Anglican Diocese of the South
Canon John A. Roop

Clergy Retreat 2024

Mark 6:30–31a (ESV): 30 The apostles returned to Jesus and told him all that they had done and taught. 31 And he said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat.

The Lord be with you.
And with your spirit.
Let us pray.

O God of peace, who hast taught us that in returning and rest we shall be saved, in quietness and in confidence shall be our strength: By the might of thy Spirit lift us, we pray thee, to thy presence, where we may be still and know that thou art God; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

I start, as is fully appropriate, with the great Appalachian theologian and saint, the blessed Dolly Parton of Sevierville.

Tumble outta bed and I stumble to the kitchen
Pour myself a cup of ambition
And yawn and stretch and try to come to life

Jump in the shower and the blood starts pumpin’
Out on the street, the traffic starts jumpin’
The folks like me on the job from 9 to 5

Workin’ 9 to 5, what a way to make a livin’
Barely gettin’ by, it’s all takin’ and no givin’
They just use your mind
And they never give you credit
It’s enough to drive you crazy if you let it (9 to 5, Dolly Parton)

If these lyrics were part of Scripture, a canticle, let’s say, they would conclude with the refrain: There was morning and there was evening, just another day. The day starts when the alarm jars us awake, when we stumble out of bed, when we, beyond our power to resist, begin thinking about all those 9 to 5 tasks that await us during the day, that lay claim to us during the day. The day ends when we stumble home, spent from spending our hours and our days and our lives putting money in the boss-man’s wallet. We eat a bite, watch some “reality TV” and then tumble into bed until the next morning’s alarm.

Of course, this doesn’t apply to any of us here. We are holy; we are deacons and priests and — dare I say — bishops all about God’s work. No 9 to 5 for us. Our alarm rings at 4:30 and we stumble out of bed, shower quickly, grab a cup of coffee on our way out of the door to meet a parishioner at the hospital at 5:30, to pray with him, to anoint him before a serious surgery, and to wait several hours with his worried wife until the surgeon brings news: please God, good news. Then we head to church — to the office — because, well, because there is a sermon to be written; there is a bulletin to be prepared, proofed, and printed; there is a lesson to be developed; there is meeting with a parishioner and an evening meeting with the vestry, and, and, and. There are even prayers to be said — if we get around to them. And all of this has to be done early this week because there is a clergy retreat. The day ends when we stumble home, spent from doing good and holy things for the glory of God and for the welfare of his people, an answer to the prayer For Vocations To Ordained Ministry:

Inspire them to spend and be spent for the sake of the Gospel, and make them holy and loving servants and shepherds of the flock for whom you shed your most precious blood (BCP 2019, p. 650; see also 2 Cor 12:15a).

Is it any wonder that the service of Compline must remind us daily of the words of our Lord?

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light (Mt 11:28-30, BCP 2019, p. 61).

Isn’t it interesting — and insidious — how our culture has remade the day and, by doing so, has enslaved us to this 9 to 5 mentality, to this production mentality, even sometimes those of us who are busy with God’s work? Our culture tells us the day starts when we stumble out of bed and pump ourselves up to be human doings, sometimes forgetting that we are instead human beings.

But, from the beginning it was not so. There is no 9 to 5 refrain in the creation account in Genesis, but rather a very different chorus altogether: And there was evening and there was morning, the first day; and there was evening and there was morning, the second day — and so on through the six days of creation, evening and morning making a day. From the moment God called Adam into being, the rhythm of man’s day was evening and morning: not 9 to 5, but 5 to 9, as it were. Man’s day begins with him laying aside his productive activity, his working and keeping of the Garden, his exercise of dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the heavens, the livestock and even the creeping things. Man’s day begins when his work ceases. Man’s day begins when he takes his rest, “carefree in the care of God,” as J. B. Phillips says it so beautifully. That means that the proper daily rhythm for man begins with rest, begins with commending the productivity of creation to the Creator, begins with resting while God works, begins with trusting God to keep the world turning on its axis without man’s assistance. Rest is an act that acknowledges the proper relationship between creature and Creator, an act of humble recognition that all does not depend on us, an act of trust that God actually knows what he’s doing and doesn’t need our advice or our assistance. It is also a refusal to root our identity in what we do, in our expertise, in our productivity. It is a realization — often a painful but ultimately holy one — that our work is not indispensable. Rest is an act of repentance and faith. The 9 to 5 mentality, the start of the day with the morning and with productive activity, is a consequence of the fall. We, who perhaps know the creation story best, are not immune from that fallen daily rhythm, are we?

There is a story about Pope John XXIII that I have always appreciated and tried to imitate, though mostly in vain. As I remember it a friend said something like this to the Pope, “With all the troubles in the Church and all the burdens on you, I suppose you have trouble sleeping at night.” “On no,” the Pope replied. “Each night at bedtime I say the same prayer: Lord it’s late and I’m tired. I’m going to bed. It’s your Church; take care of it.” And that’s the right daily rhythm and conviction. Our day begins in the evening when we rest and commend all creation — and yes, even the Church, even our parishes — to God’s care. When we rise in the morning, we look around to see what God has been up to through the night and we come alongside as his fellow worker to join in — non-anxiously — to do the work he has given us to do this day.

There will be much to do on many days, of course. But the proper rhythm reminds us that all things do not depend on us and that God is at work with us and for us even when we are mindlessly unaware. God’s work is as prevenient as his grace. You see:

Mark 4:26–29 (ESV): “The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed on the ground. 27 He sleeps and rises night and day, and the seed sprouts and grows; he knows not how. 28 The earth produces by itself, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear. 29 But when the grain is ripe, at once he puts in the sickle, because the harvest has come.”

He sleeps and rises, night and day. There was evening and morning, the rhythm of the day, the rhythm of rest and work.

And it is not just the daily rhythm that is a casualty of the fall, but the weekly rhythm, as well. Prince Rogers Nelson, Prince of Purple Rain fame, recognized the problem in his song popularized by the Bangles:

Six o’clock already
I was just in the middle of a dream
I was kissin’ Valentino
By a crystal-blue, Italian stream

But I can’t be late
‘Cause then I guess I just won’t get paid
These are the days
When you wish your bed was already made

It’s just another manic Monday (Woah, woah)
I wish it was Sunday (Woah, woah)
‘Cause that’s my fun day (Woah, woah, woah, woah)
My I don’t have to run day (Woah, woah)
It’s just another manic Monday (Prince Rogers Nelson, Manic Monday)

When does the week start? Well, according to calendarr.com:

Monday is the first day of the week according to international standards for the representation of dates and time, ISO 8601 (www.calendarr.com/united-states/first-day-of-the-week/, accessed 01/28/2024).

Ohhh – ISO 8601: the International Organization for Standardization has spoken. So let it be written; so let it be done — Monday it is. And, the Bangles remind us that it is not just Monday, but another manic Monday. So, the ISO and the Bangles would have us know beyond doubt that our weekly rhythm starts with work and mania. Work as toil — metaphorical sweat-of-the-brow work — is a consequence, some might say a curse, of the fall. And mania? It is a mental and behavioral disorder, a sickness that stems, if not from personal sin, then certainly from ancestral/original sin. And that is the way we are to start our week?

No. We start our week, the ISO and the Bangles notwithstanding, with the Lord’s Day: the first day of the week, the teleological fulfillment of the Sabbath in which rest, worship, thanksgiving, and joy — the opposite of mania — are the order of the Day. And so it has always been in the Church, as the Didache says:

14. On the Lord’s own day, assemble in common to break bread and offer thanks; but first confess your sins, so that your sacrifice may be pure. 2 However, no one quarreling with his brother may join your meeting until they are reconciled; your sacrifice must not be defiled. 3 For here we have the saying of the Lord: In every place and time offer me a pure sacrifice; for I am a mighty King, says the Lord; and my name spreads terror among the nations (Didache, James Kleist (trans.), Newman Press, Logos (2022)).

Not just another manic Monday but a holy Sunday on which confession is made and absolution given; Sunday on which reconciliation is the order of the day.

And so it has always been in the Church as Justin Martyr says:

And on the day called Sunday all who live in cities or in the country gather together in one place, and the memoirs of the Apostles or the writings of the prophets are read, as long as time permits. Then when the reader has finished, the Ruler in a discourse instructs and exhorts to the imitation of these good things. Then we all stand up together and offer prayers; and, as we said before, when we have finished the prayer, bread is brought and wine and water, and the Ruler likewise offers up prayers and thanksgivings to the best of his ability, and the people assent, saying the Amen; and the distribution and the partaking of the eucharistized elements is to each, and to those who are absent a portion is sent by the deacons. And those who prosper, and so wish, contribute what each thinks fit; and what is collected is deposited with the Ruler, who takes care of the orphans and widows, and those who, on account of sickness or any other cause, are in want, and those who are in bonds, and the strangers who are sojourners among us, and in a word [He] is the guardian of all those in need. But we all hold this common gathering on Sunday, since it is the first day, on which God transforming darkness and matter made the Universe, and Jesus Christ our Savior on the same day rose from the dead. For they crucified Him on the day before Saturday, and on the day after Saturday, He appeared to His Apostles and disciples and taught them these things which we have passed on to you also for your consideration (Justin Martyr, First Apology, 67:411-422).

Not just another manic Monday, but a holy Sunday in which we rest from our labor and feast on eucharistized bread and wine — thanksgivinged bread and wine — which is shared with all and taken to those who are absent; a holy Sunday in which provision is made for those in need: orphans and widows, the sick, the destitute, the prisoners. That is how the week starts: with rest and thanksgiving and blessing for all, a holy Lord’s Day weekly rhythm.

We know all of this; we tell our parishioners all of this. But then, to my shame — I confess before you my brothers and sisters — I too often start my days in the morning with my 9 to 5 work mentality, and I start my weeks on Monday, sometimes all too manaically, hurrying to Church for Morning Prayer, staff meeting, various other meetings, sermon or lesson prep, hospital or home visits — all the good and holy work God has blessed me with. And it is all good.

Is it important that the day starts with evening and the week starts on Sunday? I think so, because the calendar — the rhythm of days and weeks and years that make a life — speaks to our identity: as creatures and not as the Creator, as co-workers with God and not as free agents, as sons and daughters of God and not as slaves of this fallen world, as those who can and must rest “carefree in the care of God.” The calendar is a reminder to guard our hearts so that we can be a non-anxious, non-driven, non-compulsive presence in the world and a sane witness to a God who calls his people into restful communion with him. None of this is really about the calendar. All of this is really about the restful heart.

It is far from certain, but I hope and I pray that this retreat will be a detox of sorts for those who need it — and who doesn’t? — a respite and a reset from the 9 to 5 mentality and the Monday morning mania.

Mark 6:30–31a (ESV): 30 The apostles returned to Jesus and told him all that they had done and taught. 31 And he said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.”

Amen.