April 15, 2025
Tuesday in Holy Week – Bill Harkins
Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor. “Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die. The crowd answered him, “We have heard from the law that the Messiah remains forever. How can you say that the Son of Man must be lifted up? Who is this Son of Man?” Jesus said to them, “The light is with you for a little longer. Walk while you have the light, so that the darkness may not overtake you. If you walk in the darkness, you do not know where you are going. While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light.”
Grace and peace to you all this Tuesday afternoon in Holy Week. It’s a lovely, windy day in the Southern Appalachians, filled with spring sunlight, and the world coming back to life after a long winter. As a collector and connoisseur of light, I hold memories of the experience of light deep within my soul, and those memories sustain and enliven and enrich my experience of being alive. As I ran the trails yesterday, on a similar afternoon to this one, I was so grateful for the quality of light, and the beauty of the day. The dogwoods and azaleas in Decatur are in full bloom, and it was a day which was the essence of late March, with deep blue skies, brisk winds, and a wonderful slant of light. Had someone walked up to me and said, “Bill, go fly a kite!” I would have said immediately, “Yes. Good idea. I believe I will.”
I have stored in my memory a collection of such days of remarkable light. They each involve a transformation of a way of seeing the world, perhaps even a momentary glimpse of the sacred amid the ordinary. Each experience involves a liminal, threshold space, where light seems to symbolize the passage into a new perspective. I recall the remarkable quality of light on a day in Maine, leaving Stonington Harbor in a kayak, looking back at the town as the sunlight, filtered through a dissipating fog, cast a beautiful glow on Penobscot Bay and reflected off the head of a curious harbor seal, greeting my passage there. I recall the fiery glow of the constellation Cassiopeia, seen through a telescope one deep night in June, and realizing that the light from this beautiful interstellar space left there two thousand years ago, about the time of Jesus’ birth, only now reaching my eyes. I recall the light reflected in the eyes of my sons as they were born and the many moments since, filled with all the joys of parenting. I remember the light of the sun filtering through the stained glass windows in the Cathedral of St. John the Divine on a late October day in New York City, after completing the New York City Marathon, giving thanks for a safe run. And I remember a remarkable day running on the trails near Mt. LeConte with my best friend Mark, now gone for many years. We were caught in a spring snowstorm, through which the sun momentarily emerged, reflecting off every limb and every snowflake, encasing us in a wondrous cocoon of light. I recall a day in March, or maybe April, many years ago, having fallen asleep in a hammock at my grandmothers’ farm, awaking to the sound of spring breezes in the trees, blowing the nearby wind chimes, and seeing the instant I opened my eyes her hand-made quilts, lovingly created, hanging in the bright spring sunlight and reflecting back the many colors of her loving, generous spirit.
And these are just a few. Conversely, the darkness we each experience, the absence of light which by contrast makes us appreciate the light we hold so dear… “Midway this life we’re bound upon…”, wrote Dante, “I woke to find myself in a dark wood, the right way was wholly lost and gone. Wendell Berry reminds us that…
To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.
To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,
and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,
and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.
And the Zen saying which I like so much…
And a favorite Zen koan,
Barn burned down. Now I can see the moon. ~Basho
Themes of darkness and light are a part of our Lenten journey.
On such a day as today, I can best imagine the feeding of the five thousand taking place. There, in my mind’s eye, the people sit down expectantly, high on the mountain above the Sea of Galilee. We are told that there was a great deal of grass there. I imagine a day of dazzling sunlight, capturing the green of the grass, the deep blue of the sky, and the light reflected off the water nearby, creating a synesthesia of light and energy. And in my imagination this light energy radiates and grows, infusing the scene with a holy shimmering of grace which transforms everything, and everyone present. In one of his poems Gerard Manly Hopkins has written;
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;”
Yes, as the Gospel for Tuesday in Holy Week reminds us, we are called to be children of light, and we know the light in part because we are acquainted with darkness. This is what our journey from Palm Sunday to Easter is about, and it is why the Triduum, beginning with Maundy Thursday, is so very important to that journey and to the Light of Christ we celebrate on Easter Sunday. Let’s remember, on days like today, the miracle of photosynthesis in which trees, during the day, take in carbon dioxide and water, and with sunlight, they perform photosynthesis to produce sugar (food) and oxygen. This process occurs primarily in the leaves. At night, in the darkness, trees respire, releasing carbon dioxide and taking in oxygen. Without the inextricably interconnected relationship between darkness and light, life as we know it would not be possible.
As many of you know, our parish has been especially hard hit by a wave of Covid infections. This includes many members of the vestry, worship committee, our intrepid digital ministry, and especially our choir, whose ranks were hard hit. We were so fortunate to have Roxanne Golden substitute for us on Sunday as organist, and the faithful remnant of our choir performed marvelously, including the glorious Ave Verum Corpus, by Mozart. Thank you so much!
Sadly, due to public health concerns we were unable to process as usual on Palm Sunday for the Liturgy of the Palms, as walking and singing are sure to spread the virus efficiently! If you are immunocompromised in any way, please take care and use your best judgment as we approach the Triduum of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter. We have N95 masks available, and they will be placed on the credenza in the narthex.
Please hold those who are ill in your prayers, and especially in this season we remember in our prayers Norma Niehoff-Emerson, who recently lost her husband Rob, and Jennie Sheffield, whose sister Elizabeth Bryan Drennen (“ Betty”) passed away peacefully on the evening of April 9th at age 95. And our dear Deacon Katharine recently lost her lifelong friend Ann Payne. Please keep Katharine, Scott, and the Payne family in your hearts and prayers.
Yes, there is darkness, but we are Easter people, and we are children of light…the Light of Christ!
Please forgive this ‘extra” Notes from the Trail in the form of a public service announcement! Holy Week blessings, please do take care of yourselves, and watch us online this Sunday if you have any health concerns. I’ll catch you later down the trail!
Bill+
March 19, 2025
Bill Harkins
The physical structure of the Universe is love. It draws together and unites; in uniting, it differentiates. Love is the core energy of evolution and its goal.”
~ Teilhard de Chardin, Human Energy
Last week Vicky and I enjoyed a visit to the Fernbank Science Museum with our younger son Andrew, daughter-in-law Margaret, and grandchildren Sophia and Georgie. We have always enjoyed our sojourns to Fernbank Don’t Miss This Ultimate Exhibit at Fernbank and have fond memories of taking both of our sons there when they were young, so the tradition continues!
The week prior our older son Justin, and his family, Michelle, Alice, and Jack, who live in Montana, visited Andrew, Margaret and family in Houston, where Andrew is an oncology fellow at MD Anderson They visited the NASA space center there and saw the “mission control” center where so much history has been made…”Houston, we have a problem.”
We hoped our children would develop a sense of wonder in the natural world and an interest in science, and now we delight in spending time with our grandchildren in these contexts as well!
In 1982 I enrolled at Vanderbilt Divinity School on a trial year Lily Foundation scholarship. Vicky and I journeyed to Nashville primarily for her to work on a Master’s in Behavioral Health Nursing, while I considered resuming my interest in neuroscience upon our eventual return to Atlanta,
March 12, 2025
Bill Harkins
Today is the Feast Day of Gregory the Great, thought by many to be the “father” of pastoral care. Truth told there are many mothers and fathers in the history and tradition of pastoral care and pastoral theology, but he was among the first, and we honor his work in our own “Lesser Feasts and Fasts” and “Holy Women, Holy Men.”
Gregory was born into a Patrician family in about 540 and became Prefect of Rome in 573. Shortly thereafter, however, he retired to a monastic life in a community which he founded in his ancestral home on the Coelian Hill. Pope Pelagius Il made him Ambassador to Constantinople in 579, where he learned much about the larger affairs of the church. Not long after his return home, Pope Pelagius died of the plague, and in 590, Gregory was elected as his successor.
Gregory wrote eloquently about the demands of the pastoral office and the dangers of seeking it too rashly. He said: “Those who aspire to the priesthood usually delude themselves into thinking that they are seeking it out of a desire to perform good works, although this actually stems from pride and a desire to accomplish great things. Thus, one thing takes place in their conscious mind, but another motive is hidden secretly within. For the mind frequently lies to itself about itself, pretending that it loves the good work when it does not, and that it does not care for worldly glory when in fact it does.
March 5, 2025
Bill Harkins
Matthew 6:1-21 6“Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven. 2“So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 3But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4so that your alms may be done in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
5“And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. 6But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.
Today is Ash Wednesday, and many of us will receive the imposition of ashes with the words, “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” As we discussed in our final “Walk in Love” class on Sunday, Lent is based on the 40 days Jesus spent in the wilderness being tempted by Satan,