Holy Week, for I am not alone.

Peace, Steve+

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