Handing It Over

Handing it Over

“You anoint my head with oil;

 my cup overflows.

 Surely  goodness and mercy shall follow me

all the days of my life,

and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD

my whole life long.” Psalm 23: 5b-6. NRSV

Recently, I was at a meeting where I was asked to lead a healing service. Usually, I can do almost all the parts and readings in the service, but I have been having difficulty with my voice after a long illness with deep coughing and hoarseness that damaged my vocal cords.

I am in speech therapy. My voice is improving, but it’s still not as strong as I’d like it to be. I knew I had to ask others to help. In the end, the only part I participated in was the short homily, and I assisted with the laying on of hands and anointing. There were two other deacons and a priest present, and I asked them to help with the anointing.

 The service was beautiful, particularly as we heard many other voices. After the service, the two deacons and the priest approached me and told me they could not express how meaningful it was to do the anointing. One was almost in tears. I was moved by how passionately each person spoke about how being involved in this sacramental rite of laying on hands and unction brought healing to them, as well as to those they prayed for.

Suddenly, I knew I was now being called to do what deacons are supposed to do, to hand over other ministries to others. This is a significant part of the deacon’s ministry. We help others be involved in a ministry, and then hand it over to them.

I am not giving up my call, but I am sharing it with others now. It is more than just delegating. It sacramentally invites others to participate in a ministry to which they are now called. This can be true in outreach and parish life ministries. In fact, it is a principal part of every aspect of ministry. We encourage, mentor, and lead others to become the person God created them to be.

Joanna Seibert https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Sacred Spaces Will Welcome Us Back

 Sacred Spaces Welcome Us Back

“The sea is his, and he made.”—Psalm 95:5.

 I am reliving the time we returned to our sacred space on the Gulf after being gone for months.

 As I sip my morning tea, a huge welcoming party awaits us. A cool breeze keeps us from being overheated. The wind brings with it the welcoming salty smell of the sea. Hundreds of fishing boats leave the pass early in the morning to say Hello. A pelican silently flies by our balcony and tips her wings. Another comes so close he takes our breath away.

Gulls circle the water in front of us but decide not to stay. Their loud squawk tells us they would only stay if we fed them. The clouds above make funny little faces to make us laugh. The lone blue heron flies by but does not land. He must be visiting new friends down the beach. Dolphins have not arrived, but they may consider extending the welcome later in the day. I hear the Blue Angels but cannot see them. A sparrow patiently waits on our balcony for any breakfast droppings.

I think of the men and women and children in the fishing boats. What will they catch today? They extend their lines deep beneath the surface, sometimes to great depths. Some venture far from land in search of the unknown. The fishermen travel with guides who know where to go, having been there before.

It is another metaphor for our spiritual journey, where we search beneath the surface of our lives to a deeper place of memories, dreams, and reflections. We go with spiritual guides who have been there before and know the territory. We share the joy of what we have found in community. We take back into our bodies and share the nourishment we had forgotten.

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There is so much more in store for us in the deeper waters than what is found by the lone fisherman casting his line on the shore. However, this fisherman meditates while waiting for the infrequent nibbles from the sea. He also has the opportunity to go deeper into his mind. He also shares his poles with young children, teaching them the new art form. Another is standing by with his cell phone to make a permanent memory of the event.

God is there, reaching out to us no matter how we extend our search. The finding is always in the searching.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Holy Smoke

Holy Smoke

“And the smoke of the incense, with the prayers of the saints, rose before God from the hand of the angel.”—Revelation 8:4.

holy smoke

I slowly stand up from my seat next to the Bishop’s chair near the altar at Holy Spirit Episcopal Church in Gulf Shores, Alabama, as the organist plays the prelude to the closing hymn, “Lift High the Cross.” The music is uplifting, but suddenly, I am transported and raised to another space. There is an unusual burning smell in the air. I look up and see two almost straight lines of black smoke rapidly rising at least a foot above the altar, just as quickly disappearing into the air in front of the congregation.

As the acolyte in the white alb passes by me to reach for the silver processional cross, I am aware that she has just extinguished the two candles on the glass altar.

This smell is unfamiliar from what I usually perceive at the end of the service. It is an especially holy smell, accompanied by an uplifting, holy smoke stronger than incense. It is raw, attention-getting, signaling that something has happened. The few in the front rows of the congregation can see the black smoke, but the smell probably persists only around the altar. By verse two of the hymn, as the crucifer leads the choir members in their blue cassocks and white surplices out of the church, I realize what this is all about.

The Altar Guild of Holy Spirit uses real candles, not the oil candles I am familiar with in many churches I visit. It is the smell and smoke from extinguished candle wax, and I am close enough to smell it.

I remember this scent. It is the residual fragrance after a spiritual direction meeting with seekers as they depart. I light the candle at the beginning of a spiritual direction session to symbolize our meeting as holy, as we care for our souls. I extinguish the candle at the end of our time to symbolize the passing of what we have shared. I know our time together as spiritual friends is holy work, just as our Eucharist on Sunday is sacred time.

The smell and the smoke tell me that whatever has happened is now being lifted up, spreading into the air of our surroundings, our universe. The Word we had together has now moved away from the altar or our meeting place and out into the world. We can no longer see the smoke, but it is there. I experience the smell only briefly, but it is a poignant reminder of what is happening. 

The Holy Word has spread its healing blessing out into the world, making a difference in all our wounded spaces.

Bless the Altar Guild of Holy Spirit for teaching me a little more about the movement of the Holy. 

Joanna Seibert. https://www.joannaseibert.com/