The Pub Welcomes Brother Quotidian
Greetings from St. Athanasius Anglican Church in Waxahachie, Texas. Don't worry. Texans more than 100 miles away can't pronounce it either. Waxahachie, I mean. And, the locals can’t pronounce Athanasius. For the phonetically curious, they sound like this: WALKS-uh-HATCH-ee and ATH-uh-NAY-shus.
By Drewdog's gracious invitation, I will contribute here from time to time. Before I do and to set what I say in some context, I thought I’d offer a self-introduction.
I’m pretty much an ecclesiastical mongrel. I came to faith in a Southern Baptist church revival as a boy. I really woke up spiritually in college after returning from Nam (I'm also a jarhead).
I took a Th.M. from Dallas Seminary majoring in Hebrew. Afterwards I pastored Bible-church ministries for the next decade. My last pastorate in that run was the International Chapel of Vienna, in Vienna, Austria. Now that was hardship duty for sure.
I departed vocational pastoral ministry to care for aged parents, and took the opportunity to test the spiritual waters in a communion that was sacramental in its spirituality and liturgical in its worship. Our local ECUSA parish was the first place that fit the bill (as it was acceptably orthodox as well; it might not have been so somewhere else, of course). And, after 15 years in that parish, our family departed when the House of Bishops consented to consecrating an active homosexual as Bishop of New Hampshire.
By this time, I was a confirmed Prayer Book Christian, and the options locally were nil. So, I started knocking on doors, seeking some continuing jurisdiction that would take me on as a candidate for holy orders and for planting a new parish here in town. The United Anglican Church was the first to say "yes". I was ordained to the diaconate in November 2004, and to the Anglican priesthood in September of 2005.
The photo shows me prostrate during my ordination to the priesthood. The man in gold is my bishop. The fellow across the way is the UAC archdeacon, the fellow in the white surplice is an old friend who served as chaplain to the Bishop during the service. He doesn’t have something growing out of his head. That’s the Bishop’s staff leaning on the far wall of the sanctuary. The red band around my middle is my deacon’s stole. During two portions of the service, while prayers are made for me by the Bishop and the congregation, I lay on the floor in that position, about 10 minutes one time, about 15 minutes a second time. Yes, it was uncomfortable – my shoulder hurt more than anything! – but, at the same time, I was so grateful our chapel is carpeted. It might have been linoleum. Or marble.
In the interests of full disclosure, “Brother Quotidian” is the name under which my Blogger account was created. If you want to know more, drop me a line.
Looking forward to batting ideas around,
Brother Quotidian Read more
By Drewdog's gracious invitation, I will contribute here from time to time. Before I do and to set what I say in some context, I thought I’d offer a self-introduction.
I’m pretty much an ecclesiastical mongrel. I came to faith in a Southern Baptist church revival as a boy. I really woke up spiritually in college after returning from Nam (I'm also a jarhead).
I took a Th.M. from Dallas Seminary majoring in Hebrew. Afterwards I pastored Bible-church ministries for the next decade. My last pastorate in that run was the International Chapel of Vienna, in Vienna, Austria. Now that was hardship duty for sure.
I departed vocational pastoral ministry to care for aged parents, and took the opportunity to test the spiritual waters in a communion that was sacramental in its spirituality and liturgical in its worship. Our local ECUSA parish was the first place that fit the bill (as it was acceptably orthodox as well; it might not have been so somewhere else, of course). And, after 15 years in that parish, our family departed when the House of Bishops consented to consecrating an active homosexual as Bishop of New Hampshire.
By this time, I was a confirmed Prayer Book Christian, and the options locally were nil. So, I started knocking on doors, seeking some continuing jurisdiction that would take me on as a candidate for holy orders and for planting a new parish here in town. The United Anglican Church was the first to say "yes". I was ordained to the diaconate in November 2004, and to the Anglican priesthood in September of 2005.
The photo shows me prostrate during my ordination to the priesthood. The man in gold is my bishop. The fellow across the way is the UAC archdeacon, the fellow in the white surplice is an old friend who served as chaplain to the Bishop during the service. He doesn’t have something growing out of his head. That’s the Bishop’s staff leaning on the far wall of the sanctuary. The red band around my middle is my deacon’s stole. During two portions of the service, while prayers are made for me by the Bishop and the congregation, I lay on the floor in that position, about 10 minutes one time, about 15 minutes a second time. Yes, it was uncomfortable – my shoulder hurt more than anything! – but, at the same time, I was so grateful our chapel is carpeted. It might have been linoleum. Or marble.
In the interests of full disclosure, “Brother Quotidian” is the name under which my Blogger account was created. If you want to know more, drop me a line.
Looking forward to batting ideas around,
Brother Quotidian Read more