A few days ago, the Rev. Alison Cheek died at the age of 92.  Mother Alison was the first female Episcopal priest to celebrate the Eucharist.  She had been one of the so-called “Philadelphia Eleven,” eleven women active in the Episcopal Church who “were ordained at the Church of the Advocate in Philadelphia on July 29, 1974, two years before the ordination of women was officially authorized by General Convention. The highly controversial ordinations were later affirmed as valid.” 

I am grateful for the service and sacrifice – the great risk – that Mother Alison and the other 10 women gave to move the Church forward on the question of female priests.  I know not all – not even all female priests today – agree that such a brazen move on their part was right.  And, maybe it wasn’t right, but, in the end, it was good.  And I stand in what’s becoming a long line of women priests in the Episcopal Church who must and do give thanks for that act of rebellion that allows us to live fully into our vocations and identities now. 

And I am particularly grateful for the gift of the Philadelphia Eleven today, as I mark 10 years since my ordination to the priesthood.  Ten. Years.  It seems a lifetime ago.  And it seems yesterday. 

In some ways, the priesthood really is like parenting (which is why, I suppose, it makes sense that priests are often called Father Joe or Mother Sue).  And, the other day, I ran across this meme from a site called “Her View From Home”:

And as I thought about my ten years in ordained ministry, nine and a half of which I have been privileged to serve with and among the wonderful people of Thankful Memorial, it occurred to me that I could make up my own sort of list like this.  So here it is:

Things I’ve learned since becoming a priest…

• How to talk to building contractors such that you don’t sound like an idiot.
• Always make sure that all the pages of your sermon have printed out before putting them on the pulpit.
• How to fit a little bit of everyone’s dishes on your plate at the church potluck.
• You can learn enough about almost any subject within a week to be able to teach it for an adult formation class.
• The chances of parishioners becoming deathly ill increase drastically the day before your scheduled vacation. 
• Billy Currington got it right when he sang, “God is great, beer is good and people are crazy.”[i]
• Funerals are the best way to remember the goodness of God.
• Well-identified and well-kept boundaries are a necessary thing.
• Good maternity clerical clothes are impossible to find.
• Delivering a children’s sermon is the hardest thing you will ever have to do.  Ever. 
• Patience.  So much patience.

In all honesty, it has been one of the greatest privileges of my life to serve God’s people as a priest for the past decade.  There is nothing else like it.  I have witnessed first-hand the glory of love, the beauty of death, the joy of birth, the sorrow of brokenness, the peace of redemption and reconciliation, the excitement of growth and resurrection.  It has been a wild decade and a holy one and I am endlessly grateful for it, for the people like Mother Alison who made it possible for me, for the people who support me in this vocation, for the people – the wonderful, holy, Thankful people – who let me minister to and among them. 

In the Order for Compline in The Book of Common Prayer, there is one particular prayer that I have always loved.  It goes like this:

“Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love’s sake. Amen.” (BCP p. 134)

In many ways (except for that whole “angels” part), this is the gift to priests, the precious place we get to stand, the profound things we are ordained to do: to keep watch with those who work, or watch, or weep.  To tend to the sick and offer rest to the weary.  To bless the dying and soothe the suffering.  To come alongside those who are afflicted – whether by natural events, the injustices of human systems, or their own brokenness.  To shield the joyous, or, if we can’t, to at least join with them in their joy for as long as it lasts.  And to do all of it, to do all of that beautiful, messy, profound ministry in Christ’s name, for the sake of the ever-loving God. 

May I be so blessed to keep doing it for many more decades yet…

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[i] Actually, there are lots of country songs that pertain to ministry.  I’ve preached an Easter Day sermon using the fantastic but unlikely narrative of Blake Shelton’s “Ol’ Red.”  And, my grand hope is one day to preach an entire sermon using only lines from country songs.