James Derkits

Originally Published in the Port Aransas South Jetty Newspaper Christmas, which Christians celebrate on December 25, just on the heels of the winter solstice, is a simple celebration of Emmanuel which means “God with us.” It is a celebration of the eternal Christ/Son of God/Word of God, the second person of the Trinity putting on flesh and being born of Mary. That’s at the core of what Christmas about, anyway. Often times lots of other things are packed around it, and from time to time something comes crashing across our path that returns us to the meaning of Christmas: The Grinch can take away all the presents, and all the Whos down in Whoville will still gather around in a circle and sing. A hurricane can run through our town and leave us wondering which way is up for months, and still we will gather to sing “Silent Night” by candlelight. Every available bed in town may be occupied, and still, Mary will find a humble dwelling to give birth to God among animals and feed in an ove

Yes, it's early to be thinking about Christmas, so we can just blame Harvey that I have no sense of time anymore. Either that, or I'm hopeful that as we move toward Christmas (less than two months away) I might be more mindful about what it's about, and how I spend my energy. Having just celebrated Halloween back in Chanel Vista (thank you Chanel Vista, trash trucks, city, and volunteers who made all that possible!) I noticed that things were different, but the spirit and energy of that celebration was enough. We had what we needed: candy and costumes, and most importantly: people. It was different because we are different, and our energy and other resources are focused on the recovery. I think that made this Halloween even better. Exchanging gifts is fun, and I'm not going to suggest that no one give tangible signs of our love for one another. As we prepare for the feast of the Incarnation of God's presence among us, we might be more intentional about how we

Originally Published in the South Jetty Newspaper This fall (Pre-Harvey), I was planning to lead a Bible study on Revelation, which in my tradition is carefully pronounced without the "s" at the end. In my circles, people tend to either love the book or avoid it altogether. I remember reading it for the first time, when I was in Jr. High, and it was one of the first books I couldn't put down. I actually stayed up late reading the rich, dualistic imagery of a battle for the world which the Lamb ultimately wins. Some people avoid it because of that rich, overwhelming imagery, but I'm someone who has grown to love the sometimes jarring images of dreams and poetry because it helps me pay attention to my own deep soul-work that my ego might otherwise leave undone for the sake of aparent security. A couple of people have asked me about all the disasters happening around us and to us: if these might be the "end-times. And to that I'd like to say, of course! We

I love Mother Mary. I don't always know where she fits in; being Episcopalian, I teeter between a Catholic and Protestant understanding of the saints...but that's just a doctrinal quandary. When I relax and let my religious imagination be my guide, I remember that she bears God into the world, she glows with her own Spirit-infused radiance, and that she knows our deepest sorrows: she had to bury her child. We have this statue of Mother Mary at Trinity by the Sea, and she has had quite an adventure through Harvey. She took a faceplant when the bricks from the wall behind her fell on her. Volunteers excavated her and helped her to stand once again. I imagine she has some Harvey-survivor memories to ponder in her heart. Now she rides on a dolly (not a donkey) as the wall is repaired, and we find the best place for her to stand and welcome in the weary souls. As with other icons of Mary, our statue of her stands barefoot, trampling a serpent. She shares in Christ's vi

This photo is of my home in Port Aransas not long after Hurricane Harvey. It's not my house, as in, I don't own it. It's the rectory of Trinity by the Sea Episcopal Church, Port Aransas, Texas, where I have found my home in rectory, at a church, on an island, in an amazing community, that just got devastated by Hurricane Harvey. I have a couple of friends who came to the island the day after, and I've talked to other locals who rode out the storm; the saw the island in even worse shape than I ever saw it. I remember, like a dream, during the storm being in College Station and so desperately wanting to see pictures, and to know how bad it was, and what was left to come home to. It was bad. I heard from the Mayor and City Manager in those first days that every building in Port Aransas incurred some degree of damage, whether 20 percent or 100 percent. In the month that has passed, people have learned more and more about exactly how the disaster damaged their property, an

We've had beautiful sunsets recently!  I had a dream last week that was very telling about what I need to be doing to keep myself healthy. I am the priest of a small, vibrant, substantial Episcopal Church called Trinity by the Sea in Port Aransas. Recently, Hurricane Harvey rolled through (nature doing its naturing, thank you Jim Hollis) and created chaos among the buildings, homes, and infrastructure upon which we've come to depend, and knew as familiar. The beach has even changed--with a water inlet along the beach side of our jetty, and an AMAZING assortment of shells. The few times I've snuck down to the beach I've been grateful for time well spent. Sunday, after working more than I intended to, I went down to watch my wife Laura surf, and my friend Mark demanded I get out there. He even had a board waiting for me. I did, and caught a few of the small waves that were rolling through; my body and soul felt better for it. Episcopal Family Gathered at the Sup

"Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy." " Amen. Lord have mercy."  --Book of Common Prayer p. 350, see also, the Bible.  My mentor, the Rev. Beth Fain, often pointed out to people that this is the most commonly broken of the 10 Commandments. What a gift it was to have a rector who modeled self care by going on retreat, and having a weekly "Sabbath Day" instead of just a "day off." My friend and colleague John Price, a Houston-based psychologist and teacher, was recently musing on the sacred act of sleep: that time when we let go of control and allow our bodies to heal and our unconscious to speak to us in dreams. Most of the teachings of our c ulture are against rest, yet rest may be the greatest act of trusting God. In the New Zealand Prayer Book  we pray in the Night Prayer Service " It is but lost labour that we haste to rise up early,   and so late take rest, and eat the bread of anxiety.   For those beloved of God are give

Originally Published in Reflections Magazine, Diocese of West Texas "Theologians, they don't know nothin' about my soul..." So echoed the chorus from one of my favorite songs from the band Wilco. Fans chanted along, and I can't help but wonder if they meant the same thing the songwriter intended. With what felt like vehemence, the cheering crowd seemed to be speaking against the theologians, the religious professionals, and by association, perhaps, the church; they seemed to sing out against any efforts we who identify with the church might make at speaking truth regarding the human soul. They seem to lash out at some past wrong with the words from the song. A crowd of people disillusioned by organized religion thought they had their opportunity to sing against it. Knowing the rest of the song, I believe there is a very different feeling and intention to that line from the chorus. I believe it is actually invoking a thread of our theological tradition known

Originally published in the South Jetty Newspaper   The more I learn the less I know. My spiritual journey is driven by curiosity: this desire, placed in my heart by God, to learn and explore the world continues to lead me deeper into the way of unknowing described by the 14th century English (anonymous) author of the  Cloud of Unknowing . It is an approach to prayer that invites God's ineffable presence to so surround us that we might see the Mystery at work in all the world. The Spanish mystic John of the Cross wrote of God as "Nada" or "No-thing." This approach of leaning into the perpetual and mysterious presence of God is called Apophatic Theology. It begins by acknowledging that if God is God, then God is beyond our human comprehension. It is a way of trusting the mystery of God. Jesus, in St. John the Evangelist's Gospel, explains this sort of letting go of certainty when he yells at his disciples, "The one believing in me does not believe in

Reflection for Good Shepherd Sunday (May 7, 2017) at Trinity by the Sea, Port Aransas:  Greetings from Austin, where I officiated at the marriage of one of my dear long time friends. I originally had plans to drive back Saturday night or Sunday morning, then Laura reminded me that I am a human, and cannot be everywhere, all the time. So this Sunday I'll be worshipping in Austin, and these wonderful lay leaders are leading worship at Trinity. Good Shepherd Sunday is actually an appropriate Sunday for your pastor to be away, and an opportunity for all of us to remember who our Good Shepherd is. Christ reminds us that he is our Good Shepherd who is leading us beside the still waters and restoring our souls, even in the presence of those we perceive as enemies. Christ is the Good Shepherd and while I strive to be the best priest and pastor I can be  to this community, I lead as one more sheep in the flock, listening for the voice of Our Good Shepherd. Following the Good Shepherd i

Originally Published in the South Jetty I recently taught a class on meditation. This was not guided meditation, or a walking meditation (like the labyrinth), this was just an opportunity to learn the simple and challenging practice of sitting still in God's presence. There are a thousand ways to pray, and I count among my prayer practices surfing and running; they are just as sacred to me as playing music and painting; just as sacred as our Sunday worship with the whole Body of Christ gathered around the altar or working the beads of a rosary. Meditation is not conversational, it is not words-based. It is a practice of stopping. Sitting, and most of all listening to the silent presence of God. Our prayer book describes the prayer of adoration as "the lifting up of the heart and mind to God, asking nothing but to enjoy God's presence." Simple and challenging. Culturally, we don't receive a lot of support, nor training in being still and sitting quietly

For Lent, one of my disciplines was to take a FaceBook break. I'm back on it, and we have a little less than a month of Lent to go. The reason I got off facebook was to see how it changed the way I spend my time. When I think I have some spare time, I tend to check FaceBook. My thinking is: "Someone may have liked something I posted; Someone may have a question about an event; Someone may have posted a really insightful video; Someone may have figured out a harmonious way to move forward in our political arena." So then, I open the app on my phone and time slips away. Sometimes it's a quick check, sometimes it's longer than I'd like. It might give me a sense of gratification. For example, when we posted pictures from Trinity's becoming a parish. It was great to see the comments and likes for that wonderful occasion. Or, I go down rabbit trails and end up watching the "Top 20 Action Stunt Fails" or "Dogs that Climb Trees" video (I ju

I'm in Denver for Bob Burns's funeral and while here, I got word that Dee Tomaszewski died this morning. Both of them were older adults, and either of them could have possibly lived longer under different circumstances, but as it is, their earthly pilgrimage is complete. In our funeral liturgy, we pray "You only are immortal, the creator and maker of mankind; and we are mortal, formed of the earth, and to earth shall we return..." In this regard, life is finite. We are born, and we die. We are set on a course, and we know the final destination. At Christ's Eucharistic table, in the same liturgy, we pray: "For to your faithful people, O Lord, life is changed, not ended; and when our mortal body lies in death, there is  prepared for us a dwelling place eternal in the heavens." That's the spiritual reality of life: that while we are mortally limited, we are also connected to something much greater than the limited existence we call "I." We

I have a confession: I'm judgemental.  I know, "...judge not, lest ye be judged," right? That's why it's a confession; not something I'm proud to know about myself, I just know it. I've fought against being judgemental as long as I can remember. I even judge other people for being judgemental. (Let's add hypocrite to the list...it's easier for me to see my problem in others.) Here's how I tend to judge people; here's how I might judge you: I see your car in the parking lot taking up two spaces, and there are no more spaces. In my mind I begin weaving stories about what a selfish person you must be. OR I see a bumper sticker on the back of your car that expresses some hateful worldview, and I make up a story about how you are hateful. OR I may even see you frowning your way through the grocery store, never making eye contact with anyone and (again) I make up a story about how you are so bitter at the world, and you resist showing love to ot

Most days, if I slow down enough, I remember to be grateful for the simple miracles of life. They almost feel like jokes at times, like when I pick up my phone to call John Price and he is calling me right then, too. (It has happened twice this week.) Then there are the greater things like a few years back, when my soul got so stirred up, and situations in my life became disturbed enough that I started looking for a new ministry opportunity on the coast, and then when I made a phone call to a diocese I once lived in, there was this recent opening at Trinity by the Sea, Port Aransas. (And four years later, I am falling ever more in love with this place and it's people.) I wouldn't dare try to explain how those things happen, I just marvel that they do. Looking back at journals through my life, going way back to High School, I describe the subtle urges as Spirit-nudges. When there is something alogical, a tug in the direction of a decision, or just having a gut feeling that w

At the Diocese of West Texas's 113th Diocesan Council Trinity by the Sea became a Parish ! That link will take you to a video of our resolution and procession into council as a parish. We were well represented with Ukulele's strumming, banners waving, and songs lifted up in thanksgiving to God for this historic moment. I wanted to share my address to Council and what Suzanna Reeder said to Bishop Lillibridge when she presented him with his surf board. Both are below. Blessings to all, and thanks to Johnie Swenson and Mark Admire for coordinating the party Sunday--what a weekend! Thank you to our Bishops and to Joann Saylors for walking us through this process in the final stages; to Johnie Swenson who stewarded the process, and to Walt Kleine our treasurer, Sarah Jane Wise our archivist, and our Bishop’s Committee and congregation for going through this Mission to Parish process through which we reflected on where we are in our life as a congregation and discerned

Photo by Sarah Searight So, just to be clear, I'm not going anywhere. I'm very excited to have been called as the first rector of Trinity by the Sea, Port Aransas! (God willing, and effective at Diocesan Council when Trinity becomes a Parish) If that barrage of Episco-speak is completely unhelpful, let me try to decode. Trinity by the Sea is an Episcopal Church, and in the Episcopal Church, the Diocese is the basic unit. All the individual churches you see in cities are, as Bishop Payne put it "missionary outposts." When a new church is started, the Diocese supports it as a mission. Then at some point in it's journey, when it becomes a sustainable community, it graduates to being a parish. The head priest (pastor) of a mission is called a vicar, and the governing board is called a Bishop's Committee (both assigned by the Bishop of that Diocese) and as a parish, we elect our governing board, called a Vestry, and they call the head priest, called a Rector.

Originally published in the South Jetty "The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. As it is written in the prophet Isaiah, 'See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you who will prepare your way..." So begins Mark's gospel (1:1-2), and soon Jesus is coming up out of the water from John's Baptism, off to a wilderness of temptation until he gets clear about his calling as the Messiah. No nativity with Mary and Joseph as in Luke and Matthew; no "In the beginning was the Word..." as in John. For Mark there is an urgency to Jesus' life and ministry so we get right to it, no messing around with a birth story or the beginning of creation. A quick quote from Isaiah, and away we go. This is a fast moving gospel that uses the word "immediately" again and again to stress a quick pace: There is a message to be shared. The feel of Mark's gospel seems, at first, to match the feel of our world today. We are two steps ahead o