How much time?

A member of my last parish once loaned me a book called ‘Scratch a Professor . . . Find a Fisherman,’ by the Rev. Bart Sarjeant, a retired priest in the American church. The book is a collection of his letters to the parishioners, and in one of them, he quotes an anonymous poem, called:

How much time?
Time seems to come in little boxes, each box is called a day.
Thirty boxes make a carton, called a month.
A shipment of twelve cartons makes a year.
Each January 1 we get a new shipment - twelve cartons.
What a lot of time to have! We are rich in time.
But are you sure you received a full shipment?
What if your subscription time ran out during the year?
What if you opened a carton and found only empty boxes?
No more time? No more time! But you may have a full shipment this year.
And you may have more shipments in the future.
Yet, will you say, ‘I have no time’? That’s a strange remark.
People who say ‘I have no time,’ always have time.
Those who have no time are dead.
The dead do not mention their lack of time.
Only the living say ‘I have no time.’
All of us have the same amount of time - 24 hours a day, or none.
The difference is how we use our time.
When we say that we have no time for something,
We mean that the ‘something’ is not important enough.
We have to spend our time.
It won’t keep in a bank - not even with a time lock on the vault.
When you say you have no time for church, or to serve Christ,
You are saying that you would rather spend your time in other ways.
Of course, you don’t want it to sound that way.
You want to say ‘I’ll give time to God later when I have more,’
But are you sure you will have more time?
What if your next box is empty?

There is something to be said for that. People say that time is money, and that can be very true. Like money, our time is not really our own - but it’s been given to us by God to make the best possible use of. How we choose to spend it is entirely up to us. Sometimes it may be helpful to think about where our time goes, and whether we’re really putting it to its best use.

What's in a name?`

Many times, people will ask me why I go by 'Father Jonathan' instead of 'Reverend Rowe.' Anglican clergy are called different things in different parts of the world, and in some places, 'Father' is more common, but for the most part in Newfoundland, it can still be a bit unusual, so I wanted to share a few thoughts about why I prefer one title to another.

The word 'Reverend' with a D is not the same as 'Reverent' with a T. 'Reverend' literally means someone who should be revered. The word 'Rector' literally means a ruler. The more I think about it, the more I worry that I've already got enough titles that set me apart from people! What we really need, sometimes, is a reminder that the clergy are normal human beings like everyone else.

The title 'Father,' however, is a word that's more familiar. Fathers are part of our family. Right after, or along with our mothers, our fathers are among the first faces we come to recognize, the first people we learn to love and to trust. We live in an age when Father may not always know best, but fathers still have a responsibility to love and to care for their families.

Many times, new parents are often surprised by their new status. New fathers will often say 'But I don't feel old enough or responsible enough to be someone's father!' What makes a father, though, is not any personal qualities, but a family, looking to you for guidance, support, and love.

This parish is very much like a family – we often speak of 'our parish family' and I hope that these are more than just empty words. The spiritual bonds that hold us together as a parish are much the same as the bonds that hold blood families together. And whether I think I deserve it or not, I have been given the title of 'Rector.' That means that I am in charge, and that I have a responsibility to give leadership and direction, but I also have responsibilities to be a spiritual father to this family – to love and to care for you like a father, to be the kind of person that you can trust, and that you can come to when you need me.

As your parish priest, I would far rather be thought of as part of the family, rather than just someone in charge. I would far rather be thought as someone you can be comfortable with and talk to, rather than just someone you think very highly of. That having been said, I have always maintained that it's far more important that people talk to me at all, than what they call me when they do. So do call me whatever you want, but be sure to call me whenever you have anything on your mind!

And do read this blog, and feel free to comment on it! That's how I know you're reading!