Volume 6, Issue 20

Christmas 2012 A.D.

Editorial
So it is Christmas and what have you done? Another year over and the new one just begun. The God of all compassion and mercy chose his abode among us to show us the path to salvation. It’s important that we return to basics - that we come from Him and go back to Him. Every day, every year, needs to be a life lived fully for His glory, bearing every pain, facing every challenge that comes with life’s peaks and troughs. This Christmas issues features art in various forms. Lots of inspiring readings for our consideration and reflection. Knowing that life is a journey and stewardship, we need to make the most of it. Also in this issues, beautiful art by a 3rd Order Franciscan Novice. Articles about carols, also. All art originates in and reflects the beauty of The Creator God, The Father. Someday we will tender an account to Him with what He has entrusted to us. So it is good to live for Him with an eternal perspective. The Fear of God is the beginning of Wisdom. May we embrace the Word became flesh, the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Prince of Peace who is Emmanuel, God who is with us always. God bless us all +Leo & Holly Michael

“Do not be conformed to this world”

Holy Trinity Anglican Seminary welcomes you!

Phil came to Casper seeking a new start in life. He had been in a California prison for seventeen years. He still faced a form of imprisonment; Phil was addicted to alcohol. As a felon and as an addict it was very difficult to find employment. Finally he landed a job cleaning up a local bar every night after closing time. The overwhelming temptation always in front of him. Phil was ashamed, hurting, feeling worthless. Then in his most basic of needs he learned to pray to the Lord for help. This world, as he knew it, was a path to self- destruction. On a certain morning he was walking back to his ‘home’ in a seedy hotel about a mile away. Dawn was about to signal a new day; Phil was asking the Lord to help him. What happened next changed Phil’s life forever. The Lord Jesus appeared to him on Center Street in Casper. I’m not sure what the conversation was, but clearly the loving power of God was released. Phil never had another drink as long as he lived. Then what do you do about employment now? The postmaster in another town, learning of Phil’s experience, gave him a job as caretaker of the post office property. A convicted felon in a post office! Against all the rules. For over ten years Phil cared for the property; he never once failed his charge. In the fullness of years God called Phil, a sober Christian man, to his eternal home. I was asked to offer the Burial Office for him. Yes, they called it a ‘memorial’. A friend of Phil’s handed me Phil’s Bible. My attention was on a marker in Paul’s letter to the Romans. The following was underlined: “Do not be conformed to his world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may prove what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect.” Romans 12:2 If you, dear reader, are not ‘right’ with God and man, what are you waiting for? +Ken Kinner

PHONE-LINE PRAYER CALL EVERYDAY!
Holy Trinity Anglican Seminary (HTAS) is owned and administrated by the Holy Catholic Church Anglican Rite of the diocese of Holy Trinity and Great Plains. It’s location in Kansas City, mid-America makes travel easy to meet the campus schedule. It forms part of a long tradition of the Holy Catholic Church of Anglican Rite and continues this important work of evangelization of the Kingdom of Christ in the United States of America and beyond its mission territories. With the advancement of communications, Holy Trinity Anglican Seminary will offer online and on campus training for its students. Holy Trinity Anglican Seminary firmly believes that Good Formation will ensure FRUITFUL Ministry. Keeping in mind the Great Commission of the Lord, HTAS will train its candidates in strong Scriptural foundation, Sacramental worship in the Apostolic Tradition as enunciated in the conservative Anglican Tradition. With qualified faculty and commitment to the cause of priestly formation, Holy Trinity Anglican Seminary is set to impart the traditional Anglican orthodoxy even in the emerging social and pastoral challenges. The seminary will also offer courses for lay students as well. The Seminary primarily serves the Holy Catholic Church Anglican Rite while students belonging to other denominations are welcome to participate in our program of study and reflection. The Holy Trinity Anglican Seminary will soon be accredited with a view to conferring the Bachelor’s Degree in Theology. Holy Catholic Church pays special attention to the formation of her ministers. Church directives require that candidate to the priesthood undergo a minimum of three years devoted to an intense and specifically priestly formation. These directives are implemented at this seminary, with particular emphasis on the Anglican traditions of the Holy Catholic Church.

SOUL CARE!

When two or three are gathered together in His name, petitions are granted. Ask your Rector for the phone number and password. Whenever you can, join the prayer conference in the rhythm of daily morning and evening prayer. We have dedicated clergy and postulants faithfully hosting the prayer call daily at 7:00 am and 7:00 pm central time.

In the Koinonia masthead, the circle with the cross in the center symbolizes the paten and the diverse elements which form a whole. The Mosaic represents the great cloud of witnesses and the church tradition. The red in the letters represents the blood of Christ with the font comprised of individual pieces of letters that are not joined until the blood unifies them. Koinonia is the official publication of the Anglican Province of the Holy Catholic Church-Anglican Rite (HCCAR) aka Anglican Rite Catholic Church. It is published quarterly at St. James Anglican Church, 8107 S. Holmes Road, Kansas City, MO 64131. Phone: 816.361.7242 Fax: 816.361.2144. Editors: The Rt. Rev. Leo Michael & Holly Michael, Koinonia header: Phil Gilbreath; email: koinonia@holycatholicanglican.org or visit us on the web at: www.holycatholicanglican.org cover picture: Westminster Abbey side entrance by Holly Michael

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Inspirational Christmas Readings
From The Holy Bible and some excerpts from inspirational Christmas-themed books, non-fiction and fiction. By Holly Michael

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hristmas is almost here! While making preparations and wrapping gifts, sometimes it’s difficult to focus on our best Christmas gift ever; Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Through his passion, death, and resurrection, we have gained eternal life. What a gift! So, along with our decorations and outward expressions of our love for Jesus, it’s good to prepare ourselves inwardly through reading Scripture and inspirational books. In this article, you’ll find Scripture readings along with excerpts and short stories from inspirational books to enjoy during the Holy season and beyond. Enjoy the readings, however your time allows.

THE HOLY BIBLE

On the second Sunday in Advent, Holy Scripture Sunday, the collect was, Blessed Lord, who hast caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning; Grant that we may in such wise hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that by patience and comfort of thy holy Word, we may embrace, and ever hold fast, the blessed hope of everlasting life, which thou hast given us in our Saviour Jesus Christ. Who liveth and reigneth with thee, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, ever one God, world without end. Amen. Digesting The Word will benefit us more than Christmas sweets (minus the calories), but like the variety of Christmas treats, there’s a lot of Scriptures in the Holy Bible. Which should we read? While the greatest Christmas readings are the infancy narratives from Luke 2 and Matthew 1, on Scripture Sunday, I was challenged to open my Bible to Romans. Deacon Alfred Sturges offered this challenge to read Romans, a chapter a day, each day--16 chapters to Christmas. Why Romans? Deacon Alfred explained that because Paul’s letter to the Romans inspired St. Augustine’s conversion. St. Augustine wrote about that conversion experience in St. Augustine’s Confessions. (I’ll get to this book in the next section). So, I began reading, posting the chapter on my blog, and offering a small reflection each day. Not only was St. Augustine converted years ago, a non-Christian woman, one of my blog followers, also converted. At first, she challenged some of Paul’s teachings in Romans 1, but by Romans 5, according to her messages to me, she accepted Christ with a Christian prayer I offered at the end of the posting. Maybe there were others that led her toward accepting Christ, but certainly Deacon Alfred started something. Here’s my blog post from Chapter 5:

PEACE AND HOPE: Romans Chapter 5

Thanks for continuing with me on Deacon Alfred’s challenge to read a chapter a day of Romans until Christmas. If you’re just here for this one chapter, that’s cool, too. Here we go: Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God’s wrath through him! For if, while we were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son, how much more, having been reconciled, shall we be saved through his life! Not only is this so, but we also boast in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation. DEATH THROUGH ADAM, LIFE THROUGH CHRIST Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man,and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned-- To be sure, sin was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not charged against anyone’s account where there is no law. Nevertheless, death reigned from the time of Adam to the time of Moses, even over those who did not sin by breaking a command, as did Adam, who is a pattern of the one to come. But the gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many! Nor can the gift of God be compared with the result of one man’s sin: The judgment followed one sin and brought condemnation, but the gift followed many trespasses and brought justification. For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ! Consequently, just as one trespass resulted in condemnation for all people, so also one righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people. For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous. The law was brought in so that the trespass might increase. But where sin increased, grace increased all the more, so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. My thoughts on Chapter 5 (while traveling across the state of Kansas, making our way back home after an Our Lady of Gua

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dalupe Mass and Celebration in Greeley, Colorado): Paul begins by writing about peace and hope through our faith in Christ, our Savior. Because of Jesus, we have peace with God and hope in the glory of God. In this troubled world, in times of stress and busyness, I want to linger over the words: peace and hope. I want to say them out loud, roll them over my tongue, feel them deep in my soul. But then, right after those lovely words, Paul hits us with the word, “sufferings” and couples it with the word “glory.” How can we “glory” in sufferings?” Even if I get a hangnail, I fuss and complain. Who wants to suffer? What glory can there be in sufferings? But, then Paul gives us this formula: because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us. I could stop there and ponder on just this much of Romans. I can think on and digest all the above, and recall it through struggles, sickness, and other stresses of life. But, sometimes sufferings run deeper than a hangnail, a sickness, or even a season of sadness. A mother loses her child to Leukemia. A drunk driver kills a man’s wife and child. A son falls to a life of crime because of drug addictions. A football hero takes a gun and shoots his fiance. A gunman opens fire in a public place. A tornado tears through a town and destroys lives and homes. For those who are touched personally by such horrible tragedies, glorying in them would seem impossible. I’ll return to this thought after a few short words about the remainder of this chapter. Paul discusses the fall of Adam bringing all of mankind into sin and death, but the grace of God, through the righteousness of Christ, has much more power to bring salvation to a multitude of believers. We are offered the free gift of salvation through Jesus Christ. We should never forget this greatest gift, especially now, during Christmas season. From one year to the next, gifts will be forgotten, used up, broken, or traded in for better ones later. Salvation is forever. We carry it with us into eternal life, whether our earthly life ends today, tomorrow, on December 21st or at a ripe old age. Death is inevitable. So, returning to horrific sufferings. Look at this last line of chapter five: But where sin increased, grace increased all the more, 21 so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. There is hope. Even through the most difficult situations, God’s grace is there...it can be increased. God will help us through our sufferings. He will give us the grace to continue on. And because of Jesus Christ, we have the hope of eternal life. Even for those who suffer devastating loses, even the loss of loved ones, remember this: One day, in Heaven, we will live in perfect peace with Him and reunite with our loved ones. This is truth. This is hope. This is peace. Thank you Father, for the gift of your son, Jesus Christ. He offers us salvation and helps us through every suffering. (www.writingstraight.com) That’s the end of my blog post and the beginnings for a new creature in Christ who began to read Paul’s letter to the Romans. Thanks be to God. His Word still converts the hearts of those who turn toward Him.

INSPIRATIONAL NON-FICTION

Not only did a blog follower convert to Christianity after reading Romans, the Book of Romans also converted St. Augustine, many years earlier. An excellent read any time is St. Augustine’s Confessions, where he tells his conversion story. In St. James Holy Catholic Anglican Church in Kansas City, also on Scripture Sunday, Bishop Leo Michael read from St. Augustine’s, Confessions, a powerful, heartfelt reflection concluded with a child leading the way. As a writer, lover of The Word, and of words, I was enraptured, during Mass, by St. Augustine’s words: I came to Carthage, where a caldron of unholy loves was seething and bubbling all around me. I was not in love as yet, but I was in love with love; and, from a hidden hunger, I hated myself for not feeling more intensely a sense of hunger. I was looking for something to love, for I was in love with loving, and I hated security and a smooth way, free from snares. Within me I had a dearth of that inner food which is thyself, my God--although that dearth caused me no hunger. And I remained without any appetite for incorruptible food--not because I was already filled with it, but because the emptier I became the more I loathed it. Because of this my soul was unhealthy; and, full of sores, it exuded itself forth, itching to be scratched by scraping on the things of the senses. Yet, had these things no soul, they would certainly not inspire our love. To love and to be loved was sweet to me, and all the more when I gained the enjoyment of the body of the person I loved. Thus I polluted the spring of friendship with the filth of concupiscence and I dimmed its luster with the slime of lust. Yet, foul and unclean as I was, I still craved, in excessive vanity, to be thought elegant and urbane. And I did fall precipitately into the love I was longing for. My God, my mercy, with how much bitterness didst thou, out of thy infinite goodness, flavor that sweetness for me! For I was not only beloved but also I secretly reached the climax of enjoyment; and yet I was joyfully bound with troublesome tics, so that I could be scourged with the burning iron rods of jealousy, suspicion, fear, anger, and strife. From: Augustine, Account of His Own Conversion. And then, from St. Augustine’s Confessions: ow when deep reflection had drawn up out of the secret depths of my soul all my misery and had heaped it up before the sight of my heart, there arose a mighty storm, accompanied by a mighty rain of tears. That I might give way fully to my tears and lamentations, I stole away from Alypius, for it seemed to me that solitude was more appropriate for the business of weeping. I went far enough away that I could feel that even his presence was no restraint upon me. This was the way I felt at the time, and he realized it. I suppose I had said something before I started up and he

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noticed that the sound of my voice was choked with weeping. And so he stayed alone, where we had been sitting together, greatly astonished. I flung myself down under a fig tree -- how I know not -- and gave free course to my tears. The streams of my eyes gushed out an acceptable sacrifice to thee. And, not indeed in these words, but to this effect, I cried to thee: “And thou, O Lord, how long? How long, O Lord? Wilt thou be angry forever? Oh, remember not against us our former iniquities.”[259] For I felt that I was still enthralled by them. I sent up these sorrowful cries: “How long, how long? Tomorrow and tomorrow? Why not now? Why not this very hour make an end to my uncleanness?” 29. I was saying these things and weeping in the most bitter contrition of my heart, when suddenly I heard the voice of a boy or a girl I know not which -- coming from the neighboring house, chanting over and over again, “Pick it up, read it; pick it up, read it.” [260] Immediately I ceased weeping and began most earnestly to think whether it was usual for children in some kind of game to sing such a song, but I could not remember ever having heard the like. So, damming the torrent of my tears, I got to my feet, for I could not but think that this was a divine command to open the Bible and read the first passage I should light upon. ... So I quickly returned to the bench where Alypius was sitting, for there I had put down the apostle’s book when I had left there. I snatched it up, opened it, and in silence read the paragraph on which my eyes first fell: “Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife and envying, but put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh to fulfill the lusts thereof.”[263] I wanted to read no further, nor did I need to. For instantly, as the sentence ended, there was infused in my heart something like the light of full certainty and all the gloom of doubt vanished away.[264]. From: St. Augustine’s Confessions ************

A Mary Christmas, by Kathleen M. Carroll, is a delightful book written by a Catholic Christian, who uses the seven joys of Mary

to guide us to Christmas. Each reflection is personal and full of Scripture, so you get a dose of Scripture and reflection. Here’s a chapter, a reflection, from her book (beginning with a reflection on Luke 2): n that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see-- I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!” told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them. --Luke 2: 8-- 20 When I first heard my mother tell me, “God is no respecter of persons,” I had no idea what she was talking about. Even to my young mind it seemed that God was, if anything, excessively respectful of persons, giving us mere humans more dignity than we could be said to deserve. And though Mom would often quote other texts that turned out to be not so scriptural--” God helps those who help themselves,” “Waste not, want not,” “Don’t load up on the bread”-- it turns out she was right on with the “respecter of persons” business. It just took a few years for me to understand what that meant. When Peter uttered these words he was explaining that God did not show favoritism to those who were wealthy or well-bred, not even to the chosen people, “but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him” (Acts 10: 35). The story of the Nativity is a good illustration of this. The angels do not announce the birth of the Savior to the rulers of every land, they tell the closest people they can find-- even if they’re humble shepherds. Mary doesn’t wrap her newborn babe in purple or silk, she swaddles him with what’s available-- even if it’s only strips of cloth. And she doesn’t demand a golden crib for her Son, she makes do with what’s handy-- even if it’s a hay-filled manger. The Gospels are full of such examples. Jesus uses parables of everyday life to give his listeners some sense of what the kingdom of heaven is like. It’s like a mustard seed, or leaven, or a lost coin. He heals people with a word, a touch, or even a bit of mud. He turns water into wine, and wine into blood. As the fullest expression of God’s revelation, Jesus himself is how God communicates to us. Imagine that the creator of heaven and earth loves you so much that he wants to leave heaven behind to become human like you, to share in your joys and your trials, to walk this same earth, breathe this same air. Imagine that, even as he wants to share your humanity, he offers you a share in his divinity, a share in his exuberant ecstasy, a place in his kingdom, a view of eternity. Imagine that he would die just to convince you that this is true. Of course, nothing about the Incarnation is the least bit imaginable and, even with two thousand years to get used to the idea, we still have trouble believing it. Most of the Old Testament and most of our childhood teaches us that things that are holy are not like us. Indeed, the Hebrew word for holy means “set apart.” Things that are holy are set apart for God’s use; the chosen people are set apart for God’s service. We learn that we don’t wear our church clothes to play, rosaries aren’t jewelry, and we don’t say “Jesus” unless we’re talking to him or about him. The idea that things become more holy the further from us they get seems to make a lot of sense. We’re all broken and damaged humans and we’re not eager to besmirch the sanctity of our Lord by mucking about in his presence with our meager selves. As it happens, the Lord’s sanctity is not as fragile as we might imagine. Sin is the damage we do to our relationship with God, not some cosmic schmutz we’ll get all over him if we get too close. Could we ever hurt God, though? Could he allow himself to be that vulnerable? He could and he did, and we put our very best efforts into it. We got our most morally upright humans involved-- first-century Jews who lived

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Then we recruited some Romans, who had been perfecting some very creative torture techniques for just such an occasion, to strip him, taunt him, parade him through the streets as an object of scorn, and execute him in a manner we have yet to surpass in horror. Those of us who were his friends abandoned him, denied even knowing him. If you had personally been on the committee charged with perpetrating the most cruel and blasphemous assault possible, I suspect you could not have come up with anything worse. Still, unbelievably still, he loves us, longs to be with us. The Scriptures resound with God’s longing for us: • Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be like snow; though they are red like crimson, they shall become like wool. (Isaiah 1: 18) Return to me, says the Lord of hosts, and I will return to you. (Zechariah 1:3) • The Lord waits to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show mercy to you. (Isaiah 30: 18) • Do not fear, for you will not be ashamed; do not be discouraged, for you will not suffer disgrace; for you will forget the shame of your youth, and the disgrace of your widowhood you will remember no more. For your Maker is your husband, the Lord of hosts is his name; the Holy One of Israel is your redeemer, Redeemer, the God of the whole earth he is called. For the Lord has called you like a wife forsaken and grieved in spirit, like the wife of a man’s youth when she is cast off, says your God. For a brief moment I abandoned you, but with everlasting love I will have compassion on you, says the Lord, your Redeemer. (Isaiah 54: 4-- 8) • But Zion said, “The Lord has forsaken me, my Lord has forgotten me.” Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. (Isaiah 49: 14-- 15) • I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. Father, I desire that those also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory, which you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world. (John 17: 20-- 24) The Gospel according to John tells us that “God is love,” and this is always the default setting when it comes to our creator. He does not wait for us to become perfect or event to repent, but calls us constantly, even while we’re struggling with our faults or refusing to acknowledge them altogether. God takes what is at hand and finds the good in it. He takes what is humble and elevates it to a higher purpose. As anyone who has children in their lives can attest, this is not a matter of turning a blind eye to faults or wishful thinking. Young people tend to live up to-- or down to-- our expectations of them. Children who know they are loved become loving; those who are neglected or abused often become neglectful or abusive themselves. Those who are told they are smart and beautiful tend to take care of their studies and their appearance; those who are told they are ugly and stupid have little incentive to try. Even material things demonstrate this result. It’s not hard to tell the difference between a house that is loved and one that is not, or the yard of an attentive gardener from that of someone who takes no interest. We frame our family photos, repeatedly dust treasured keepsakes, maintain memory books of handmade cards, ticket stubs, and autographs. People and things blossom with love. Many people have difficulty rising to the challenges of the Christmas season (or the Christian life in general) because they feel a lack of love. Whether due to one of the countless tragedies of childhood, a failed friendship, a marriage ended by death or divorce, this perceived deficit can make it hard to participate in the season of giving with enthusiasm. You can’t give away what you don’t have. Our faith has the remedy. Whatever failings our parents, siblings, or partners may have had, we have an alternate source for the love we so desperately crave. The Nativity is a concrete demonstration of God’s love for us-- a love that, given the chance, will fill every need and exceed every expectation. This love can be impossible to express in human terms, but it has a way of supplying just what we need, just when we need it. If we can look beyond our circumstances and beyond the merely material, we can catch a glimpse of it. Christmas is the perfect time to watch this principle in action. The most cherished gifts are rarely the most expensive, but often those that are more creative or that best express the unique relationship of the giver and the recipient. The most precious ornament on the tree might not be the biggest and shiniest, but might be a kindergartner’s glitter experiment or a tarnished bell that was Grandma’s. The temptation to prepare for the new year by shedding the old and embracing the new can make us overlook the value in what’s right in front of us. It’s a good opportunity to think twice before casting off items that may still have some use. It’s also a chance to recognize that what may have lost its luster for us might still be appreciated by someone new. Those items you think you might give to charity could find their way to someone else’s tree if you act early enough. This Christmas, take a second look at the items-- and the people-- for which you’ve lost appreciation. Your reevaluation might give them a new lease on life. Carroll, Kathleen. A Mary Christmas Franciscan Media. **********

Learning to Lean by Rich Maffeo

Rich Maffeo, an author friend of mine was raised in a Jewish home and careened into a life of careless living. Then, he read the 53rd chapter of Isaiah. The ancient Jewish prophet spoke of Jesus’ sacrificial death which paid the penalty for our sins. “But He was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all” (NASB). Maffeo, after delving deep into Scripture, committed himself to the Lord and joined the Evangelical Protestant church before his journey into Catholicism. Learning to Lean (short meditations mixed with beautiful prose poems) answers the most profound life questions. What might it be like to meet our God on that first day in Heaven? Does Jesus walk with me along my journey? What might the Centurion have felt as he hammered the placard above Jesus’ head? Why do people of faith suffer? What can wash away my sins? What if it had been me lashed to the whipping post, instead

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of Christ? What does obedience to Jesus look like? Maffeo’s humbleness in sharing his faith journey, his reverence to God, his knowledge of Scripture, and his well-crafted contemplations will lead readers to the throne of the Almighty, to discover a God of relationships who offers salvation for all through our Lord Jesus’ death on the cross. I also enjoyed Maffeo’s method for contemplative prayers at the end of the book. He admits it’s more of a relationship than a method, though, and he explains how his maturing in that relationship translates into his prayer process. The following is a contemplation from Learning to Lean: By Degrees But you, beloved, build yourselves up in your most holy faith . . . (Jude 20). Some time ago, close friends gave me a Day by Day Bible desk calendar for Christmas -- the kind with tear-off sheets for each day of the year. Each sheet had a Bible verse and an encouraging quote from a Saint or other notable Christian. I referred to the pages nearly every day I was in my office. The gift didn’t surprise me. From all external signs, she and her husband of fifteen years seemed a model Christian couple. They attended Mass each Sunday and sent their two children to Catholic school. But a few months after they gave me the gift, her husband discovered she’d been routinely unfaithful to him for more than two years. I know such things happen all the time. People attend Mass, say the prayers, hear the homily, sing in the choir, receive the Eucharist. But beneath the religious activity can lurk a Judas. In the decades I’ve walked with Christ, I’ve observed that no one ever turned away from Him overnight. It’s always been a slow process. A compromise here. An excuse there. A rationalization . . . . and the heart hardens by degrees. That’s one reason I bring myself to God every morning and evening in prayer, study of His word, and worship. I take the time and make the effort to strengthen myself in my faith and in my faithfulness to Him. I do so because, although I love Him with a deepening love, I fear that given the right circumstances, I could do the unthinkable and succumb to Satan’s insidious deceptions. I could grow, by degrees, unfaithful to my Divine Bridegroom. And I routinely ask, Lord, help me strive to remain honest and pure. Maffeo, Richard, Learning to Lean, Xulon Press. *******

Inspirational Fiction

Touching Wonder, Recapturing Awe, by John Blase is a retelling of Luke 1-2

that reads like a novel and invites readers to experience the Nativity with fresh wonder. I’m not a fan of the Message Bible, but Blase uses Scripture from that translation and adds his own storytelling voice, exploring the familiar events from multiple first-person viewpoints. What emerges is the intimate story of unlikely people--a frightened teenaged girl, a worried carpenter, a collection of senior citizens, a disillusioned young shepherd--meeting up with the divine as they bumble and stumble toward the realization that the little one just born is the One. Here’s an excerpt from Touching Wonder: Luke 1.1-- 22 Zachariah: There were a few enjoying this. Earthy old friends. “At your age you’ll need more than an angel’s help.” He laughed silently as his head bobbed up and down. True. He had long ago put the dream of children to rest. Now he was being asked to rouse hope. His hands rose to say, “Enough, my good friends. I’m going home.” He rubbed his throat, a gesture that was becoming a habit. They all stood and walked the aged priest to the door amidst backslaps and more laughter. As he stepped across the doorway, he turned back to wave. A single tear crawled down his cheek. What was this? The corners of his eyes had been silent for years. He thumbed the tear and turned to go. His skeptic’s walk was quick and nervous. He had known her almost all his life, and she him. “Elizabeth of the daughters of Aaron,” he used to call her. She would always smile a girl’s smile at that address. But that was when they dreamt together. He realized that one day he must have stopped hoping, the day she became just “Elizabeth.” Another tear. He rubbed his throat. His pace slowed as a grin lined his face. “Elizabeth, your wife, will bear a son by you. You are to name him John ... many will delight in his birth.” He stopped in the middle of the path and looked heavenward. He mouthed words only the Mighty One could hear: “Who am I that you are mindful of me? Why should you touch her womb in these old days with new life? What kind of man-child is this to be born of her, this one named ‘John’?” He rubbed his whiskered throat, then placed both hands on his broad hips and began to laugh. The boys playing in the street heard nothing. Senile old man. Zachariah’s thoughts returned to earth as he eyed the boys. “My son will soften your parents’ hearts to you. My son. He will be great. My son. John.” Another tear. “The angel told me so.” He resumed his walk, quickly, hopefully. He had to get home. He had signed, “I’ll only be gone a little while.” She’d worry if he was gone too long. He knew this, for he knew her, and she him. When evening came, he would lie with her. She would welcome an old priest’s advances because she was ever hopeful. He knew this. She was “Elizabeth of the daughters of Aaron,” and she would bear his son. He saw her in the distance, sweeping. She saw him and waved. A girl’s smile was on her face. Another tear on his. And from The Shepherd chapter: Just a kid. He knew little about sheep and less about life. But my dying brother’s request had been, “Make sure my son sees more than me.” A year later I was still my brother’s son’s keeper. It was the boy’s watch. But I would wager he was asleep. Again. “Benjamin, your

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to rouse him once again, there it was. Not my nephew. Something I’d never seen before. It was as if the sun had suddenly risen in the middle of our fire. As my brother had drawn his last breaths, he had talked of angels. Beautiful. Unsettling. Now I felt as if death had found me as well. It spoke. We could hardly bear the sound. “Don’t be afraid. It has just happened. A great and joyful moment the world has been waiting for. A newborn Savior cries in Bethlehem, our Messiah and Master. You must search for the baby. Look in the manger.” Blase, John, Touching Wonder: Recapturing the Awe of Christmas **************

Finding Christmas: Stories of Startling Joy and Perfect Peace by James Calvin
Schaap In Finding Christmas, award-winning author James Calvin Schaap, through seven stories, takes a look at how imperfect people can find joy and grace in an imperfect world. His eyes turn on an outgoing bus driver, a passionate mother, a daughter reluctant to return to church, and even his own assumed-mediocre performance at a Christmas pageant. Along the way, readers see how the amazing message of Christmas can be found in the oddest of places. Enjoy this short story from a chapter in his book, called, Joy and Miracle: I am not a Picasso, a brutal misogynist who inflicted terror on nearly every female around him. Neither am I a Hemingway, a drunken lout given to baring his chest and knuckles at the drop of a hat. I adore Van Gogh, but I would not cut off my ear for anyone. I respect the dramatic accomplishments of Elizabeth Taylor, a woman who’s gone through nearly as many husbands as she has major roles. To my mind, Tolstoy is the world’s greatest novelist, even though he was impossible to live with. I am an artist, but I don’t think of myself as a social misfit or a study in pathology. I believe that art requires balance and design, commitment and zeal, the diligence of our closest attention, but not insanity or bizarre antics. I do not take the stage unprepared. I believe I know Willy Loman, even though he never existed anywhere except on paper. I have done Hamlet’s soliloquies with such fierce regard for the young prince that even today I could do “To be or not to be” and wring passion from my own hesitations. I adore grand opera, Brahm’s Requiem, and anything by Verdi. I wouldn’t think of spending a Christmas without Handel. I once thought Andrew Wyeth too garishly ordinary, but he haunted me until I couldn’t resist him, and now my home is filled with his paintings. I despise kitsch and almost everything sold in media stores, save the Bible, most of C. S. Lewis, and a few CDs no one else buys. Most of rock music I find to be noise. It’s difficult to believe that television could be even more of a wasteland than Newton Minnow called it more than three decades ago, but it is. Most of evangelical Christendom’s antics, from California Magic Kingdoms to the nearest suburb’s faddish mega-church, I find unseemly. I’m sorry. I’m not nice. I don’t like smiley faces or annoying people who say, “Have a nice day.” Health concerns aside, I won’t eat fast food. In my fifty years, I have become conditioned to believe that whatever America thinks cool will soon be seen as silly. I am, as most of you may have guessed already, unabashedly elitist. I chose the church I attend (at first) because of its architecture. Its unobtrusiveness in the surrounding hilly wooded landscape seemed a tasteful reminder of the quiet importance of deep spirituality. I found the place a delight. The preaching is thoughtful, the earnestness understated. Most of all, I appreciate the fact that the people I’ve come to know there really do like each other. I’ve met several of them, and they’re not showy or pretentious. When you enter Deer Valley Church, people don’t hang on you as if church were a discount shoe market. You’re not a mark at Deer Valley. I like that. This year they asked me to narrate their Christmas program. They gave me the script, and I read it. I found it slightly zealous but acceptable, even unassuming. It was a retelling of the old story, and it demanded a big voice, they said. I have been in theater for most my life. I teach theater at the university. I appreciated the manner by which they asked. They told me they knew I was busy-and I am. They told me they felt the whole evening would be a triumph if they had someone with my presence to read the part. One of them said, “We can get by without you, but we’d love to have you. It would be an honor.” I couldn’t say no. I was raised in a religious home, and as much as I love art and the theater, I’ve always felt that my serious religious upbringing was something to be honored. I’ve always thought of God as the only first-rate artist. There’s so much that’s miraculous about us-the way three tiny bones in our ears can process sound waves, for instance; and around us his perfect hand has painted the greatest masterpiece, the ecology of nature with its balance and precision, the way it can juxtapose competing forces into something harmonious. Stop and look sometime at the beauty of a weeping willow-I can go on and on... I have never denied my need for God. I have, like many, forgotten him for considerable portions of my life, but he has not forgotten me. So I told the people from Deer Valley, the church I attend somewhat more than occasionally, that I would read the script for their Christmas program. I may have preferred T. S. Eliot, but the performance, I knew, would not be an embarrassment. There is a kind of magic to theater that some will never know. Its attraction is not simply the applause. The lighting must be perfectly cued to pronounce every bodily gesture. The words, of course, must be masterful; content must be borne on sound that comes as close to music as anything unscored. One stands before an audience that is shrouded in darkness, awaiting the story; and when the drama is delivered,

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when it’s done with the passion required to communicate the text truly, the result is something very much alive. And that’s what I felt that night when we offered the Christmas presentation. Perhaps it was my own mystery, this man who visited the church often but sought little other than worship when there. Perhaps it was the script, which was, when I started to read, more effective than I’d thought it would be. Perhaps, simply, it was Christmas-no other season of the year quite so conducive to joy and miracle. But we started almost blissfully in touch. I stood on the proscenium and delivered my opening narration, the text before me, and the place was stone silent. The audience read every turn of my head, every flashing smile, every narrowed eye. When it’s all perfect, what happens in theater is love, an act so intimate and selfless that sometimes I see a guardedness arise in an audience, as if they fear that they’re risking too much by falling so completely into the design of the dream I’m offering them. At that moment, they need to be surprised again into reality, deconstructed so as to assure themselves that they are still where they thought they were, and that I am worth their trust. It’s a dance, a wonderful dance, and in the opening minutes of this Christmas drama at Deer Valley Church-for whatever reasons-what happened between us was quickened by love and devotion. When I finished the opening, I walked to the back of the pulpit area and took a seat. Beside me, three adolescent girls from the choir were seated on the floor, while some younger children sang their hearts out in front. One of the girls had a string in her hand, a long, looping string that she gathered between her fingers in an intricate weave. The others watched and laughed, giggled and nudged each other, even though the children were singing. I never married-perhaps that was a mistake. But I believe my devotion to my work would never allow me to give enough of myself away to another human being. So I never had children, and I don’t think I understand them. I am convinced, after teaching for twenty years, that our entire society has gone mad in the homage it pays to them. We have created a whole generation of kids whose education in self-esteem has spoiled them rotten. I have few students willing to commit to the craft; the ones who are often the children of immigrants or the poor. This disruption right beside me-the girls obviously didn’t care if I heard them-stayed with me like a plague. I grew up in an age when it was an honor and a privilege to have the stage; but to be up in front, part of the choir, meant nothing to these kids. They kept whispering and giggling, as if what we were doing that night wasn’t at all important. I pushed my foot over to the closest of them, kicked her behind just slightly, then gave her an ogre-like look when she turned toward me. She did not stick out her tongue, but the face she gave me made it very clear that I was out of order in expecting she might listen to my admonition. Her lip went down in a sneer that said, “Who do you think you are?” For the rest of the night, through all of my recitations, I never achieved the union I’d had with the audience in that first scene; and the reason was simple. I knew there were three girls behind me who simply didn’t care. My intonation became strained, my pacing was gone-the shepherds, the glorious assembly of angels, the story of the stable, the young mother’s love, all of it came haltingly after my silent confrontation with the giggling girls. I knew they didn’t care, and, in my mind, that killed the performance. I don’t know that I can completely explain my anger. Perhaps those who have never worked at art will not understand. Those three girls wrested my attention so completely away from what I was saying that, in the process, they became my sole audience. I delivered lines in a voice meant for them, even though they were behind me and probably never for a moment stopped chatting and playing with that loop of string. And the longer it went on-through the whole course of musical interludes, the recitation of the children, the five long narratives I offered-the more angry I became at their insolence. The more bitter I felt. When it was over, I was relieved but seething. The lights came on following an a capella rendition of “Silent Night.” But my irritation grew over me like a disease I felt in every pore, and when I left the front of the church I wanted only to get out. A number of people-many of them-thanked me for what they considered a great performance. I nodded and smiled politely. And then an old woman came up, a woman I’ve come to know somewhat through my visits to Deer Valley, a retired missionary, a small and unassuming old lady with shaky hands and eyes bright as stars, a woman who must have read Luke 2 a hundred thousand times and spent her entire life telling it, over and over again to children in the Far East. She took my hand, pulled me down toward her face, and gave me what the Scriptures call a holy kiss. “Your reading,” she said, “it was wonderful.” I cannot describe the grace of her smile. “It was as if I had never heard that story before,” she said. “You made it new.” And then she nodded and was gone. That stopped me cold. I had made the old nativity brand new to a retired missionary? I have performed on stages throughout America. I have done countless seasons of summer stock, dozens and dozens of performances in repertory. I’ve done Shakespeare and Tennessee Williams, directed O’Neill and Moliere and August Wilson, but in all the theater I’ve ever done, I never before had considered myself a vehicle, a messenger, a conduit. I’d always thought of what I was doing as what I was doing. That night, though, with the touch of a holy kiss on my cheek, I had a new sense that I’d been used as if I were an hourly employee of the business of the gospel. Even in my weakness, I’d been a strength, if only to one old woman who I would have assumed to be less in need of the gospel of love than most everyone in that small church on Deer Valley Road. When I left that night, what I discovered was that the God of nature had created a masterpiece. Lake-effect snow fell like a blessed assurance of Christmas. There’s a quietness to new snow that bravely muffles every last sound of the city. The cones of light falling from street lamps seem netted in snow. The pines were festooned, dressed for celebration in white robes. Footfalls puffed on the sidewalk. Bethlehem may be desert country, but in the Midwest, Christmas is only Christmas when it’s clothed in a mantle of purity. I drove myself home, alone, this odd experience still shimmering in the night’s white darkness. In my mind, I had failed. I hadn’t been the master I pride myself on being. I was only a servant. I wasn’t an artist; I was little more than material-imperfect at that, burdened with an ego bursting with petty grievance. I was used that night. And that’s when it hit me, this epiphany of Christmas. He came for those who need him, not because they are poor or slovenly or unable to care for themselves. He came for all those who need him, even some like me, the elitists, self-satisfied with the arrogance that insists they really need nothing at all. He came for me because I too-in my annoyance and pride-am very much among the needy. A hundred times or more I’ve cried on stage. It is a technique that, with practice, one accomplishes quite easily. But alone, in my car, the holy kiss still there on my cheek, I found myself suddenly in company with the Lord who came to earth, not for Christmas, not just for

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spoiled children, but for all of us, even me. He made me a blessing, even in my pride. He washed the sin of my human arrogance in his blood and through me made the story new, both to an old woman and a proud old actor. At that moment I felt something totally unpracticed pinch my eyes and choke my breath. I wasn’t acting. The Lord of Heaven and Earth was acting upon me. Come Lord Jesus *************** Another enjoyable Christian fiction read: A Log Cabin Christmas Collection by Margaret Brownley, Wanda E. Brunstetter, Jane Kirkpatrick, Kelly Eileen Hake, Liz Johnson, Liz Tolsma, Michelle Ule, Debra Ullrick, Erica Vetsch. Experience Christmas through the eyes of adventuresome settlers who relied on log cabins built from trees on their own land to see them through the cruel forces of winter. Discover how rough-hewed shelters become a home in which faith, hope, and love can flourish. Marvel in the blessings of Christmas celebrations without the trappings of modern commercialism where the true meaning of the day shines through. And treasure this exclusive collection of nine Christmas romances penned by some of Christian fiction’s best-selling authors.

Pilgrim’s Journey

Lynn Baxter

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ome of us offer particular challenges to our Lord. Some of us are difficult cases for Him, despite His power. I’m afraid I am one such individual. As a young person, I was head-strong and convinced of my intellectual superiority. I faced numerous challenges in my life, family illnesses and untimely deaths. Mary, the Mother of our Lord, nurtured me as I endured these challenges. I am most grateful to her. Despite my reckless life style, my guardian angels brought me into adulthood.

Through my life, I have been sustained by Our Lord. He has graciously given me opportunities to serve His Church, using my professional skills. I maintain a fervent prayer for the Church and her well-being. I struggle on a daily basis to discern the role that Our Lord wants me to fulfill. My professional life is in a field that is quite stressful and it requires me to seek guidance in order to maintain myself as God would expect of an individual who professes to be a Christian. I am reminded of the duck – calm on top of the water and paddling like crazy beneath the water. I don’t in any way profess to have all of the answers. I can only rely on God to guide me in His path. I continue to face many obstacles. I try to keep my eyes on the prize – eternal life in heaven. When God asks me to jump, I try, in faith, to ask Him, how high! There are times when praying is hard – I’d rather go to bed, but it always is worth the effort. 66May God continue to sustain us in our live as Anglican Christians! Lord, have mercy upon us! +++

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REFLECTIONS UPON CHRISTMAS
Fr. Barrie Hodgin. St Mary´s Cathedral. Caracas. Venezuela. A few weeks ago, my wife, Noluvuyo discovered, at the back of the church, a small children´s book entitled, “First Carols,” published by Lutterworth Press in 1967. This book contains all those familiar Carols including: The First Noel, Hark the herald Angels sing, Once in Royal

Davids City, While Shepherds watched their flocks by night. (Christmas Crib at St. Mary’s Caracas, Venezuela) Yes, very soon we will be celebrating the great festival of Christmas: Christ´s Mass: A word derived from the Old English name, “Christes Maesse.” I have always loved Christmas with a love that even survived my seminary days where I was introduced to the Joys and Sorrows of biblical exegesis, including such esoteric subjects as “Form Criticism” and “Redaction Criticism.” Disciplines which had the potential to effect one´s understanding of Scripture for “better” or “worse.” But, thank goodness the worse did not happen and my love for Christmas remains intact. But why do I love Christmas and the celebrations surrounding this day? Simply because Christmas and the celebrations touch all aspects of our humanity: body, soul, and spirit. Perhaps, dare I say, even more so than The Easter story. Indeed it has been said that Easter is about the intellect, about reason, whereas Christmas is about the intuitive, about the emotions, about the heart. But be that as it may, let me speak at least for a short while about those traditions that make up a BRITISH CHRISTMAS: Though I must admit that I have not been present in Britain during Christmas tide for many a long year. First: Christmas Carols. The word, “Carol” is derived from the ancient Greek word “Chorus” which basically means, “Dancing in a circle.” During the Middle Ages, many Carols were written to accompany religious dramas. It is unclear when the first Carol was written, but the Middle Ages were known as the golden age of English Carols. In fact, during the 13th Century, Carols were considered an important contribution to English Medieval music. Thus there appeared such Carols as “HAIL MARYE; FULL OF GRACE, THERE IS NO ROSE OF SWYCH VERTU AS ISTHE ROSE THAT BARE JHESU and GAUDETE! GAUDETE! CHRISTUS ES NATUS EX MARIA VIRGINE,” which I had the pleasure of hearing whilst attending the Nine Lessons and Carol Service within the hallowed walls of Canterbury Cathedral. Of course, many of our popular Carols have a more modern provenance. For example, “Hark the herald Angels sing.” composed by Charles Wesley brother of John. “O little town of Bethlehem,” was composed by the Episcopal Clergyman Phillip Brooks, after he had visited Bethlehem, and what is probably the most famous Carol of all; “Silent Night,” composed, as I am sure you know, by the Austrian Priest Joseph Mohr. Finally, the Carol “Twelve days of Christmas.” might appear secular in origin, but it is believed that the sung lyrics were written to help young Catholics learn the rudiments of their faith at a time when to be a practising Catholic was dangerous. From the singing of carols, to the more mundane, though still containing a “religous” flavour, the tradition of the Christmas Pudding served after the turkey about which I will say little, except that Henry VIII is said to be the first Person in England to enjoy consuming this bird. The traditional time for preparing the Christmas Pudding is “Stir-Up” Sunday which forms part of the Collect for the last Sunday before Advent. Stir up we beseech thee O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people, that they, plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works may be plente-

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The Christmas Pudding is to be stirred from East until West in honour of the Wise Men and is traditionally made up of 13 ingredients to represent Christ and his Disciples. Another object with religious associations is the Christmas tree. The first Christmas tree in Britain was given to Queen Victoria by her Consort, Albert, who had imported the tree from Germany and placed it in Windsor castle. Christmas trees were originally decorated with candles to remind Christian Children of the Stars in the sky at the time of Jesus´ birth. The angel or star placed on the topmost branch of the tree was a reminder of the Glad tidings of great Joy which the angels announced to the Shepherds. And the Tinsel ? Well, there is a legend that when the Holy family fled from Herod´s soldiery they sought refuge in a cave where a spider covered the entrance with its web. Thus the soldiers on seeing the web passed by. Finally, the Christmas Crib. This dates back to the time of St Francis of Assisi who in 1293 decided to celebrate the birth of the Christ Child in a new way. His aim was to help people to better recall the poor surroundings into which Jesus was born, and to make the wondrous event of the Incarnation more real to the people of his time. I well remember the Crib set up in Canterbury Cathedral. It was not a traditional Crib, but rather modelled upon a Kentish Village. This brought to mind the whole reason for the Celebration of Christmas. It is the Celebration of the Numinous : The Inbreak of God into his Creation. An “Inbreak’s” meaning continues to unfold. It is the presence of the Supernatural alongside the natural. The divine amongst us. It is Christ walking not upon Genneseret but upon the waters of the Thames: It is the world ever enfolded in the loving arms of God. I will finish with these words from a Christmas sermon by John Chrysostom, “I behold a new and wondrous mystery.” My ears resound to the shepherds song piping no soft melody but chanting full forth a heavenly hymn. The angels Sing . The Archangels blend their voices in harmony. The Cherubs hymn their joyful praise. The Seraphim exalt their Glory. All Join to praise this Holy Feast. Beholding the Godhead here on earth, and man in heaven. He who is above now for our redemption dwells here below: And he that is lowly is by Divine Mercy raised. I wish you all ´´ Feliz Nadividad. A Most Blessed and Joy filled Christmas Season.

A PASTORS GIFT

Fr. Jimmy Dean Before I begin with the main topic regarding an appropriate gift for a pastor, I would like to express my gratitude to Bishop Leo and Holly for their work on the Koinonia. Koinonia in Greek means fellowship, communicating, and participation in the common interests of Christians. What a fitting name for this outstanding publication. I always look forward to the next one coming out not only to see what’s going on around the diocese, but also to see where I need to do my homework. There is always something there to make me scratch my head and look through various resources to clarify this or

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McNeley in the last issue for his article on “Our Catholic Heritage” This was valuable reading on our Anglo/Catholic roots. I especially liked his recommendation on the Oxford Dictionary of The Christian Church. I haven’t looked on Amazon for it yet, but I will soon. Thanks again to Bishop Leo and Holly for their extraordinary work on the Koinonia. This is truly an act of love on their behalf and evidence of tireless dedication to their ministry. We need to support them in any way we can with our individual gifts, monetarily, news articles, essays, and homilies. I’m looking forward to parish news, knowledge and spiritual help from everyone. Now to “ A Pastor’s Gift.” Rheva and I try to make it to the YMCA three times a week and exercise to stay healthy and to stay in reasonable physical shape. Recently I was walking the track before getting on the treadmill. I was walking with a couple we know from a large non-denominational church here in Casper. The lady asked me what I thought a pastor would like since it was pastor appreciation week. Her question caught me off guard for two reasons. #1, I didn’t know it was pastor appreciation week and #2, I was really stumped how to answer her question. I said, “I’ll have to think about that” After a minute or so I said, “I know this probably isn’t what you had in mind, but personally (this is probably true for most clergy) I would want consistent church attendance and growth in our parish. After discussing this for a while and agreeing that’s not something we can buy or be sure of, we decided that a card would be enough. In the card one could mention a particular sermon that they remember or of some spiritual help that their pastor had shared with you that you will always remember. That would be the best gift you could give. Wouldn’t Jesus have felt the same after He gave The Sermon On The Mount? As I thought more about growth in the church, it took me back to Pentecost. I can’t begin to imagine the feeling Peter, the other apostles, and the different races of people in the streets of Jerusalem when they heard the message in their own language. The church was born and would grow and the believers would see it grow rapidly even under persecution. You can feel the ups and downs, the sadness, and the joy of Peter and Paul in the book of Acts and the epistles to the new churches in Asia and eastern Europe. Acts 2: 46-47 “Day after day, they met as a group in then temple and they had their meals together in their homes, eating with glad and humble hearts, praising God, and enjoying the good will of all the people, and every day The Lord added to the group those who were being saved.” Acts 6:7 “And the Word of God continued to spread. The number of disciples in Jerusalem grew larger and larger, and a great number of priests accepted the faith.” The arrest of and stoning of Stephen and did not deter the spirit and conviction of the believers. Acts 8: 4-5. The believers who were scattered went everywhere preaching the message. “Philip went to Samaria preaching the Messiah to the people there.” After his conversion Paul spent years making three trips around Mesopotamia, Macedonia and Cappadocia. His epistles and their impact then and now on the growth of the church are beyond measure. Chapter 11 of Acts tells of his sufferings and hardships, but these were not to stop him, but only drove him on with more determination. This was his ministry and that if Christ suffered he would suffer also. He was grateful for the “thorn” that God would not remove from him. He would live out the example that he wrote (2 Corin. 9: 6 “Remember that the person who plants few seeds will have a small crop, and the person who plants many seeds will have a large crop” Paul knew that alone could not build the church and keep it growing and he often encouraged them saying that each person has a gift to offer and that gift should be used to glorify God and to do his will. 1 Corin. 12: 4-7 “There are different kinds of, but the same Spirit gives them.” There are different abilities to perform service, but the same God gives ability to all for their particular service” The Spirit’s presence is shown in some way in each person for the good of all” Paul, the twelve apostles, and unnumbered others who came after them traveled great distances through North Africa, the Far East, India, Asia, and Europe to formulate church doctrine, denounce heresy in the seven ecumenical councils. Thousands including children gave their lives during the persecutions in the early centuries. These travels and missions around the world have continued for two thousand years by people whose courage and convictions went unwavered. Today, in our diocese we have people traveling considerable distances sharing their faith and giving themselves not only to preach the Gospel but living it. Bishop Kinner and Priscilla travel to Lander and Ethete. (320 miles round trip) and Helena Montana. (8 hours one way) Deacon Bill Brummett and Judy have traveled to Greeley, Colorado several times for two Masses, one in English, one in Spanish. Greeley is 250 miles or so from Casper. Tony and Kathy Sawick conduct two Masses plus Sunday school in Lander and Ethete every Sunday. Louis Shepherd and Janet have traveled from Sheridan, Wyoming to Lander and Ethete a number oftimes. Fr. Patric Copalello has relocated from Denver to New Mexico to replace Fr. Scott Lay and Annette who have transferred to Arkansas to help out there. Alfred Sturges and Michelle, and Frank Adams traveled to Kansas City for ordinations to the diaconate and will minister to the people in Greeley. I have no idea how many miles and hours Bishop Leo and Holly have racked up in their work and love for the flock. I apologize for anyone I have failed to mention. Everyone’s dedication is greatly appreciated. By the time this edition of the Koinonia is published, we at Holy Family in Casper will have had a potluck on Sunday, Nov. 11. Each person was encouraged to invite at least one new person or one family to join us and all members that have been absent for a while were contacted, were told that we missed them and we hoped to see them on Veterans Day. We are praying that this effort will bear good fruit in the days to come. Bishop Kinner’s homily for Nov. 11 will be “What makes America exceptional” He will emphasize that #1 the self-evident truth that all men are created equal #2 citizenship is determined by your birth here which is common everywhere , but also by choice welcoming all people who pledge allegiance to the republic and to the principles for which it stands. #3 Our rights come from God declared by the founding fathers and that truth, liberty, and equality can only be achieved through Christian virtues and self-reliance. This does not happen without sacrifice, difficulty, reason and prayer. “YES, WE ARE A CHRISTIAN NATION.” If we could think of one piece of scripture in building the church, one in particular stands out in my mind. “Thou shall love the Lord thy God with thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy mind and thy neighbor as thy self’ I am quite confident that the gift most clergy would ask for would be the growth and edification of Christ’s Church.

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The Beauty that is Divine

Rodd Umlauf

Do we ever love anything except what is beautiful? And what is beauty? What draws us and delights us in these things we love? Unless there were grace and beauty in them they could not possibly draw us to them. Saint Augustine

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eauty is central to my life as an artist. I believe the primary goal of the Christian artist should be to draw people’s attention to beauty, therefore nudging them closer to beauty and to God. Beauty is the stairway toward God; a way of seeing and recognizing that the beauty around us is pointing to the True Beauty, which is God Himself. God created us as liturgical beings with a desire to worship God in the beauty of holiness. We seek after beauty because we have an inner craving for a loving relationship with our maker. There is a role for the artist to speak of the ugliness of this fallen sinful world but that should be his minor task. To reflect beauty in my life and work is my major task and critical to my sense of achievement. To bring forth beauty in my artwork is my attempt, by grace, to be a co-worker with God in sharing His grace with the world that He loves. The modern and popular notions of beauty seem too instant and shallow, focusing on the carnal appetites and gratification of the senses as a means to an end. The Christian artist should challenge the instant gratification culture and promote instead the values of lasting beauty and goodness. In nature we see the Author of beauty in beautiful things. I’ve embraced the concept that beauty is an attribute of the Beautiful One. Because we are created in the image of God, we are creative beings. Our imaginations should soar in the heavens of creativity. Because we are created in the image of God we have an inner sense that beauty is good and ugliness is bad, that goodness promotes happiness and that which is bad promotes misery. God loves to give good gifts to His children so He created color. He could have made everything in shades of gray or the color of mud, but He didn’t because he loves gorgeous color and wants to share it with His children. He even delights in the birds of the field enjoying the world that He created.

Our Heavenly Father’s revelation of Himself to us comes in two primary forms. He has written two books, the Book of Nature and the Book of Sacred Scripture. I love to read the Scriptures and I put a lot of time into studying the fourfold senses of Scripture. But as an artist who has a focus on nature subjects in my oil paintings I find myself reading the Book of Nature a great deal of the time. As our eyes span a wonderful landscape we read of the existence of God and find that nature is a medium for divine communication. So my landscape paintings are a reflection of the quiet prayers to the Creator who made the original landscape. In Saint Bonaventure’s classic work, The Soul’s Journey into God, Creation is the doorway of God’s presence because God is present through creation in a hierarchical ordering of the mind’s ascent from created to uncreated. This is all very sacramental. A sacrament is a visible material physical sign through which God’s Grace flows, feeding the soul with Spiritual nourishment. Jesus, the Christ of God the Eternal Word, is the foremost and primary Sacrament from which all other sacraments flow. All of life is sacramental if viewed with the eyes of faith. Reading Sacred Scripture is sacramental. Reading the “Book of Nature” is sacramental. Washing the face of a child is sacramental. Sitting next to a bed ridden elderly person is sacramental. Being tested with suffering is sacramental...all of life is a Sacrament because Jesus is the LIFE. For me, painting is sacramental. When I brush oil paint onto canvas and create an image, I have a grace filled experience if the composition of the painting has an ordered relationship of parts to one another, proportion and harmony, a luminosity of light and brilliance, and if I have a pleasing and joyful visual and emotional experience, drawing me closer in communal union with the Father of the Universe who poured out His Beauty through His Word and Spirit. Since a sacrament is a visible outward sign of an invisible inward grace, I hope all those who enter my gallery showroom and see the paintings and other works of art will have a sacramental moment and are touched by grace in some small way and drawn closer to the goodness of God. If the visitors to my studio leave with just a hint of the sacred in the visual, I hope to influence them to carry that beauty and let it spill over into all areas of life. Paintings can be great story tellers. I believe that paintings created in the language of myth can be the greatest story tellers. Myth, at its deep levels, can tell us what is true about the most important things in life, what is true of the human condition and of the various realities of the universe, diving into the hidden spiritual realms. If one looks at most modern “Fantasy Art” there is something unreal about the style of the art which is not quite believable. This gives the viewer the impression that the story that the fantasy painting is fiction and not true.

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I try to be different with my mythological paintings. I attempt to paint “fantasy” in a very believable and realistic manner because the myth that I am telling is true at the deep levels of moral and spiritual reality. With this motive I intend to be a “Moral Artist”. Christian artists should be Moral Artisans who promote the beauty of moral living. “True Myth” is excellent vehicle for this end. I seek to walk with Sister Beauty and make her my constant companion. My task as a painter is to use the gifts I’ve been given to birth new forms of beauty into being. Rodd Umlauf lives in Lake Tomahawk Wisconsin near some of the world’s best musky fishing. The beautiful northwoods, with hundreds of wilderness lakes surrounding his home, is a perfect setting for his sport fishing art. He is best known for his cover work on Musky Hunter Magazine. He has also done work for Fishing Facts, Wisconsin Outdoor Journal, Fur-FishGame, and Midwest Outdoors. Rodd has also received recognition internationally through German fishing publications. He was the winner of the 2001 Wisconsin Inland Trout Stamp. Rodd is a graduate of Muskego High School in southern Wisconsin. From 1981-1983 he attended Northwestern College in Roseville Minnesota, majoring in Art. In 1985 he moved to northern Wisconsin where he began his art career as an oil painter. His primary subject matter for his paintings is nature related, drawing his inspiration from lake and forest scenes, as well as Lake Superior. His oil paintings are rich in color and contrast with an emphasis illuminating hues of brilliant colors. To achieve this his palette contains rich oil colors that are packed with high pigment concentrations. His favorite oils are Blockx and Williamsburg because of their ability to produce such rich colors. “ I believe that an artist’s body of work should reflect his or her own life and how he sees the world. I have a Sacramental view of life, so I look for the beauty in all the details of Creation. I seek to see the beauty of life and to see its reflection in all things. I believe it is the artist’s primary role to draw peoples attention to the beauty in the environment in which we live and to appreciate that beauty “, Umlauf said. Rod Umlauf is a novice in the Third Order of St. Francis in the Holy Catholic Church Anglican Rite under the Father Guardianship of Fr. Stuart Crawshaw in Sheridan Wyoming. http://www.umlaufstudio.com/

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Of all the things that usher in the Christmas season, like decorations, lights, and the Salvation Army bell-ringers, I guess the songs of Christmas mean the most to me. There is just something about Christmas and singing that go hand-in – hand. I love to sing the traditional hymns like “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” and “O Little town of Bethlehem” …. And secular songs like “White Christmas” and “Jingle Bells.” But in the past few years I find myself singing a relatively new Christmas song by Mark Lowery, called, “Mary did you know?” The lyrics are beautiful: “Mary did you know, that your baby boy would one day walk on water;…Mary did you know that your baby boy would save your sons and daughters;…did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new…that the baby you deliver would soon deliver you.(which some may disagree with) Mary did you know that your baby boy is heaven’s perfect lamb; that the child that you deliver is the great…I AM! Mark Lowery has written a great poem, and a great song. But perhaps the premise misses the point a bit. I think Mary did know, because it was Mary that actually sang the very first Christmas song! That song was not sung by angels, or priests or prophets, but by a lowly and humble young girl, whom God had chosen to bear his son. Luke, the first chapter tells us that when Mary went to visit her relative Elizabeth, Mary praised God, and she sang a song that has everything to do with what really makes Christmas meaningful. Her song was all about the magnificent gift that God was giving to the world through Mary, the humble young woman that God had chosen to be the human mother of his only son, Jesus Christ, our Lord. Mary’s song, which we call the Magnificat, was the first Christmas song ever sung. It is a song that tells the story of Mary’s faith; faith that believed that God loves everyone, sinners included; and that he had chosen her as the vessel for the birth of his son. The angel had told her, “…your baby will be holy and will be called the son of god”. Did Mary know what her son would mean to the world? Perhaps she did! Her song, “the Magnificat’, is a Latin word which means, “he, she or it, glorifies or magnifies.” So the title of

The Carols of ChrisTmas

by Father Don Holley, St. Paul’s Mission, Branson, MO.

I love to sing the traditional hymns like “Oh Come All Ye Faithful” and “O Little town of Bethlehem” …. And secular songs like “White Christmas” and “Jingle Bells.” But in the past few years I find myself singing a relatively new Christmas song by Mark Lowery, called, “Mary did you know?” The lyrics are beautiful: “Mary did you know, that your baby boy would one day walk on water;…Mary did you know that your baby boy would save your sons and daughters;…did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new…that the baby you deliver would soon deliver you.(which some may disagree with) Mary did you know that your baby boy is heaven’s perfect lamb; that the child that you deliver is the great…I AM! Mark Lowery has written a great poem, and a great song. But perhaps the premise misses the point a bit. I think Mary did know, because it was Mary that actually sang the very first Christmas song! That song was not sung by angels, or priests or prophets, but by a lowly and humble young girl, whom God had chosen to bear his son. Luke, the first chapter tells us that when Mary went to visit her relative Elizabeth, Mary praised God, and she sang a song that has everything to do with what really makes Christmas meaningful. Her song was all about the magnificent gift that God was giving to the world through Mary, the humble young woman that God had chosen to be the human mother of his only son, Jesus Christ, our Lord. Mary’s song, which we call the Magnificat, was the first Christmas song ever sung. It is a song that tells the story of Mary’s faith; faith that believed that God loves everyone, sinners included; and that he had chosen her as the vessel for the birth of his son. The angel had told her, “…your baby will be holy and will be called the son of god”. Did Mary know what her son would mean to the world? Perhaps she did! Her song, “the Magnificat’, is a Latin word which means, “he, she or it, glorifies or magnifies.” So the title of Mary’s song is simply, “she glorifies’. It is a wonderful song of praise from Mary to her God.

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ph of. Jose St onbury Glast ta KS Wichi
The St. Joseph of Glastonbury parish joyfully celebrated its 25th anniversary on November 3rd, 2012. Bp. Leo and Holly Michael joined us for his annual visitation and this celebration of the parish feast day. The parish began meeting in 1987 in a beautiful, English-style chapel where we were able to worship for many years. Without a full-time priest, we were served by a priest from St. James who came once or twice a month, and a Morning Prayer service was held on the other Sundays. Once Fr. William Beaver was ordained in 1994, we were then able to have Holy Communion each Sunday. In 2004, we moved to another rented chapel, and during our time there, Fr. Arnie Wood was ordained. In 2008, we were able to buy a building at last, a former day-care facility which, with some remodeling, would serve the parish needs very well. Fr. Wood was the leader of the remodeling efforts, and our first service was held there on July 13, 2008. With the ordination of Fr. Julio Jimenez, the parish was blessed with three priests to lead our worship. Fr. Jimenez began a Hispanic ministry in the summer of 2011, which is growing with many new families. ~Marilyn Beaver.

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Rev. Canon Owen Loftus, Dean, Holy Trinity Anglican Seminary In October, traveling in the Appalachian Mountains (not as high as the Rockies, where many of y’all live), I saw many churches; some Pentecostal, most Baptist, a few less Baptist, a few less Methodist, a Presbyterian scattered here and there, and one fine Episcopal Church in Boone, North Carolina. I don’t remember seeing a Roman Catholic Church, but I’m sure there was one. Home, rested from our trip, I got to thinking about that. Many of you know, I studied at the Episcopal Theological Seminary in Kentucky, the brain-child realized of a bishop who wanted to supply priests to small churches in East Kentucky, reaching out to men of more advanced age than post-college men, who had behind them life experience, careers in business, education, or whatever, and who had families, and still answered the call to be priests in God’s holy church. Many, like myself, were veterans, some (the first time I was there) of World War II, or (the second time I was there,) of the Korean War. (About 20 years apart, but that is another story). Bishop Moody, the Bishop of the Diocese of East Kentucky re-invented the seminary to prepare candidates for the priestly ministry in East Kentucky. The seminary was a successful, conservative church. Bishops, like the one in Dallas, interviewed candidates for the ministry and sent them to Lexington. The ethos of the seminary was solid “Prayer-book” Catholic, but a lot of the priests turned out “high church” or AngloCatholic because of seminary teachings. They were “Catholics” in a surplice and stole. Someone once complained that the seminary was turning out too many “high” churchmen, and the reply was, “well, look at the books they’re studying.” The Christian Faith by Claude Beaufort Moss, a book (as the Preface says) “a standpoint and an emphasis of their own which is given here without qualification or apology” and “...more space is devoted to Anglican authority, formularies, and organization, that might otherwise be justified...” This book is not addressed to readers who are not Anglican. But I digress, yet these thoughts lead to the point of this article. Up in East Kentucky, it was (and still is) evangelical; even “anabapist” country. In Dallas, where people were more “sophisticated” there was a more cosmopolitan mixture of people (including Hispanics, to whom one of my classmates ministered, being fluent in Spanish). So the Christian ethos of these areas tended to be either fundamentalist Protestant, or Roman Catholic. The communities the graduates of ETSinKy were being trained to serve in what was primarily either fundamentalist or one which had a large number of Roman Catholics, mostly Hispanic. ETSinKy renewed its charter to train and provide priests for work in a variety of environments. In East Kentucky, I must add, they ministered largely to mine owner or supervisors and professional people in those towns and cities. Numerically, compared to the rest of the people in, say, Corbin, Kentucky, they were relatively small. Now when Sylvia and I went up to Boone, the mountains and the people reminded me of East Kentucky for which priests were being trained to serve. The communities were (to varying degrees) either very Protestant, or (in smaller numbers, perhaps) Roman Catholic. A small “slice” of the population were (and still are) Anglicans, belonging to the Episcopal Church. In sum, the Anglicans were, on the one side, faced with people who said “the Bible, the Bible, nothing but the Bible” and, contrary wise, those who said the Church consists of those being led by the Pope, Bishops, and priests (and deacons, and some celibate lay people, friars and nuns, working with the poor and teaching school); and the Mass, the Holy Eucharist was the central service and the Spiritual Center of their church life. That major sacrament that Christ established, embellished in and contained in the Latin Rite was the center of Church life. That was prior to Vatican II, which made major changes in the ethos of the church. One change was the service in the language of the people. The Roman Catholics were going down the road, liturgically, that Anglicans had travelled in and since the 16th Century. An ethos of Christianity, a version of Christianity that was BOTH BIBLICAL AND SACRAMENTAL. In other words both the Bible, was and is now read at the Eucharist in the language of the people, and a new translation (The New American Bible) is replacing the old DouayRheims Bible, the first Roman Catholic Bible in English. At the same time, Episcopalians and Anglicans in other lands made the Holy Eucharist, the Mass the Principal service for Sunday and special Holy Days in the Christian year. And the priest and Bishops and other clergy, wore the same Eucharistic vestments as their Roman Catholic counterparts. God works in mysterious ways. The Anglican Reformation was far from over in the 16th Century, and would include the “Catholic Revival” of the time of John Henry Newman (went to Roman Communion) and Edward Pusey and other leaders of the Catholic Revival. The dynamic, ethos, emphasis, and spirituality changed from simple churches where the pulpit (frequently) dominated (as it does in Protestant churches, now) to the High Altar of the Pre-reformation Churches and cathedrals restored (and here and there some statuary added); and the Spiritual ethos of the pre-Reformation church with its emphasis on Holy Eucharist as THE SERVICE, as Lutherans call it, though most of the time it does not consist of the full Eucharistic consecration of the Bread and Wine to the Body and Blood of Christ to be administered to His people. Incidentally, some (but not all) Roman Catholics have “restored The Cup to the laity, though during flu epidemics in at least one location that I know of, this practice was discontinued, some temporarily, some still permanently. (Watch the Roman Catholic Mass on EWTN and you will see the people receiving only the Consecrated Host at Communion-time. In Anglican Churches, the “Cup” has been restored to the laity. Have you ever heard of any one getting sick from it? I haven’t. If it were dangerous, we would have priests dying like flies. Go figure. But I digress. The point is...the Anglican reformation got it right, and is doing what Christ told his Apostles, and their successors, the Bishops (and priests ordained by them -- all male, by the way -- (until recently - but that is the subject for another article) --- doing what Christ wanted them -- and us -- to do “Tolle lege” take up and read - what St. Augustine heard a boy say, and he became the key theologian of the Western Church, and Roman Catholics, Lutherans, (and with some over-emphasis, -- but that is a subject for another article --Reformed) -- take up and read the Holy Scriptures “Do this in remembrance of me” That is what Jesus told his Apostles, and through them (with re-inforcement from St Paul, found in the Holy Scriptures) all their successors and clergy ordained by them in Apostolic succession (still, the subject for another article) to do -- to administer the Holy Eucharist with elements chosen by Christ himself, in order to both recall and re-initiate His Divine Presence with His people of His Holy Church. IT’S NOT EITHER-OR. IT IS BOTH-AND!

Either-Or, or Both-And?

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Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe December 8,11 & 12 2012 A.D

Celebration in St. Gabriel’s Greeley, CO, St. Joseph of Glastonbury Wichita, KS and Corpus Christi Anglican Church in Rogers AR, where Fr. Rafael Carbajal had 17 confirmations

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99th Birthday
of Rev. Canon JOSEPH T.R. DAVID by Irene David
The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree: he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon. Those that be planted in the house of the Lord shall flourish in the courts of our God. They shall still bring forth fruit in old age;(Psalm 92:12 ff)

C

anon David was born in South India as Joseph Theodore Rajarathnam David, on December 1st, 1913. His father was a well-known engineer and architect. His grand-father and great-grand-father were Anglican priests. He earned his bachelor’s degree in engineering from the prestigious Guindy College of Engineering in Madras, the oldest modern technical school outside Europe. He intended to pursue graduate studies for a master’s in theology, but World War II interfered. He was commissioned as an army officer in the Royal Engineers. He was deployed to the East Desert Theatre in Africa. His division had the mission to protect Egypt. His unit saw almost constant combat while creating traps to slow down Rommel’s tanks. Then, once reinforcements arrived, they built bridges and roads to assist Allied troops in their counter attack. When the British moved troops they always had an officer leading the way, and another bringing up the rear. The enemy would attack the ends of the columns or convoys to try and take out the officers. He firmly believes that it was his mother’s constant prayers that kept him safe and alive during the war. After the war he married H. M. Dolly Joseph. He was stationed in what is now Pakistan, and also various places in northern India, such as Allahabad, Calcutta, Raipur, Ahmednagar, and Delhi. Each of his three daughters were born in what is now a different country, Pakistan, Burma, and India. After Independence he continued his service in the Indian army before retiring as a Major. He immigrated to England where he worked as a school teacher until he retired, and then immigrated to the US. Once in the US he resumed working, this time at the Hanford Nuclear facility as a quality control engineer. He remained active in the church, and he and his family joined with other families to found the Seattle Tamil Christian Fellowship (TCF), an organization of Christians who speak the Indian language Tamil. After he retired (again) he went back to school, at the age of 79, to complete his degree in Theology. He was ordained in the Anglican Catholic Church at the age of 81, and started the San Tomas Church, HCC-AR, conducting services at St. David’s Episcopal Church, Shoreline, Seattle, on Sunday

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afternoons. He was a regular at the TCF meetings and invariably gave the benediction at the end of the worship. He last visited India in 2010. During this trip, he visited a church in Megnanapuram which has a stained glass window for his great-grandfather, Rev. Joseph David. The congregation there felt honored to see another Rev. Joseph David and had him sit in the sanctuary during the service. In 2011, he was in the hospital for a few months on a respirator. He recovered through God’s grace and the excellent care he received from the medical profession. As soon as he was released from the hospital, he resumed attending and conducting Sunday services. Father David faithfully ministered to his small congregation in Seattle and was made an honorary Canon, for his years of dedication to Christ. On December 1st he joyfully celebrated his 99thbirthday at a Tamil Christian Fellowship event and later with friends and family. God willing, he will still be serving the Lord next year at the age of 100.

(From opposite page: Canon David with his wife Dolly, with Fourth generation grandson, with family, three generations before Taj Mahal, at Deacon Alfred and Michelle Sturges wedding, the plaque in memory of Canon David’s great grandfather in Megnanapuram, South India, Canon David with Bishops Jayaraj and Michael.) HCCAR is grateful to the Lord for Canon David’s life and priestly ministry and wishes him God’s blessings.

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THRU THE LITURGICAL YEAR...
Minor Propers !

WHAT IF YOU CAN’T AFFORD A CANTOR, OR NEED A BACK-UP ?

O ORD 3 1 IVE ACT DAR 20 TR EN AT AL $10 K

With all the propers: Introit, Gradual, Alleluia, Tracts, Offertory, Communion ; 5 DISCS to cover the Liturgical Year, Digitally Mastered with Cathedral Effect: Disc 1 Advent - Sexagesima, Disc 2 Ash Wednesday- Trinity, Disc 3 Trinity 1-Trinity 19, Trinity 20- Annunciation, Disc 5 St. Philip - Appendix. A Great Gift to your church It’s priced at $75 + $5 Shipping CONTACT: St. James Anglican Church, 8107 Holmes, Kansas City, MO 64131

Anglican Liturgical Chants Through the Year

HOLY TRINITY ANGLICAN SEMINARY
GOOD FORMATION ENSURES GOOD MINISTRY!
The Holy Catholic Church Anglican Rite is working on its seminary program which will encompass online as well as on campus studies. Let us implore the Lord’s blessing on this initiative that we may raise up shepherds after God’s own heart (Jeremiah 3:15), who in turn will tend His flock.

Publication of the Anglican Province of the Holy Catholic Church Anglican Rite St.. James Anglican Church 8107 S. Holmes Road Kansas City, MO 64131

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