Golden-Throated Gary

From medieval icons to Chagall's "White Crucifixion," from Bernini to Dali, our friend Gary Toops took 25 St. John's art lovers on a 1600-year sacred art walk these Thursday evenings in February. The brain child of Gary and our former associate vicar, the Rev. Karen Ann Wojahn, the class took two years to schedule in part because of Gary's busy schedule as teacher, organist, and community choir director. His and Marjorie Toops' Festival Singers rehearse each Tuesday evening at St. John's (a wonderful soundtrack for our weekly Bible study, which meets a few steps away). Over Memorial Day weekend last year, the Festival Singers and the St. John's Middle School choir, under the direction of my colleague Lori Speciale, appeared at Carnegie Hall, members of a 200-voice choir performing John Rutter's "Mass of the Children."

We'll actually have one more meeting of "Exploring Sacred Art," this Saturday at the Getty Center in Los Angeles. Our classroom work ended tonight with Gary's analysis of a work by a local artist, Charles Frazee, professor emeritus of religion and church history at Cal State Fullerton and the Episcopal Theological School at Claremont. In 2009, I acquired this icon which Charlie painted of our church's patron, John Chrysostom, the fifth century archbishop, preacher (hence his Greek sobriquet meaning "golden throat"), and courageous reformer.

The late Walter Annenberg (with whom I actually spoke the very week he bid successfully for "At the Lapin Agile") and the Getty had to reveal what they paid at auction for their Renoirs and van Goghs, but I shan't. That's between Charlie and me, as is the five-point ID question I missed on his final when I was in seminary 13 years ago. I barely remember. Okay, it was the Shepherd of Hermas. The Annenberg name-drop was a compensatory defensive gesture.

UnHomaginized

Facebook friends weigh in on the controversy over Mao Zeodong's statue in the museum of the Nixon Library:

The Rev. Karen Ann Wojahn. I'm puzzled. Why does recognizing an individual's impact (for good or for evil) on the world -- especially an individual as powerful as Mao -- make him or her the the moral equivalent of similarly powerful people? I've marveled at that lovely exhibit many times, and never saw it as an homage to any of the figures. Instead, I saw it as a way to "see" in one place a sample of flawed (some more than others) but powerful figures whose lives impacted every living person in one way or another during the twentieth century.

Ed Cimler: I agree, Karen. A museum is not only a repository of stuff. It also serves to remind and educate us. It may be somewhat unfortunate that the bad guys seem, at times, to get more press than the good guys. If asked to name a bad emperor of the Roman empire, many would come to mind, but I would have to think hard to come up with a good one.

Stephen Bruce: It's like saying (forgive the analogy) that watching "Birth of a Nation" makes me a racist.

Jerusalem Meets Anaheim

When 20 pilgrims from St. John's visit Jerusalem, Bethlehem, and Nazareth in August -- whether bobbing in the Dead Sea, touching the rock of Golgotha, or walking streets Jesus Christ may well have known -- we'll be in the tender care of Canon Iyad Qumri, renowned Holy Land guide and interpreter. I caught up with Iyad today at the Episcopal Church's General Convention in Anaheim, where he's a guest along with his wife, Simone, a member of the staff of St. George's Episcopal Cathedral and College in East Jerusalem, where we'll be staying in August. And yes, that's Pastor Karen, our distinguished former associate vicar.

On Friday night, Kathy and I are taking the Qumris to President Nixon's favorite Mexican restaurant. Who knows what it's called?

Pastor Karen's Doing, Marvelous In Our Eyes

My St. John's colleague Sue Cook invited me to submit a message to our weekly parent, faculty, and staff newsletter, the BUZZ:

Greetings from your full-time vicar!

Since coming to St. John’s in the fall of 2004, I’ve had one foot in the Tigris and the other in the Euphrates, spending half my time at our wonderful church and school and the other half as executive director of the Richard Nixon Library & Birthplace Foundation.

As with almost everything in life, having two jobs had advantages and disadvantages. The greatest disadvantage was that I couldn’t spend as much time on campus as I would’ve liked.

Finally, this week – on Presidents Day, appropriately enough, which President Nixon proclaimed into being in 1970 – I ended my work at the Nixon Foundation so I could finally plant both feet firmly in the Jordan River here at St. John’s.

Just to show the indirect way God sometimes works when he calls us – and call to each of us, God definitely does – my employment decision was actually made for me, by our beloved Pastor Karen Ann Wojahn. [She is pictured above, talking to God, as I try to listen in.] Both she and I had been working half time at St. John’s. When her four-year ministry came to an end in December, I had two choices: Find another half-time priest as capable as Pastor Karen (which would have been impossible) or heed the call of our Bishop, Jon Bruno, to give serious consideration to beginning full-time ministry myself.

My work for the 37th President and his family and legacy was, like my priesthood, a vocation, a calling. It began in 1979, when he hired me as a research assistant, even though I had no background in politics. That moment (which had an element of the miraculous about it) ended up pointing to a life’s work. I was his chief of staff in New York City and New Jersey from 1984-90 and came to the Nixon Library soon after it opened in 1990.

That’s right: 30 years serving 37. To be honest, I’m already feeling a little nostalgic. But my stronger feelings this Tuesday morning (as a hail storm has given way to brilliant sunshine flooding our School courtyard) are thanksgiving and curiosity. Thanksgiving that God is enabling me to spend more time in ministry with you, your children, and my St. John’s parishioners and colleagues. Curiosity about what God has in store for us all.

Please stop by if you need me or anyone in the church office. Consider joining us Wednesdays at noon at our healing service in the Chrysostom Chapel, or join us for worship Saturdays at 5 p.m. and Sundays at 8 and 10 a.m.

Most important of all, ask yourself this question every morning: What is God’s call to me today? If we really listen, we’ll be astonished at what we hear.