St. Michael's Episcopal Church: Archangel Winter 2022— The Awe of God

ARCHANGEL

A Publication of St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, Raleigh, NC • Vol. 5, Issue 1, Winter 2022

THE AWE OF GOD

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Table of Contents 4

Mysterium Tremendum

Awe and mystery go to the heart of faith — both fascinating and causing us to tremble. The Rev. Samuel Gregory Jones considers how God exists in much that we cannot understand.

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God’s Divine Mystery

On a mission trip to Guatemala, a young Jamie Pahl has a close encounter with what can only be described as the presence of God.

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The Awe of God

What exactly is awe and what does the Bible say about it? Susan Rountree explores with a favorite theologian and a psychologist the nature of awe and its availability to all of us.

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Who’s Who at St. Michael’s Church Phone: (919) 782-0731

FEATURES 8 Birds of a Feather

Parishioner Hugh Stevens has spent a good part of the pandemic roaming hidden paths in search of feathers full of awe.

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Pulling Out the Stops 2022 marks the 10th anniversary of our Nichols and Simpson pipe organ. Take a look back with Susan Rountree, as she hears its remarkable voice.

Awe and the Law

Two former judges look back at times when they felt God’s presence in and around the courtroom: Hearing death penalty cases and even when a defendant threw the Good Book itself at the judge’s bench.

THE GOOD NEWS 11

A World Changed byJesus

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That Grace Thing

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We Remember

Our seminarian David Nichols shares his love for the season of Epiphany.

A chance encounter with a stranger shows our writer where grace abounds.

A beloved deacon, a choir member, a longago valedictorian, a young woman who loved children, a woman born in Liberia of missionary parents and a peony gardener.

We lost them all in the past few months.

The Rev. Samuel Gregory Jones, Rector ext. 117 The Rev. James L. Pahl, Jr., Vicar ext. 105 The Rev. Holly Gloff, Associate Rector ext. 127 VESTRY

Class of 2022 Liz Driscoll | Matt Marchione | Katherine Poole Logan Price | Melissa Raley Class of 2023 Amanda Carson | Claren Englebreth Robert Marshall | Sam Taylor | Rose Vaughn Williams Class of 2024 Hayden Constance | Leslie De Haven | Sally Duff Tommy Malone | Steve Rolander STAFF

Stella Attaway, Coordinator of Nursery Ministry • ext. 106 Ann Garey, Publications • ext. 103 Charlotte Griffin, Director of Development • ext. 121 Lee Hayden, Director of Operations & Newcomer Ministry • ext.108 Kevin Kerstetter, Director of Music • ext. 101 Susan Little, Financial Administrator • ext. 113 Carolyn L’Italien, Coordinator of Children’s Ministry • ext .130 Jean Olson, Parish Secretary • ext. 112 Susan Rountree, Director of Communications • ext.122 Abby Van Noppen, Director of Children & Youth Ministries • ext. 115 FACILITIES STAFF

Jesús Epigmenio, Groundskeeper Marcela de la Cruz, Housekeeper

On the Cover A recent visit to Antelope Canyon in Nevada c parishioner (and photographer) Karen Waddell closer to God. See more of her photos on pages 22 & 23.

PARISH DAY SCHOOL 782-6430 Mandy Annunziata, Director • ext. 110 Courtney Alford, Assistant Director • ext.114

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Mysterium Tremendum Words: The Rev. Samuel Gregory Jones, Rector

Photo: Susan Rountree

THERE ARE INESCAPABLY BAFFLING MYSTERIES ALL AROUND US, AND I BELIEVE MANY ARE OF A CHARACTER WHICH NO AMOUNT OF RATIONAL GENIUS MAY COMPREHEND. AWE

AND MYSTERY GO TO THE HEART OF FAITH. THE GERMAN PHILOSOPHER RUDOLF OTTO TALKED ABOUT IT OVER A CENTURY AGO, AND HIS NOTIONS HAVE IMPACTED MANY THEOLOGIANS. HE DESCRIBED SOMETHING HE CALLED THE “MYSTERIUM TREMENDUM,” A MYSTERY WHICH BOTH FASCINATES US AND CAUSES US TO TREMBLE.

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ontrary to

what happens

for others oftentimes, I find that scientific

discoveries actually reinforce my faith in God. Indeed, the more I learn about the study of the universe, from quantum theory to biology, though in layman’s terms to be sure, the more I am awestruck. And not by what we cannot know but by what we do know. The human being has been able to perceive, probe and comprehend an incredible amount about the universe, and how it works, and it’s simply amazing. Indeed, we also now know how much more we do not know than ever before, which is also inspiring in its own call to further curiosity, reason and discovery.

In the same way, there is nothing that has been discovered by science that calls into any serious question my deepest convictions about God either. Of course, for most people, once deep convictions about things are formed,

they are pretty indestructible. And I absolutely recognize that we can be quite blind to facts which contradict our beliefs, and we have the sight of eagles when we see facts which support what we already think. That being said, I still have not yet been made aware of any facts which contradict what I believe about Jesus.

Now, I do understand that people are not typically born of virgins. Though, science reveals that nature abounds with virgin births in numerous animal species. Yep, it’s shocking, but true. It’s called parthenogenesis, and it happens all the time. Google it. In the case of Jesus, well, I think it happened perhaps just once among our species.

Likewise, people do not usually perform acts of healing and other deeds of power in ways that appear to be miraculous. But I do think there is abundant evidence establishing the power of prayer, and I accept that people experience mystifying works of healing from time to time. As well, while many people have been resuscitated, in hospital or ambulance usually, nobody has ever risen from the dead the way Jesus did. Yet, I believe that his resurrection was experienced by many people, and they bore witness to it as an event unlike any simple resuscitation of one whose heart had stopped, and that he arose in a way that was awe-inspiring, bizarre, and beyond expectation.

Yes, I believe Jesus was born mysteriously, had unusual healing powers, and was ultimately resurrected, but I also believe he was unique. And in a universe as big as ours,

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with as many wonders as it possesses that we know about — let alone wonder about — it’s not a big stretch of my imagination to think weird stuff is part of the way things are. And thus, the weirdness of the mysteries around Jesus aren’t much weirder to me than a black hole, a wrinkle in the fabric of space-time, a wormhole or anti-matter.

Many of my non-believing friends over the years have said they are sure there’s some “rational explanation” for all this sort of mysterious stuff.

Others more hostile to divine beliefs have suggested that people who believe are simply stupid, or deluded or mentally unhealthy. The most cynical atheists will argue that all religion is nothing more than a drug pushed upon the masses by the few in order to keep them under control. Ironically, I actually agree with many of these statements, to an extent. Many religious people are ignorant. Many are superstitious. Many are deluded and indeed have been the dupes of manipulative religious hierarchs. Furthermore, it goes without question that all religious organizations have done wrong, in so many ways.

And yet, at the same time, there are inescapably baffling mysteries all around us, and I believe many are of a character which no amount of rational genius may comprehend. As well, I simply believe there are capacities of the human being to perceive things that go beyond what the material senses may pick up. Further, I believe it to be a historical fact that from time to time groups of people have experienced and witnessed factual events that were of the sort which may only be described as truly mysterious … events which are enormously awe-inspiring and which transform those who experience them.

The faith I have in Jesus is built upon this sort of thing. And no matter how much the religion which bears his name has been twisted or abused, I think

it’s rooted in true things, which actually are real, and which I actually perceive as being real in my mind and heart. It’s not just a bunch of statements which other people foist upon me, and it’s not just wishful thinking, or creative delusion. No, it’s built on facts, awesome facts — facts which may not be visible to all in all times and places, but which are indeed real nonetheless.

The experience of an awe-inspiring creation, the experience of deeply mysterious events in life, and in the lives of others which I am told about, these things work together in concert with the equally awesome witness of the Gospels — consisting of all those things Jesus said and did, and what was said and done about him and in him. This is what lies in and around my faith in God through Christ.

Awe and mystery go to the heart of faith. The German philosopher Rudolf Otto talked about it over a century ago, and his notions have impacted many theologians. He described something he called the mysterium tremendum, a mystery which both fascinates us and causes us to tremble. Otto described the feeling of mysterium tremendum as sweeping over one like a “gentle tide pervading the mind with a tranquil mood of deepest worship.”

When “in the presence of that which is a mystery inexpressible,” fear and trembling are the likely responses.

Likely, and in a way, reasonable.

In this issue of Archangel, we explore this most inexpressible mystery that we come to know as awe. God’s awe surrounds us in the natural world, in music, in our work and in our relationships with each other. We’ll try to capture this complex emotion, which is not easily defined.

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God’s Divine Mystery Words & Photo: The Rev. James L. Pahl Jr., D. Min., Vicar

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hen I

ponder “the awe,

mystery and power of God,” I natu-

rally reflect upon the descriptive words the theologian, Walter Brueggemann uses in his book, The Prophetic Imagination: “newness, energy, amazement, astonishment.” And, I ask myself, where have I felt or sensed these in and throughout my life? Yes, perhaps on a daily basis in small, unassuming ways, but also in large, heart-moving, life-changing ways as well!

In August 1988, I was on a short-term mission trip with St. Michael’s, and I experienced this amazing astonishment — it was powerful, yet mysterious. We were in the country of Guatemala doing work at an orphanage.

Yet it was so much more than labor. Our main objective was to show these abandoned children the love of God … that they were loved and cherished. One evening our group attended a worship service in a small, poverty-stricken village outside the city. A baptism took place in the river that ran just behind the church building, and we were invited to come forward for the laying-on of hands and prayer — and that unto itself was powerful.

In my daily journal, Day Four, I wrote: “During the service anyone that wanted to be prayed for came to the front. We stood up, touched them, and prayed for them. During that moment I experienced something incredible. I could actually feel the Holy Spirit (at least I believe that is what it was) flowing through these people.” But it was the ride back in the van to the orphanage where the divine awe really overcame me.

I sat in the front seat of a passenger van between the director of the orphanage on my left and a minister to my right. The rest of our group sat in the rows behind me.

Everyone was talking boisterously about what we had just experienced, and even the director and the minister were having a conversation across me, as I sat there staring off into the night’s sky. Just then I saw the brightest flash of light off to my right, and simultaneously, I felt the most intense burning, heartwarming presence overcome me, from head to toes. It was a warm, comforting feeling that gave me assurance that “all is well … all will be well!”

The conversations in the van continued to happen all around me, and no one knew what I was experiencing in the moment. I couldn’t speak … there were no words! Once again, in my journal I wrote, “As we left, I began to cry, because I saw and felt something I wish everyone could see and feel. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it was beautiful. Nobody will ever know what I felt that night on the way back.” It would take several years for me to more fully comprehend what I experienced. And, when I told the director of the orphanage about it, he said I had been touched by God! Ever since that evening in Guatemala, there has never been a doubt in my mind that I was standing in the very real, mysterious presence of the Lord. And although it took some time for me to more fully understand what I encountered, it was life-changing. To this day I have never forgotten the experience — always trying to relive it in my mind and heart. The truth of the matter is, over the years as I have spoken about the experience and shared it with others, there were times when I jealously attempted to claim it as my own, only to recognize the fallacy of that ownership. It is not my place, and certainly not “a possession” one can own. But, you know what it was for me? It was my “standing on Mount Sinai

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moment,” unable to look into the mysterious manifestation of God in the cloud like Moses. Or, my “standing on Mount Tabor for the transfiguration moment,” in which Peter, James, and John experienced — like them, I did not want to leave! For me, that was the experience of “the awe and mystery of God” in a large way — I wanted to just stay there and revel in it forever. And, all of this is scriptural in how many saints of old have experienced this awe. Just take a look.

The awe of God found in newness and renewed energy: “And they were all amazed, so that they questioned among themselves saying, ‘What is this? A new teaching?’” (Mark 1:27) “And they were filled with awe, and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even wind and sea obey him?’”

(Mark 4:41) “And many who heard him were astonished, saying, ‘Where did this man get all this? What is the wisdom given to him? What mighty works are wrought by his hands!’” (Mark 6:2) The awe of God found in amazement: “And amazement seized them all, and they glorified God and were filled with awe, saying, ‘We have seen strange things today.’” (Luke 5:26) “And all were astonished at the majesty of God.” (Luke 9:43) “When the disciples heard this, they fell on their faces, and were filled with awe.” (Matthew 17:6) “But marveling at his answer they were silent.”

(Luke 22:26)

The awe of God in being astonished: “And when Jesus finished these sayings, the crowds were astonished at his teaching, for he taught them as one who had authority, and not as their scribes.” (Matthew 7:28) “And he got into the boat with them and the wind ceased.

And they were utterly astounded.” (Mark 6:51) “And they were astonished beyond measure, saying, ‘He has done all things well; he even makes the deaf hear and the dumb speak.” (Mark 7:37) The Emmaus story: “Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him.

They said to each other, ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?’” (Luke 24:13-25) The renowned 18th century, New England preacher Jonathan Edwards, once emphasized that the Holy Spirit is not a special revelation, rather a sweet touch that gives assurance of faith to those indwelled. Edwards emphasizes that the Holy Spirit uses various aspects of the Church and liturgy as instruments to act upon a believer. In other words, this refers to the various conduits by which the awe and mystery of God captures our hearts.

For instance, the Holy Spirit could use the sermon, a prayer, the music, the Eucharist, etc. In his writing, Religious Affections, Edwards further explains his understanding of the work of the Holy Spirit to some degree in every Christian person. “Thus Christians are called spiritual persons because they are born of the spirit, and because of the indwelling and holy influences of the Spirit of God in them.” The Spirit of God influences many, and even those who are not Christian, although they may not understand the nature of the influence. I make the case that the awe, mystery and power of God Continued on Page 24

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Words: Anna McLamb

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Art: Waffle House

Birds of a Words & Photography: Hugh Stevens

Birds are

living miracles.

How else would you characterize a ruby-throated hummingbird?

It ew ighs less than a nickel, but migrates non-stop across the Gulf of Mexico — a trip of 18 to 22 hours — twice a year.

What other description Thts the pair of Baltimore orioles who,-af ter breeding in the northern U.S., faithfully return to my feeders each October with their o spring in tow?

In late July, the bobolinks ew see in Maine leave at the end of their breeding season to y to Patagonia in southern South America — a trip their edglings have never made. ey’ll return next spring. Over its lifetime, a bobolink will make this 12,500mile round trip several times, traveling the equivalent of four or Thve times around the circumference of the Earth. If that’s not miraculous, what is?

I became interested in birds at an early age, but didn’t watch them in any systematic way until a few years ago. My father loved birds, and by the time I was 8 or 9 I could distinguish between the calls of a Whip-Poor-Will and a Chuck Wills Widow – neither of which I have heard in many years. Later on my late friend Bob Spearman spurred my interest.

I began photographing birds seriously when Marilyn and I started traveling to Mexico, Costa Rica and other international destinations. I’ve photographed an Orange-Breasted Bunting at our friend’s house in Oaxaca in 2010, and a Iijera r(F igatebird) in 2012. In the interim ew v’ e traveled to some places with the speciThc intention of seeing birds, including Africa e(K nya and Tanzania), Trinidad and the Galapagos. I started with a 100 mm lens, moved up to 100-300, and Thnally got a 150-600 during Covid.

Customarily, Baltimore orioles don’t winter over this far north, but it appears that the warming climate has expanded their winter range. My Thrst encounter with them occurred in October

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Feather about six years ago when I noticed a bird on the feeders outside my home office that I didn’t recognize. I took a photo and sent it to Kim Brand at North Carolina Audubon, who told me that it was a female Baltimore oriole.

“If there’s a female,” she said, “there’s a male, too.” She said that although the orioles likely were migratory, some local birders had been successful in attracting them to stay. On her recommendation, I got an oriole feeder at Logans and put grape jelly in one of the feeder’s glass jars and meal worms in the other. The orioles stayed and have returned every year since. They visit daily until around mid-April.

The best story about the relationship between one’s awe of birds and God is John Updike’s “Pigeon Feathers,” which was published in The New Yorker issue of Aug. 19, 1961. Updike was only 29 at the time. You may know that in his later years he was a parishioner at St. John’s, Beverly Farms, Mass., where our son George is rector. George conducted Updike’s funeral in 2009.

Scientists tell us that birds can see color, which seems only fair, because their amazing diversity of colors and patterns brings us so much joy. Every one of the dazzling colors that clothe more than 10,000 bird species is produced by a subtle combination of pigments and light refraction, each of which feels to me like a unique little miracle.

I’ve been fortunate to see and photograph birds in many places, including Trinidad, Africa and Mexico, but you don’t have to travel widely to appreciate and enjoy the beauty and variety of birds. Each of the nine species pictured on the next page was spotted within a few miles of St. Michael’s, and there are many more commonplace songbirds right in our neighborhoods — including the Eastern bluebirds, Carolina chickadees, nuthatches, Eastern mockingbirds and Northern cardinals who nest right in the church garden.

Just look around you, and be awed.

Background photo: Dawn in the Galapagos More photos on the next page.

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Hugh Stevens Photography

Clockwise, from upper left: I found this Blue Grosbeak one Easter weekend on Mid Pines Road south of downtown Raleigh. This happy Prothonotary Warbler entertained me and several other birders at Yates Mill Pond Park. Northern Flickers like this beauty visit our feeders periodically.

The green heron was fishing alongside the Crabtree Creek Greenway near Raleigh Boulevard.

Great Egrets like this one hang out at Lake Lynn and other local parks most of the year. In summer ruby-throated hummingbirds fuel up on nectar for their long journeys to the Caribbean. Baltimore orioles visit the feeders outside my home office every day in winter. They love grape jelly. Goldfinches flock to our garden in late spring for the poppy seeds. At left, the Eastern Phoebe shows us why it is classified as a variety of “flycatcher.”

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A World Changed by Jesus Words: David Nichols, seminarian, Duke University Divinity School

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have always

What are we to make of these stories? Why do we celebrate a feast day and subsequent festal season for the for the feast of the Epiphany and the days following, Epiphany? We celebrate because the miracle of the Incarnation and God’s revelation of Himself in the human persince my birthday is on Jan. 6, when the season begins son of Jesus changes everything about our world. Christians teach that God created all matter, space and time each year. Yet there is real substance to the theme of this out of absolutely nothing. God is bound by none of these things, but is something entirely season, which follows on the heels of Jesus, after all, isn’t just a teacher other and greater. The thought that the 12 days of Christmas. If Christthis God would not only choose to or a vague spiritual reality. He unite Himself to the world that He mas is the direct celebration of God’s made, but consent to be conceived walked the paths of the Earth. and born as a baby is remarkable. taking on flesh in holy Mary’s womb, He healed illnesses instantly. He The Christian tradition has long Epiphany is its sister celebration, raised people from the dead. He understood that the fact that God wherein we celebrate Jesus Christ’s is united to humanity in the person died and yet was raised, promising of Jesus changes the reality of our revealing himself as God-made man. us that our bodies would be raised world. It changes our reality, not only because of Jesus the Son’s The three stories most closely assodeath on the cross for our redempfrom the dead as well. His is a ciated with the Epiphany of Christ tion (though this is crucial!), but by are the visit of the Magi, the baptism power, not just over some spiritual beginning to heal our fallen human of Jesus, and the Wedding at Cana. nature and enabling a new relationIn these stories, we receive powerful part of our minds, but also over ship with God. testimonies about who Jesus Christ is.

The very fabric of the cosmos arrang- the whole of material Creation, as God’s fingerprints were already all es itself to proclaim the presence of over us and the rest of Creation, but well as the spiritual and heavenly God in Christ as the star attracts the also in His Incarnation as a human Wise Men from far in the East to realm where the angels dwell. we are drawn even closer — able to come and worship the child Jesus. In see and draw nearer to the God reJesus’ baptism, God reveals Himself vealed in Jesus than we were before. in the fullness of the Trinity; Jesus the Son is baptized in “The world is charged,” Gerard Hopkins writes, “with the the Jordan River while the Holy Spirit descends in the grandeur of God.” This is the miracle of Incarnation. form of a dove and the voice of the Father thunders from Heaven. In the wedding at Cana, Jesus shows not only his I think the Incarnation of our Lord enables all kinds of love for his mother and friends by aiding in the wedding little miracles that we sometimes take for granted. Jesus, celebration, but also his power over the world that he after all, isn’t just a teacher or a vague spiritual reality. He made with the Father in the beginning, altering the elewalked the paths of the Earth. He healed illnesses instantments of the water and making them into wine. had a soft spot

Continued on page 21

Pulling Out the Stops Words: Susan Rountree

File Photo: Graham Rountree

ST. MICHAEL’S ORGAN TURNS 10 YEARS OLD THIS YEAR. TAKE A LOOK BACK AT ONE AWE-FILLED DAY AS IT FIRST FOUND ITS VOICE.

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sa

cradle Episcopalian, I am not at all comfortable talking about God to people I don’t know. But I pray every day, I go to church every week, and I understand that God does work in my life all the time.

Even when I don’t ask Him to. And most often when I least deserve it.

People who don’t work for churches might think that in everyday church work there are moments when God hovers close by. That may be true for some, but a lot of the time I’ve found a day’s makeup to be much like I imagine that of the secular office world — yelling at the office copier — one more time — or not understanding how the phone system works. And all those emails about all the typos you make during a given week. (That would be a lot.)

One thing that probably doesn’t happen much in the secular world is having organ music waft down the hallways.

Real live organ music, not some recorded stuff, emitting from thousands of pipes that are just getting used to their voices. It’s loud and sweet and moving and oh, so like you think God’s voice sounds when it’s not small and still.

My God moment began with music. Greg heard it first and wandered down the hall toward the church as if drawn by the pied piper, and I followed. It is not unusual for us to hear Kevin Kerstetter, practicing for Sunday. But this, well, we knew this was different.

Once inside the almost empty church, I chuckled as the theme from Star Wars shouted from the pipes. Then my eyes moved toward a small cluster of women gathered in the pews. One sat in a wheelchair, and as I drew closer I recognized her as a parishioner whose body waged a battle with ALS. I had last seen her two years before when she came to have her picture taken for the church directory.

Dressed in a sweater as blue as a bachelor’s button, she was beautiful, and I told her so. She tried to speak but had clearly lost her voice. I didn’t know about her illness, so I asked if she had laryngitis. She wrote on a pad and handed

it to me, explaining that the disease was talking now.

She could no longer walk, though as she sat, she wrote down the music she wanted to hear Kevin play for her own private concert.

He played “Silent Night” and “Amazing Grace”— in ways I’d never heard them in all my years of listening. I pulled out the prayer book and said a few silent prayers for another parishioner and friend in the hospital. (And a couple for myself.)

And then Kevin said: “Now I’m going to pull out all the stops.”

From the moment he played the first notes of Bach’s “Toccata in D minor” — the organ music from “Phantom of the Opera” — the change in the room was palpable.

I watched Kevin play, wishing I was sitting behind him so I could see the movement of his fingers and hands as he worked at the console, pulling out stops and playing keys and pedals, giving his new console a real workout. Then suddenly I felt the music wrap itself around me, and I just closed my eyes, hearing each organ note, not only with my ears but within me, transported, as he played, to somewhere I had not visited before.

And he played on, like a new parent coaxing this infant instrument to speak up, and clearly.

When I did open my eyes, they were drawn upward, toward the pipes themselves, their powerful notes blending as they shouted, whispered, shouted again. I have not yet found the adjectives to adequately describe what I heard, but it was remarkable.

Finally I looked at the clutch of women gathered around their chair-bound friend, and they were weeping.

Kevin played more softly then, and Greg and I slipped out and back to the work at hand. But the moment didn’t

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leave me. Kevin’s playing was meant as a gift for a woman who likely would never again hear music played in the church she loves. Yes, the gift was hers, but all of us present received it, too.

For months I had reported on the progress as our new organ was being built. And in August of 2011, when the first pipes began to arrive, I started taking pictures — hundreds of them — to record this historic moment in the life of our parish. I climbed up in the pipe chamber, learned that pipes are made of wood and steel and range in size from the height and breadth of a fledgling oak to some the size of a golf pencil. They are round and square. And the keys that make them work are crafted of polished bone and rosewood. I listened as the organ builders refined the voice of each of those thousands of pipes to fit our space.

But in that moment, I came to understand just how an organ is so much more than a collection of pipes and wood. It’s a breathing thing.

I’ve written and rewritten that last sentence a dozen times now. It just sounds so over-the-top, clichéd to call a musical instrument a living thing. Well, it was an over-the-top moment for me. It felt like God got down from the lofty place we often put Him and sat in the pew with me. And with the woman in the wheelchair. I don’t know how she felt about her disease, but I can imagine how I would feel. I would want to roar as loudly as those pipes, saying “Can’t you hear me? I am angry!” and then I would probably cry softly for a little while.

If you think about it, maybe what happened that day was that our new organ gave God a voice to speak to a woman who won’t ever have a voice again, and He said, “I am angry, too. And I am crying with you. Despite all, there is still great beauty in the world.” And she — we — all understood what He was saying.

Susan Rountree is director of communications for St. Michael’s.This story first appeared on susanbyrumrountree. blogspot.com in 2011.

Read more of her work at susanbyrumrountree.com

The Awe of God W

hat is awe exactly? To better understand this complex emotion, Susan Rountree talks with Presiding Bishop Michael Curry and Duke University professor of psychology Patty Van Cappellen, about the power of awe and our openness to it.

Art Adobe Stock

Story by Susan Byrum Rountree

T

he car

in front of me at the Chick-

fil-A drive through bears the license plate:

Glorious! That stops me as I wait for my Diet Coke, and I wonder what has happened in the driver’s life to provoke such a particular vanity plate. Likely not vanity at all, but some sense of truth they have found just by living.

For the world is glorious and awe-provoking, despite what TV news screams at us. It is powerful and ponderous, poignant and perplexing. At times, we simply can’t explain how the world works.

When I was a child, I studied the “S” World Book Encyclopedia, not because my name begins with that letter, but for the pictures of snowflakes. I marveled at the six-sided wonders — some like stars, others like ferns, others, diamonds or columns — most of them so minute it’s hard to see their intricacies before they melt. I know it’s physics: Cold water meets dust that freezes into ice crystals. But what’s particularly interesting is that each snowflake develops the same geometry, no matter their design.

The mystery of this is confounding. Yet for every question I turn over in my head — like a tiny snowflake floating down toward my sleeve —I can only come up with one answer to explain it: God. Scientists have pondered in wonder at the world and its makeup ever since Aristotle. It’s the muse of poets and musicians, artists of every ilk — since the spirit of God moved over the face of the earth in Genesis, our awe-filled world has summoned questioners asking: How can this be?

Awe. It’s an emotion not easily understood yet we all experience it, and at different levels. People feel awe in experiences as vast as walking the caverns of the Grand Canyon and as small as seeing that dusting of snowflakes on your sleeve. But studies show that even for those who are not spiritual by nature, the common thread in the emotion of awe is that it evokes the feeling that something larger is in control of the world.

“The roots of religious experience can probably be traced to something that makes your mouth drop open,” The Most Rev. Michael Curry, presiding bishop and primate of the Episcopal Church told me. “Something that clearly is beyond the horizon of what you conceive of as possible

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or what is conceivable. Theologians use to speak of God as a W-H-O-L-L-Y Other… It’s a way of talking about transcendence. That Wholly Other, a God Beyond God. When we get to the language of the Hebrew Scriptures, the Almighty, actually comes out of the experience of awe.”

Anyone who has heard and watched Bishop Curry in the pulpit knows that he understands the awe of God. Though when asked about it, he says that it’s not something people talk about a lot. But awe is all over the Bible.

Nature, he says, is often the conduit.

“Mount Sinai, where Moses has the vision of the burning bush, is a volcano,” he says. “So imagine being there without ambient light, and being there at night, and that volcano is rumbling. And like the old spiritual, sometimes it causes you to tremble. Not only did the volcano tremble, but so did Moses. And that precipitated an experience that led to a conversation with God. And to the vision.

“There you have nature becoming a conduit for having an experience with The Other. Here is a reality that’s bigger than human beings. Than us. We are wonderful, but we are not the high point of creation,” he adds.

“That experience of something profoundly greater, that Wholly Other, does make the mouth drop open. And may make you fall on your knees.”

It’s all over the Bible, he says. It started with Moses, then Elijah. “He’s the one who had an experience with fire, but he said, ‘It’s not in the wind and it’s not in the fire, it’s not in the earthquake… there was an utter stillness, a silence that I can’t define that defies anything I’ve experienced before.’ He called it the still small voice. But no, it was a silence so deep that you can’t even call it silence, because when you call it silence, you’ve called it a noise. That’s the experience of the Wholly Other.”

Psychologists have only begun to study positive emotions like awe in the past 20 years or so, Patty Van Cappellen, research professor of psychology at Duke University, told me. For many years, only negative emotions garnered psychology’s attention. But in 2003, in a landmark paper, psychologists Dachner Keltner and Jonathan Haidt suggested that experiences of awe can be characterized by two phenomena: “perceived vastness” and a “need for

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accommodation.”

“This is the gold standard in psychology research,” says Dr. Van Cappellen, whose own work centers on positive emotions and religious experiences. “I try to explain it as the emotional response to perceptually vast stimuli, that are beyond our current understanding. The vastness part can be something that’s physically large or something you perceive as grand. It could be something very small. It could be the Grand Canyon, but also an intricate piano concerto. It’s a lot of different things. When we are faced with something we have difficulty integrating into our typical understanding of the world, we have to update that.”

As a psychologist she was first drawn to the study of positive emotions from her experience with religion. With a dual degree — a PhD in psychology and a master’s in biblical studies — she has been interested in emotions and religion, awe being among the more frequent emotions she studies. “Because I studied the Hebrew Bible, I was interested in the Hebrew verb YHWH, ‘to feel God,’ but also translated into ‘being in AWE of God.’ So it intrigued me. It could be positive, it could be negative, so what is it exactly?”

Her studies took her toward “awe” but also what she calls “self-transcendent” emotions. “Most emotions are elicited because something is happening to your ‘self ’… but awe is really about seeing something around you that’s beautiful or good. It’s not about you.”

“To experience awe, we have to open ourselves up to it, she says. “It’s not related to our own self-interest, but to the beauty that surrounds us.” With awe, the self falls away.

Bishop Curry understands this concept well.

“In Isaiah 6, he’s in the temple, where he’d been many times before, but this time, he sees a vision, of God on the throne above the cherubim and he hears these strange cherubim and seraphim crying, “Wholly! Wholly!” And again, it’s not ‘holy,’ that’s the English, which is the best we can do. It’s “WHOLLY! WHOLLY!” It’s like when my grandmother says: ‘Sweet Jesus!’You don’t have anything else you can say, you stumble out something. That was the call of the prophet Isaiah.

“And what is really going on in the experience of Mary we all think of when the archangel approaches her?” he asks.

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AWE, from Page 15

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ribus unum “Was that a vision on the night that she dreamed? Or was this that same pattern of experience of that Wholly Other reality breaking in to her reality? The angel says: ‘You’re going to have a baby,’ and she says: ‘How can this be, since I’m a virgin?’ That’s a stupid thing to say in front of an angel, but that’s what you do!”

“As [Paul] Tillich would say, ‘religion comes from real deep experience of something. And then we have to interpret it. What did I hear?’ The experience of awe and wonder is the experience of the mysterium tremendum.”

“As a psychologist, I would say you can feel awe and not believe in God,” says Dr. Van Cappellen. “But awe very quickly draws you to, there has got to be something more, something beyond what you’re seeing. Atheists can experience awe, but in my research, the simple fact of having these experiences gives you a sense that life is meaningful and helps re-establish your faith in God. These emotions spark something that is a closeness to God.” We each encounter opportunities for awe every day, but as Bishop Curry says, we don’t notice it.

who handed out the Great Seal of the United States to teach them our country’s motto: E Pluribus Unum, “out of many, one.”

Midway through 2020, he began participating in Zoom calls about how to bring people together after such political upheaval and racial unrest.

“I was doing a lot of speaking virtually,” he says. “And I began to speak on the subject of ‘Is E Pluribus Unum even possible?’ So I started thinking about Mrs. Lenny and the Great Seal. In my mind, I’m going back to fifth grade, and I vaguely remember that she told us something about Cicero.”

He began researching Cicero, the Roman statesman, digging up where he first used the term E Pluribus Unum.

“It was in the context of him writing about how do you form a republic?” Bishop Curry tells me. “He said it’s only possible when one person learns to love another person as much as they love themselves. Then E Pluribus Unum will be possible.

e pluribus unum The secret, he says, is to slow down.

“Psalm 46. In the midst of all this tumult, the psalmist says: ‘Be still, and know that I am God.’ The pattern of having to be still, of being silent before the mystery. [This] may well be the precondition for every once in awhile being able to experience it,” he says. “Until you’re still, you don’t notice it.”

The German theologian Ruldolph Otto in “The Idea of Holy,” in 1917 defined what he called “numinous,” a divine experience that can only be evoked, not taught — an experience not based on reason.

“The experience of awe may be impossible until we are humbled,” Bishop Curry says. “It’s similar to learning.

Someone cannot learn with arrogance. If I’m puffed up, I can’t learn. To actually learn anything, I need to humble myself before the knowledge, the teachers. It’s not self-abdication. It’s opening up my ego to new insights. Wow!” When he was in fifth grade, Bishop Curry was among the black students to integrate the public schools in his community. He recalls his fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Lenny,

“I’m telling you that was awe. And ‘Oh my God!’ I had been open. If I had arrogantly assumed I knew everything I knew from fifth grade, awe was not possible. In that moment, I thought… ‘this is the key to America making it. There is no other key!’ I learned that in the fifth grade.

Better yet, Cicero said that centuries ago. Better yet! Jesus said that! And Moses said that! I didn’t start with Jesus and Moses, but this experience brought me to God. “How do we inculcate the kind of humility that says, ‘I need God, and I need the community that will help me find [God]’” he asked me?

“We need to be uncomfortable. That’s part of humilty.

And opening up to awe and wonder is a profound call to humilty. It is a willingness to risk my pride, and my sense of self-sufficiency, to trust God to do it God’s way and not Michael’s way. Arrogance — not on its own — can’t see the face of God.” So. Awe. It’s evoked, not taught. It’s powerful and calm. It causes joy and trembling. And it’s there for everyone. All we need to do is quiet ourselves and open our hearts to the world’s wonder.

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The Thing about Grace Words: Beth Grace

M

y last

name has, at times, been a

source of embarrassment. Grace.

A beautiful word, for sure. But if you look it up, the first meaning of the word is this: simple elegance or refinement of movement.

I am neither refined nor elegant. I trip on my own feet and generally say the wrong thing. Refined movement?

If you call lolling on my worn La-Z-boy, pounding back an under-warmed Lean Cuisine while watching the Wheel refined … then I’m Princess Grace.

Grace, it would seem, is a bit of a misnomer.

But there’s another meaning, a spiritual meaning that gives me hope that one day I can live up to my own last name. Grace is, essentially, a kindness from God that we don’t deserve. It is divine assistance in real time.

It’s that little light of ours that we sometimes let shine.

Now, that I can get behind. The word drives the action.

If I am awake and alert, I can be its hands and feet.

It was Grace that gave me Walter.

On assignment out of town for work, I spent a long day writing in my hotel room, then decided to head out in search of dinner before it got too dark. I headed the car to the hotel exit, a bit of a hill that connected to the four-laner just above. In front of me, smack in the middle of that hill, was a tiny man dressed in a tweed jacket and scarf, a bit too light for the chill in the air. He was wheeling — well, trying to wheel — two 150-pound suitcases and a duffel bag UP the hill, clearly trying to get to the big road above.

I was stuck behind him. And I was, Heaven help me, irritated. He swerved to the side of the road, maybe to get out of my way.

And Grace stepped in.

I never do this: I rolled the window down and yelled, “Sir, are you in trouble? Do you need help?”

“YES!” he yelled, his face breaking into a cheek-tocheek smile. He explained he needed to get to the VA

Medical Center. “Do you know where that is?” I asked.

Not for sure, he said, but GPS says it’s only 15 minutes from here. He was, he added, going to try to make it on foot.

Again – I NEVER do this. I mean … a woman alone, asking a strange man to get into the car, to drive somewhere she has never been as it’s getting dark outside.

Please God, I prayed, don’t let him be some kind of luggage-lugging axe murderer.

“You are so not going to do that,” I said. “Hop in, I’ll take you there.” I GPS-ed the VA and found it — it really was only 15 minutes away. A good sign I was not about to become a Dateline headliner.

And hop in he did. He actually hopped. He was a small man, kind of elfin looking. Masked, waving a vaccination card, he loaded his huge bags into the trunk, and hopped into the front seat. He introduced himself with a flourish and looked at me with gratitude through his Harry Potter-like glasses.

He told me a story about why he was there and where he had been. I can’t say if it was true or not. He didn’t say he was homeless, but I suspect those bags held most of his earthly possessions. He said he was in need of some medications he had left behind somewhere, and the VA had promised to help him if he could just get there.

Then he stopped talking, and looked at me, cocking his head. “I am a praying man,” he said. “I was praying for help. And there you were. It’s grace. Pure grace. God’s grace.” He talked nonstop about grace for the next few minutes.

I looked at him and smiled from behind my own mask.

By this time, I was totally enamored of this tiny little man from nowhere. I reached over and touched his arm.

“Now Walter,” I said. “I don’t want to wig you out … but … my last name is Grace.”

His mouth formed the perfect “O” and he said, “It is NOT!” I laughed and said, “Well, Walter, I think there’s a special place in hell for somebody who would make that up.”

Continued on page 21

Awe and the Law Two former judges explore how they’ve seen God’s work play out inside the courtroom and beyond.

Robert F. Orr, Jr.

F

Bob Orr was Associate Justice on the North Carolina Supreme Court from 19942004.

grossly under-prepared at the beginning for being on the Supreme Court and the overwhelming challenge of hearing appeals from the imposition of the death penalty on defendants.

or 10 years I served as a justice on the North Carolina Supreme Court. Awe — and the law — may

Under North Carolina law, in order for a death sentence to be imposed in a case, there has to be at least never have been addressed in the same sentence before, but one statutory aggravating factor found by the jury. And upon imposition of a death sentence, the case is appealed I’m game to try. straight to the N.C. Supreme Court for review. On my What any justice sees in the context of the work at the Su- very first week at the court we heard five cases (along preme Court level is primarily lots of reading with lengthy with 22 others) in which death was the sentence. The court was inundated with hundreds of pages of briefs on briefs and well prepared lawyers all suited up, articulating the legal arguments at issue before the seven-member court. these death sentence cases, many of them on “technical” legal and constitutional grounds. To say that I felt overwhelmed would be an understatement.

On the surface one would struggle to find much of anything that fits the definition of “awe,” but occasionally it might pop up in the context of the quality and impact of a Like most people, my views on the death penalty were lawyer’s oral argument. But on reflection, there are aspects maybe ambivalent, but I certainly wasn’t an opponent of the ultimate punishment in cases where a terrible of what I observed during my time on the court, that I crime or crimes had taken place. As an observer from believe could be properly described as awe at the hand of a distance, I confess it was easy to sit back and say that God at work in the broader context of the cases we heard the defendant deserved to be put to death based upon and decided. the horrendous facts presented. Suddenly, however, I At many of the swearing-in ceremonies that I’ve attended at was now part of the decision-making process and those the Supreme Court, Micah 6:8 is often quoted: “What does technical legal questions all now carried extra weight the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, considering the potential end result of a fellow human being executed. and to walk humbly with your God?” The members of the court are often reminded that our responsibility is “to do As compelling responsibility as reviewing and potenjustice,” but that admonition in and of itself is filled with tially determining that a death sentence would stand, daily conflicts. Members of the judiciary are expected to it paled in comparison to those circumstances I soon honor their oath to follow the law and precedent and to faced when the first execution was set. Every time the not let personal beliefs — spiritual or political or philosophical — override or influence their decisions. The facts state’s death penalty process was put in motion, the court would receive a host of filings, many on the day of exeand law of the case control. cution, seeking to have the execution stayed. Counsel for the defendant facing execution inevitably pulled out all Probably no area of the law, particularly during my tenure the stops and issues trying to convince the court that the on the court, challenged this moral conflict more than in dealing with death penalty cases and racial prejudice issues. execution should be stopped. The legal and moral weight of that responsibility was grounds for deep reflection on While I had spent 11 years practicing law and then eight the system, as well the religious and moral implications. years as a judge on the Court of Appeals, I confess I was Art: Adobe Stock

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Many of the issues raised in these cases involved challenges to racial prejudice in selecting jurors or decisions precipitating arrest that had the defendant stopped in the first place on questionable racial grounds. Having grown up in the segregated South, I was well aware that the system of justice, particularly for African-American defendants, was suspect under the best circumstances.

Virtually all-white juries, white prosecutors, white judges, white law enforcement and inherent prejudices, generated a host of legal and constitutional issues that the court had to grapple with — the decisions on such issues perhaps determining life or death for the defendant.

So, where in such a system did I —or should I — have been struck with awe at God’s presence, amidst the horrific facts of these cases and the consistent thread of substance abuse and personal circumstances? I believe that is answered by the women and men who having chosen law as a career path, took on these cases for the men and women charged with murder and subject to execuRose Vaughn Williams Rose Vaughn Williams, a former elected District Court Judge in Wayne, Lenoir and Greene Counties, now is Executive Director of the NC League of Municipalities.

In the

first eight years of law practice in Goldsboro I did a lot of civil defense work around eastern North Carolina. My firm represented several insurance companies, and I represented people who were being sued for having caused an auto accident. In one case I will never forget, I was involved because the insurance company insured a vehicle used in a crime. The company simply wanted to pay its policy limits and get out of the civil litigation.

The case was before a Superior Court Judge one morning as part of an overall resolution that involved all aspects of the case — including the criminal charges against my client. My client had driven his car with some friends to a bridge over a highway. He stopped the car and took a heavy piece of concrete out of the trunk. He then threw it over the overpass onto a passing car. The cement went through the windshield and very seriously and permanently injured the passenger. The victim suffered permanent brain damage. She was to spend the rest of her life in a facility--with the faculties of a small child. Her husband

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tion. Pay was inevitably low and there were certainly no cheering crowds applauding their tenacity and legal skills in advocating for those considered “the worst” of society.

In retrospect, their passion and commitment to justice for those condemned to death by the state— even those who had unquestionably committed heinous crimes — reflected the handiwork of God whose only Son was likewise condemned and executed by the state.

Let me add one final note about the court’s Messenger, Joyce McFarland, a smiling, bubbly African American woman. One morning before court I came into the office and found Joyce standing by my desk. “What’s up, Joyce?”

I asked. Joyce smiled and said, “Each day before court I go into each Justice’s chambers and say a prayer for them to do justice and humbly serve our Lord.” In that moment, perhaps more than any other in my career there, I was in awe of the spirit of God amongst the staid, and occasional life and death business of the court.

had been driving the car below and was in court that day for the proceedings: with his life, and that of his wife’s, forever changed.

In the empty jury room beside the courtroom I sat with my client and the jailer charged with keeping an eye on him. My client was a young man. I knew from my work on the case that he had had a difficult life. He had a very bad attitude and was especially angry that day. I did not represent him on the criminal charges, but I knew he felt he had gotten an unfair plea deal. He thought his friends had gotten off too easy. He was complaining, angry, and belligerent. I knew the victim’s husband was in the courtroom and I was admonishing my client to be quiet— to be respectful. I told him the victim’s husband was going to be in the courtroom when he went in and that he should not act this way. Before I could finish this lecture, the victim’s husband walked in to the jury room.

He strode toward my client with focus-speaking to no one else. He went straight to the young man and without saying a word he put his hand on the young man’s shoulder. He looked him in the eye and he said “Promise me.

When you finish here today and serve your time, you will put all this behind you. Promise me you will make something of yourself. Don’t let this define your life. Move on with your life. Put this behind you and do good.” He turned and left as quickly as he came in, saying nothing to Continued on the next page

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LAW, from page 19

anyone else. In the quiet that followed, my client sat still as tears came down his face.

God was working in that husband and that young man that day, and I was a silent witness. That husband gave a gift to that young man who had really never had anyone give much attention to him unless it was for something bad. I will never forget what I saw. Months later I learned that a local church near the prison where he had been sent had been working with him. Later he was allowed release to go to that church for certain events. I don’t know what became of him after that, but I hope that the husband’s forgiveness and heartfelt instruction stayed with him.

District Court in North Carolina is truly a “people’s court.” It’s a place no one wants to be, but, as He is everywhere, God is there. Many people have to go at some time in their lives — usually not for something good. Traffic tickets. Divorce. Child custody arrangements. Small contract disputes. Shoplifting or simple assault. If you’re a juvenile charged with a crime or alleged to be abused by a parent or guardian, you go to the juvenile sessions of District Court.

Art: Adobe Stock

When I became a District Court Judge in 2001 in the Eighth Judicial District, I was the first woman to have ever held that role. Because I don’t think our former chief judge will read this, I’ll share that juvenile court was not considered a “plum” assignment, and I think our Chief Judge thought that maybe it was just right for a woman judge to handle. I took the assignment.

One day in juvenile court, I had before me a young girl who had committed a crime. I picked up her file. The number on it was much older than the crime — the file had been created the day this child was born. That told me that this child had been born into an abuse and neglect situation and now — years later — she was in juvenile delinquent court, charged with committing a crime. Unfortunately, this was not an uncommon trajectory. She was angry and full of attitude. Somehow, she had even gotten contact lenses that were red that added a cinematic touch! She was not taking it from the world, and I was part of that world that made her so angry.

On the day I announced a decision, she picked up the only thing she could find — the Bible on the defense

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table used to swear in witnesses — and she flung it right at me. I leaned over to the right, and the spiraling, speeding Bible missed. She was taken away to serve time I had ordered in a secured facility.

It actually was unusual to send a child to a secured facility. I really did try everything else I could to avoid sending children away, and at that time the state of North Carolina was trying to reduce the number of children in such facilities. This case, however, flying Bible or no flying Bible, really left me no choice.

Months later I was invited by a juvenile court counselor to attend a cookout at a juvenile facility that was a step up from the secured facilities for those who could have more freedom. I was a little worried, because I knew I might run into young people I had sent there, but I went. It was a nice day. This particular facility was new and nice. The staff was made of young people who were so dedicated to what they were doing. I had never been there before. It was actually a positive, happy atmosphere and I was relieved that maybe this was not going to be too awkward for me. The grill was sizzling with hamburger patties and hot dogs and things seemed so relaxed. Then, I saw her: the young woman who had thrown the Bible at me.

She made it so easy for me; she spoke first. And, this is what she said to me . . . this is what this child said to me, the judge who had convicted her and sent her away to a place not so nice.

“Judge Rose, you were my judge. I could see in your eyes that day that you did not want to send me here, but this is good. This is the best thing that ever happened to me. You did the right thing.”

Later, her Juvenile Court counselor came to see me in chambers. He told me how well she was doing — that she was getting good mental health treatment and that things were going well. Then, he gave me a snowman Christmas ornament made out of popsicle sticks that this child had made just for me. I think of her, and what God did in her life, every time I hang that ornament on our Christmas tree.

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WORLD, from page 11

ly. He raised people from the dead. He died and yet was raised, promising us that our bodies would be raised from the dead as well. His is a power, not just over some spiritual part of our minds, but also over the whole of material Creation, as well as the spiritual and heavenly realm where the angels dwell.

Pondering the miracle of Jesus’ incarnate reality is an interesting lens with which to view the courses of our own lives. My wife and I had our first child last May. People have babies all the time, yet it is hard for me not to see a touch of the miraculous in the creation of a new life so closely linked with our own and the love we feel. In addition to the miracles of life, I am reminded often about the miracle of being able to have faith in God. I have done nothing to “earn” a relationship with the God who made the universe, and yet that God became incarnate to save me. The fact that I have faith, even the size of a mustard seed, is not down to an intellectual or moral conquest on my part but the gifting of God’s grace. That grace is surely a miracle.

As I have pondered a call to the priesthood these past several years, I have also thought more deeply about the material miracles of the Church that priests are charged with administering to God’s people. In the waters of baptism, the Holy Spirit descends and claims people — from babies to the aged — as God’s own through the power of Christ.

In the Eucharist, Christ’s own body and blood are made present to us on the altar, a foretaste of Heaven. The miracle for me is that God would call me to participate in this work, unworthy as I am. But it is not about my worthiness. Rather it is about God’s ministry and His incarnate and material presence with His people.

When priests consecrate the Eucharist, anoint the sick or dying, baptize in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, or absolve the sins of a penitent, they are acting not through magical abilities given to them in ordination, but rather as agents of God’s and the Church’s work. It is surely a miracle that these gifts are given to God’s people and that we all participate in their giving.

This Epiphany, I ponder not only the way that the Incarnation of our Lord enlightens and changes the world, but how that presence of Christ has profoundly shaped my own life and call. And when I consider that, I cannot be anything but grateful for the miracles of God.

Seminarian David Nichols will graduate this spring and will be ordained to the transitional diaconate by the Bishop of Tennessee. He and wife, Maglin, are the parents of baby Anne.

GRACE, from page 15 He let out a laugh that you could probably hear from wherever you are, then said, “Well. That proves it, doesn’t it? Grace. It’s Grace.”

We got him to the VA and after 15 more minutes trying to find the entrance (not an inch of that complex was not gated), we found the mental health center and asked where we needed to be. Here’s the real miracle: The staffers there took care of him right there, no questions asked. They told me they would make sure he got his meds and a place to stay.

“He is safe now,” the sweet social worker said to me.

Walter and I looked at each other.

Our moment of Grace shared, now and forever. We both got a little teary. I gave him my card in case he found himself in trouble again.

“God bless you, Miss Grace,” he said.

We hugged.

I wept as I drove away.

God had, indeed, blessed us both.

Grace. It is the name I am called … and the name by which God calls me.

Beth Grace writes frequently for Archangel. This story first appeared on emergencysmarties. blogspot.com

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God’s Majesty

‘

I love the Southwest. The colors, the landscape — desert,

mountains, canyons, volcanos... it’s incredible. Nature always evokes that closeness with God. At that moment in time I feel such a closeness and connection with God... it squeezes my heart to know that I am one of His and also part of His creation. My cup runneth over. Antelope Canyon is His creation and I’m part of it.”

— Karen Waddell

Parishioner Karen Waddell is a novice when it comes to photography, but a recent girl’s trip with her daughter, Hannah, to Antelope Canyon in Nevada proved otherwise. Setting her iPhone 11 to “vivid warm” on the advice of their guide, Karen amazed herself in capturing these majestic images. On Navajo lands, the canyon has been open for tours since 1997 and is only accessible with guides.

The Navajo liken the region to a sacred cathedral. Photos by Karen Waddell.

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We Remember Photos: St. Michael’s files & family archives

The Rev. Dr. Jack Durant Sept. 30, 1930-Jan. 2, 2022

English professor, tenor, theologian, father, doting grandfather, deacon in the Episcopal Church. All these describe Jack Durant, who was a beloved member of our parish. As a member of the diaconate, he served St. Michael’s from 2000-2004, then when asked by Greg Jones, came out of retirement to serve a few years more. He sang in the choir for many years while he taught English at N.C. State. Jack and his wife, Judy, moved to Raleigh from Auburn, Ala., in 1971, after the tragic murder of their oldest daughter, Mary, (“MayMay”) age 8. She was killed by Jack Durant a 21-year-old man who came to a neighbor’s house where she was spending the night, stabbing the neighbor’s 18-year-old daughter and shooting and stabbing Mary and her best friend. The man was sentenced to death but his sentence was reduced to life because of a judge’s procedural mistake.

Few in Raleigh knew of his grief. He and his wife, Judy, and their surviving daughters moved here in 1971 and tried to put the past behind them. In the years after his daughter’s death, Jack — who had buried his memories deep within — worked to understand himself and the act of forgiveness and grace for the man who killed Mary. He wrote eloquently about it in a homily given in 1998 before the execution in North Carolina of convicted murderer Ricky Lee Sanderson.

“My months in therapy,” he wrote, “opened my spiritual and emotional lives to some space for healing. I entered more fully than ever before into the life of the Christian community. By slow degrees I began to rediscover the gentle child so cruelly wrenched from me two decades before. Her brief life had always represented affirmation and hope and spirited goodwill, and I would not have it that her death should represent something less.”

Eventually he did move forward, understanding that God loved the murderer, too.

“To exacting minds, all this might seem a paltry kind of forgiveness,” he wrote. “But I embrace it as a gigantic gift of grace, a divine work in progress, a mighty salvation, a call to life, and I believe I would not have opened myself up to it if the execution had happened.”

“He was a man who lived with joy and depth and grace,” wrote the Rev. Greg Jones shortly after his death. “And did so in the face of terrible loss, having lost his daughter, Mary, to violence when she was but a girl. Truly, the way he lived when I knew him, the man he was, the caring deacon and thoughtful master of the English language, he was iconic to me of someone who kept going despite a blow I can only dread in my nightmares. He and Judy and their family carried on in this world with grace as their guide. And what a witness to Christ that is.

“He was enormously witty and well-read, and he spoke so well. He could speak with a stentorian voice to convey a sense of divine solemnity in his liturgical role, and in casual moments he could employ a droll tone that signaled he was up to something clever, and you had better keep on your mental toes.”

Jack is survived by two daughters: Sara Esser and Amanda Durant; and four grandchilden.

Mary Lois Eakes April 16, 1927- Jan. 1, 2022

Most who attend Sunday services at St. Michael’s have noticed the beauty in the wooden processional cross. Intricately carved with inlay from a variety of woods, the cross has been part of the St. Michael’s worship tradition for more than 30 years.

The cross was given in memory of the Rev. Walter Josselyn Reed by his daughter, Mary Lois Eakes, who died in early January. Its beauty is clear, but few know the story of its connection to the 1920s African bush.

“My parents were missionaries,” Mary Lois recalled in a 2012 issue of the Chronicles of Canterbury. Her father had attended William and Mary and Virginia Theological Seminary, and was persuaded in the mid-1920s to travel to Africa as a missionary. He met Mary Lois’ mother in Monrovia, Liberia and married her there in1927. Mary Lois was born

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important, a husband and father,” his obituary reads.

The people of St. Michael’s knew him as a longtime member of the choir, which he joined after his retirement — though he began singing as a boy soprano in a large church choir. He was a naval air intelligence officer aboard the aircraft carrier USS Kearsarge and later was a scientific intelligence analyst and briefing officer on the staff of the Chief of Naval Operations.

“George endeared himself to the choir from the first time he attended a rehearsal,” says choirmaster Kevin Kerstetter. “He had a wonderful smile and laugh, as well as a Mary Lois Eakes and the cross given inmemory of her father. sparkle in his eyes. Every choir member was a year later, and the family moved into the Bishop’s house in fond of George, and he returned the sentiment in a sort of Monrovia, which would serve as their base for the next six fatherly way.” years as they traveled to and from the bush region.

During his 36-year At age 3, Mary Lois and her mother returned to the United career in industrial States, where her mother gave birth to a baby sister. “The chemistry, George three of us went back to Liberia when my sister was born.” played a major role in the design and Each morning, the Rev. Reed read Morning Prayer with his manufacture of aufamily, she recalls. “You would have thought we lived in a tomobile catalysts, small town in North Carolina or anywhere.” the production of air bag igniters and While in Liberia, Mary Lois’ father founded the Trinity environmentally School for Boys. Years later, while visiting her sister in safe fire extinBaltimore, Mary Lois took a cab to the airport and struck guishers. He was up a conversation with the driver. “I asked him where he was awarded patents from, and he said ‘Liberia.’ It turns out that he had gone to for an anticorrothe school.” sion metal coating process, a new After her father’s death in 1981, Mary Lois commissioned a yellow pigment, and George Harrison cross to give to St. Michael’s in his memory. We often use the a de-foamer for the pulp and paper industry. In private life, cross at Easter and adorn it with Easter lilies. he served as scoutmaster and camporee chairman in The Boy Scouts of America.

George C. Harrison Dec. 13, 1929-Sept. 13, 2021

Those who encountered George Harrison as he greeted visitors to St. Michael’s at the front desk might not have known that they were in the presence of a scholar, Naval officer and industrial scientist. Born in Pittsburgh and married for 56 years to his wife, Mary Marjorie, George graduated from the University of Pittsburgh with a Bachelor of Science in Chemistry (Summa cum Laude) in 1951 and completed the Doctor of Philosophy in 1955.

“Dr. Harrison lived a varied, versatile and active life as a singer, scholar, naval officer, industrial scientist, and most

George left Raleigh a few years ago for Atlanta to be closer to his son. He is survived by his children- Robert, Susan and William, and grandchildren Timothy, Geoffrey, Tegan and Caden Harrison. His ashes will be buried in the St. Michael’s columbarium at a later date.

Doris Matney Saleeby Nov. 3, 1935-Dec. 21, 2021

Longtime member of St. Michael’s, “Mama Doris,” was the matriarch of her family. “Though small in stature, she had the biggest heart of any person in this world,” her obituary reads. Doris and her husband, Richard, were among the Continued on the next page

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REMEMBER, from page 25

early leaders in St. Michael’s children’s ministry, teaching Sunday School and helping found Beckwith Chapel. Doris taught 5-year-olds.

“One of her best qualities was how she lived her life as a Christian,” her obituary continues. “Not one day went by without her reading her Bible, praying and being/walking at St. Michael’s Episcopal Church,” her obituary reads.

“She embodied what it meant to be a child of God.” The mother of four with an extended Doris Saleeby with husband, Richard family that now includes six great-grandchildren, Doris “epitomized being a supportive wife, strong mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. She devoted her entire life to her family. She displayed resiliency and strength during challenging times but never lost sight of God being the center of her world.”

Doris also spent years working at Richard’s Raleigh surgical practice. She knew the patients well, her obituary reads, and (“she probably knew your life story before you left!”)

Anyone who knew Richard and Doris in their later years could easily see how their marriage had endured for 65 years.

“Often she and Richard could be seen arriving and leaving the office together holding hands,” the obituary read. “She had the time of her life working alongside her husband.”

Richard died late last year. Doris is survived by her four children: sons Rick ( Jackie), Robin (Tina), Steve (Sheri) and daughter Richel ( Joe); grandchildren: Ashton (Dan), Robb (Alex), Alexa (Richard), Joanna (Brad), Julie (Daniel), Matney (Aaron), Stephen and Sydney (Sammy) — most of whom were raised at St. Michael’s — and six great-grands.

Gail Vaughn-Purdie May 17, 1942-Dec. 19 2021

As a widow, Gail moved to Raleigh from California and joined our parish in 2002. She was a cradle Episcopalian, and at St. Michael’s she felt at home. “She valued her faith community,” her daughter, Heather, says. In California, she lost her son Brent, an accomplished surfer, in a surfing accident. Gail, who had managed hotels and retirement commu-

nities during her career, chose Raleigh to be near Heather.

“Her hobby was interior spaces,” Heather says. “She loved to decorate and was known to help friends with their own houses.

“She was a very organized, busy person,” says parishioner and friend Lydia Watkins, who lived in the same Gail Vaughan-Purdie neighborhood with Gail. “She was very active in St. Mary’s and on the Blessings Committee. If something needed to be done, Gail’s hand went up.” She also delivered flowers to shut-ins after services.

In 2018, Gail lost a second son, Kurt. She leaves behind Heather and four grandchildren: Georgia, Grady, Tate and Cooper.

Jordan Anne Smith Oct. 7, 1973 -Nov. 4, 2021

Jordan, the daughter of longtime parishioner Gretchen Fracher Hardage, graduated from Jesse O. Sanderson High School and attended St. Mary’s College. “Jordan had a special God-given gift with children,” her obituary reads.

She worked for a time at St. Michael’s Parish Day School and later as a teacher’s assistant at Yates Mill Elementary. “Growing up, she was adored by neighborhood children and she spent countless hours babysitting while being a big sister to many,” her obituary continues. She also helped out in Sunday School.

“She absolutely loved every minute of those years of helping in the 2s and Jordan Smith 3s with Pattie and Betty Moore and All Angels,” Gretchen says. “I am not sure she went to very many of her own age Sunday School classes.”

Jordan was an animal lover, too, caring deeply about her pets, both dogs and cats, many of whom were rescued. “She gave them unconditional love and fulfillment, and they did the same for her,” her obituary reads.

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She is survived by Gretchen; her father John Jordan Smith of Atlantic Beach; her brother and sister-in-law, Carter and Sarah Smith, and nephews S. Rhodes Smith, Hayes Smith and James Kenyon Smith, all of Winston-Salem; and her special dog Lily.

Isabel Blount Carter Worthy Nov. 10, 1930-Oct. 5, 2021

A longtime member of St. Michael’s, Isabel was a native of Washington, N.C. Beloved by her family, she was an irrepressible optimist, her obituary reads. A self-described “Pollyanna,” she always looked for the positive in people.

Isabel was a lifelong reader, class valedictorian, Girl Scout and editor of her high school literary magazine.

She was one of two recipients statewide of a four-year, full college scholarship awarded by Pepsi-Cola Company.

She excelled at Saint Mary’s Junior Isabel Worthy College and at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. She taught English and served as a librarian at Bath High School and Washington High School.

The love of her life was Ford S. Worthy Jr., whom she fell in love with as a teenager in Washington. They married in 1954. They lived in Charlotte before moving to Raleigh, where after Ford started his own company, Worthy & Wachtel, Inc., Isabel took accounting courses at N.C. State University, “becoming an early adopter of computers and then-cutting edge accounting software, which she used to support her husband’s different business ventures,” her obituary reads.

She inspired her children, “teaching them to believe they could accomplish anything they set their minds to, encouraging them from the bleachers and on the stage, and supporting them through the many challenges of growing up,” her obituary continues. She nurtured neighborhood kids as well as her own and was known for her famous “Cookie Day,” at Christmas.

Isabel loved her family, bridge, cruises on a succession of “Seaworthy” boats, and she loved a good book. “To her grandchildren she was known as The Book Lady, from whom they could always count on a specially chosen book for special occasions.”

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Isabel is survived by her husband of 67 years, Ford S. Worthy Jr., and their four children: Ford Stedman Worthy and wife Allison, Isabel Blount Worthy Mattox and husband Steve, Marion Carter Worthy and husband Tom Hester, and Marjorie Hoyt Worthy and husband Malcolm Lewis; her nine grandchildren, her sister Peggy Carter Fowle, and many nieces and nephews.

Nina Margaret Yeager Sept. 24, 1946 - Oct. 6, 2021 - A native of Philadel-

phia, Pa., Nina and her husband, Ralph, moved to Raleigh in the mid-1970s. With a Masters Degree in Public Administration from NC State, Nina worked for the NC General Assembly, the Governor’s Office of Management and budget and later served as the NC Medicaid Director, retiring in 2003.

Though they had not been church goers in many years, her husband, Ralph says, they joined St. Michael’s in 2015 and, he says, it was a wonderful choice.

“Nina decided the best way to get involved was to get involved.” She participated in Words and Nina Yeager Wisdom book club, the Blessings Casserole ministry, Family Promise and as a small-group leader. She particularly enjoyed her Tuesday centering prayer group.

“Nina loved flowers,” he says. “Having flowers in the house was always a joy for her. Her favorites were sunflowers, hydrangeas and especially peonies. She loved the varieties that had large, fat blooms.” Always on the hunt for new varieties, “Sarah Barnhart” was probably her favorite, he recalls.

“One of the few good things about COVID was that we were forced to stay home when the peonies bloomed in May,” he says, “when in a normal year we would often be traveling.”

“Nina was a kind hearted, gracious person who always was welcoming and generous and firmly committed to social justice,” her obituary reads.

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DIVINE from page 7

are the result of the Spirit’s touching and moving the hearts of humanity — moving about unpredictably like the wind; yet, ordered in its divine purpose.

Not everyone has the “mountain-top” experience of this eternal awe and amazement — and that is all right! The truth is we can never stay on top of the mountain, as the valleys are always before us… preparing us for that next ascent to the top. And yet, the awe and mystery of the Lord is ever before us… in small, unassuming ways — but, not any less amazing and life-changing. This happens to us in watching a heart-inspiring movie or reading a book that speaks to the deepest places of our souls. And it happens when we go deeper into the awe, majesty and power of God’s Word… for the Lord most certainly speaks to us through the Scriptures!

When I first experienced the Holy Land this was most certainly my sense, as I took in all aspects of the holy sites — seeing and touching the places in which Jesus moved about. Our guide told us as we set forth on the journey that we all knew the four Gospels in the New Testament, which reveal to us the manifestation of God in Jesus Christ. But now we were embarking on a new Gospel — one that added color to the four we already knew. He was right! Life is often like the coloring book without the crayons… it makes sense to some degree as we navigate our way through the

stories of our lives and others — the places where our spheres intersect and overlap. Yet when we add color, we see clarity and purpose to these stories —the experience of the “awe and mystery” of God in small and large ways.

As I read recently in an online commentary, “Life here and in eternity finds ultimate fullness in thankful worship of God. Even the angels and living creatures closest to God are constantly pouring out thanksgiving and praise to Him who sits on the throne. It would appear that rejoicing in thankfulness and ecstatic praise is just what happens when those who belong to God stand in full awareness in His presence. The awe of terror is only in disobedience and rebellion. The awe of joy and celebration are only in being found, forgiven and cleansed unto holiness before Him.” How have you experienced the “awe and mystery” of God? Have you been moved by “newness, energy, amazement, and astonishment?” I imagine you have at some point in life, if you just take a deeper look into your soul, knowing you are forgiven and loved in the most amazing way — God’s way! Because, then you will recognize just how blessed you are. Amen.