Journal - Agatha Nolen

How I’m Celebrating the 250th year anniversary of the United States I grew up in a small town in rural, upstate New York so I saw history through a lens that included Indian tribes and the American Revolution. The town of Geneseo was formed in 1789 as the Seneca Indians had called it the pleasant or beautiful valley and was settled by colonists in 1790. It was only one year after New York ratified and signed the Constitution. I registered to vote when I turned 18 years of age and have voted in every Presidential election since. I’ve helped candidates who I believed in, knocking on doors and making phone calls. Even when my candidate didn’t win, I felt like I was contributing to the most important process we have in the US: voting. A lot of causes that I believed in as an 18-year-old have come to pass but not all of them. I believed in the music of Woodstock, but not the drugs. We were all about environmental causes to save the environment. We were concerned about population growth and that the world couldn’t sustain the number of people projected for 2030. I drove a gas-conscious car and believed that everyone can contribute something to the well-being of society and the earth. I opposed the war in Viet Nam and wore a POW bracelet my Junior year of high school. I’ve supported candidates in both dominant parties and have consistently voted for people that I believed were honest and trustworthy, and felt called to devote their lives to public service. The older I get it seems like there are fewer and fewer of those candidates and more and more that became enmeshed in the power and authority of politics and become life-time politicians. I have become disillusioned with the candidates but not the process. What I’m celebrating on this Fourth of July is that we still have the right to vote. My vote counts just as much as the billionaire, not three-fifths but a whole vote. I know people who have become jaded and say “why bother?” when the outcome is almost assured by who has raised the most money or which political party has the supermajority. But I remain hopeful that good people remain in society and that we will see a resurgence of them running and winning for office. I’ve already seen this in a good friend who was just elected to his City Council in Knoxville, TN. My new home in Durham, NC is a retirement center and the only committee I’ve volunteered for so far is the Voting Registration Committee. I want everyone to register to vote and exercise their voice by voting in every local, regional and national election. We should vote as if our life depends upon it.   Register to vote.   Go vote.   And Happy Fourth of July! Blessings, my friend, Agatha How I'm celebrating the 250th anniversary of the United States Agatha Nolen Download    

“After these things, Joseph of Arimathea, who was a disciple of Jesus, though a secret one because of his fear of the Jews, asked Pilate to let him take away the body of Jesus. Pilate gave him permission; so he came and removed his body. Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds. They took the body of Jesus and wrapped it with the spices in linen cloths, according to the burial custom of the Jews.” (John 19:38-40)   It is only three short verses, but it asks us volumes about our faith. All the disciples have deserted Jesus; Peter has denied him three times. Where were they when Jesus breathed his last? Were they hiding but watching the crucifixion perched on a nearby hill, or were they worried about their own lives and had gone far away hoping that no one like the servant girl had ever seen them with Jesus.   Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus are both members of the Sanhedrin, the supreme council in charge of Jewish affairs in Roman Palestine. They risked their wealth, their reputation, and their lives to remove Jesus’s body from the Cross and wrap it in fine linen. This public display of responsibility but also affection spoke volumes of them as followers of Christ. They were willing to go public with their faith, recognizing Jesus as the Messiah for whom the Jews had been waiting over two millennia.   Since we know the end of the story, we are in a rush to “put him into the ground” so that he can rise again. But let’s spend time thinking how we would act at that moment of his last breath.   What about you? Do you hang back in the shadows, hoping that no one sees you going to church or identifying with the one they call Jesus? Or are you like Joseph and Nicodemus, willing to risk your reputation and even your life to gingerly reclaim His body and to proclaim, “My Lord, and my God”?   Blessings, my friend, Agatha (Note: In the image by Rubens, the crown of thorns has been removed and cast into the waste bucket at the foot of the cross. Our sins, represented by the thorns, have already been cleansed.)  

I just moved from Nashville, TN to Durham, NC a few months ago and did my best to sort through a lifetime of furniture and keepsakes to decide what I would keep as I was downsizing. I did a pretty good job, but there were still six boxes in the attic that I didn’t get a chance to sift through, so I told the movers, “just put them on the truck” thinking I’d get to them when I moved. I’d been warned against moving boxes just to be moving them, but as it turned out, I fell walking my dogs during the ice storm we had a month ago and broke my left kneecap. No surgery needed, for which I am grateful, but being immobilized for the past four weeks gave me some time to tackle those last six boxes. There were many items to just shred, but one stuck out. It was a drawing I’d done that I would call the “stages of my faith.” It was between two packets of papers, one dated 2014 and one 2017, so I presume that I had done the drawing around ten years ago. I’ve included it here. I recognized it immediately. I don’t know why I decided to draw on the paper upside down, but the stairsteps reminded me that faith has both plateaus and hills. As I contemplated the first ledge, “I am a sinner,” I asked myself what I was thinking when I wrote and drew over 10 years ago. It was more like 20 years ago when I embarked on an examination of my faith. It was in 2006 that I was diagnosed with breast cancer, and changed my life. It was around then that I realized that growing up Roman Catholic, I had been enthroned in the concept of personal sin, but for me it always had a “but” associated with it. “I am a sinner, but… I’m not as bad as the friend who cheats on his taxes, or the boss who takes money out of the cash register where I do relief work as a pharmacist.” “I am a sinner, but I give money to the church and non-profits, and I don’t gossip about people behind their back.” “I am a sinner, but….” It took me months and even years to realize that real faith starts with a hard stop: “I am a sinner.” I stopped comparing myself to other people trying to earn God’s favor or look better in our capitalist world. How big a house did I really need? How many vacations did I need to take?   My faith began with my understanding that my relationship with God was based on an unwavering floor. I am God’s creation, but I am also a sinner. For me, it was impossible to move to the next level of faith, without sitting on this one plateau for a very, very long time. More about the other stages of my faith in future posts, but I wanted to share how a box of memories brought back an important realization for me and started me on my relationship with God, not as tyrant, but as a friend.   Blessings, my friend, Agatha  

When I first joined FACEBOOK in 2011, I knew that I was a bit late to the party, but I was writing a memoir and launched a website (www.agathanolen.com) and wanted to be able to share my stories and photographs with everyone who was interested in dialoguing about our relationship with God and the relationships that flow from that first love. I friended friends, friends of friends, and even remote acquaintances with the idea that using the internet to span enormous spaces was healthy and would promote new ideas and relationships. Over the 15 years, I now have 6700 followers on Facebook, although I admit I don’t know all of them personally. In 2010, I helped on the U.S. Congressional campaign of a good friend in Tennessee. He is a Republican, but I’ve voted a split ticket for decades. I didn’t support him because of, or in spite of his political party, but I found him to be honest, trustworthy, and a gentleman who embodied living out his Christian faith with actions. I supported the man, independent of the party, and believed that we needed more like him in Congress. Well, we lost, but through it I met very interesting people throughout the political spectrum, and of course, asked them all to be Facebook friends. As the rhetoric has changed in the past 15 years, I’ve found it difficult to read many of the posts of my “friends”. It hasn’t been their political ideology that has been troublesome, but the name-calling. I wasn’t raised that way, and my closest in-person friends would never stoop to denigrate a person with words. I do believe that all people bear God’s image and it’s hard for me to imagine anyone wanting to tear another person down. As Facebook seemed to swing more political, I asked myself what I wanted to post on my page. I felt like I had expertise in a few areas: pharmacy and pharmaceutical products, U.S. health policy and most recently, issues on theology. So, I felt like I could appropriately chime in on these subjects as someone who really knows what they are talking about. In addition, I have opinions about a lot of things that I don’t have expertise in. I try to clearly label those posts as to what I BELIEVE. I’m not trying to convince anyone that they are wrong and I am right. It is my page and it is what I BELIEVE. However, I admit now that I was wrong. Being a positive influence on the internet has little virtue. As I read through the insults, AI-generated fake news, and “cute” memes I have become disheartened. I will continue to post as before with my same rules, but for the first time in 15 years I am unfriending people. I have decided that if you post and call people “Commies” because of their political party, reference ex-President’s sex lives in every post, call a sitting President a pedophile, denigrate someone because of their disability, race, or gender, I cannot be your “friend”. This would be easier if they are people I’ve never met, but some are those I was in third grade with, worked with, went to church with, or even shared a cocktail or two. I was interested in staying in touch because of those fond memories, but people change. I’ve been asked by other friends why I let “trolls” comment on my posts. It was a somber question that I contemplated for quite a while. And then I decided. Maybe we were friends once, but no longer. I won’t let you “troll” my page any longer if you are name-calling. It is always sad when a “friendship” dies. But it does happen, and I need to move on. Blessings, my true friends, Agatha

Ten days ago, I made a dramatic life-change. I moved from Nashville where I had lived for 22 years to Durham, NC where I went to school for the past four. I was in a Master of Divinity program in a hybrid format where I continued to live in Nashville but visited Durham one week each in January, May, and August and then participated in the remainder of the classes on-line via zoom. My “intensive weeks” were challenging, but I felt comfortable in Durham and fell in love with the people I met and the area surrounding Duke University. I grew up in a college town and knew that I’d like to spend my retirement years near a vibrant academic community.  News had spread that I moved into a Continuing Care Retirement Center, The Forest at Duke, and many friends have called to inquire about my health, presuming that I have a serious disease that mandated that I move into a retirement community. I’m in the independent living section and very healthy. I have high blood pressure and a vitamin D deficiency that are well-controlled with medication, and am still, thankfully, cancer-free. I decided to move now rather than when I was forced to, as there are significant waiting lists (up to five years or more) and I wanted to enjoy the freedom of having everything cared for in my apartment, including weekly housekeeping. My Nashville home was just too big for me to keep up, and I didn’t need all that space. In addition, the house had some emotional baggage that I should have moved on from years ago, and it is very freeing to be in a new place. More on that in a future post.  Now that I’m in Durham, I had the pleasure of attending Christmas Eve Services at Duke Chapel. Rev. Luke Powery in his homily quoted from “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” as well as Nietzsche who said “Christians have no joy.” Powery continued that instead of the virtue of joy, we’ve replaced it with capitalism, nationalism, authoritarianism, materialism, historical revisionism, and other “isms” (e.g. Chapel Hill’ism, a local rivalry). He comments that by the look of social media posts from self-proclaimed Christians, they no longer have “joy” in their life.  It’s a great lesson for me as I want to be a Christian that exudes joy. Hopefully you will know that I am a Christian, not because I tell you, but because of the joy I have in my life.  The next day on Christmas there was a wonderful brunch at the Retirement Center that was packed with residents, family members, and other guests. As I walked in, I noticed the Christmas decorations, and particularly the large red letters “JOY” that were over the carving station. It was a great connection for me that as a Christian, if I don’t have “joy” in my life, well then, I’m not really a Christian.   I wish you JOY not just in this season of Christmastide, but forever.  Blessings, my friend, Agatha  

The Rt. Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde, Bishop of Washington (Photo courtesy of Washington National Cathedral) I’ve just completed a Master of Divinity (M.Div.) degree at Duke University in Durham NC, and I am grateful for the knowledge and wisdom that I have gained from my professors and students in my cohort. Since we were hybrid students (going for Immersion Weeks three times per year with zoom classes in between), our class demographics were a bit atypical for a seminary. We were older and almost everyone had served in non-profit organizations or been worship leaders or pastors for many years. During my enrollment, I served as Director of Outreach at my church for three years while I was in school.   During these four years of education, I was also in the discernment process for two years to become an Episcopal priest. Although I was not successful and the process has been closed for me in my diocese, I’ve been contemplating what I learned during my discernment for the priesthood. I realized that during my time at Duke and through discerning my calling, I have learned how to “think like a priest.”   I joined the Episcopal church in 2008, and it has been a steady and welcoming home for me since. I’d spent time in Roman Catholic churches and Southern Baptist churches, but when I saw females celebrating and preaching, I knew that I had found the place I needed to be. I felt like in order to become a better disciple, I needed to start looking at situations as if I were ordained as a priest. This started many years ago but accelerated during my time at Duke and my two years in discernment.   This new “mindset” would happen most often when I was faced with a “difficult” situation, either one where I was in disagreement with someone, or when I didn’t know which action to take when faced with multiple options. I developed a list of questions that I would ask myself during these times of disagreement or doubt or when encountering a person I’d never met before:   1.     Can I see the other person as being made in the image of God (imago dei)? 2.     Can I feel that this person has the same right to human dignity that I do? 3.     Can I acknowledge that this person is loved by God just as I am? 4.     Rather than the encounter being about me and my wants and needs, can I put myself in their shoes? 5.     If the situation requires pastoral care, can I sit, listen, and be present without trying to interject my solutions or desires into the situation? 6.     If it is inconvenient for me to provide help (or a listening ear) to this person, do I help or listen anyway although it may require me re-arranging my schedule? 7.     Do I really want all of God’s creation to flourish (humans, non-human creatures and nature) and do I feel called to help all of God’s creatures to live into their identity?   There is much more to being an Episcopal priest, but it has been helpful in my discernment journey of being a better disciple to “think like a priest.”   Are there certain Christian doctrines that remind you of your call to be God’s witness in the world?   Blessings, my friend, Agatha

I see it often on social media, “We are all children of God.” It is meant to be an inclusive statement to provide assurance that God does not discriminate, loving some of us and hating others. In our readings on Pentecost Sunday, there is a nuance that I hadn’t thought of before. We are all made in God’s image, but we are not all children of God. God is the creator of all things and therefore is the creator of all humans, but it is important to recognize when the New Testament talks of “Father” and the people as the “children of God,” the verses are talking about those who have recognized Christ as their Lord and Savior.   In Romans 8:14-17 we hear, “All who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.”   In John 1:12-13, “But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.”   So, it is those who are led by the Spirit of God and believe in God’s name that are called God’s children. Everyone is made in God’s image, but it takes our recognition of the Holy Spirit working in our lives before we can claim to be a child and heir. It is on Pentecost each year that the Spirit comes anew to refresh us and reinforce that we are not only made in God’s image, but we truly share in our birthright with all those who believe.   I’m still processing photos from my recent trip to Turkey and Greece with Duke Divinity School, so I don’t have a favorite yet. Walking in the footsteps of both the disciple John and apostle Paul reminded me of the inheritance that we share with them. The photo is from the tomb of St. John at St. John’s Basilica near Izmir in Turkey, near the ancient city of Ephesus.   Blessings, my friend, Agatha    

As I approach my graduation at Duke Divinity School, I’ve been reflecting on some of my class assignments over the past four years. Many of them were very academic papers comparing historical doctrines, or exploring Christianity in another part of the world (in the class I took we explored Christianity in Latin America). Other assignments were more formative, encouraging us to deepen our personal spiritual life in reflecting not only on our education but on the world around us.  For one of our formation classes, our assignment was to write one prayer per day for five days in a row. That was the entire prompt; we could write about whatever God put on our hearts each day. For the last day, I was reflecting on how we often get so tangled up in our day-to-day world that we forget that God’s world is very different. I looked for some Scripture verses to remind me that God really is everywhere if we will just look, feel, smell, hear, and taste, using all our senses. Here’s my prayer from Day 5: Praise for our ability to perceive God through all our senses. Dear heavenly Father, I praise you as you have filled the world with immense beauty. It is only through my senses that I can behold your gracious hand in all these works. It is through my hearing that the mourning dove welcomes me to another orange sunrise. My sense of smell is the most likely to return me to a memory of a forgotten love or a new one just discovered. I am thankful for my ability to touch you when I give or receive a hug from a good friend or help a two-year old tie their shoelaces. It is through taste that I perceive your goodness not only in the fruits of the earth but the spices and flavors that you have given to different parts of the world for us to explore, exchange, and welcome as we give thanks for the nourishment of the plants and animals that give us strength. It is through the magnificent gift of sight that you bring us to our knees as we see the boldness of your created world that inspires us to use our imagination to envision your kingdom here on earth. It is with joy that I sing praises to you, Lord, as there is no one who can love me better or more completely than you do by showing me the majesty of your world. Amen. I hope that no matter what tries to distract us that we will see God all around us and never far away. Blessings, my friend, Agatha   Notes: Genesis 8:21, Psalm 34:8, 115:3-8, 119:103; Proverbs 20:12, Matthew 13:16, Mark 4:23, Romans 10:13, 2 Corinthians 2:15  

  The Descent from the Cross, Rubens (1612-1614), Cathedral of Our Lady, Antwerp, Belgium “After these things, Joseph of Arimathea, who was a disciple of Jesus, though a secret one because of his fear of the Jews, asked Pilate to let him take away the body of Jesus. Pilate gave him permission; so he came and removed his body. Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, weighing about a hundred pounds. They took the body of Jesus and wrapped it with the spices in linen cloths, according to the burial custom of the Jews.” (John 19:38-40)   It is only three short verses, but it asks us volumes about our faith. All the disciples have deserted Jesus; Peter has denied him three times. Where were they when Jesus breathed his last? Were they hiding but watching the crucifixion perched on a nearby hill, or were they worried about their own lives and had gone far away hoping that no one like the servant girl had ever seen them with Jesus.   Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus are both members of the Sanhedrin, the supreme council in charge of Jewish affairs in Roman Palestine. They risked their wealth, their reputation, and their lives to remove Jesus’s body from the Cross and wrap it in fine linen. This public display of responsibility but also affection spoke volumes of them as followers of Christ. They were willing to go public with their faith, recognizing Jesus as the Messiah for whom the Jews had been waiting over two millennia.   Since we know the end of the story, we are in a rush to “put him into the ground” so that he can rise again. But let’s spend time thinking how we would act at that moment of his last breath.   What about you? Do you hang back in the shadows, hoping that no one sees you going to church or identifying with the one they call Jesus? Or are you like Joseph and Nicodemus, willing to risk your reputation and even your life to gingerly reclaim His body and to proclaim, “My Lord, and my God”?   Blessings, my friend, Agatha   (Note: In the image by Rubens, the crown of thorns has been removed and cast into the waste bucket at the foot of the cross. Our sins, represented by the thorns, have already been cleansed.)  

When I joined the Episcopal Church in 2008, I heard about the three-legged stool. The teaching discussed that the three sources of authority are scripture, reason and tradition. It made sense to me that you would not rely on just one or the other, and three legs gave it balance.   The Rev. Chuck Collins in an article in The Living Church in 1998 took issue with the three-legged stool concept in that it isn’t written in the Book of Common Prayer and that three legs can end up in competition with each other. Rev. Collins’ recommendation is that we declare the Bible as the only authority and discount both reason and tradition as pillars of faith.   I agree with the importance of the Bible and that it is the inspired words of God. But the danger in the single leg is that we have many differing interpretations of the same verses. One example is the use of verses to condone slavery that were often quoted in Congress to support the oppression of an entire race (Ephesians 6:5).   I would like to propose a different solution to the three-legged stool by adding a fourth leg. The fourth leg is imagination. By imagination, I don’t mean that we can dream and come up with any solution we want, but instead that with our imagination, we can have a clearer vision of what God’s kingdom here on earth looks like and we can work toward bringing it into our today reality.   What if we used scripture, reason, tradition and added our imagination. Can we visualize our earth as a place where there are no longer any poor, where everyone acts with righteousness, peace, joy and where hearts are transformed to not only follow Christ but to be like Christ? It will be a lot easier for Jesus to separate us into goats and sheep at the end of time if we live now like we are in a new heaven and earth (Matt. 25:31-46).   Ross Douthat in his book Believe (Zondervan Books, 2025) says, “Once human beings inhabited a supernatural-infused cosmos, saw divinity in every tree and waterfall, lived under the influence of angels and demons, gods and stars and spirits. Now we inhabit a society defined by reason, science, and calculations, a natural world drained of metaphysical significance with selves buffered against the mystical and mythological…. Science supplanted prayer, for good reason, as the primary means of seeking healing, but people keep reporting that they’d been healed by intercessory prayer.”   What would our world be like if we used our imagination to once again see divinity in every tree and waterfall and to believe that intercessory prayer makes a difference in healing?   Blessings, my friend, Agatha  

The Church of the Holy Trinity is a historic Episcopal Church in downtown Nashville just blocks from the Rescue Mission. It was established in 1852 as a "free" church for Black Episcopalians in the area known as South Nashville. It was listed on the National Historic Register in 1972 and will celebrate its 175th anniversary in 2027. In preparation for a year of celebrations, Rector Bill Dennler has started a new worship service at 5pm on Saturday evenings. With the growth of both music venues and condominiums in the area, we hope that people will participate in a traditional Episcopal liturgy at the new time.   Our first Saturday evening service was this past Saturday, and I was honored to be the lector, appointed to read the Old and New Testament readings. As I started on the reading from Deuteronomy, I realized I had some competition to be heard both by those in attendance and those on-line. The noise was coming from a "pedal tavern" passing by on Sixth Avenue South.   For my readers who are not from Nashville, a "pedal tavern" is a tourist attraction where a group of 10-20 people rent a party bike and pedal their way through Nashville as they drink, sing songs, and listen to a guide who takes them on a lively tour, usually sharing secrets from Broadway's legendary Honky Tonks. Rev. Dennler tells me that the church is on the route for all the pedal taverns as there is a popular liquor store just up the street.   I could hear the music but couldn't recognize the tune. I could tell it wasn't good background music for a reading from Deuteronomy.   But, It was strangely comforting that amidst our noisy, chaotic world, I was relishing in a familiar liturgy among friends.   Although I relish my time in silent retreats, it is always a worship service that is right in the middle of the world’s chaos that nourishes me the most.   Come join us. An oasis in the desert at 5PM every Saturday.   Blessings, my friend, Agatha   Address: Church of the Holy Trinity 615 Sixth Ave. South Nashville, TN 37203      

Saint Agatha by Cariani (Giovanni Busi) (1485-1547), 1516 - 1517 National Galleries, Scotland What's in a name? One way to have a new group introduce themselves is to ask them to tell a story of how they got their name. Many are named after family members, but I wasn't; I was named after a Saint.   I was raised Roman Catholic and my mother's due date was February 5. In the Roman Catholic calendar that has been the Feast Day of St. Agatha since her death in 271 A.D.   Agatha was born in Sicily into a wealthy family and dedicated her life to God. She caught the eye of Quintianus who tried to force her to turn away from her vow and marry him. She consistently refused his proposals until he had her arrested to face torture and possible death. She prayed for courage and refused to abandon her vow to God. She underwent more torture and eventually Quintianus had her breasts cut off. She had a vision of the apostle, St. Peter who comforted her and healed her wounds through prayers. She is the patron saint of Sicily and breast cancer patients.   I relish getting to tell my story of I how got my name (although I was a bit early; my birthday is in December).   I joined the Episcopal Church in 2008, and St. Agatha was never acknowledged until a calendar revision in 2022.  The appointed Collect (brief prayer) for St. Agatha was recited around the world yesterday: Almighty and everlasting God, who strengthened your martyr Agatha with constancy and courage: Grant us for the love of you to make no peace with oppression, to fear no adversity, and to have no tolerance for those who would use their power to abuse or exploit; Through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom with you and the Holy Spirit be all honor and glory, now and forever. Amen. I pray that I can aspire to live up to the foundations of my namesake's life in the 3rd century. Blessings, my friend, Agatha

Rabbits Making Mochi in the Moon Harada Keigaku Woodblock print Ca. 1850, Courtesy of the Victoria and Albert Museum, London  (A mochi is a Japanese rice cake) We have wonderful exhibitions at the Frist Art Museum in Nashville and currently, I’ve been leading tours for Journey Through Japan: Myths to Manga. The exhibition will be on display through February 16, 2025.   In the first gallery is a beautiful story from Japanese folklore of how the moon is home to the rabbit. The ancient story tells a lesson that Taishakuten, the ruler of the heaven visits Earth disguised as a beggar and asks three animals to help him get food. The first, a monkey, brings him fruit, and the fox brings him fish. But when he turns to the rabbit, the rabbit says he has nothing to share but is willing to give up himself as food instead. Taishakuten is so impressed with the rabbit’s selflessness, that he places the rabbit on the moon for everyone to see and to remember the rabbit’s selflessness every time they look at the moon.   During this Advent season I’ve been pondering what this ancient story might mean to me. It is too easy for me to donate money to a local or far-off charity, similar to plucking fruit from a tree or gathering fish from the ocean. Those things really don’t belong to me, so it doesn’t mean much for me to give them away. But giving up myself; that is much harder. To spend time with a friend really listening to what is going on in their life. Sending up prayers for recent cancer diagnoses or friends who have lost loved ones this year and are not really feeling the “Christmas” spirit.   Money is important and based upon the emails and mail I’ve gotten the past two weeks, every charity could use my monetary donation. But I’m rethinking what it really means to be more like the rabbit and show up in person with the most precious gifts of time and presence.   Blessings, my friend, Agatha

I’ve always been an early riser, and I’ve adopted the habit of saying Morning Prayer from the Daily Office since I became an Episcopalian in 2008. It is part of my commitment to my Rule of Life (Chapter 18) that I have developed as a Fellow of The Society of St. John the Evangelist, an Episcopal monastery in Cambridge, MA.   A few years ago, I discovered a free app on my phone that makes keeping the Daily Office easy but meaningful. I enjoy it as the Scripture verses, Canticles, and Saints’ Commemorations are all in one place for Morning Prayer, Noon Day Prayer, Evening Prayer and Compline. I don’t always get to stop four times a day, but I always start my day with the Morning Prayer. There is a recorded audio version so that I can feel like I am reciting it in community. Here’s a link for your desktop: https://prayer.forwardmovement.org/pray. On your phone look for: “Forward, Day by Day.”   I just discovered the best feature. If you click on the three lines in the upper left corner of the phone app (or “Prayer List” on your desktop), you can compose your own personal prayer list. This list is local to the device you create it on, so it is not shared among devices or other people. Your individual prayer list will pop up when it is time for prayers and thankgsivings. It reminds me to pray for people near and far, lifting up their names for healing, discernment, and reconciliation.   I am often frustrated with the time I spend on my phone, endlessly checking weather, or scrolling to see what my friends are doing on social media. This Advent, I’m monitoring my usage but also recognizing than some technology can make my world better. I believe that the Forward Movement Day by Day Daily Office is one positive example and I hope that more people can start their day with Scripture and praying for each other.   Please send me a note if you have any questions about the Forward Movement app. I’m not a paid employee and don’t get paid for recommending it. I don’t often make recommendations on my blog, but this one is worth the time I spend with it.   Blessings, my friend, Agatha      

I’ve joined a group that is studying Celebrating Abundance for Advent. It is a book of devotions from Walter Brueggemann. Tuesday’s reading for the first week of Advent is titled, “Celebrating the New Abundance”.   Last week I had been contemplating how I wanted to live more out of sufficiency (having enough) rather than the abundance of having more than I need.   The devotion for Tuesday this week has added a new angle to my thinking. Walter comments, “let me tell you the news that is proclaimed at every Communion service: Jesus has turned the world into abundance. God is the gift who keeps on giving, and the people around Jesus are empowered to receive abundance and therefore to act generously.” Brueggemann continues, “He takes, he blesses, he breaks, he gives. And we are astonished about the surplus.”   I still want to live out of sufficiency. I need to do better about buying things I really don’t need, eating food when I am bored instead of hungry, and feeling like I need to be busy all the time to prove my worth. But I also need to see that Jesus gives me an abundance of truth, beauty, kindness, goodness, and love that I should never hoard but freely give away.   I’ve adapted the concluding prayer as my prayer for Advent: “God whose giving knows no end, make me a glad recipient of your generosity. Give me eyes to see and ears to hear, and a heart to remember your abundance, that I might share it with the world. Amen.”   Blessings, my friend, Agatha

“Gathering of the Manna,” James Tissot (1896-1902), The Jewish Museum, New York City I just finished the best class at Duke Divinity, “Old Testament and Leadership” taught by Dr. Ellen Davis and Dr. Sarah Musser. In addition to challenging readings and wonderful guest speakers, I realized that most of my religious life had been spent learning about the New Testament even though it is only 25% of the whole Bible and has about 5,000 words compared to 12,000. In our last class session we were sharing how our coursework in the Old Testament may have transformed our way of thinking, or how it might change our ministry in the future.   All of the twenty students had poignant comments, but one from an Episcopal Priest, Rev. Emily Rowell has stuck with me for these past weeks. The intense study of the Old Testament had resonated with her about how we should talk about sufficiency rather than abundance. I started thinking how it would change my life if I started thinking more about having enough rather than having more.   “Abundance” originated in 14th century France with the stem of abundans meaning overflowing, or full. Those terms seem different to me. If I have a cup of coffee that is “full”, it is up to the top of the rim, but if it is “overflowing”, it burns my hand when I try to pick it up to drink.   I would like to think that I lead my life to “fullness” by having enough, but not more than I need. At the very least, anything that I possess to excess, I should consider sharing with those who have less. During the pandemic, I didn’t want to be in crowds and was avoiding stores. I found myself ordering a case of dish soap from Amazon or Costco. Living alone meant that many items I ordered lasted more than a year. I still can’t pass up a sale on 72 rolls of toilet paper.   The pandemic has subsided, and the supply chain seems more reliable, but I still haven’t shaken this idea that I need more of everything. My pantry is full and even the dogs have more toys than they can play with in a month.   This Advent season, I’m going to be studying the Old Testament and dwelling with the Israelites when they were wandering in the wilderness. God told them that he would supply enough “manna” for them each day, except on the sixth day when he would double their supply (so they could enjoy a Sabbath rest). If they gathered more than they needed for a single day, it became “wormy and rotten” (Exodus 16).   I want to gather only exactly what I need for sufficiency, knowing that any overabundance will become rotten in the eyes of the Lord.   Blessings, my friend, Agatha  

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash Another Immersive Week at Duke is complete. I’m enrolled in the Master of Divinity program at Duke University. It is in a hybrid format, so I travel to Durham three weeks of the year to start each term and then have weekly zoom classes. I’m a senior looking forward to graduation in May 2025.   This term I’m taking a class in Old Testament in Leadership with Dr. Ellen Davis. We had a great week with lots of reading, daily journals, and group-led discussions. I participated in the group that led the discussion on Thursday that was on the Book of Proverbs but the most meaningful lesson for me was the Friday lesson on the Book of Psalms.   Our daily journal was different for Friday; we were asked to write our own Psalm. It was very different from studying the Psalms to determine the voice of the Psalmist as they both praise God and cry out for God’s ear.   But my Psalm was different. I had to put myself in the place of the Psalmist. For what was I crying out to God for? Was I still able to praise God in my time of need?   Here’s my Psalm. How would you frame words to God if you wrote your own?     Psalm (Thanksgiving for time in waiting)   Hear my case, O Lord; open your ears to my heart.   You will find no deceit in me; my mouth continues to praise your name.   A path has closed, but you are with me; You carry me on your shoulders to new lands.   I trust in your faithfulness; like a mother bear for her newborn cub, you care for your children.   I count the minutes; You see into eternity and the cosmos is under your tender control.   As I wait, your name is on my lips; When I awake, I will be bathed in joy.     Blessings, my friend, Agatha

I’ve started a new book, Why You Can’t Pay Attention and How to Think Deeply Again, by Johann Hari. I’ve been intrigued for a number of years with the concept of “multi-tasking”. Do I really get more done when I’m engaged with five simultaneous projects? Or what about the four books on my nightstand? Would I be better off reading one at a time?   Johann’s book starts out with the author taking his godson to Memphis to visit Graceland. When he was nine, the godson was obsessed with Elvis Presley and ten years later Johann finally took him to Graceland. His godson had had a rough few years, dropping out of school at fifteen, struggling to carry on a conversation without being distracted. He spent all his waking hours at home alternating blankly between screens.   Why should I pick up this book at this particular time? Curiously, a good friend from Spain was in town a few weeks ago. As a travel agent she’s been thinking about coordinating some groups to come to Tennessee for a “Music Tour” hitting the highlights of Nashville and Memphis. We spent one day in Memphis, and she wanted to go to Graceland, a place I’d never visited.   My friend and I (as well as Johann) all had the same impressions of Graceland. It was lifeless with much of the charm taken out of the estate by the interjection of technology. Instead of having tour guides in each of the rooms of the mansion, we were issued individual iPads and earphones so that we could take ourselves on a “self-guided” tour. As we moved from room to room, our iPad voice encouraged us to “swipe left” to move to the next room. No one spoke as we were all watching the rooms on our iPads and listening through our earbuds. Noone was really looking at the actual rooms we were in.   Johann’s observations: “Occasionally somebody would look away from the iPad and I felt a flicker of hope, and I would try to make eye contact with them, to shrug, to say, ‘Hey, we’re the only ones looking around, we’re the ones who traveled thousands of miles and decided to actually see the things in front of us’—but every time this happened I realized they had broken contact with the iPad only to take out their phones and snap a selfie.”   I want to start paying attention again to the real world around me and the people in it. I’d like to think deeply and engage in deep conversations about important things and not just the things that the news media thinks I need to be upset about.   I don’t know where this journey will take me, but I hope it’s back to a better world than the one we have now.   Blessings, my friend, Agatha

This Thursday is Ascension Thursday on the church calendar which marks 40 days after Easter and the day that Christ was taken up into heaven (Luke 24:51).  Growing up Roman Catholic, this was a Holy Day of Obligation where you had to attend a mass, and in some European countries it is celebrated as a public holiday (e.g. Germany, France, Austria, Belgium, and the Netherlands). Ascension Thursday commemorates a specific event in the life of the church, but the three days preceding it (Monday-Wednesday) also have a special place in the life of the church. They are known as minor Rogation Days.   The word rogation comes from the Latin verb rogare, meaning "to ask", which reflects the beseeching of God for a special blessing. Traditionally, the congregation of a local church will walk the boundaries of its land and ask God for seasonable conditions that will permit the growing of crops. We are asking God to bestow us with the conditions that we need for flourishing.   Most churches don’t plant crops anymore but at St. George’s Episcopal Church here in Nashville we have our Farmers Market. We invite local farmers and those who are using local products to come every Thursday, May-August from 3:30-6:30pm to set up their tables and tents and sell items that their land has produced. This year we have 20+ vendors each week and expanded hours for us to shop and honor the harvests of our neighbors.   On Wednesday, the last day of the minor Rogation Days, I’ll be walking the boundaries of our campus at St. George’s Episcopal Church. I’ll walk the perimeter to put up signs for the market and I’ll be praying as I go at the corners that all our vendors will have bountiful crops this year (and sales), and that our vendors, volunteers, and shoppers will all feel nourished and blessed with fresh produce, flowers, and ready-to-eat products all from our created earth.   Please join us on Ascension Thursday when we commemorate Jesus’s rising up to heaven. We live in this in-between time: Jesus has gone to heaven but has sent the Holy Spirit to be with us. We rejoice as we await the joy of Pentecost Sunday in a few weeks, when the Holy Spirit empowers us to act in Jesus’s name. And we pray for a bountiful harvest this year for all our farmers.   Blessings my friend, Agatha    

I’ve had a disordered relationship with food for all of my adulthood. It began after my brother died when I was seven and I developed stomach aches every morning at school. My teacher would take me down to the school nurse each morning for cinnamon toast until I felt better. (I came from a small town, and everyone knew everyone; my teachers were all friends with my mother). Although the morning feeding was helpful and after six weeks, I was able to stay in class all day, I associated food with the solution to my emotions. Whether it is grief, sadness, anxiety, happiness, or despair, my mind signals that I need to eat. Not based upon hunger, but exclusively based in response to an emotion I am feeling. There have been times when I’ve dealt with this dysfunction better and sometimes worse. During some times I’ve stopped eating hardly anything, and during other times I eat nonstop. I know this yo-yo eating can’t be good for me, so I’ve tried to moderate my eating, not necessarily as a hunger response, but at least trying to eat in moderation. How does this fit in with simplicity? I have come to realize that I think about what I am going to eat virtually all the time. It is very time-consuming to dwell on one activity in a never-ending loop. In praying in preparation for Lent this year, I decided to try the spiritual discipline of fasting. I’ve tried it in the past and always failed, but I wanted to try it again thinking that if I wasn’t constantly thinking about food, I’d have more time to think about God. For the first two weeks of Lent, I’ve chosen one day each week where I only drink liquids. It has amazed me how much freedom that day gives me when I’m not worried about what I’m going to cook (or order) and when I’m going to eat. It wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought, and it makes that day much simpler. I don’t know if I’ll be successful through all six weeks of Lent, but it has brought me a new perspective on my destructive eating habits and how they can be changed. I hope that you’ve found a spiritual discipline this Lent that is giving you a simpler life, too.   Blessings, my friend, Agatha