The Last two Sundays - Continues

The Party at Columbia Station

Following the church service June 2, the congregants drove to Columbia Station, where the party was being held. By the time Susan and I arrived there, the place was packed by members of the Church, family, friends, and the leaders of community organizations. They came from far and near. Following cocktails (yes, on Sunday at noon) in the reception hall, people took their seats in the main function hall spectacularly decorated by Ron Druckenmiller. The place was humming with music and people talking. As Mike Logar came to the podium to assume his role as the emcee, the hall became silent. It reminded me of the old commercial, 'When E. F. Hutton talks, everyone listens." Mike promptly called the gathering to its agenda, which is to give God thanks for our thirteen years of ministry together at St. Peter's.

It began with Deacon Joe offering a beautiful prayer. Ordained a Deacon in 1994, Joe served St. Peter's most of his tenure. I had the privilege of serving with him during most of my years at St. Peter's. He is a fixture at St. Peter's. He offers his uncanny ability to be calm, and be the still point when all-around at St. Peter's goes astir. People saw him as a confidante and as a spiritual person to look up to, especially when they go through turmoil in their life. I'm grateful to God for Deacon Joe and for the years of joint ministry with him.

Gifted in speaking, public relations, and leadership skills, Mike was the appropriate choice to fill this role. He took the audience on a trip down memory lane giving me and Susan undue credit to our successes. Suffice to say it made Susan, and I feel quite embarrassed. He and his young family were already members when I first came to St. Peter's. Serving in the vestry, Mike served a crucial role in linking the immediate past to my new tenure. Later he served the positions of Junior and Senior Warden and the Chair of Capital Campaign. I thank God for Mike and Erica for their leadership in the Church and its mission in El Salvador.

Whatever success of my tenure at St. Peter's is a testament to the ministry of an empowered laity. Among whom stood tall is Gary Russell, a man with a heart of gold. It was his turn to speak at the party. Gary highlighted a few instances from our times at St. Peter's, especially the ones about the Church's ministry and mission among the most vulnerable of God's people. His light-hearted and most dramatic portrayal of our flight to El Salvador for mission work during a storm kept the audience in good spirits. Gary was the one I came back to, again and again, to talk about how the Church can meet and fulfill the local needs of the community. His is the face of the Church to many in Phoenixville. His wide-ranging engagement in the community earned him the much-coveted Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Humanitarian Award. I thank God for his deep spirituality that is fully engaged in the Church and in the community.

Next to speak at the function was the Very Rev. Kathy Andonian, the Dean of Valley Forge Deanery. Currently, she is the longest-serving priest in the deanery and the only remaining priest with longer years of service than I had, and she succeeded me as the dean. At events like this, it is usually the dean who stands-in for the bishop. I'm very grateful for her eloquent words recognizing my service as the dean and my involvement in the diocese and as a deputy to the General Convention. Rev. Andonian and I had a close working relationship. We agreed on so many issues about the deanery and diocese. I missed the collegiality and comradery we had among us in the deanery and diocese.

My time at St. Peter's would not have been as productive as it was if it weren't for the quiet and unassuming relationship-building nature of Susan. People at St. Peter's loved her. However, it was a surprise for Susan and me when Liz Fifer, Anne Atlee, and Mona Chylack recognized Susan at the party with glowing words of praise and an elegant gift. Though there is no formal and ongoing Women's Group at St. Peter's, women provide leadership for many of its initiatives.  As I said earlier in one of the blogs, it was the St. Peter's women who planned, organized, and made happen this party. We thank God for Peter and Liz Fifer for their love and stewardship of the Church. And for their unwavering support of our ministry in the Church.  Anne Atlee is another pearl of the Church that we give God thanks for.  Her ministry goes beyond St. Peter's as she holds leadership on diocesan committees and commissions.  Her quiet but very effective leadership is a boon to the Church.  Soon after joining the Church, Mona, along with her family, began to engage themselves in the ministries of the Church. She took on the responsibility of stewardship. She very capably ran it for the last three years, taking it to a higher level of congregational participation. These are but a few among the many women leaders of St. Peter's.

Next in line to talk was Judi Hans, the senior warden. Being long-term members of the Church, Judi and Don Hans is a repository of the institutional memory of St. Peter's.  Over the years, they both have held many positions of leadership in the Church and helped it moved forward in its missions. Judi's meticulous attention to the details and no-nonsense approach to dealing with issues were particularly helpful, especially in the last three years.  The Church was simultaneously facing clergy leadership change, a Capital Campaign, and significant structural renovations. Judi presented a check on behalf of the parishioners. Following Judi's remarks, it was Retta Sparano's turn to speak.

I must tell you that Retta was the primary reason that I came to St. Peter's.  Of course, it was the Holy Spirit, but spirit works through people.  Retta, who chaired the discernment/ search committee, sought me out and encouraged me to apply for the clergy position at St. Peter's. However, the diocese of PA was not on my list of places to look for a call.  Her continued prodding eventually succeeded in making me land here. From the podium, she called Susan and me to stand next to her, and then she gave an emotionally stirring speech making our eyes well up.
Whatever I had prepared to say just escaped me, and I couldn't bring myself to say anything coherently.  I was too overwhelmed by the love of the people.  In a show of support, Gary Russell, Mike Logar, Retta Sparano, and Judi Hans, all senior wardens, whom I've worked with during my tenure, stood with Susan and me.

Indeed, it was a love feast. However, a gathering of this nature, saying goodbye at the end of a cure, wouldn't be complete without an appropriate bidding prayer. Father David Hyatt, a retired Episcopal priest and member of the Church wrote this most meaningful and touching prayer given below for the occasion. Father Hyatt began the prayer, and the vestry concluded it.

Fr. Hyatt is a person of high integrity. He is one of the most progressive and theologically cogent and consistent people I ever had the pleasure of working with. I considered him my mentor.  Throughout my time at St. Peter's, he helped me carry out the sacred duties of the Church, which only a priest can do. I thank God for Fr. David for his life and ministry. It was so lovely and heart-warming to see and hear Fr. David and all the members of the vestry reading the prayer.

Prayer of Blessing for Koshy and Susan Mathews
June 2, 2019
O God of Heaven and Earth, you have sought to be in relationship with your creation from its beginning.  We have responded to your deepest desire for us to be in relationship with you and with each other.  Drawn by your great love for humanity and creation, we have gathered today to acknowledge the deep and loving relationship that has grown between the people of this parish, this community and Koshy and Susan Mathews.
We thank you, especially for Koshy's embrace of the priesthood of the Church.
    We thank you for his unfailing kindness;
    We thank you for his warm acceptance and nurture of children;
    We thank you for his global vision of servanthood for all who are suffering;
    We thank you for his faithfulness in comforting and ministering to the sick.
We thank you for his deep faith in renewed life to those who are dying;
We thank you that he has transformed our buildings to be more inviting and accepting of those with physical challenges;
We thank you for both Susan and Koshy for transforming their home into a haven of hospitality and place of learning.
And now, O God, we reflect the rhythms of life that have brought us to this place of profound gratitude and blessing.  On behalf of this deeply grateful parish and community, we ask you to abundantly bless Koshy, Susan, and their family in the days to come. Enable them to carry with them the multitude of memories of quiet growth in faith and love that they have nourished in each one of us.
All this we ask in the name of Jesus, your Son, and our Lord.  Amen

Please see below some of the pictures from the event.  I am forever thankful to Richard Green, who took on the job as the chronicler.  

Perspectives in Bi-Cultural Living

Respected Chair, Professor John, Secretary, Mr. Balakrishnan Nair, Office Holders of the Forum, and Dear friends, it is with sincere gratitude and deep humility I stand before you to speak on a subject that we all have some familiarity in and at least a modicum of knowledge. It would be very presumptuous of me if I claim what I would share with you today is anything extraordinary. Our lives so far have taken us on different paths, different lands, different shores. We all have worked in various areas of human endeavor, and we all have gained a variety of perspectives on life. Now we are here living in the second half of our lives. Today, we live our lives based on particular worldviews that we have molded over these past years of the first half of our lives. It is this worldview that helps us make meaning of our lives today.

The majority of the first half of my life, I spent outside of my native country, India. At the prime age of 23, a year after my bachelor's degree, I left for the United States.  Leaving everything that was familiar and unsure of what was ahead of me, I set out on a journey with no one to guide or a compass to follow. I landed in South Carolina, a state in the deep south of the United States and known for the bloody history of slavery and racism in 1971, not long after the passing of the Civil Rights Laws, much to the displeasure and chagrin of southerners. Along with redressing the negative impact of Jim Crow Laws on Black people, the passing of Civil Rights Laws in 1965 opened the floodgate of Asian immigration to the United States.  Up until 1965, the Asian Exclusion Laws stymied Indian migration except for students seeking graduate degrees.  Perhaps I was one of the early beneficiaries of more relaxed immigration laws.
I went to the US under a student visa, hoping that I get to stay and work in the US following my studies.

As typical of most ordinary people, I, too, was motivated by the preoccupations and concerns of the first half of life, such as establishing an identity, securing a profession, achieving financial security, finding a mate for life, and starting a family of my own. Like most people,  I was also interested in making a mark in the world. Greek philosopher Archimedes keenly likened this human tendency to "lever and a place to stand" so that we can move the world a bit. I had to do this in a foreign land with a  culture and ethos different from those of mine. In their eyes, I would always be an outsider and a usurper.

Since the death of my maternal grandfather, the Rev. M. O. Koshy, a revered priest in the Mar Thoma Church, I thought I had a call to be a priest.  So naturally, I was happy with my admission to the Bible School and to boot in the United States.  However, my enthusiasm was short-lived. Soon after I went there, I realized that I had to suspend my intellectual curiosity and ability to reason, to be a believer in God.  I found their belief in the inerrancy of the Bible and its literal interpretation increasingly problematic and too constraining.  Moreover, they didn't consider me as a Christian since I didn't have the kind of born-again experience they thought I had. I found it increasingly challenging to study the Bible and theology in an atmosphere where you are not allowed to question or reason.

I sought admission at Princeton Theological Seminary in New Jersey, one of the best seminaries in the world. Here we questioned everything and left no stone unturned.  We discussed what was previously considered as taboo topics such as the virgin birth of Jesus, and the bodily resurrection of Jesus.  At this point,  my faith has undergone a complete deconstruction.  I almost lost my faith in God, and this whole enterprise we call religion. However, this was a necessary step to begin again on a clean slate. Just as seminary deconstructed, it reconstructed my faith in God and religion in a more powerful way than before.  I no longer needed science to bolster my faith. Science and religion are not mutually exclusive, and they function on different wave-lengths.  I find this incredibly freeing and liberating. This faith, developed and matured over some time, served me in my self-understanding and ego development or identity.

Talking about identity, I remember my father's hold on me vividly, even in Princeton, thousands of miles away from Kottayam. The night before my departure to the US, at an emotionally one to one time with my dad, he asked me to put my hand in his hand and to pledge that I will not marry anyone other than someone our own Mar Thoma Syrian Christian community from Kerala.  Marriage was the last thing on my mind at that time. However, four years later, while in Princeton,  marrying a person I love was in my mind a lot. At the seminary, I fell in love with a white  Protestant girl and started dating. We lived in the same co-ed dorm on separate floors. Dating someone, living in a co-ed dorm, etc., and that too, in a seminary, are things unheard of in our Kerala Syrian Christian community. It was indicative of the clash of cultures we were going through at that time. I wrote to my father, asking for his consent to my marrying a girl outside of our community. He told me in no uncertain terms his great displeasure of my plans.  Despite his objections, I held on to my decision. However, I desired for his blessing and asked for one of my fellow students, an Achen from
Mar Thoma Church, to write a letter to my dad.  Perhaps, Achen's letter did it. He finally agreed. After all that work and back and forth with my father, we broke up.  The reason I talked about this episode is to illustrate the vast difference in cultural norms between the east and west. I also believe that it was due to my individuation, the development of my own identity separate from my dad, that I was able to withstand my father's pressure. My perspective is that in traditional cultures, individuation or identity formation happens at a slower pace than in western cultures. We, in the east, regard family and community higher than we see the individual, and in the west, vice versa. Please know that I am not making a value judgment here.
I also want you all to know that, in the end, I married Susan, who is everything my father had hoped for in a wife for me: a Syrian Christian Mar Thoma Malayali woman from central Travancore and a good family. But it was our decision, Susan's and mine, not anybody else's.

Another preoccupation of the first half of life is finding your calling.  What is it that I am passionate about?  What is it that I would be eager to wake up in the morning to go to work? One would think it would be easy for me to choose what I wanted to do because I already knew that I wanted to be a priest.  However, it wasn't that easy for me. After graduating from Princeton, I worked as an International Student Chaplain at Syracuse University in New York for one year and then another year at Massachusetts Institute of Technology, in Cambridge. As I wasn't sold to any church, I kept putting off ordained ministry, and instead, I worked in secular fields such as mental health, financial services, and banking. During those years, Susan and I were drawn to the Episcopal Church of the United States for worship. We found its ethos attractive. We discovered their measured approach to renew, refresh, and reform the doctrines contemporaneously meaningful and intellectually honest. Clergy in local churches can exercise their ministry with great independence. I found worshipping God and serving God's people in a church like that very appealing and so I sought ordination and became a priest in 2001.  Thus, after many years of the odyssey, I finally found my vocation, which, according to Frederick Buechner, is "the place God calls you to is the place where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet."

I was the first Indian to be ordained a priest in the Diocese of Massachusetts, and I was the first Indian to serve as an Episcopal parish priest in the Diocese of Pennsylvania.  In the Episcopal church, the clergy is chosen by the local church, not appointed by the bishop. The church I served last chose me out of thirty or so applicants, and I served this almost all-white parish for the thirteen years before retiring in June this year. In many ways, my tenure at this church, Saint Peter's Episcopal Church, was successful, and it was mostly due to the hard work and leadership of an empowered laity. Laity's leadership in mission and community engagement freed me to do the sacred duties which only an ordained person can do, such as sacraments.  I trusted the laity and did not micromanage what they were doing.  I provided a non-anxious spiritual presence and encouragement.  I genuinely loved every parishioner and knew each one by his or her name. On Sundays, I served communion by calling each person's name. I was also quite involved in the community and served on the board of local secular and non-governmental organizations. In finding my true calling and in serving this parish in an ordinary town in the States, I finally discovered my treasure.

It reminds me of the story from the Arabian Nights in which the farmer's plow catches on something in the dirt.  Despite much trouble, he couldn't dislodge the plow. He finally stops, digs in the ground, and finds that his plow has caught on a metal ring attached to a door, through which is a passageway leading to a treasure.   Joseph Campbell, the great mythologist, once said, "where you stumble, there is your treasure." In my long search for my authentic calling, I stumbled over again and again on ordained ministry. There were many distractions along the way. I was tempted to seek a profession in making money and to make a name for myself by entering local politics. I also looked into pursuing a career in academics or as a psychologist. I kept digging, and finally, I found the metal ring attached to the door leading to ordination, and that too, in a church that is open to moving according to the time while not discarding tradition, reason, or faith.  Having had the experience of serving God in such a church, I would find serving a church here in Kerala extremely difficult.

As I look back on my odyssey, from the time left home for the first time till now, my sacrifice or my letting go of what was familiar was a healthy denial.  It was a denial of something I wanted for the sake of something I wanted even more.

Now that I am retired and returned to my home base, it feels as if I am beginning again because what I consider as my home base is no longer there, it also has changed, changed a lot, some even beyond recognition.  Coming home is not all that what I have expected it to be. What is familiar now is what I left off in the US.  It feels like my odyssey once again started. A new project is now in the offing. As everything is in flux, you no longer can claim any place as your home base. Life is a journey. Perhaps we can call the journey itself as our home base.  A boat serves it's intended purpose when it is sailing, not when it is docked at the pier. We do our best in the second half of our life by taking on a new project, a new endeavor, reaching for a new horizon.  Thank you all.

The last two Sundays at St. Peter's - 1

As promised earlier, here are my thoughts on the first of the last two Sundays at St. Peter's.

I announced my retirement in a letter to the members of the church two years prior so that the church would have ample time to discern new clergy leadership.  The conventional wisdom is that one shouldn't make a retirement announcement that early as this would make the incumbent a lame duck. Yes, I did see the point. However, I was not concerned because I believe in the lay leadership of St. Peter's church. Following my announcement, Retta Sparano, who is most competent and ever so vigilant, began to work on planning a retirement party for Susan and me, and almost simultaneously, a discernment committee was also formed to prepare the church for new clergy leadership. After a year of fits and starts, they began their work in earnest under the able leadership of Todd Jackson and Diane Hope.  The retirement committee consisting of Retta Sparano, Judi Hans (Senior Warden), Mona Chylack, Anne Atlee, Iris Blanch, Liz Fifer, Jolie Chylack, and Georgette Druckenmiller laid out the groundwork. A lot of planning went into it. It was a logistical nightmare, how can we accommodate all church members and their children, and the representative from the community and members and friends of our family to participate in a single retirement event. So they decided to have it in three days, first for children and youth a pizza party on Cinco de mayo,  May 5th in the Smith Hall at the church, the second one June 2nd on the anniversary of my diaconate ordination with the Rev. Ranjit Mathews (our son) preaching and me celebrating and then a gala at Columbia Station, and the third on June 9th, the anniversary of Priesthood Ordination at the church with Canon to the Ordinary, the Rev. Shaun Wamsely presiding at the Leaving Taking liturgy.  In my previous blog, I talked about the Pizza Party with children and youth.

As I am afraid my blog will turn into an essay let me limit myself to talk about the worship service on June 2nd. My next blog will be about the party at Columbia Station. It was important for Susan and me to have both our children present at my retirement. For Susan and me, one of great joys of our life is to see both our children, Ranjit, our son, and Manju, our daughter, involved in some form of helping profession.  Ranjit became a priest in the Episcopal church.  He is no shrinking violet when it comes to taking a stand on justice issues and Kingdom values the church should be concerned about. He is not afraid to call a spade a spade. He does not dilly dally around issues on matters of social justice. We're so proud of him. Currently, he resides with Johanna, his wife, and Dhruv, his son, and serves St. James' Church in New London, Connecticut. Susan and I are equally proud of our daughter, Manju, who is a Social Worker and works for a county in California, not too far from San Francisco. She chose this profession not accidentally but out of the passion to be in a helping profession. She said she wanted to do something meaningful that makes her look forward to getting up every morning. Manju also helped us broaden our understanding that the God we worship is a God of all people irrespective of one's sexual identity. Both Ranjit and Manju were enthusiastic and encouraging about my decision to make a mid-life career change and go into ministry as well. It was huge considering the time I made this shift. Ranjit was in college (George Washington University) and Manju was about to enter Rensselear Institute of Technology when I decided to go back to seminary to brush up on my God-language and theology in preparation for seeking ordination. It was an inopportune time to say the least. At one time three of us were in school. Suffice to say, if it weren’t for Susan’s steady hand at work and bringing in the dough, my going into ministry would have remainded only a dream. I am ever thankful to God for Susan and for her quiet and effective enabling ministry. So, it was great to have Ranjit and family and Manju by our side at our retirement. Ranjit preached and concelebrated with me at the altar.

In his sermon, Ranjit asked where would we show up when we are not in church. By citing an incident occurred around that time in the Arizona desert where a man was arrested in offering water to a migrant who crossed the border, he asked a question with a political overtone,  "is it illegal now in the States to do what Jesus had asked his followers to do, offering water, food, and clothing to those who are vulnerable?" The church is not called to be obsequious to the whims of the State, but rather to serve as its conscience and be conscious of the Gospel's mandate: to show up at the margins of society and to walk in solidarity with the vulnerable, the migrants, the last, the lost and the least. I am proud to say, this is where we find St. Peter's today.

Serving at the altar with Ranjit one last time as the rector of St. Peter's was bittersweet. The church was full and was in a celebratory mood. Almost everyone, members and visitors came to the communion. That day there were people from the community whom I knew socially also kneeling at the altar rail. I felt a special bond with them as I shared the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ.  It was an overwhelming experience.  I did not ask them whether they were qualified to be at the Lord's table.  They ate the table, and I was happy and grateful that God we worship is a God of inclusion. 

Thank you for reading. Hopefully the next one will be coming soon. 

Koshy
Here's the link to Ranjit's sermon: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6zArnzU9RTQ

Pre-retirement Reflection

Dear Friends,

Since my last post in early May, much has happened.  Let me give an account of all that took place in the last three months.

On Sunday, May 5, children and youth of St. Peter's, gave us a farewell party, appropriately themed for the day, Cinco de Mayo. Managing to keep the sombreros on our heads, Susan and I tried our best to hit the piñata split open. After a few more tries, we gave the task to the children and youth, who in no time broke the piñata and shared the candies among themselves. The members of the farewell committee ordered pizza for everyone and made an assortment of cookies and other delectables. It was a fun event.  We both enjoyed, and momentarily put away the sadness of leaving the congregation in a few short weeks.

I preached and celebrated the following two Sundays. Preaching became harder and harder; I noticed
that during sermons I occasionally became emotionally overwhelmed. I believe it had to do with the thought of not only leaving St. Peter's but also retiring from active parish ministry.  St. Peter's was the only church where I ever served as a rector.  The previous churches I served were as interims and as an associate.  Each previous partings was difficult but not as difficult as leaving St. Peter's. Reluctant though in the beginning to accept the call, once came it didn't take long for us to become adjusted, and the church and community became integral to our life.

When we first arrived at St. Peter's, it just had successfully completed a well-managed healing process under the interim ministry of Fr. Miller.  The church was open and ready for a new beginning and new ways of being a church.  To begin with, it discerned me as their priest who could not be any more different from them. Culturally, ethnically, racially, and linguistically I was "the other", starkly different from the demography of the church. In my mind, there was no question that this was the work of the Holy Spirit. When I was ordained in the Massachusetts diocese, I was doubtful about my prospects of finding a church to serve as its rector. While Massachusetts Episcopal Diocese has the distinction of ordaining the first-ever Asian Indian for holy orders, it is St. Peter's Episcopal Church, Phoenixville, of Pennsylvania Diocese who made history for the church and for the diocese by calling me, the first-ever Asian Indian, as its rector. For Susan and me, the next thirteen years has been a joy-filled time. I thank God for the church, its vestry, lay leadership, and the discernment committee for their vision and their willingness to step out of their comfort zone and let God do the new thing in our midst.

I will write shortly my reflections on the farewell party which took place June 2, and the leave-taking service on June 9.

Koshy

      


  

Letter to Congregation about Leaving St. Peter's

Dear Friends and Members of St. Peter’s,

Nowadays, it’s hard for me not to think about anything church related without a tinge of sadness. Anything I do in church lately is preceded by the word ‘last’. When I visited one of our homebound members the other day she asked me, “Will you come back to see me again?” It was hard for me to say ‘no’, and I said, ‘surely’. I hope I will be able to.  At the recent Vestry meeting, when we talked about intentional relationships, it dawned on me how I, as a priest and as a believer, am profoundly connected to the relationships I have with each of you. I am defined and shaped by our relationships and our connections. This is what I am going to miss the most when I leave St. Peter’s in a few weeks.  

This past Sunday’s lesson is about doubting Thomas’ encounter with the Risen Christ. We don’t know why Thomas was not with his fellow disciples on Easter Day when Jesus first appeared to them. Perhaps, he was dealing alone with his pain away from everyone. However, once he was back in relationship with his brothers and they shared with him their experience of the Risen Christ, he doubted and demanded to have his own experience to believe their account. This led to the most intimate scene of his encounter with the Risen Lord. It was so close an encounter that Thomas could see and touch all the unhealed wounds of Jesus. It was so powerful and profound that instantly made Thomas to make the greatest confession, “My Lord and my God.” Thomas’s re-connection and relationship with his brothers and with the risen Lord, transformed him, defined him and shaped him, and eventually made him to be the great apostle of Jesus Christ to India.  

In these waning days of our time here at St. Peter’s, I look back and thank God for all these past few years of our life together. I believe it was the work of the Holy Spirit that brought me, an outlier in many respects, to you, as your priest. What a privilege it has been to be invited into your lives, to hear your stories and struggles, and to journey with you a little while. As we have ministered together in our church and in the community, we also have ministered to each other through our relationships and connections with each other. We have witnessed, touched, and healed the wounds of the Risen Lord in each other. We have been wounded healers to one another. In doing so, we confessed the Risen Lord like Thomas, “My Lord and my God”. 

Our relationship with each of you is about to undergo a change, a change that will test the verity of the notion whether distance makes our hearts grow fonder. Our relationship will experience a transformation and how it will be post retirement is something we have yet to figure out. As you know June 9, Pentecost, will be our last Sunday at St. Peter’s.  On this day, the Rev. Shawn Wamsley, Canon to the Ordinary, will come to the church and preside over the Liturgy of The Ending of A Pastoral Relationship. June 9 is an appropriate day for this liturgy as it is both Pentecost as well as the anniversary of my Ordination to Priesthood.  Our Easter faith emboldened by the Holy Spirit of Pentecost will beckon us to places where the Risen Lord has already gone ahead of us. 

It is my hope and prayer that I will be able to see each of you in the next few Sundays.

Blessings,

Koshy 

My Last Easter Sermon at St. Peter's

Alleluia, Christ is Risen! The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia. Do we realize this that we wouldn’t be saying this had Mary gotten what she had wished for?  Just indulge with me this morning for few moments imagining a what if scene. A what if scene that morning 2000 years ago when Mary went to look for Jesus’s dead body in that tomb and had found it as she had hoped for. If she did, we would not be sitting here this morning and shouting “Alleluia, Christ is Risen! The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia”.If there was no resurrection, there would not have been a Christian faith, no Christmas, no Easter for us to come to church; I also wonder today what religion we would have been adherents of. If Mary had found Jesus dead body as she was hoping for, she would have given Jesus’ body a proper burial with all the incense and proper care, and the story ended right then and there.  This is one of those instances when it is better that God does not grant us what we pray for or hope for.  

Many of us are like Mary, weeping and sad, and keep looking into the tombs of our past for affirmations of what we are grieving for, feeling sad about, bitter about, and angry at.  We are like the caged birds even when they are free and not in cages, they still hang around the cage.  This was what Paul saw among the Corinthians when he said, “If for this life only we have hoped in Christ we are of all people most to be pitied.” That Easter morning Mary got something far more superior than anything she could have hoped for or imagined, she saw the risen Lord to her utter amazement and absolute joy.  And the Risen Lord appointed her to be the one to go and tell his men disciples that she had seen the Lord.  In Matthew’s account of the resurrection story, she was supposed to tell the disciples to meet the Risen Lord, in Galilee.  In other words, don’t look for Jesus in the tomb or in the grave anymore. Still, Peter and John looked for Jesus in the grave and of course, couldn’t find. Risen Lord is not hanging around in the grave, and in fact, the Risen Lord was telling them that He was going ahead of them. Friends, let us not short change ourselves for Jesus dead body. Our natural tendency is to worship a relic of the past by making a shrine or a cage for a dead god and going on a pilgrimage to the site every year to show our faith or belief in it. Friends, we believe in a God who is active and fully engaged in this world of ours. God does so through us, through the Holy Spirit. 

Now, after resurrection, each one of us is like Mary, who has been touched by the Risen Lord. No longer our vision is too limited, too narrow, no longer we set our sights too low. Now we can think big, make BHAG, big, hairy, audacious goal. Our resurrection faith is no longer cooped up in a stingy tomb, we are let loose like our Risen Lord. Yes, and just like our Risen Lord, we have our own wounds and our own battle scars, but we are not dead, we are Easter people, we are a people of hope, we are healers, we are healers with wounds, we’re wounded healers and reconcilers in the world.

            I may have said this before about a former parishioner who wrote me a letter years after I had served her parish for a very short time as an intern. I received her letter on a day I was experiencing doubt about the effectiveness of my ministry. I had to read a couple of times to recall her face. Then it all came back to me.  At that time, she was a woman in her early seventies and had been in an unhappy marriage for years.  She always seemed moody and sad while I was there. There was no joy in her face, always fearful and unsure about her abilities. She was one of the regulars in the Bible Study I led at the church. I was surprised to receive a letter from her.  In it she wrote how her life had changed.  She wrote how she and her husband had reconciled shortly before his death.  And since his passing she went back to college, finished her masters, something she always wanted to do, and that she now was working as a volunteer tutor to inner city kids in Boston. It was a resurrection for her, a new life of hope and possibilities, a life with meaning and purpose.  She wanted me to know how attending the Bible Study helped her to have the courage to face the demons in her life and how things had turned around for her.  Another resurrection. 

Friends, my own vocation as a priest is a resurrection story. I knew about my call to ministry at a young age, I came to the US to study in order to become a minister like my grandfather. However, after finishing my education in seminary, I became less and less interested in pursuing my religious vocation, and instead, looking into more financially lucrative vocations. I was kind of like Jonah, who rather than following what he was preordained for, sought his own interest.  Though I wasn’t swallowed by a big fish like Jonah was, I began to feel how it would be like in the belly of a fish.  After a lot of soul searching and peering into the abyss of my own tomb, I saw the light and trusted hearing my own name being called out, “Koshy, it is time for you to go and tell your people, that the Lord is Risen. It is time for you to go and teach your people the resurrection faith.”  He also wanted me to know that the Lord is going ahead of me in my ministry, leading me and guiding me.   Yes, I experienced resurrection in my life, and in my vocation as a priest. And much of that resurrection ministry, I am happy to tell you, on these waning days of my sojourn with you my friends, happened right here among all of you. God has brought us together, to share our resurrection faith with each other and with the people of our community. Together we proclaimed the good news of God in Christ, the Easter story, in Phoenixville and beyond.  

Alleluia, Christ is risen, the Lord is risen indeed, Alleluia!

Thoughts on Impending Retirement and Lenten Journey

People ask me these days, “Koshy, what will you be doing after you retire?”  I realize that I am not comfortably prepared to answer them. The change that awaits me is related to my personal identity.  Who would I be if I am not a rector? A few years back one of our little ones seeing me one day outside the church whispered to her mother, “Mommy, Father Koshy has legs.” That was the first time she saw me without my Sunday morning garb which covers my body from neck to ankles. This little girl’s observation of my physical appearance is illustrative of my identity without the title of my occupation.  

One thing I need to remind myself is that I will continue to be a priest, even after retirement as priesthood is my calling and it is for life. I should see my priesthood in retirement as an invitation to pay attention to see life as being, not as much as doing, which is the main concern up until retirement.  How do I visualize my ‘being’ during my retirement days coming up in less than three months? As I look ahead, I feel quite vulnerable to what is unknown; it is going to be a time without any daily worship related tasks, pastoral visits with people, routine Eucharistic services or diocesan meetings.  My days will be free of appointments and community involvement. Will I still get up early, what will I do all day? It is all going to feel strange and odd. Would this freedom from structured routines and tasks make my mind atrophy, and would I become irrelevant?  I take comfort in the belief that just as God has been with me over these past years guiding me, he will guide me during my upcoming retirement years as well.  

In a short time, as a church we will be experiencing separation and a new beginning. We live in a dynamic world which always challenges us with changes and provides us with opportunities for growth. Change is woven into the fabric of life, and the pattern for growth is Order, Disorder and Reorder.  In this journey our present order undergoes disorder and comes out reordered.  We continue to evolve through this unchanging pattern of change.  I thank God for the time we journeyed together. We will continue on this journey though separately into the future God has already prepared for us.  

April beckons us to follow through the rigors of what is left of the Lenten season, make our way through Holy Week and come out victorious on Easter. In this reenactment of the story of God’s redemption of God’s creation, we once again acknowledge the pattern of our life, the cycle of order, disorder and reorder. 

I pray that our observances of Lent, Holy Week and Easter will help us grow spiritually into mature Christians.

May God bless us in our journey into God’s future for us!