Not For My Peace. . .

If you look at the heavy-set cove who is carrying the first cross (at :26-29), there I am. I've grayed more than I realized in the last 5 years, but I was heavier then than I knew, so we'll call it a wash. Not all that consoling, really.

But--here's the thing: There I am, a lay minister, in 2010. Our second cross, a dear friend with a wicked sense of humor, is now a verger. At least one other lay minister in that clip has been ordained a priest. Bill Tully, Bruce Forbes, Buddy Stallings, have retired from St. Barts, though are dear to me still. And that looks suspiciously like another dear friend, who moved to my other NYC parish, Trinity Wall Street, where I led Evening Prayer on Mondays for 5 years.

And now I am ordained, and my diaconal ministry will begin at the place that formed me, St. Barts.

And so, I think of "rare" Ben Jonson, who wrote:

Else I my state should much mistake
To harbour a divided thought
From all my kind—that, for my sake,
There should a miracle be wrought.

No, I do know that I was born
To age, misfortune, sickness, grief:
But I will bear these with that scorn
As shall not need thy false relief.

Nor for my peace will I go far,
As wanderers do, that still do roam;
But make my strengths, such as they are,
Here in my bosom, and at home.

What better place to begin this new journey than my long-time home?