James Derkits

I want to give thanks, in this Christmas Season--a Season of God Incarnate, for all the volunteers in this town who give from their hearts all year round. I am continually amazed at how much people give of their time, talent, and treasure to support one another in Port Aransas.  The miracle of Jesus birth, that should blow your mind when you try to think about, it is that God was born into God's own creation. We do not worship a God that is far off, but one that is right here among us, between us, and within us. That's what we call the Incarnation: God enfleshed. God is not sitting high and away from things, but right here amongst us, in the thick of it. God volunteered to move among us and Jesus gave of himself his whole life long, culminating on the cross, and in his Resurrection. He volunteered to give of his love so that all might know the love of God, even if we have lost our way from that Love.  I suppose it should not be too surprising if we know the whole story:

Originally Published in the South Jetty "O Come thou Wisdom from on high, who orderest all things mightily; to us the path of knowledge show, and teach us in her ways to go." (Hymn from the 9th Century)  Throughout the season of Advent, we will sing through all eight verses of "O Come Emmanuel," until we, at last receive the gift of God-with-us. St. John's Gospel calls it Logos: the Word. It is the ordering principle of the universe. It is Sophia, the Holy Wisdom who was there in the beginning of creation with God. She who dwelt with God and moved through prophets through the ages and in the fullness of time is birthed through Blessed St. Mary in the person of Jesus Christ. Emmanuel means "God-with-us" and that is what we pray for through the song. Week by week, we wait and watch for God who "orderest all things" in the beginning to come dwell among us to order the chaotic corners of our lives and our world.  We also pray that wh

The first week of Advent brought the celebration of 6 years of St. Mark's Between-the-Bayous, and a farewell to the weekly worship life of that community. As I wrote on their Facebook event for that celebration, the life of that church shaped me and my ministry, it taught me to be out in the community. I couldn't be at that particular celebration because Trinity by the Sea was doing a labyrinth on the beach. I probably should have written and posted this blog last week, before the big celebration, but this week will have to do. After meeting for about 6 months for conversation, planning, searching for a place to meet, St. Mark's Between the Bayous had it's first night of Eucharistic worship at Block 7, a wine bar and restaurant near the intersection of Washington Ave and Shepherd St in Houston, TX. Pittman McGehee, Sr. was a big part of those early conversations, and his book the Invisible Church remains an important text in my learning about spirituality. We imag

I've just about O.D.'d on news in the last couple of days. I watched Tuesday night (Wednesday morning) until Donald Trump made his acceptance speech. I watched PBS because they make an effort to get a variety of voices and perspectives in the conversation. I was personally surprised that we elected Trump as president of our country. I saw a couple of the debates, but didn't see any of the political ads. Watching a celebrity and reality TV star rise to the White House seemed surreal to me, yet, here we are. It's our reality.  I'm reminded of advice from a couple of my mentors over the years as I listen to people who are excited about the outcome, and people who are devastated by the outcome. During seminary our small group was struggling with something, and one of my professors, Kate Sonderegger asked us, "What is the spiritual learning?" I resisted that question. I just wanted to be upset by whatever I was facing. I wanted to lash out, not seek meaning.

Originally Published in the Port Aransas South Jetty Newspaper Remember Quirinius? He was so powerful in his day; Governor of Syria during the first Census under Emperor Augustus. And surely you remember Augustus! The Emperors were like gods in their day. The most powerful, the highest office, the eyes of the world were on them. It was into that context, with all eyes on Rome, God was born in Jesus Christ. His birth was not really even noticed by anyone outside his family, at the time. Except for a few foreign Magi who were paying close attention. But that's in Matthew's Gospel, and Quirinius is in Luke's. St. Luke seems to offer the governor's name as a time stamp, or to point out that things that seemed to be really important in their time were happening, but the focus of the Gospel moves far away from Augustus and Quirinius, and even past Jerusalem. The attention is on the Good News happening in Bethlehem, where something earth shaking was taking place. Somethin

Just a quick note about my quick trip to Camp Capers. It was good to catch up with fellow clergy, hear from our Bishops, and to be in such a beautiful place. I was on the summer staff at Camp Capers in 1998, but started going there a couple of years before with our Canterbury from SWT (That's a college ministry from what is now Texas State University...in case you missed that.) On one our trips, probably to the college gathering we did each winter, a friend taught me how to fly fish. I was hooked. (haha) It was nice to get back on the Guadalupe and catch a few perch. I threw them all back, they had great meals for us...  I also went for a nice run on the new property that is completely undeveloped. It is beautiful out there. It is more river-front property where they have some trails and take small groups to camp out during the summer. It is certainly a different feeling to be under a canopy of cypress and oaks, than to be in the wide open environment of our coast. I love

originally published October's Trinity Day School Newsletter Trinity by the Sea Day School is off and running! In chapel we are beginning at the beginning, the Genesis. We are taking it a few days at a time, and imagining what it was like when God created the Universe. The Creation Story of the Bible is a poem that uses parallelism to reflect on the amazing existence of the world as we know it. We get a double 1,2,3: The first three days God sets boundaries: light is separated from darkness, water above is separated from water below, seas are separated from land. (And God sees that it is good!) The next three follow the set pattern: sun, moon, and starts (Lights); birds (sky) and fish (sea); then animals (finally on land) and finally, the best-for-last, humanity (male and female,) The Hebrew people who first told that story did not have access to the science we have access to today, by which we understand the universe to be 14 billions years old. There’s no date listed in Gen

I have had the privilege to be in the presence of Bishop Desmond Tutu a few times, and I have heard the Dali Lama speak once. They beam with an inner light and the memory of being near them brings a smile to my face. I knew they were personal friends, and that they given lectures together, and I recently learned that they have co-authored a book about Joy. I can't wait to get my copy, and read what these two amazing spiritual teachers, who have lived lives wrought with persecution, have to teach us about joy. They are transforming lives around the world, as they themselves have been transformed. I want to share this good news with the handful of you who read the Pastor's Pen column, because bad news seems to get more air time than good news.  (I'm ever grateful to our South Jetty for including so much good news!) This is the season of harvest, and the season of reflecting on stewardship in many churches. I am inviting people, in some way, to do a self assessment of wh

I recently returned to a piece of music I've admired since Jr. High. There, among my cassettes of Nirvana and the Doors, was a recording of Carmina Burana. Now, years later, I've started listening to it and watching it with (son) Eli on YouTube . The lyrics are in Latin, so I found them with an English translation to read along with as we listen. Then I started reading about Carl Orff, the composer. He wrote Carmina during the second World War in Nazi Germany. There are some critics who question his association with the Nazi regime. Further reading led me to find he had contact with members of the White Rose Resistance and that one of the characters in his works may have been inspired by Sophie Scholl, an active member in that resistance group. I mentioned my rediscovery of Carmina to my analyst and he told me he was a fan, too. Then he relayed a story about Diedrich Bonhoeffer hearing Carmina Burana being played over a radio while he was a prisoner in a concentration camp,

A cross of crosses kids made with found sticks. This summer, Eli and I had the opportunity to play on this neat little neighborhood playground when we were passing through Boulder, CO. I don't spend a lot of time on swings, but there I did get to spend time swinging with Eli. Trying to remember how to swing is one thing; pumping my legs, and then, the big pay-off: jumping at the peak for a short flight back to the mulch covered yard. I get dizzy easier now than when I was a little kid. Eli loves to spin and swing and shake his body up to TRY to make himself dizzy. I avoid merry-go-rounds. I thought it was just because I'm past my younger years. I've noticed though, as Eli experiments more and more, and sometimes drags me along for the ride (literally) I don't get dizzy quite as easily. I found jumping out of the swing a little fun. Practicing has helped my body relearn how to deal with being spun, swung, and tipped. Those balancing mechanisms in my ear aren't ol

This week I did a bit of cleaning out. Ok, I actually did a lot. We have this closet. If you spend much time around the church, you know that with so many people, a lot gets crammed into closets, so I won't have to explain what it was like.  One of the treasures I found was this painting and six others. I had seen a few of the series, but this gave me an occasion to see all of them together. They are unique and beautiful. There were other things that have been stored in there, and were not as beautiful, or just hadn't been used for at least the four years since I've been there. Some of them went away.  The end goal was to straighten up a meeting room that, like the closet, is used by multiple people and groups, and had become a bit encumbered. It was usable, but now it's in much better shape. Now it's ready to be a space where people can connect with one another and with God.  The clutter, which just happens, has to be cleaned out from time to time, o

Summer Vacation in Sketch and Caption  This is a snow melt lake scene we hiked up to from Duncan Park. The white areas are snow. It was really cold. I know because after hiking for miles with little kids, we were all ready to cool off. A few of us swam. I could barely breath from the cold-shock. I came out energized and ready to hike back. While at Dunan Park, John decided to be baptized. This is him coming up from the icy cold water wide awake (see enter the Way .) Most of the group was gathered on the bank in the dusk, and I stood by in case he fell over. This is another lake near Duncan Park where we hiked. The kids found themselves a fenceless playground and romped around the pond, while the parents watched the forest edges for lions and bears.  We took a train from Denver to Winter Park where we stayed with the Kidds. They took such good care of us! Penthouse condo, mountain biking, including downhill, and the alpine slide: a concrete slide with little whee

This picture is of my friend The Rev. Billy Tweedie, rector of Resurrection in Austin, with his son Liam standing by ready to net a trout. Billy and his twins joined Trinity by the Sea for our retreat to Duncan Park, Colorado. He led us in reflections each night during compline (night prayer.) He focused on just a few of the teachings of Brene Brown's "The Daring Way." The first night we learned the (important) differences between guilt, humiliation, and shame . The second night we learned about compassion , and the importance of boundaries in practicing compassion . Finally, the last night, we learned about courage ...the important ingredient to living a vulnerable, compassionate life in which we learn from the experiences of  guilt and humiliation , without letting shame rule our decisions. The teachings were helpful, and it was something to ponder each night while on retreat. After the first night's teaching, as we were just settling into the rhythm of the

Today is Eli's last day of kindergarten. I can't believe it. We will go to Family Camp at Mustang Island this evening with families from across our diocese. I'm looking forward to helping some mainlanders learn to surf, and build sand castles, and spending some time with Laura and Eli away from home (even though it's not too far away from home...) It's a good way to mark the beginning of Summer. I usually take the summer off from writing, just as a rule. Not because I'm tired of writing, just so that I take a break and can start fresh in the fall. So this will be my last-day yearbook signature: " see ya next year, Class of 2017 rox !" This is a great picture of my friend surfing in Costa Rica (not Port Aransas.)  He said list the photo credit as "Unknown." I don't know if wanted anonymity for himself, or the photographer. Anyway, I hope to be able to ride that wave someday. I better practice. 

I guess every generation experiences this in turn; the dying of favorite, influential musicians. I'm experiencing it a lot lately. Merle Haggard , David Bowie , Prince , and Guy Clark have all died recently. I'm not trying to remember every single musician who has died in a certain time period, I'm just thinking of the ones off the top of my head. The ones I miss, or really appreciate. I never even saw any of them in concert. I just like their music, and the unique expression each of them in their music. They were authentically themselves, and in sharing who they were through their music, changed people's lives. Death may point us back to life, to reflect on some aspect of who we are, to consider what was attractive about the person who has died, and to get in touch with that part of ourselves... now to the living... I've been playing music with my friend Justin Stewart  for about 20 years, from time to time. After fronting a few bands, he's now solo, and ha

Originally Published in the The South Jetty Newspaper Part of my work as a priest is to invite people to live intentionally; to pay attention to who they are, what they have received, and then to make conscious decisions about how they are becoming the people God has made them to be. Part of my own journey has been to understand what it meant for me to grow up in a small East Texas town, and to be aware of the explicit and implicit lessons I learned in those formative years. My high school was quite diverse, and I had classmates of different racial, ethnic, economic, and religious backgrounds. From time to time, something either in our town or form the wider world would raise tensions among my classmates, or at least evoke conversation. I remember distinctly hearing a white friend and a black friend pondering if they would take sides if a race fight broke out in our school. Then we all went to math class.  Another time, in middle school, about the time Spike Lee's movie Ma

I had the pleasure of paddling an outrigger as part of a four man team. It was to support a stand up paddleboard 5K race (SUP.) It was a reminder of what it means to be part of a team. Captain (Chief?) Dave gave great instruction about how to stagger which side we paddle on, and that the second and third paddlers follow the stroke rhythm of the first paddler (who calls "hut, hoe"! when it's time to switch which side we are paddling on...time wear out the other muscle set.) I think we did a pretty good job, especially considering two paddlers had never sat in an outrigger. It's a bit different from drifting down the San Marcos... One risk is flipping toward the non-outrigger side, especially in the surf. When that risk arises the chief calls out "tend the ama!" That means, throw as much weight onto the ama: the outrigger float, to hold it down. We made it in fairly easily, but I've seen a video of a canoe trip in much bigger surf. On that trip,

Let me start with a disclaimer: this may not make any sense to you. I'm okay with that because I'm not looking for a most popular blog award. It may or may not make sense because I'm not sure I could have appreciated the experience before having it. Ok, enough of that. Surfing is one of the holiest things I get to do these days. I'm not the only one who has revered the experience of surfing in such a way. I have for a long time experienced a closeness with God in nature, but this is somehow different. (I don't doubt there are other nature/exercise/creative/body/ritual practices that bring in the same experience, but I'm going to stick with surfing here.)  Even as I write this, I'd kind-of rather be surfing. I think it has to do with the combination of those parenthetical spiritual practices* I listed above. A big part of it, I'm convinced, is that when I surf, I am not in control. I am participating in a wave that has never been, and never will

Originally published in the South Jetty I began April with a trip to California to lead an Inner Journey Retreat at an Episcopal retreat center called the Bishop's Ranch. It was my third visit there. Each year there is a different theme, and this year's theme was exploring our spiritual journey (or individuation) through several particular phases of that journey: the Call, the Covenant, the Sacrifice, and the Return. As the other teachers and I worked to provide the content and to create a safe space for participants to explore their life and spiritual journey, we experienced each phase by getting in touch with the deep meaningful parts of our journeys. I don't have space to get into the details of each phase, but I do want to share my experience of the Return. The Inner Journey Community has become very important to me in my own growth and learning, and I have an affinity for that gathered community. We come from all across the country, so this temporary village that

I want to share this moment. Right now, I am sitting at my desk in what was once a storage space, but before that was a former vicar's wood-working shop. The wind is blowing through the window, wafting incense around my lap-top. I'm sitting where I've most recently been painting scenes from Holy Week, and today, I was scrambling to put together a simple hand-out for tonight's service. Tonight is the Great Easter Vigil. The first service of Easter, "to take place between sunset and sunrise of Easter morning." Two years ago we had a wonderful Vigil that started in the chapel in the dunes (Trinity's first services were held there around 1960), where we lit the new fire and lit candles. We carried out candles from there to the church, and as people's candles blew out, we had to share our little lights; so the community brought back the light together. A beautiful metaphor for a church community. This year our vigil will take place down on the beach.

Originally Published in the South Jetty Newspaper God came to dwell among us: it began at Christmas, and on Maundy Thursday that reality is elevated to the new norm of the church; we are to live with an expectation that God is present among us when we break bread together, and when we serve one another as host-servants. In Maundy Thursday Jesus brings us an invitation, no, a commandment to live a life of love that is laced with eternal encounter with divinity. Maundy Thursday begins the Holy Triduum (3 days) that ends with the Resurrection of Christ in Easter. These three most-holy days of the church contain the final teachings of Christ paired with the actions he takes to conquer death by death. The word Maundy means commandment, related to our English word mandate. As we reflect on the meaning of this day, we might be attentive to what Jesus is commanding us to do. It is a simple, and challenging command: to Love. Jesus Loves, in the context of this commandment, by putti