I’ve been thinking much about time of late. It seems such an elastic notion. On the one hand it seems we were just in the middle of summer, so how is it we’re already seeing the tokens of Christmas up on the streets and in the stores? On the other hand, we also feel like time has either slowed to a cold creep, stopped, or even been thrown into reverse. Wars, violent setbacks in what seemed like a steady march for human rights and dignity, the ugly reappearance of symbols of hatred in our streets — even in a state that claims to allow all persons to be free — all can make us question that “long arc of history” and whether we can be so certain of its curve toward justice. The Psalms speak of how brief our life can be and yet there’s the refrain: How long, O Lord, how long?

It’s in just such a mixed experience of time that Advent invites us to find ourselves. When we read the Gospels, we find that’s precisely how the God of eternity entered the human experience in Jesus Christ. God comes to be present, fully present, in Jesus, who holds in his mind and heart joy, hope, agony, anger, and grief, not so much in sequence (as though first this, then this), but all at once. He doesn’t resolve the tension of time in order to love. And Jesus invites those who wish to know him and live the holy life (a life that seeks to mirror God) to keep in mind eternity. I find that when I am most anxious, in doubt, or fearing about what is happening, when I remember to pray, I am led to know God’s peace that passes all understanding in a sense of Presence, which never fails. God just is, in all of our lives and in the world’s turmoil. Right. Now. Always. Praying for God’s Presence, in the present, simply means allowing our minds and hearts to see what is, no matter what it is, with the eyes of Jesus, who never saw anything apart from God’s eternity.

I am drawn to that word presence. We’ve always been taught that Advent means an arrival, a coming. Usually, we think of Advent as the short season that gets us ready for Christmas. But to dwindle it down to just these 30 days deprives it of its deeper purpose. In Advent, we awaken and look for what the ancients called the “Parousia,” which is the Greek word for Presence. 

We have a little sticker on our refrigerator that says:

Yesterday is history.

Tomorrow is a mystery and

Today is a gift.

That’s why they call it the present.

It’s not without its corniness, but is there not some life-giving encouragement in the invitation to awaken and to see the signs of God’s miraculous healing and reconciliation and to feel the sharpness of how God’s kingdom is not yet here? I believe the longing and the striving, the waiting, with both laughter and tears, is just where God wants us to join God. That’s the space where Jesus came to dwell among us and to love us in all our beauty and brokenness. Perhaps that’s why scripture so often speaks of “the fullness of time.”

This Advent, let us be open to the all of it.

Posted
AuthorCommunications

I have to confess that in moments of distress at the news, my own convictions are at risk of eroding into a kind of despairing resignation, leaving more airtime for the worse impulses of those of passionate intensity on both far left and the far right to dominate all conversation. It is at those moments that I turn to the tradition of my faith as an Episcopalian.

Access the full article here.

Posted
AuthorCommunications

September 8, 2022

Good morning and thank you for this opportunity to share why I, a person of the Christian faith, believe that public education is so necessary for our communities, our state, in fact the world. One might assume that I would rather seek more opportunities for education in religious schools, specifically Christian schools. Though as the Episcopal bishop of New Hampshire, I serve as the president of the board of two boarding schools affiliated with the Church, I am deeply concerned that the state of our public schools warrant attention to the sacred trust, to borrow the language of Commission Edelblut, to tend to every child and youth, not matter what faith or religious affiliation, class, race, orientation, or gender. 

 A brief story of my own upbringing in a public school: I am in the fourth grade, standing in line at the cafeteria.  A boy in line ahead of me, a classmate, has come to school with the symbol of the National Socialist Party, the Nazis, drawn on the back of his hand with a magic marker.  Our teacher, Ms Zoss, who was Jewish, calmly asked him why he had that swastika on his wrist, and asked if he knew what it meant, what was its history.  He was speechless.  She calmly informed him that it was a symbol that represented a hatred that cost the lives of many people and that the symbol causes deep hurt for many people.  There was no shaming.  My friend had no answer about why he drew the symbol, it was something he just heard about and saw at home.  Did he feel uncomfortable?  Probably.  Was I as a bystander uncomfortable?  Yep.  And yet the interaction was a gentle, loving, caring, balanced, true and life changing as any I had in Sunday School. And I’ve had a lot of Sunday School.

I share the grave concern, that the stability of public schools as a place where such interactions, respectful, caring and truthful is in peril.  As more children are invited to abandon public school, healthful and I would say, holy and sacred collisions with others are being less available.  What assurance do we have that they can happen in schools, extended learning opportunities, on-line that are outside systems of training and accountability of the Department of Education? 

Parents, indeed all of us, want what is best for children, our own and others’ and we want children to grow up to be well-equipped for the world. As New Hampshire residents, we hope we want this for all of the schoolchildren in the state. I urge you to encourage, and not to discourage from those difficult conversations like the one I described, but to show us how to have them constructively and healthfully.  I urge you to ensure our public schools are well funded by the state to support our teachers, administrators, and staff to do just that.

Thank you for your time and attention.

Please know of my deep gratitude and my prayers for your presence and service on this essential and vital Commission.

 Photo Credits: Arnie Alpert

Posted
AuthorCommunications

Today we heard the news of the death of Queen Elizabeth II at the age of 96 after over 70 years as Sovereign. It brings great sadness to so many of us. She was a human being of tremendous faithfulness to our Savior. She relied on the strength of God’s grace to give her courage, wisdom, and resilience over so many years of profound change, not only in Great Britain but throughout the globe. I am of a generation who never knew of any other monarch on the throne in England.

Though we may not be avid followers of the activities of the royal family or particularly stalwart anglophiles—though I acknowledge with tenderness those who are and the Brits who serve among us here— the world has shifted today in a particularly sad and even disorienting way.

Upon seeing the bulletin of Queen Elizabeth’s death, I found this prayer in an English prayerbook on my desk. It was prayed on the occasion of her accession to the throne in June 1953 in Westminster Abbey. The language and tenses may be slightly off, but I am still praying it tonight:

Almighty God, who rulest over all the kingdoms of the world, and dost order them according to thy good pleasure: We give thee hearty thanks for that thou hast set they servant our sovereign lady, Queen Elizabeth, upon the throne of this realm. Let thy wisdom be her guide and thine arm strengthen her; let truth and justice, holiness and righteousness, peace and charity, abound in her days; and direct all her counsels and endeavors to thy glory, and the welfare of her people; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

May Elizabeth rise in glory with all the saints in light. And may God’s comfort and counsel be with Charles, the entire royal family, and all the British people in the days ahead.

Posted
AuthorCommunications

Recently, Bishop Rob wrote an Op-Ed that was printed in the Union Leader.

“I AM WRITING in response to the recent piece, "Education's Sacred Trust" by Commissioner Frank Edelblut of the New Hampshire Department of Education. As the bishop of the Episcopal Church of New Hampshire, I am compelled to respond when the word "sacred" is used, especially when used to divide by driving a wedge of fear and distraction into our communities.

In focusing on the acts of a few teachers to paint the education system in New Hampshire with such a broad brush is overreaching. In fact, Commissioner Edelblut says so himself in his piece, "To be fair, most educators do not engage in such practices," and, "Rather, these teachers provide instruction that is developmentally appropriate to the child." Striking fear into parents’ hearts that "activist educators might be knowingly dismantling the foundations of a value system they are attempting to build" in order to forward a political agenda towards school vouchers or, even worse, the dismantling of the public school system, is in my opinion as a parent and a New Hampshire resident the wrong focus…”


You can access the full article here.

Posted
AuthorCommunications