Never Grow Up!

NEVER GROW UP

Recently I was at In and Out in Marin, and an old friend came up to me. I have known him for 10 years, and we chatted.  Last night I received an email from him with these words:

“Dear River, ‘Never grow up!’ Peter Pan” and the comment–“you have helped many, you saved my life when I was 15.”

Last week I was hanging out with two friends and I received a phone call from a friend who has just entered hospice and we talked, and than I went out with my two buddies in the woods where  we played “30 foot Tiger” and I was given a walking stick that one of my  friends named “The staff of Decrepitude”meaning “one who  passed from middle age directly into old age,” which frankly I have felt like since the two surgeries. And I should not have been out there with this shoulder, but I was, and will be again. New Year’s Eve I chose to go to a party of 18 year old’s rather than one of adults, and my rotary cup was broken and I was asked later,  “Why did you not go and be with us adults, and my response, this party was a hell of a lot more fun.”

A couple of weeks ago I did an evaluation for a mental health professional on a young guy, after spending two days hanging out, and the counselor looked at the page, and than looked up and said, “You never reveal anything my client tells you, when you can, but never do you disclose any thing, and your recommendations are always far from anything I would think of and on target, and what I see is you are there friend first of all, but a caring one.” And I replied jokingly, “I am one of the boys.”

This is the road I travel, where it will lead, I have no idea, but it is painful, and yet fun.

“I know success or failure in my life or ministry does not depend on my own skill or even on external circumstances, it depends only on my faithfulness. God will give me the gifts necessary to do whatever He calls me to do, and He will not be hindered in His work by circumstances. “

– Lester Sumrall

Fr. Christian River Sims, D.Min.

http://www.temenos.org

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164

415-305-2124

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The Mystery of Absurdity–The Church

The Mystery of Absurdity–The Church

Matthew 16: 13-16

I talk about being down the “rabbit hole,” and for me that is the mystery of absurdity–life makes no sense unless one finds a base to hold on to. As my doctor told me a couple of days ago, “You are running on pure will,” and I am. My strength is no longer there.
but what I hold onto is the God in Christ who sustains me in my own depths of pain, fears, and questioning and where I have experienced the body of Christ in these times.

People see the church as an institution that shapes our lives, but any more for me the organized  church is simply the empty shell of the Gospel; the shell of the Gospel–homeless people are not welcome, and it has ethics that tear people’s lives up; it could be a force, instead it is a whimper.

People have questioned my ethics, and have frankly rejected me, but in seminary we were taught “situational ethics” which is meeting people where they are, and that is what I do, I meet people where they are, and I hold out one single carrot–to be loved where you are, and in that God is present. To meet people in the black and white of where one is fails the Gospel message of love. We live in the gray’s of life.

The church for me is with those who give of their lives in service, in the nook and corners of our society, you do not have to be a Christian to be the church, you have to follow the word of love:

“I choose love. No occasion justifies hatred; no injustice warrants bitterness, I choose love. Today I will love God and what God loves.”
– Max Lucado, Upwords 

Fr. River Damien Sims, D.Min.

P.O. Box 642656
San Francisco, CA 94164

http://www.temenos.org

Myth of Sisyphus

“The Myth of Sisyphus (French: Le Mythe de Sisyphe) is a 1942 philosophical essay by Albert Camus. The English translation by Justin O’Brien was first published in 1955.

In the essay, Camus introduces his philosophy of the absurd, man’s futile search for meaning, unity, and clarity in the face of an unintelligible world devoid of God and eternal truths or values. Does the realization of the absurd require suicide? Camus answers, “No. It requires revolt.” He then outlines several approaches to the absurd life. The final chapter compares the absurdity of man’s life with the situation of Sisyphus, a figure of Greek mythology who was condemned to repeat forever the same meaningless task of pushing a boulder up a mountain, only to see it roll down again. The essay concludes, “The struggle itself […] is enough to fill a man’s heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy”.

A friend told me the other night that in struggling as I do I am like

Sisyphus, pushing a boulder up the hill; and as I have reflected on his comments he is correct. In the last few months I have found myself pushing a boulder that is reflected in many areas.

My friendship with my closest friends is pushing a boulder up the hill, I fail, and I fail a lot.  I have yelled at them, over nothing, I  have let things slip to a mom, simply trying to do right, and I wonder why they even like me, I am very insecure with them, and they have been closer to me than brothers,  but I keep on pushing, the boulder up the hill the struggle fills my heart, I am happy;

Work on the streets is difficult, very difficult, and we see people frustrated, and threats are made, yet in pushing the boulder up the hill I find myself happy.  It is not easy to have people cuss you, have your life threatened, but in pushing the boulder up the hill there is happiness;

With my shoulder in a sling, and doing physical therapy, there is often much pain, and fear, and I am so tired, but I keep on pushing the boulder up the hill the struggle fills my heart, I am happy;

I have failed with a lot of people, and peoples expectations of me are often off. My doctor told me to day, you are going purely on will, right now, and you are suffering, but I keep on pushing the boulder up the hill, the struggle fills my heart, I am happy;

I find meaning in my life through my faith, but the reality is life is absurd, and I struggle with that absurdity through pushing the boulder up the hill; experience  extreme loneliness, and see people sleeping on the street as absurdity, and I keep pushing the boulder up the hill, and the struggle fills my heart and I am happy. Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!

Fr. River Damien Sim, D.Min.

http://www.temenos.org

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164

415-305-2124

Taking Up the Cross

TAKING UP THE CROSS

Luke 9:22-25

Next weekend we are picking up Akihiro. My adult friends, have raised the questions: “He will change your life, and take a lot of your time, what happens to him if someone kills you, what are you going to do when you travel, and so on, you better rethink this.”

Every young person that I hang out with, especially my street kids who have dogs, tell me what a great idea, how it will make life less lonely, and accepted it makes one feel.

For me what having Akihiro means is to have someone who will love me without question, who will respond to my love, and love me in return. He will exemplify to me what it means to take up the cross. For taking up the cross is to give of our love to others, without question.

“Deny yourself and take up the cross daily,” Jesus tell us. What is the cross but ourselves, our egos, the pains in our bodies, our awkwardness, our mistakes. To follow  is to move beyond ego trips. It means coping with the business of life without trampling on others or making them suffer. To deny ourselves means reaching a point where ourselves are no longer the most important thing in the world–to be happy to listen; to accept without resentment the diminishments that come through time or circumstances; and to see God’s hand in both the bright and dark spots.

I sat for four hours last night listening to a nineteen year old talk about wanting to kill himself because he had no hope. Simply listening he left with the strength to go on. Jamie looked into my eyes and said you think of suicide a lot to and I said, “Everyday,” but my hope is that good comes from the darkness. I had another young friend of mine really sad yesterday because a friend told on another friend who is an exchange student and she is being sent home. He said, “people are snakes.” And I told him we are all snakes, but when the cross is lifted with the snake on it we become creatures who love without question, and see the goodness in all.

We find hope, we find meaning, when we listen to people, simply listen, when we feed people, just give a sandwich or take someone who is lonely, homeless out to eat; provide a tent or sleeping bag, or simply just listen. I had a reporter question what I was doing to help–my answer is I listen, and listen, people find love, they find hope.

I have friends who prefers texting and snap chatting and I am always concerned I am saying the wrong thing, getting my words right etc, because my life is listening. I love them , so I will keep on striving, working at it, but what is the most important thing is in relationship face to face and listening. Our streets are full of suffering and I believe if we moved out of our little worlds–and listen–there will be far less, for all of us. Take up your cross, move out of your ego, and listen. Be present to people. Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!

Fr. River Damien Sims, D.Min.

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164

http://www.temenos.org

punkpriest1 @gmail.com

Ash Wednesday, 2018

Ash Wednesday, 2018

Akihiro–Luminous,  Brightness

The photo is of a puppy that we will pick up soon, which is a gift of hope. His name is Akihiro, meaning “luminous, and brightness.” He is beautiful, young, and offers hope. Hope that seems unreachable.

On this my final Ash Wednesday, the words “Listen, O man, you are dust to dust, to the dirt you will return,” echo out the world in which we live:

People sleep on the street, broken from life, from the struggle of living, broken from the selfishness, the resentment, the hatred, of “have’s”, who refuse to share;

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, to the earth you shall return;”

Social media is our new god, it builds falseness into our relationships, allows us to ignore the pain of our friends, isolates us into simply being, a fake being;

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, to the earth you shall return;”

Race, religion, sexual orientation, economic status, separate us into tribes, which leads to hatred, and division;

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, to the earth, you shall return.”

====================================================

Ash Wednesday on the
Streets–Join us at Noon, Polk Street side in Front of City Hall–Short Service, and than walking up street imputing ashes on people.

Ash-Wednesday by T S Eliot

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man’s gift and that man’s scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know again
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessed face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.

II

Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree
In the cool of the day, having fed to satiety
On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been contained
In the hollow round of my skull. And God said
Shall these bones live? shall these
Bones live? And that which had been contained
In the bones (which were already dry) said chirping:
Because of the goodness of this Lady
And because of her loveliness, and because
She honours the Virgin in meditation,
We shine with brightness. And I who am here dissembled
Proffer my deeds to oblivion, and my love
To the posterity of the desert and the fruit of the gourd.
It is this which recovers
My guts the strings of my eyes and the indigestible portions
Which the leopards reject. The Lady is withdrawn
In a white gown, to contemplation, in a white gown.
Let the whiteness of bones atone to forgetfulness.
There is no life in them. As I am forgotten
And would be forgotten, so I would forget
Thus devoted, concentrated in purpose. And God said
Prophesy to the wind, to the wind only for only
The wind will listen. And the bones sang chirping
With the burden of the grasshopper, saying

Lady of silences
Calm and distressed
Torn and most whole
Rose of memory
Rose of forgetfulness
Exhausted and life-giving
Worried reposeful
The single Rose
Is now the Garden
Where all loves end
Terminate torment
Of love unsatisfied
The greater torment
Of love satisfied
End of the endless
Journey to no end
Conclusion of all that
Is inconclusible
Speech without word and
Word of no speech
Grace to the Mother
For the Garden
Where all love ends.

Under a juniper-tree the bones sang, scattered and shining
We are glad to be scattered, we did little good to each other,
Under a tree in the cool of the day, with the blessing of sand,
Forgetting themselves and each other, united
In the quiet of the desert. This is the land which ye
Shall divide by lot. And neither division nor unity
Matters. This is the land. We have our inheritance.

III

At the first turning of the second stair
I turned and saw below
The same shape twisted on the banister
Under the vapour in the fetid air
Struggling with the devil of the stairs who wears
The deceitul face of hope and of despair.

At the second turning of the second stair
I left them twisting, turning below;
There were no more faces and the stair was dark,
Damp, jagged, like an old man’s mouth drivelling, beyond repair,
Or the toothed gullet of an aged shark.

At the first turning of the third stair
Was a slotted window bellied like the figs’s fruit
And beyond the hawthorn blossom and a pasture scene
The broadbacked figure drest in blue and green
Enchanted the maytime with an antique flute.
Blown hair is sweet, brown hair over the mouth blown,
Lilac and brown hair;
Distraction, music of the flute, stops and steps of the mind over the third stair,
Fading, fading; strength beyond hope and despair
Climbing the third stair.

Lord, I am not worthy
Lord, I am not worthy
but speak the word only.

IV

Who walked between the violet and the violet
Who walked between
The various ranks of varied green
Going in white and blue, in Mary’s colour,
Talking of trivial things
In ignorance and knowledge of eternal dolour
Who moved among the others as they walked,
Who then made strong the fountains and made fresh the springs

Made cool the dry rock and made firm the sand
In blue of larkspur, blue of Mary’s colour,
Sovegna vos

Here are the years that walk between, bearing
Away the fiddles and the flutes, restoring
One who moves in the time between sleep and waking, wearing

White light folded, sheathing about her, folded.
The new years walk, restoring
Through a bright cloud of tears, the years, restoring
With a new verse the ancient rhyme. Redeem
The time. Redeem
The unread vision in the higher dream
While jewelled unicorns draw by the gilded hearse.

The silent sister veiled in white and blue
Between the yews, behind the garden god,
Whose flute is breathless, bent her head and signed but spoke no word

But the fountain sprang up and the bird sang down
Redeem the time, redeem the dream
The token of the word unheard, unspoken

Till the wind shake a thousand whispers from the yew

And after this our exile

V

If the lost word is lost, if the spent word is spent
If the unheard, unspoken
Word is unspoken, unheard;
Still is the unspoken word, the Word unheard,
The Word without a word, the Word within
The world and for the world;
And the light shone in darkness and
Against the Word the unstilled world still whirled
About the centre of the silent Word.

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Where shall the word be found, where will the word
Resound? Not here, there is not enough silence
Not on the sea or on the islands, not
On the mainland, in the desert or the rain land,
For those who walk in darkness
Both in the day time and in the night time
The right time and the right place are not here
No place of grace for those who avoid the face
No time to rejoice for those who walk among noise and deny the voice

Will the veiled sister pray for
Those who walk in darkness, who chose thee and oppose thee,
Those who are torn on the horn between season and season, time and time, between
Hour and hour, word and word, power and power, those who wait
In darkness? Will the veiled sister pray
For children at the gate
Who will not go away and cannot pray:
Pray for those who chose and oppose

O my people, what have I done unto thee.

Will the veiled sister between the slender
Yew trees pray for those who offend her
And are terrified and cannot surrender
And affirm before the world and deny between the rocks
In the last desert before the last blue rocks
The desert in the garden the garden in the desert
Of drouth, spitting from the mouth the withered apple-seed.

O my people.

VI

Although I do not hope to turn again
Although I do not hope
Although I do not hope to turn

Wavering between the profit and the loss
In this brief transit where the dreams cross
The dreamcrossed twilight between birth and dying
(Bless me father) though I do not wish to wish these things
From the wide window towards the granite shore
The white sails still fly seaward, seaward flying
Unbroken wings

And the lost heart stiffens and rejoices
In the lost lilac and the lost sea voices
And the weak spirit quickens to rebel
For the bent golden-rod and the lost sea smell
Quickens to recover
The cry of quail and the whirling plover
And the blind eye creates
The empty forms between the ivory gates
And smell renews the salt savour of the sandy earth This is the time of tension between dying and birth The place of solitude where three dreams cross Between blue rocks But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away Let the other yew be shaken and reply.

Blessed sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee

Fr. River Damien Sims, D.Min.

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164

http://www.temenos.org

415-305-2124

Station 2 Jesus Carries His Cross

Station 2:Jesus Carries the Cross

1924-“America’s First Homo-

Sexual Rights Group Forms

Today we have multiple Queer Rights Groups. They advocate and fight for

Queer Rights. There are few in our churches. There are few Queer Youth Groups.

In the same way the Church stands back from homelessness. Our streets are full of homeless people, and how many churches open their doors for housing? For feeding? How many churches offer support in finding housing, medical care and support?

Dan Berigan said:”The churches fearfulness is our confession of unconvertedness.” When we are in relationship with Jesus of Nazareth, our hearts are turned towards the caring and welfare of others. We meet them with out judgment, we give of what we have so that all might have.

We judge by age, sexual orientation, race, creed, and economic status, and conversion brings us to see all as equal, as one, and in so doing we care for others, we fight for others, and we give our lives away to others. Jesus is still carrying the cross!

Fr. River Damien Sims, D.Min.

www. temenos.org

 

Ash Wednesday

​Meet At City Hall, Polk Street Side

Noon

Short Service of Imposition of Ashes

Walk through Tenderloin and Polk Street doing an Imposition of Ashes

When the ashes are imposed on our heads in the sign of the cross we hear the words, “Listen O Man, You are dust, and ashes to ashes, to dust you shall return,” what goes through our minds? For me I am reminded that death is near, and in the past year in two instances I have found death very near, and the ashes remind me my time is short, and I must be about my Father’s business. What makes us followers of Jesus, what makes our work saintly?

Our streets are full of tents, people sleeping on the side walks, in the doorways and in the Parks.  This Ash Wednesday as we ponder our mortality let us also ponder the words of Jesus as we look on our streets:

“I was hungry and you gave me food to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger and you welcomed me. I was naked and you gave me clothes to wear.  I was sick and you took care of me. I was in prison and you visited me.”

Meister Eckhart tells us: “Do not think that saintliness comes from occupation; it depends rather on what one is. The kind of work we do does not make us holy,

but we make it holy.”

Father River Damien Sims, D.Min.

http://www.temenos.org

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164
415-305-2124

In the Wastelands

In The Wasteland

The past few days I have been in Sacramento getting my shoulder looked at and at a clergy retreat. The question we were asked to consider was: “Where is God for you this Lent?”

There was a gentleman I talked to who worked in D.C. directly with the homeless, and he told me: “Be ware you will find yourself in a wasteland, and feel totally alone.” He killed himself several weeks later, and he was about to get married.

The past  six months have been the best and worst of times.  The best is in the friends I have become close to, we have had so much fun, going to Amsterdam, hanging out, Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Years together, the most fun I have had in along time, and they have stuck with me during these times, without question, without judgment. Great times;

The worst is seeing the increase of homelessness on the streets, and in Sacramento more and more homeless, along the rail road tracks tons of tents, reminds me of Steinbeck’s  The Grapes of Wrath. People want answers and there are no easy answers.

I have been judged, criticized, and condemned. I have witnessed a stabbing, and have had several other deaths; I have young guys who can not work within the system, and the reality is that youth fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen and a little older, do not have the maturity to grasp a full time job, in a city where rent is impossible is not readily apparent to social services. The services very seldom grasp that most have PTSD.  So many are mentally ill and need housing and treatment. There are people who have full time jobs and live in tents and their cars, it is a wasteland.  People throw up their hands, and run away from facing the situation.

Personally I have had an illness, and an injury, and basically have had two young friends who have stood by me without question or judgment; I came close to death in all of this, and as a friend said today, “you have three lives left;” and Jesus is shall we say is distant, we touch base, but we stay separated, and I remain as faithful as I can.

During Lent I will observe Ash Wednesday on the street implanting ashes; Holy Thursday Eucharist in the Park, the Good Friday Service in the Castro, and Easter breakfast and Service in the Haight. I will keep putting one foot in front of the other. Next week I will return to doing outreach; I have always been a fighter, and will continue to fight, but I am in the wasteland, and it is scary, and so totally lonely.

A friend of mine, Sean, 19, came by Sunday night. I have known him since he was 15 when I met him at a school presentation.  Great parents and we became friends. We fought, he teased me endlessly. Two and half years ago his parents and two brothers were killed in a car accident. He was broken, and I stayed at his house that Spring until he graduated. He comes to me when he is severely depressed, and thinking of suicide. The other night he said, “River, you never judge me, and you know me because you are in many ways like me, and I know how you are struggling now, that is why I stick with it, because you never give up, you are a lost boy like me, and you hold on to your faith, despite everything.”

Ultimately I live with the hope of drinking beer, in particular Angry Orchard, in the Reign of God with all of my ragamuffin guys:

“I should like a great lake of beer for the King of Kings.

I should like the angels of Heaven to be drinking it through time eternal.

I should like excellent meats of belief and pure piety.

I should like flairs of penance at my house.

I should like the people of heaven at my house;

I should like barrels of peace and non-judgment at their disposal;

I should like vessels of charity for their distribution;

I should like for them cellars of mercy.

I should like cheerfulness to be in their drinking.

I should like Jesus to be their among them.

I should like the three Mary’s of illustrious renown to be with us.

I should like the people of heaven, the poor, to be gathered around us from all parts.” St. Brigid of Kildare

Fr. River Sims, D.Min.

http://www.temenos.org

Station 1: Jesus is Condemned to Death

– William Shakespeare

J

Station 1: Jesus is Condemned to Death

Luke 23:1-25

1913: The word “faggot” first appears in print.

Our sexuality shapes who we are, how we treat people, who we feel safe with.  Homophobia is alive and very well.  A former friend of mine was having a party one time and told me she was having trouble because she was trying to balance her invitation list evenly between straights, gays, lesbians, women and men, and I identify as “queer”, and I replied, I am simply a human being. I was not invited–homophobia is alive and well.

Youth today have terms where they identify as neither because they do not like being labeled.  In our high schools, our bars, our churches we hear the term fag, faggot, etc said a lot. People are afraid of people who are different. I remember in a church I served I had a  mother coming to me with a major worry, her husband wanted to have anal sex, and she asked me if that was a sin.  The answer to all questions about sexuality is that so long as we respect the person, and show love and concern it does not matter.

The cross calls us to move out of our ghettos of gay, straight, bi sexual, transgender, lesbian, black, white, rich and poor and embrace each other as brothers and sisters.  Until we do that Jesus will always be condemned to death.

Fr. River Sims, D.Min.

http://www.temenos.org

Queer Stations of the Cross

Queer Stations of the Cross–Struggle for Equality

Introduction

(This is this years Stations of the Cross, will be writing it as my journal, if you would like to give feed back than email me at punkpriest1@gmail.com, and I will consider it.

——————————————————————————–

A close friend text me that “Our friendship is an unstoppable

Tseume,” and it is. I have no idea what to expect, where it is going. I am tossed, and turned, never knowing where it is leading us.  But there has been much joy in this friendship, a joy that I can not describe.  It is scary, it is frightening, but only in living in the Tseume can one truly enjoy the joys and the sorrows, and that is what life is about.

In the same way my journey in ministry is an “unstoppable
Tseume.”  There are the good time, the bad, the high, the low, the horrible times.  There have been times when I have faced death, and most times severe criticism and judgment, but ultimately this is the journy of the cross. We are called to be crucified.

LGBTQT people, and all who are “queer” have faced persecution through the centuries. In certain parts of our country to be out as an LGBTQT person is a death sentence; to be Queer in other ways–political,  choosing away of life that is not with the present culture, and hanging out with the poorest of the poor, and the homeless can lead to rejection, persecution, and death.

Today we walk the “Queer Stations of the Cross:Struggle for Equality”    through the Castro, remembering that Great Cloud of Witnesses, who have gone before us in the struggle, and committing ourselves to the struggle for equality for all.

This struggle is a commitment ot a way of life, a way of commitment to the cross, to crucifixion.

Let us begin our journey in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen. 

Father River Damien Sims, D.Min.

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164

http://www.temenos.org