James Derkits

I love the scene in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation when Uncle Eddie is talking absently, wandering around, and Clark is following him around making snide remarks that Eddie misses completely. At one point Uncle Eddie approaches the Griswold's Christmas carousel and swipes at the delicate fan blades sending the wooden pieces flying. Clark rushes in to pick up the pieces, and Eddie lumbers on, ready for another glass of egg nog.  We received one of those Christmas carousels several years ago, and we keep it stored away with our stockings and ceramic Advent wreath. I think of those items this time of year especially when the weather turns cold. Soon we will take the Advent wreath out of the attic, as well as the church's Advent wreath from the closet. We will begin to build the nativity scene across the season of Advent, and finally place Jesus in the manger on Christmas eve.  So far, no one has taken swipe at our Christmas carousel, and no one has mistaken our nativity...

I have had the honor of officiating several funerals this month of people I knew fairly well. October also marks the one year anniversary of my own dad's death. It is a month, following the agricultural harvest, when many cultures remember those beloved who have died and rest in God's eternal presence. We conclude the month with All Hallows Eve, then All Saints and All Souls days. Some recognize funerals and the remembrance of ancestors as the earliest expression of religious practice. It certainly draws me to ponder my own existence, what I have to offer the world, and what I will leave behind.  At the root of trusting in God is an awareness of our mortality. God is immortal, and we are not. That which we call "soul" we give over to God, and in that way practice a sort of death-before-dying. It is not we who will carry our own soul across death's gate, it is God. Entrusting our essence to another we must die to that illusion of control we think we have. That tran...

Originally Published in the South Jetty Newspaper Sometimes when I wonder about the surf conditions right here in Port Aransas, I sit on my couch and pull up an app on my phone that offers me predictions. It may or may not motivate me to load up my board and paddle out. It may or may not be accurate. Sometimes I have planned a day around the prediction only to be disappointed, or hear the classic, "shoulda been here yesterday," from a friend who ignored the app. Other days I drop off my son at school and drive home by the beach looking for the best place to paddle out. I may judge the waves unworthy of my efforts, or too mushy to delay the start of my day. On the other hand, some of my best days that left me with a smile, have been the times I just threw my board in my truck, and drove down to paddle out. I may not even see anything catchable from the beach, yet, usually there are at least a couple of ankle biters out there. Some days when I paddle in from mediocre surf I...

I was in college when a priest I knew started experimenting with this new technology called electronic mail in his ministry. He worked at Christ Church Cathedral, Houston, and he started sending out what he called the "Digital Cathedral" email with a sermon and church announcements. It was cutting edge stuff.  I knew Fr. Paul from youth retreats I attended and he was a hip, creative priest. It was not surprising that he adopted email as a ministry resource so early. Through that email I felt connected to him and other friends I knew through our Episcopal youth community, even though I lived away from them. It was in one of those emails that I learned one of my first Greek words: Koinonia.  Koinonia was what Fr. Paul called his High School youth group. They would get together and watch 90210 together (that was a popular television show, from the days when one had to watch such things at scheduled times.) After they watched the show, they would talk about the issues the charact...

The following is an edited sermon preached at the closing Eucharist at Mustang Island Family Camp and then at Trinity by the Sea, Sunday, August 14. The Reading was Luke 12: 49-56 Build one another up! Bishop David Reed asked to reflect on how we build each other up---he’s obviously a camp kid turned counselor turned staff turned director. So, maybe not everyone who starts as a camper becomes a priest or a bishop, but it does raise up loving leaders for our church and for the world. Camp makes leaders who think about building one another up because that is what camp does in so many ways. Laura, Eli, and I spent the weekend at Mustang Island Family camp for our eighth year, and the new construction is beautiful, and will work well for retreat groups. The chapel has just been completed except for the furniture…but we stood around a surf board altar to celebrate Eucharist in that beautiful space. There are more camps than Mustang Island, Camp Capers, Duncan Park, and Camp Allen. I’ve part...

My heart is still struggling over the horrific shooting at an elementary school in Uvalde, TX. It is not far from where I live and it is in the diocese my church is a part of...last night I was playing music with close friends, preparing for a show we are playing on June 21 to support one of our parishioners and to bring our community together. It's something I've been trying to do as much as possible since COVID: bring people together. Work on relationships, love our neighbors, reconcile on the personal level.  Then as we were winding down the rehearsal, I got a text from my wife about a shooting at an Episcopal church potluck supper. The church is outside Birmingham, Alabama. Two parishioners were killed, one is in the hospital as I write.  Last night and this morning, I looked up  St. Stephen's , and was able to read and watch some of the messages from their rector, The Rev. John Burruss, and a message from Presiding Bishop Michael Curry (who visited their church not l...

Published in the South Jetty a week before the election.  What brought you to Port Aransas, and what has kept you here? The original attraction for me was the beauty of nature all around us. The beach and bay; the dunes and night sky. Once we moved here, not all that long ago in 2012, I came to know this amazing community. People helped one another out, residents and visitors supported our youth and still do. I suppose the gift of nature alone would have nourished my soul, but my family and I really stayed because of this amazing community. We feel so fortunate to get to live here, and I understand why people are attracted to spending time here. We were here for five years before Hurricane Harvey and I am grateful for those years of getting to know my church and community so that when we were in the recovery trenches, we could build up from those relationships.   I value community and relationships because I have found that strong relationships make it possible to not onl...