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,
February 26, 2025
Bill Harkins
In February the Episcopal Church has traditionally celebrated the lives of two people dear to me, and to many. Eric Henry Liddell (16 January 1902 – 21 February 1945, was a Scottish athlete, rugby union international and missionary. Liddell was the winner of the Men’s 400 meters at the 1924 Summer Olympics held in Paris. He was portrayed in the wonderful film Chariots of Fire. Born in China, Liddell returned there as a Protestant missionary in later life.
Often called the “Flying Scotsman”, Liddell was born in Tianjin (formerly transliterated as Tientsin) in North China, second son of the Rev & Mrs James Dunlop Liddell who were Scottish missionaries with the London Missionary Society. He became well known for being the fastest runner in Scotland while at Eltham College. He withdrew from the 100-meter race in the 1924 Olympics in Paris as he refused to run on a Sunday. Liddell spent the intervening months training for the 400 meters, an event in which he had previously excelled. Even so, his success in the 400m was largely unexpected. He not only won the race but broke the existing world record with a time of 47.6 seconds. To put this in perspective, my best 400m time was 48.2 at the D-III championships my senior year in college, some 50 years later!
Liddell returned to Northern China where he served as a missionary, like his parents, from 1925 to 1943 –
February 19, 2025
Bill Harkins
In one of my favorites of his songs, Van Morrison sings:
I’m a dweller on the threshold
And I’m waiting at the door
And I’m standing in the darkness
I don’t want to wait no more
I’m a dweller on the threshold
And I cross some burning ground
And I’ll go down to the water
Let the great illusion drown
This song speaks to those liminal spaces we find on the journey and the invitation to explore them implicit in Morrison’s “I don’t want to wait no more.” The etymology of “threshold” is from the Latin, “Limen.” It describes states, times, spaces, etc., that exist at a point of transition or change—a metaphorical threshold—as in “the liminal zone between sleep and wakefulness.”
When we walk through that doorway, as Morrison’s song suggests, something addresses us, prompts us, calls us, pushes us, pulls us into a relationship with itself. Transitional, liminal space is where we experience life in a lively way that feels real to us and where we discover and create ourselves as fully alive. I would suggest that this includes those aspects of our lives that are dissonant and where we are in conflict. It is from and within this space that we encounter each other, in our common finitude,