Seventh Monday after Pentecost
St. Silas Day Color: Red
St. Silas, also called Silvanus, was from the island of Crete. He was a traveling companion of Paul in Acts 12-15 and an effective missionary. Most NT scholars doubt that it was actually Peter who wrote 1 Peter. 1 Peter is written in an elegant Greek style, most unlikely for an Aramaic speaking fisherman. In 1 Peter 5;12 we read, "Through Silvanus, whom I consider a faithful brother, I have written this short letter." The British scholar E.G. Selwyn, in his 1945 commentary, was the first to my knowledge to theorize that the native Greek speaking Silas/Silvanus, took Peter's thoughts and put them into good Greek.
So far five of you have responded to the survey. Surveys are notorious for low response rates, but I would like to hear from a lot more of you. We had 29 page views yesterday and 26 on Saturday, so I know a lot more of you are out there. It's an easy survey. Won't take but a couple of minutes. You can either email me at: candmwilson401@att.net or write in the comments section of the blog. Let me hear from you.
Monday is faith narrative journey day. If you haven't read last Monday's blog, or need a refresher, go back and read it.
We left off with me in the Episcopal Bishop's office in Knoxville, Tennessee in the spring of 1982. I had completed 12 of the 14 steps of postulancy, the Episcopal road to ordination. Episcopalians will not accept a transfer of someone ordained in another Protestant denomination, although they will accept transfer of ordained Catholics and Eastern Orthodox. Step 13 was to spend a year in "an Episcopal community environment," which was usually an Episcopal seminary and was usually as a student. My way into the priesthood would be as a professor in an Epsicopal Seminary. A position opened at Sewanee's Divinity School in my field, New Testament.
Although I would be farther away from April, I would have summers off. She would be able to come for extended times in the summer. Sewanee was also only 20 miles from Manchester, Tenn., where Marianne's mother lived. The campus is beautiful. I would be teaching all Divinity students, no undergraduates.
The Canon of the Ordinary recommended me to the Dean, whose decision it would be. I applied. I somewhat finagled an interview with the Dean, John Booty. I told him I would be coming to hear Professor David Tracy, a famous theologian from the University of Chicago (once made the cover of Time), who would be speaking there. I could be interviewed at that time. The Dean agreed. I went. After Tracy's lecture, I had the privilege of having lunch with just him and the dean. I then had a pleasant interview with Dean Booty. I got a letter and then call from the dean a couple of weeks later, telling me they had chosen someone else (an Emory Ph.D.--not a great choice, there for just two years). I had made the final cut.
That ended my possibility of becoming an Episcopalian. I wasn't crushed, but I was disheartened. As things would turn out, United Methodism was the place for me. My life would become the one door closing--another opening cliche. God's hand was in all of it.
In December, 1982 Marianne and I got married in a small but beautiful wedding in her little Episcopal Church in Lenoir City, Tennessee. Her son, John, age 13 and my daughter, April, age 9, were the attendants. Doris Burrus, who had introduced Marianne and me a year and a half earlier, read scripture. Doris died two years later of melanoma at age 50. We both revere her memory. Our friends Nelson and Becky (readers of this blog) were married in Nagasaki Japan on more or less the same day. The same day is a different date in Japan, and they had to have two ceremonies, one legal and one church.
Eight months later we would be leaving Tennessee and moving to Greensboro.
Faithfully,
Christian
Although I would be farther away from April, I would have summers off. She would be able to come for extended times in the summer. Sewanee was also only 20 miles from Manchester, Tenn., where Marianne's mother lived. The campus is beautiful. I would be teaching all Divinity students, no undergraduates.
The Canon of the Ordinary recommended me to the Dean, whose decision it would be. I applied. I somewhat finagled an interview with the Dean, John Booty. I told him I would be coming to hear Professor David Tracy, a famous theologian from the University of Chicago (once made the cover of Time), who would be speaking there. I could be interviewed at that time. The Dean agreed. I went. After Tracy's lecture, I had the privilege of having lunch with just him and the dean. I then had a pleasant interview with Dean Booty. I got a letter and then call from the dean a couple of weeks later, telling me they had chosen someone else (an Emory Ph.D.--not a great choice, there for just two years). I had made the final cut.
That ended my possibility of becoming an Episcopalian. I wasn't crushed, but I was disheartened. As things would turn out, United Methodism was the place for me. My life would become the one door closing--another opening cliche. God's hand was in all of it.
In December, 1982 Marianne and I got married in a small but beautiful wedding in her little Episcopal Church in Lenoir City, Tennessee. Her son, John, age 13 and my daughter, April, age 9, were the attendants. Doris Burrus, who had introduced Marianne and me a year and a half earlier, read scripture. Doris died two years later of melanoma at age 50. We both revere her memory. Our friends Nelson and Becky (readers of this blog) were married in Nagasaki Japan on more or less the same day. The same day is a different date in Japan, and they had to have two ceremonies, one legal and one church.
Eight months later we would be leaving Tennessee and moving to Greensboro.
Faithfully,
Christian
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