October 17, 2021

Attended three services at All Souls today, to give my Stewardship Testimonial. 

    This is the Sunday when we announce the Joyful Season of Pledging and Stewardship, and I am its Herald Angel. Our Stewardship Theme this year is WHY I GIVE, and In succeeding weeks you will hear from this lecturn and read in the Parish Epistle the testimonies of your peers sharing why they give and why we earnestly urge you to do so as well.  In order to share my Why I Give story, I must begin with confession. You may have thought the desire to be a superhero ends with adolescence. My confession is that it does not. My unshared and only partially coherent desire to be Superman or Wonderwoman or Thor righting the wrongs of the world has been compromised partially by my lack of any powers whatever. By when I nevertheless  imagine myself one of these figures, I realize I wouldn’t do much good because I seem never to be where there are wrongs to be righted. I’m never the first at the burning building or at the bus hanging over the edge of the bridge. I’m never there when the purse is being snatched. To adapt the metaphor slightly,  I want to one of the saints of God, but I am bewildered as to how to do so. My life has turned out so that–and I give thanks for this–I am almost never at the point of greatest need. I cannot by myself heal the sick or uplift the downtrodden or comfort the fearful–not very much, anyway– so I must rely on somebody who can, somebody who is there when the storm hits or the famine lays waste or the homeless freeze under the bridge. This is where our beloved Cathedral comes in. I trust the corporate wisdom and compassion of this parish to allow me to do good even when I can’t find the occasion myself. All Souls knows where the need is, better than I ever could, and puts my resources there.  I read over the list of grants the Outreach Committee intends to make this year, and I realize I knew exactly one of the recipients. This is exactly right. My money will reach need that I never could find on my own. The Cathedral does good, searches for good to do, parries the Adversary way beyond my personal vision and capabilities. So, I give to support this extraordinary building and the our excellent clergy and staff and the beautiful music Kyle provides week after week, but also to do the good I couldn’t find on my own. I write my check to stand for my Christian concern when I cannot be there myself.  To a child putting a slice of bread into her mouth, or a mother with a home after months of living on the street, I am, by the simple act of making a pledge, a saint of God, a superhero.

At 7:45, John’s homily concerned the moment when the sons of Zebedee try to make Jesus promise to seat them at his right and left hand in Glory. He pointed out that some vaingloriousness (such as that of James and John at that moment) is pretty obvious. Other types are not: the lust for honor, for instance. Bullseye I do not lust after riches or power, but I realized at that moment that I do lust after honor, and that a huge proportion of my daily energy is involved in fulfilling that almost unfulfillable desire: admire my work, mention my work, read my book, comment on how well I sounded at rehearsal, give me that prize, remember how smart I am, what a great writer I am. . . .if I calculate how much of the sorrows of a day arise from frustration at not receiving these honors, on some days the tally would reach nearly 100%. I sat there dumfounded with recognition, realizing simultaneously that I have no idea how to pull back from that obsession. How is it different from fighting for a place for my work in the world, which I have thought of as a sacred duty? I suppose one can do one’s best work and then calmly let the world decide its fate, but I rebel against that as a job half done. I rebel deeply, perhaps irrevocably. Some power other than my own will have to lead me toward this particular light. 

Almost unendurable pain in my legs caused me to stumble about this morning like a centenarian. Aspirin took it away in a matter of moments. That is miraculous to me, and makes me feel foolish that I forget and leave the house incapacitated.

Intended to go to Marilyn Keiser’s organ recital at 4.  Woke up from my afternoon nap at 4:20.