James Derkits

 Once I went to hear a band in Houston in this strange downtown bar that had an open air patio out back. Actually, I think it had once been another room that lost its roof, and they converted it into a lovely, crushed-granite-floored space with open air windows under the one or two stars visible above the glow of Houston's lights. As I listened to the band, I was also working on a sermon about Jesus and Zacchaeus. Remember Zacchaeus climbed up a tree so he could catch a glimpse, and Jesus looked up and saw him, and had dinner with him later. As I sat there listening to the music, I jotted in my journal my imagining of Zacchaeus peeking over the wall to see what was happening inside. Would anyone notice?  Zacchaeus was easy to write-off. He was not a beloved disciple religious man. He was a tax collector, in cahoots with the Roman occupiers. Jesus didn't see those labels, he saw a human being longing to be loved by God; longing to be noticed and welcomed. That's what Jesus d

Originally Published in the South Jetty Newspaper Growing up an in an Episcopalian family, I knew we wouldn't be decorating a tree or hanging Christmas lights until Janna's birthday. She is one of my sisters who's birthday is a week before Christmas. We waited relatively late in the season, compared to our neighbors, because we observed the season of Advent. Advent is the four weeks before Christmas and is about waiting and preparing for Christ's coming. One of the central Christmas symbols present in my childhood home home, once we finally dug out the Christmas boxes, was a crèche that sat on a table facing near our front door in the main hallway of our home. It was there for us to encounter daily in the Christmas season. I can remember the figures gathered around that manger holding the precious Christ Child. Joseph and Mary were there with the ass and ox. Shepherds looked on from outside. The Magi slowly made their journey across nearby furniture arriving to pay homa

Originally Published in the South Jetty Newspaper "It is a good thing to give thanks to the Lord, and to sing praises to your name, O Most High..." (Psalm 92:1) I want to take this opportunity to invite us all into an intentional season of Thanksgiving. Yes, there is a Thursday coming up named for giving thanks, but why not beat the rush? Take time, in the midst of everything that is happening, to stop and practice gratitude. It is such a simple thing, and it is transformative. You could even challenge yourself and do it for a week: each day wake up and before consulting any electronic devices, write down four things you are thankful for, and allow that to shape your day.  Giving thanks to God, as a regular practice, can transform how we feel about the world presently; it can teach us to be on the look-out for potential thanksgivings! Practicing gratitude can become like those car trip games, but instead of looking for words beginning with each letter of the alphabet, we can

"In Christ there is no east or west, in him no south or north; But one great fellowship of love, throughout the whole wide earth." So goes the hymn I've been singing my whole life in the Episcopal Church. It has taught me that to be a Christian is to be part of a human family regardless of any of those artificial categories we invent to divide ourselves. Categories like we are from, what our skin color may be, what political party we most closely identify with, what ethnic community we were brought up in. All of those things are temporal and cannot compare to the great love of God; a love that gave it's own life for the sake of the world in Jesus. Those differences spice up the rich variety of our human existence.  It is an embarrassment that in the year 2020 it would suddenly seem so important to have make the explicit statement that the ideology of white supremacist groups, or any superior-minded ideology seeking to place more value on one group of people than anoth

I feel very fortunate that I grew up in a loving family, and I feel grateful to my parents (and four older sisters) for raising me in a stable, nurturing, ordered home. I feel that I was equipped by them to grow into a somewhat healthy adult, and to raise my son Eli in a loving home.  I can have memories of camp-outs with my dad, and of going hunting with him in East Texas, where I learned a lot about patience: waiting hours in the cold rain for any deer to emerge from the protective woods. I remember delicious meals my mom prepared, and being sent to bed on time most of the time. Again, those are experiences I draw on to try to be the best parent I can be for my son. It also helps me know how to be a parent for myself.  I remember my parents teaching me about God as my heavenly Father. I know now that though I've moved away from my parents home and stared a life of my own, that my heavenly Father/Mother God is still and will always remain present with me. God is there to turn to f

 As we prepare for school to begin the Fall of 2020, I have had the opportunity to talk with a handful of parents who hold a variety of opinions about how safe it is to return to school, and about the challenges of weighing job responsibilities with online learning requirements and opportunities. There is anxiety about what this year will mean academically in the long run. Parents are trying to figure out the right thing to do, even as the school is trying to figure out the right thing to do.  I don't believe there is a right thing to do. We find ourselves in a wrong place; an uncharted wilderness. We are playing a waiting game, and all we can do is move forward one step at a time. It is a good time to practice humility, open our hearts, and recognize that everyone is learning how to do this for the very first time. I'm not apathetic, I care deeply about our schools, and what the year will bring. I'm open to letting it be what it will be.  Trinity the Sea Blessing of Backpa

Seven sacraments of the Coronavirus with prayers for each. 1. Give Blood             I dwell in Christ, this is my blood given for you.   2. Wear Mask/Social Distance/Wash Hands           May this be a sign of my love for others.   3. Stay Home           Lord, let me be still and know that you are God.   4. Practice Compassion           Jesus, teach me to love as you love.   5. Create/Learn Something New           I open my heart to you, please work through me, O God.   6. Communicate           May my conversation be laced with your Holy Spirit.   7. Manage your Health           O God, I thank you for my health, guide me to be a good steward of my body. PDF of Printable Bookmark...may take some creative folding. This is my blood, given for you.   The Church looks to the life of Jesus Christ as a model for our sacramental life. Our seven Sacraments, the foremost being Baptism and Eucharist, are the outward and visible signs of inward and spiritual grace. Participating in the Sacraments

Originally Published in the South Jetty Newspaper During this new reality, when new things come at us seemingly every day, I sometimes I forget what day, or even what season it is. Then I step outside and get hit in the face by the wind from Poseidon's hair dryer, and remember this is still summer in the Coastal Bend! Years ago, when life seemed simpler, I read in a book of reflections, "Summer is the least religious season, when rituals give way to recreation and leisure." Summer is a time of abundance, from the harvest of crops to our bountiful waters. Maybe the deer freezer starts to run low, but even that bounty may be enjoyed as the fall approaches.  It's those cooler months lead me more inward; to a more contemplative place perhaps. The long season after Pentecost draws to an end; Advent starts a new year and tips us toward Christmas. That is the time when our religious practices really draw me in. My prayer practices tend to be renewed in that time, and I follo

I love reading scripture. That may seem like a cliche coming from someone in my line of work, but it hasn't always been the case, so I feel I can say it now with some authenticity. I've experienced what it is like to not love scripture. I've been disillusioned, felt betrayed by it, and disdained scripture at times on my spiritual journey. Perhaps that honest and rocky path is what I needed to return to it with new eyes; like a lover's quarrel leading to greater appreciation of what could have been lost.  Sometimes, though, I have to remind myself that I love scripture, particularly when it speaks a deep truth to me I am not ready to hear. Someone recently described our current state (living with the reality of COVID-19) as a, "slow grinding of the spirit." It is a painful thing to endure--there are a lot of unknowns which lead to anxiety. One of the readings for a recent Sunday was from Romans. In it, St. Paul writing to a church he has not met, but knows abou

I will with God's help. It was only as I began my drive back from North Carolina on Sunday that I learned our nation was on fire. I drove up there for a very quick trip to help my parents get settled in for the summer, and Eli was my traveling companion. When I let Laura know our travel plans to return, she said I should pay attention to the curfews in Atlanta and Houston. (?!) That's when I started trying to catch up with the news feed. Oh, wow! On our journey, Eli and I listened to a story on NPR's Code Switch called, "A Decade of Watching Black People Die."  In order to begin to understand George Floyd's death (may he Rest in Peace and Rise in Glory) I thought Eli should, we should, hear from black people about the deaths we are witnessing, and to try to hear their perspective. It seems like George Floyd's death at this time during this pandemic with this political climate has led to the explosion we are witnessing--we are experiencing--in our c

Originally Published in the South Jetty Newspaper Don't be misled by the title. I'm well aware of our reality. I'm following social distance guidelines, and taking the pandemic for what it is. I'm praying for those who are sick, for the families who have lost loved ones, for those on the front lines of caring for the sick, and for essential workers. You too, neighbors, are in my prayers. Thanks to some faithful volunteers, in daily prayers are offered from our sanctuary. No, I'm not denying our reality, rather, in the midst of a world changed by a virus, what I have in mind is to imagine a future beyond the pandemic. Someday, when we do have a vaccine, and having slowed the spread with our disciplined social distancing, when we may once again go about our lives: What shall our life be like? What will we have learned? What insights will we carry forward from this great disruption?  I value the spiritual teaching regarding being present in the moment. I pr

Originally published in the South Jetty News  Paper  One of my favorite songs from the Taizé community is, "Wait for the Lord." It is often sung the pre-Christmas season of Advent, but it has been running through my mind as we try to wait patiently for life to return to normal. The reason we have songs like this, in part, is because we don't want to wait. Perhaps more than ever, we are accustomed to instant gratification; we want things fixed now. In the midst of a global pandemic no one has seen in a century, it may be worthwhile to consider wisdom passed down from tradition.  Of course, the monks of Taizé drew the words of that song from scripture; the reminder to wait shows up throughout the Bible, and particularly in the Psalms: "Our soul waits for the Lord; He is our help and our shield." (30:20), "Wait for the Lord; Be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the Lord." (27:13), "Be strong and let your heart take courag

I spend a lot of time with the Jonah story. I use it often, especially in pastoral conversations. In times of deep discernment, we often feel like we are in the belly of a whale. We are, especially when we wrestle with a difficult calling. We are in the dark, and it stinks. And the best thing to do is to wait in there, until we are vomited up on the beach somewhere. Then we may emerge with clearer direction of our own calling, our mission, our purpose. That's the part of the story that draws my attention. The waiting. It's not fun. Then if you read on, the rest of the story brings it's own challenging reality: when Jonah marches into Nineveh, and cries out, "Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!"   The people actually listen. The king calls for a fast, to turn from violence, and they pray that God's mind would be changed. And so it was, Nineveh was spared. Sounds like a happy enough ending, but the book is not called Nineveh, it's called Jo

I want to remember this: the Palm Sunday with no processions. That's, perhaps, over generalizing. Many churches still had a version of a palm procession. My friend in Gulfport met with ministers in their new outdoor chapel for the very first time! I got to witness it on Facebook as they prayed, then processed into the church. All the ministers, lay and ordained, walking in vestments into the church, where the liturgy quickly turns from the celebration of Christ's entry into Jerusalem, to the cross.  Palm Sunday begins our Holy Week. The Holiest week we have. When we remember the final events of Christ's death. A few people have pointed out that remembering those events sheltered in our homes, as we observe COVID-19 social restrictions may even be closer to what those original followers of Jesus experienced. All hiding from religious leaders and governmental authorities. They were hiding together.  Here at Trinity, I didn't try to imitate a procession. We have

Not gathering in this time is a display of love, and life giving to our community. It is difficult not to gather for worship and share communion as we normally do. It is where we find our meaning to be in physical proximity and contact as the Body of Christ. I acknowledge this reality, and I wish I could make COVID-19 go away. The reality we live in right now is that the most dangerous thing we can do is gather. It is destructive to the Body of Christ, harmful to our church community and the wider community. It is a worldwide pandemic, no one's life is unaffected. Some have expressed resistance to the "powers that be" advising we not gather for worship. Some have even framed it, sometimes playfully, as being an act of civil disobedience to gather and worship against the advice of governmental and medical advisors. It came up at our Diocesan Executive Board, and I shared my perspective, and want to share it here in writing. There are certainly times for civil disobed

"The challenging thing about the unconscious is that we are not conscious of it." That's a paraphrase of something Pittman McGehee once said in a conversation about the Shadow. He is a Jungian analyst and Episcopal priest who's been a mentor of mine for a while now. I'm looking forward to spending some time with him during my sabbatical (which starts after Ash Wednesday.) I am often unconscious of my anxiety. Another mentor, James Hollis, taught me that anxiety is the fear of the unknown. Once we become aware of it, we can name it, and work on facing the fear. Photo by Laura Derkits When I am unconscious of my anxiety, I get irritable and grumpy. I slide into unhealthy habits like binge watching Netflix (trying to mentally escape), or I drink a beer or too many beers (to anesthetize the anxious feeling.) After Christmas, I decided to eliminate the second one, to take a break from the self medication for a season. I was inspired to do that partly by a frien

Mid January, I invited our congregation to start a daily morning prayer practice. I had just painted a wall of my study, and rearranged the space getting ready for my sabbatical. I had been saving one of the posts from our old porch for an undetermined project, and had another short beam on my desk that was from the old support structure for the organ at St. Mary's, Cypress, TX. I used part of each to create a little altar for my meditation space. I used to have these little altars in college, when I was a youth minister at Christ Church Cathedral, Houston, and while I was in seminary. Then we got puppies, and they liked to chew on candles and icons, so the altar went away. I have a chair that I would sit in for daily readings, but it wasn't quite right for meditation. I meditated only sporadically for years; in Houston (after seminary) it was in my back yard, or along the bayou. More recently it's been on the beach or in my room with a folded towel to help my posture. 

Originally published in the South Jetty Newspaper In Hebrew scripture, Moses brought down 10 Commandments (which led to the need for much clarification leading to 613 commandments, and the great simplification by Jesus back to just 2.) One of my first mentors pointed out that the most commonly broken of the 10 commandments is "honor the sabbath and keep it holy." Now, if you know me, you will know I'm not a fundamentalist literalist; I'm not advocating for everyone to take Saturday off; what would the tourists do? I do advocate for taking the spirit of that law, and finding time on a regular basis to remember that God is God, and we are not. We are to take holy rest: spend time recreating and in prayer. When we do that, we practice trust that things will carry on without our constant attention. Honor the Sabbath and keep it holy. I try to do that most Fridays, though it doesn't always work out. In that same spirit, my church encourages clergy to take a