Grace Church Wedding

Thanks to Jean and Tom Morris, who shared these photos of Jim celebrating the wedding of their son Adam and bride Katie this past year.







This, of course, is our favorite, at the reception before saying grace - Fr. Jim as only he could be, master of ceremonies and sometimes stand-up comic.



More reception photos in black and white:





(ok, the dress did not fit anymore - why didn't he tell me???? - but never mind, someone actually captured on film how I felt about da guy)

The Offering of the Priesthood

Sermon given by Fr. Jim Jensen for the ordination of Fr. Jim Heidt (December 2007):

If ever there was a day for which fervent prayers of petition and intercession had been offered, certainly it’s today. And if perseverance is any measure of vocation, then there should be no doubt about the vocation of Jim Heidt.

The journey to this day took a few detours. Those detours stand as a cogent reminder of one of the reasons that discerning God’s will can be difficult. It’s because God often shapes and molds us in ways we would avoid, if given a choice.

But, here we are. We have come together in joy and thanksgiving, to join with our Bishop as he ordains Jim a priest in Christ’s Holy Catholic Church. As we prepare to do that, I believe it’s wise for us to pause for a moment to consider just what that priesthood is about.

The Catechism of the Book of Common Prayer tells us that the ministry of a priest is...
...to represent Christ and his Church, particularly as pastor to the people; to share with the bishop in the overseeing of the Church; to proclaim the Gospel; to administer the sacraments; and to bless and declare pardon in the name of God.

In the ordination liturgy, following the laying-on-of hands, the Prayer Book directs that the ordinand be presented with a Bible, “...as a sign of the authority given... to preach the Word of God....” Thirty-five years ago when I was ordained in the Diocese of Milwaukee, it was customary for the Bishop to present, along with the Bible, a chalice and paten as a sign of the priest’s authority to administer the sacraments, and, in particular, to celebrate the Holy Eucharist. This was referred to as the “delivery of the instruments’--- the instruments of priestly ministry. We used to joke about it, observing that if you considered the daily life of
most parish priests, it would be more fitting for the bishop to present a toilet plunger and a broom. Which is simply to say that ministry is one of those areas of life where there is often some incongruity between theory and practice. It’s just a plain fact of life that parish priests spend an inordinate amount of time dealing with matters that have nothing to do with priesthood.

But we come here today in the midst of Advent— a season of hope and expectation— so let us pray that the ideal is still something for which we can strive, and that it can, by God’s grace inspire Jim’s commitment, and ours as well, to the Church’s mission: to restore all people to God and to each other in Jesus Christ.

As I was thinking and praying about this sermon, there were two passages of scripture that came to mind. The first is found in the 20th chapter of Luke’s Gospel. It is the Lord’s admonition to: “Beware of [those] who like to walk around in long robes....” Clergy can be prone both to vanity and over-sized egos. The fact that we get to wear the fancy clothes and occupy the most prominent seats in the house doesn’t help in that regard. It’s but one of the reasons we need to remember that it is baptismal ministry that is primary and basic to the life of the Church, and it is only when and where clergy and laity both believe and embrace that truth that the mission of the Church can be advanced. Those of us who are ordained, while exercising ministries that are essential to the Church’s life, do so to support and empower the ministry of the all the baptized, the vast majority of whom are lay people. Without them, our ministries have neither context nor purpose.

The other passage, found in the 21st chapter of Luke, centers on the Lord’s description of a poor widow who comes to make her offering at the Temple. It’s a small offering— we usually call it the widow’s mite— and Jesus’ observes that while others had given out of their abundance, this widow gave out of her poverty. I believe there is truth here that has everything to do with ministry and priesthood.

Priesthood is about the offering of sacrifice. In the Old Testament it was the priesthood of the Temple, and it offered animal sacrifice. Keep in mind, however, that it was not the slaying of the animal that was at the heart of the sacrifice, but rather the offering of life to God; the slaughter was simply a necessary prerequisite. It was the offering of life, represented in the animal’s blood, that constituted the sacrifice.

For Christians, Jesus made a monumental and crucial change in all that. He offered himself. As the letter to the Hebrews reminds us:

But when Christ came as high priest of the good things that have come to be, passing through the greater and more perfect tabernacle not made by hands, that is, not belonging to this creation, he entered once for all into the sanctuary, not with the blood of goats and calves but with his own blood, thus obtaining eternal redemption. (Heb. 9:11ff NAB)

Priesthood has to do with the offering of sacrifice; but what we are called to offer is not the life of an animal. As disciples of Jesus, we are called to offer ourselves. Jesus did it perfectly and completely; that is why he is our Great High Priest.

The Christian priest stands before the gathered community to be an icon of the priesthood of Christ. So it is the priest who is given the privilege of presiding at the celebration of the Eucharist, offering the Bread and Wine to God that will become the Body and Blood of Christ, both to re-present the Lord’s sacrifice on the Cross, and to feed the People of God for their ministry in his name.

But the priesthood is given not only, and perhaps not even primarily, to those who are ordained; it is a gift given to the Church, to the whole Body of Christ. So the person ordained also stands before the community as an icon of its corporate priesthood. And priesthood has to do with offering, the offering of life, the living of life, to the glory of God. Life is offered and lived to the glory of God when it is lived fully, and when it is offered and available to God to be used as a vehicle of divine love and grace. Christian priesthood involves speaking the words and doing the deeds of divine compassion and forgiveness. In doing so we enable others to see in and through us the face of Christ, because we have become the hands and feet and lips of Christ in this world. This priesthood belongs to the whole Body of the Faithful; it is the priesthood shared by all the baptized.

And what do we have to offer? In and of ourselves, both lay and ordained, all that we have is the widow’s mite. What we have is our own limited and fallible humanity— imperfect and broken, flawed in so many ways, prone to making stupid and idiotic mistakes, seemingly unable to offer the perfection that God has the right to expect. But the incredibly Good News of the Gospel is that this is precisely what God wants. God wants the imperfect, broken and flawed human beings that we are, to reach out to the world, because each and every human being on the face of the earth is made of the same stuff, experiences the same challenges, and must deal with the same flaws.

It’s all symbolized in the widow’s mite— it seems like so little. But it’s not the amount that’s important, it is our willingness to offer who and what we are and have. That is our call; and that is how we exercise our priesthood.

James, my brother, today apostolic hands will be laid upon you for the office and work of a priest, to serve the Good Shepherd, the one who lays down his life for the sheep. Remember as you minister in his name, that there is only one Good Shepherd, and it is not you! You are called to serve him, you are not called to be him. Neither are you called to lay down your life for the sheep. Jesus did that, and he’s the only one who can. What we as priests are called to do is to lay our lives at the feet of Jesus, and to do what it is that he calls us to do.

Some might say that this is a bit of semantics, but I don’t believe so. The Church can be a bottomless pit of needs and wants, of people pulling at us from every side. And it can all look urgent. It can all look worthwhile. It can all look like ministry. We could give a thousand lives to it, and it wouldn’t be enough.

Priests are not called to save the world. That, too, has already been done. Our job is to lead people to the Good Shepherd, because that is where they will find green pastures and still waters. And he is the one, the only one, who can restore their souls.

The Lord asks you today, “James, my brother, do you love me?” And as you respond, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you,” he gives you your ministry: “Feed my sheep.” May the Lord bless, guide and strengthen you, today and always.

© James M. Jensen

Last glimpse

Last photo of Jim, taken at St. Mark's Episcopal Church, Chenango Bridge, Saturday, November 14, 2009, shortly before he was stricken with chest pains and died approximately two hours later.

(Sent by Lynda Helmer, who wrote: "This attachment is a photo of Jim. My brother was the photographer for Dorothy Pierce's ordination and, by the grace of God, happened to snap this photo. It was taken of Jim literally moments before he became symptomatic. I love the photo because it really shows him doing something he really loved to do....celebrate a new ministry.")

Rejoice in the Lord alway - Looking ahead to Gaudete Sunday

Advent III-B — December 14, 2008
Grace Church, Utica

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing,
give thanks in all circumstances;
for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

If we were to take our cue from the angels, then the closer we come to Christmas, the more our hearts will be filled with joy. The news the angels brought to those unsuspecting shepherds keeping watch over their flocks, was a message overflowing with joy. I think it’s fair to say that the heavens had not had as festive a celebration since the time of Creation.

C. S. Lewis once wrote that “Joy is the serious business of heaven.” The song of the angels testifies to that truth. But what about things here on earth? Joy may be fine in heaven, but there are a lot of circumstances and realities in this life that seem to place angelic joy above our reach. Beyond the light of Christmas lies the shadow of Good Friday. The baby born in Bethlehem, will become the man who will die in agony on Golgotha. Yes, God comes into our world on Christmas, but what kind of a world is it? Finding joy is not always an easy task. Some people do it by escaping into Santa-land fantasy. For others, however, it’s a depressing time— depression often brought on because of the contradiction they experience between the joy they hear about and the real world in which they live.

The Third Sunday of Advent has traditionally been known as “Gaudete”— a day to rejoice. That word, “gaudete” is a Latin word, the first word in the traditional introit or entrance hymn for today’s liturgy. On this Sunday we’re just past the mid-point of Advent, and we’re invited to anticipate the joy of Christmas. This mood is reflected in the lessons that are read, in the rose-colored vestments that are used, the flowers, and in the rose or pink candle on the Advent wreath. The more popular designation of this day, of course, is “Rose Sunday.”

In the second lesson St. Paul urges us to rejoice, always. We might well wonder how that is possible. If we’re among those who find it difficult to muster up some joy for a day or two at Christmas, how can we even think about rejoicing always?

Paul is speaking here not of a superficial kind of happiness, but of a quality of joy that is much deeper and more profound— an enduring joy more lasting than contrived ‘holiday cheer.’ He’s referring to the kind of joy that can be ours when we know in the depths of our souls that God is here and at work among us. It’s a joy that springs from the hope which is ours, a hope rooted in the certain faith that God’s purposes are being worked out in this world, and that God’s will will not be thwarted.

When you read about the early Church, it’s impossible to miss the joy that rings throughout every aspect of its life. In its liturgy, in its theology, and in its ongoing life even in the midst of persecution, the keynote is joy— the joy that comes from knowing Jesus as Savior and Lord. We’re told that the early Christian martyrs even faced death with joy— offering thanks that they were given the privilege of dying for the faith. They knew, not only in their minds but more importantly in their hearts and souls, that they were on the winning side. The battle had been fought, and in the resurrection of Jesus it had been won. They knew in their hearts that victory was theirs.

Today I fear that our religion often comes across to the world as gloomy and somber, because the world often hears Christians speaking more of sin than of redemption. Let’s admit that it’s tempting to spend our time wringing our hands over the darkness in the world and keeping ourselves in a perpetual state of despair over the state of the human race. But that temptation is a manifestation of our pride— the pride that continually tempts us to take sin more seriously than we take God’s forgiveness, to be overly impressed with our limitations to the extent that we virtually overlook the greatness of what God has done and is doing among us. That’s the reason we often miss the joy of the Christian life--- because our vision gets foggy and we lose sight of the fact that God is here and continues to work out his purposes.

Of course it’s true that God’s Son came into the world because of our sin. But that wasn’t the only reason. Christmas means more than simply the first tragic step to the Cross. For God to assume our flesh and share in human life was an essential component of the world as God envisioned it. In sharing our flesh Jesus drew all of humanity to himself. The early Fathers, the theologians of the Church, used to speak of Christ being made human so that we might share in his divinity. We might think of our spiritual growth in terms of allowing the divine spark in us to shine more brightly so that it can radiate more of the life and love of God.

The source of Christian joy is the mystery of God’s active, searching and creating love. If that’s true, then when God comes to us in the birth of Jesus, how else can we respond but with joy and thanksgiving? Paul can call us to rejoice always because he has known and experienced God’s liberating and transforming power in his own life. Paul had spent a number of years trying his best to rid the world of every vestige of Christianity; but his life was changed and he was transformed into an apostle and evangelist for the cause of Christ.

There is a painting by a Dutch artist, entitled The Numbering at Bethlehem. It depicts a typical mid-winter scene in a Flemish town. The streets are covered with snow; a wreath hangs over the door of one of the shops where a merchant and a buyer are haggling over prices. A young man flirts with a girl out on an errand. A farmer and his wife butcher a pig for someone’s dinner. A laborer struggles with an overloaded cart of firewood. In the background children are skating on a pond. A crowd of people are standing in front of the local tax office to be counted for the census and to pay their taxes. It’s a typical, everyday scene of mid-winter life in the village.


Pieter Bruegel the Elder. The Numbering at Bethlehem. 1566.
Oil on panel. Royal Museum of Fine Arts, Antwerp, Belgium, www.abcgallery.com.

But if you look closer, you see down toward the bottom of the canvas, in the middle of the street, unnoticed by everyone, a humble man carrying a bag of tools, and leading a small donkey who is trudging through the snow. Sitting on the donkey, shivering from the cold with an old blanket thrown over her shoulders, is an unassuming young woman. It’s Joseph the carpenter and his young wife Mary, come from Nazareth to pay taxes. Emmanuel— God with us.

And isn’t this the way that God usually comes, not only on Christmas, but each and every day, moving in silently, without fanfare, coming into the midst of life in all of its ordinary and everyday events. Here is God— in the love and friendship that people give to each other, in the strong hands and hearts that hold us up when we’re about to fall, and yes, in the birth of a baby— here is God touching us and loving us and bringing us the joy of salvation.

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing,
give thanks in all circumstances;
for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.

© James M. Jensen

And I Saw a New Heaven

"And I Saw a New Heaven" is being rehearsed by the Kingston men and boys choir in this excerpt from a documentary about the parish's efforts to raise funds for a new organ. Grace Church Utica people will know why this is particularly apt for giving you a flavor of what the music was like at the Requiem Eucharist. This was the main anthem sung at the Offertory.





The Eucharist of Christian Burial
In Thanksgiving for the Life of

The Very Reverend James M. Jensen
November 28, 1946 - November 14, 2009

7:00 P.M. November 19, 2009

Grace Church
Utica, NY


Prelude

Sonata in g (Opus 1, No.3) John Loeillet (1680-1730)
Adagio J.M. Molter (1696-1763)
Ave Maria Bach/Gounod (1818-1893)
Fanfare J. Cook (1918-1984)

Entrance Hymn 379 'God Is Love, Let Heaven Adore Him' Abbots Leigh
Entrance Hymn 208 'The Strife Is Oer' Victory

Psalm 46 Anglican Chant sung by the choir M. Luther (1483-1546)

Gospel Acclamation Gelobt sei Gott

'Be faithful until death, says the Lord,'
'And I will give you the crown of life.' (Rev. 2:10)

Offertory Anthem 'And I Saw a New Heaven' E. Bainton (1880-1956)

Offertory Hymn 625 'Ye Holy Angels Bright' Darwall's 148th

Eucharistic Prayer B

Sanctus (S 128) W. Mathias (1934-1992)

Memorial Acclamation (S 138) M. Robinson (b. 1943)

Great Amen (S 146) M. Robinson

Christ Our Passover (S 154) D. Hurd (1950)

Lamb of God (S 158) H. Willan (1880-1968)

Communion Anthems 'The Lord Is my Shepherd' T. Matthews (1915-1999)
'E'en So, Lord Jesus, Quickly Come' P. Manz (1919-2009)
He that shall Endure to the End F. Mendelssohn (1809-1847)
'Rejoice in the Lord Alway' Anon

Communion Hymn 516 'Come Down, O Love Divine' Down Ampney

Recessional Hymn 207 'Jesus Christ Is Risen Today' Easter Hymn

Postlude 'Fantasy in G Major' J. S. Bach (1685-1750)


Musicians

Bruce G. Smith, Organist and Choirmaster

Choir of Grace Church

Bertram Bookhout, trumpet; Janelle Bookhout, oboe; Sarah Hoffman, bassoon; Timothy Davis, organ; Elinor Hadity, soprano soloist; T. J. McAvaney, violin; Susan Sady, organ.



See also the Utica Observer Dispatch coverage of the funeral. (Don't miss the line from the homily about the "chicadee rector"!)

A long but wonderful day

Yesterday was a very long but strangely wonderful day. I tried not to think about it beforehand - just kept pushing myself to try to get ready in time because there was a good chance (as Jim often half-joked about) I'd be late to his funeral, punctuality not being my strong suit. I also pushed out of my mind any thought of how I would get through the long hours from noon to 7:00, first at the funeral home and then at the visitation and reception at church. Although I can write up a storm and talk your ear off one on one, I'm truly an introvert. Put me in a crowd (more than three people), and I clam up, panic, or just get overly anxious. I know I can "handle" just about anything I put my mind to, but getting through most social occasions, especially involving people I don't know well or not at all, is quite a chore. Needless to say, I was not born to be a rector's wife.

All I wanted out of Thursday was for people to gather and make their peace with Jim's departure. For me, I was just going to plod through, be a trooper, and then let my emotions swell with the glorious music and, I hoped, cry my eyes out.

It didn't work out that way - not at all. For days now (and again today) I've had this big knot and deep ache in my gut. I have difficulty sleeping, especially from about 1 to 4 a.m. And at times I feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone. But yesterday afternoon and evening suddenly a great calm settled inside. I don't know that I did a great "job" greeting and meeting people at the church, but I was relaxed and truly enjoyed it -- looking into each person's eyes, reading their pain and concern, listening to their words, and marveling at some who told stories of their times with Jim. There were people from downtown restaurants and diners, waitresses and owners, who told me how much they enjoyed his good humor and cheer. There were children, young choristers and teens, both the boys and girls high school varsity soccer teams and their coaches, local Roman Catholic clergy, and those from various denominations who had been recently working with Jim in a series of community organizing meetings under the auspices of PICO. Parishioners came, not just from Grace but from area churches, whom Jim had listened to and supported in many ways, and there were all the Episcopal clergy and staff, with whom he had shared his wisdom and counsel and given much care. There were tears and many, many hugs. No one told me anything I did not know already about Jim and how he affected people, but it was as if the whole of his life outside of me and our family appeared in the flesh before me.

At the core of Jim's convictions was the Incarnation. He once explained Anglo-Catholicism to me as deeply rooted in the notion that we could see, touch, and taste God. The mystery of the Real Presence in the Eucharist was one and the same as the face of God we see in each and every one of us and in the greater Creation that surrounds us. Worship and prayer that involves kneeling, standing, crossing and genuflecting, songs and music, candles and incense are a physical expression of our faith, as is feeding the hungry, clothing the poor, and caring for those who are abandoned. All that somehow came together for me Thursday afternoon, in the vast expanse of sanctuary, with the votive candles and Sr. Mary Gabriel's icon, where Jim's body lay in the nave, as people came one after one to kneel beside him and say their goodbyes.

This was so unexpected. In the past, to the little extent I ever contemplated Jim predeceasing me, I was ambivalent about the role the church would have to play in his funeral arrangements and what I formerly thought would be the focus on his personhood as priest, which might well eclipse the man who was and is my love, my life, and husband. But what I experienced on Thursday was not an "either / or" but a richness of "and"s. Each person reflected a layer of who and what Jim was in life, and the glorious celebration that followed was for the man and priest who was one and the same.

Revelation

Borderless World by Chuck and Peg Hoffman. Acrylic on canvas, Sept 2008, 30 x 30 inches.

Proper 28-B - November 15, 2009
Grace Church, Utica

From today's Old Testament Lesson we hear these words:

There shall be a time of anguish, such as has never occurred since nations first came into existence.

And in today's Gospel reading, Jesus says,

When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines.

Some Sundays in the Calendar of the Church Year have specific names attached to them: like Palm Sunday and Trinity Sunday. If we were to give this Sunday a name the most appropriate would be Apocalypse Sunday.

The word, apocalypse, in its Greek form, means "a lifting of the veil." So it's a word that has to do with disclosure and revelation. In one sense, of course, all of Scripture is a revelation. We believe that Scripture is God's Word to us, that through the scriptural writings, God's Word for us is revealed. But there is a more particular sense of apocalypse associated with the Book of Daniel in the Old Testament, as well as the Book of Revelation at the end of the New Testament. The book of Revelation, traditionally attributed to the Apostle John, is a vision of "the end" of all things, the end of time. The graphic scenes of crisis and judgment, of the separation from good and evil, of devils from angels, of the righteous from the unrighteous -- with the monsters and beasts on one side and the saints and the Mystic Lamb of God on the other side -- it's all a dramatic and vivid presentation of the struggle that goes on between the forces of good and evil, both in our individual lives and also in the world at large.

If you think about it, every age, every historical period has these moments: wars, plagues, great disasters; the sudden end of an era, the conquest of a nation, or the fall of an empire. The movie Apocalypse Now revealed the horrors of war in Vietnam. A more peaceful and more amazing Apocalypse was the sudden collapse of the Soviet Empire in 1989; the whole world changed in a few months without a shot being fired. Then of course there were the events of 9/11, when we all wondered if the world might be coming to an end.

There are also more personal experiences of an apocalyptic nature. A crisis comes -- a loss, an illness, a financial setback, a death -- something that tests, reveals and uncovers our true character. In some instance, you might say that these experiences lift the veil on our soul, sometimes just to our own eyes, and sometimes for all the world to see.

While all these revelations may bring new and startling things to light, life nonetheless goes on. As the angel told Daniel, "Many shall be purified and made white and tried; but the wicked shall do wickedly; and none of the wicked shall understand; but the wise shall understand." Some people, some of the time, gain new insight. At other times, we continue to be left in the dark.

But what about the end, I mean the real, final end of all things?

In the opening chapter of the Acts of the Apostles, at the time of the Lord's Ascension, Jesus and his apostles are gathered together at a place outside Jerusalem. They asked him, "'Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel? He replied, "it is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority."

It was not theirs, and it's not ours, to know the dates and times. Yet scripture clearly points to the fact that there will be an END, a closure, a reconciliation of all things in heaven and earth. We see it in nature all the time; and we see it in human life as well. At least as far as our earthly life is concerned, you and I will come to an end in death. A hundred years from now, not one of us here this morning is likely to be breathing and walking around on this earth. And yet, as commonplace as death is, the death of each and every human being, is, nonetheless, a deeply moving moment, an apocalypse of its own before God. We know from our own experience, that everything in life has its own Alpha and Omega -- it's beginning as well as its end. Scripture affirms that this is true of all creation.

But scripture and the Christian Faith make one more important affirmation. In the grand vision of heaven found at the end of the Revelation to John, a voice from the throne proclaims "I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end" (21:6). It is our belief, it is the truth that we know by faith, that the beginning and the end are not just events in time and space. The beginning and the end cannot be separated from the one who is, in His own Divine Being, the Alpha and the Omega. God is not only the source and beginning of life; God is also the One who stands before us at the end. That's because our end is not determined by the deterioration and obliteration of death. At the end, there is God.

Remember what C.S. Lewis told his friend, when he was asked what happens when we die. Lewis told him that death would be that moment when God throws his arms around us and says, "At last, I've got you."

And what will we find? We'll find that any questions and doubts will fade away, as we meet God face to face. Which is simply to say that when things fall apart and time runs out, God's love remains and God's eternity breaks in. The word to us is wake up and live; watch and pray! Jesus Christ is truly the Living End -- the One in whom there is a new Heaven and a new Earth, a City of God, where we will at last be home, safe and sound, forever.
_______________________

This was the last sermon Jim wrote. He finished it on Friday, November 13, 2009 - he was to preach it on Sunday, November 15,2009. I found it lying on his desk in his office today.

More memories

Thank you Joan, for these

A few words

I hesitate to add any words here, as I would like to freeze time and not go forward, leaving Jim's photo up top, his sermons below, and forever be silent here. Soon I must take his clothing and vestments to the funeral home so he can be dressed and prayed over. I don't want to go ahead, but I must, and am so very thankful for all who have been with me, near and far, to help me, the children, Alison, John, and Greg, and Bonnie (Greg's mom and Jim's wife for many years), to get through what lies ahead. Please continue to keep us all in your prayers.

I cannot begin to name all the names I would like to thank now, but I must name a few: The Rev. Sarah Lewis, who will be dressing and praying over Jim today; Bishop Skip Adams, who anointed him and prayed over him Saturday at the hospital, was with the parish and me Sunday, and will be celebrating the Requiem Eucharist on Thursday; Jim's very good friends and colleagues, Fr. John Wingert, who will give the funeral homily and Fr. George Greene, who will be assisting along with Sarah Lewis; Fr. H. Alan Smith, who left the ordination service to be with Jim and me at the hospital during Jim's final hours; Mike Killian and Lisa Firsching, our wardens, the vestry, and Bruce Smith, our choirmaster and organist and pastor and friend to us all. As for the rest, I'd have to name every member of the parish, including the choir, and a whole host of friends and family, near and far. Please know I have felt your love and support and it has meant so much to me.

I also wanted to give special thanks to my online friends and church community, especially Fr. Jonathan Haggar, Fr. Terry Martin, and June Butler (Grandmere Mimi), among others, who alerted so many to our tragedy. Jonathan, I cannot begin to tell you how much Jim must have appreciated you closing down your site at OCICBW on the weekend in his memory. That was such an incredible honor and something that must have made him leap for joy on the slab - seriously! For a long time I used to just occasionally send him links to your posts, which he enjoyed, but later he came to read you more regularly, when he could find the time. Jim also had a quick wit, an earthy sense of humor, and a special love for bog standard folks, as he was also from a working class family and community (Racine, Wisconsin and Newcastle, U.K. may have much in common). He recognized you as a priest's priest - one who knows all that us lay people can never quite grasp about what being a priest means to you, your sense of humility and unworthiness unspoken, the dutifulness to God, all his people, and their needs, never mind the slings and arrows of life in the Church. And you made him laugh, as you have done for so many, about things that might otherwise make us cry. In fact, thanks to you, just the other day when Jim was talking about retirement (which he so rightly feared he'd never make), he smiled and said that maybe what he'd want to do is blog like you and Fr. Christian Troll (this from the man who resisted reading blogs for a long time and, I think, dared not look at my own, and mainly only read The Lead, which he loved and appreciated a great deal, for "real" news and commentary - thanks to you, Jim Naughton).

There was so much more I wanted to say now - musings in the middle of the night (as I am still not sleeping well at all) - but I don't remember them exactly now. Someday maybe I can pull them altogether. For now, let me just say briefly, that what I've learned so painfully and beautifully the last couple days is how glorious is the Church, the Body of Christ (which, forgive my heretical views includes Christians and non-Christians). In the past I have been often critical of the institutional church (which despite the lowercase "c" encompasses "ours" and lots of "theirs"). While we may have gotten past the Crusades and the Inquisition, Christian institutions still have much to answer for in the way of harm they have done, rather than good. But, as I once was more cognizant of when I first returned to church 20 years ago, after a time in the unchurched wilderness, the church's flaws stem from our humanity, and to criticize church or religion in general is to miss the point that it/they are the best we have and what makes us want to be our best, as close as we can to what God wills for us. Religious communities may be declining in numbers in the West, but they are essential.

Ah... descending into my usual wordiness and drifting into netherlands. I don't have the right words for this now, maybe I never will, but these last few days, no doubt the most painful of my entire life, have shown me Christ incarnate. I used to give Jim a hard time about not wanting to talk much about theology, doubt, belief, etc. with me, which I nevertheless understood because his ESFJ just did not communicate easily or well on such matters with my INTP, and, more practically, he needed time off from the pastor gig once he got home. But the core of his Anglo-Catholicism - incarnational theology (yes, with the smells and bells but without the misogyny and homophobia of some) - is what I've been seeing and feeling this week. All I can say is, thanks be to God.


Jim at Reagan's Baptism, Grace Church, Utica, 2009, courtesy of the proud grandfather, Chris Williams

The Very Rev. James M. Jensen 1946 - 2009

The Very Rev. James M. Jensen, 62, of New Hartford, Rector of Grace Church, Utica and Dean of the Utica-Rome District of the Diocese of Central New York, died suddenly November 14, 2009.

Fr. Jensen graduated from the University of Wisconsin at Madison in 1969. He graduated from Seabury-Western Theological Seminary in Evanston, Illinois in 1972. He was ordained to the priesthood in 1972 at Grace Episcopal Church in Madison, Wisconsin. He served parishes in Greenville, MI, Joliet, IL, Delavan, WI, DeKalb, IL and Hinsdale, IL prior to becoming Rector of Grace Church, Utica in 2001.

Fr. Jensen also served the Episcopal Diocese of Central New York as a member of the Executive Board and the Standing Committee.

The funeral will be held on Thursday at 7 PM at Grace Church, Utica where a Requiem Eucharist will be celebrated by the Rt. Rev. Gladstone B. Adams, III, Bishop of Episcopal Diocese of Central New York . Calling hours will be on Thursday from 3-6 PM at Grace Church.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the Grace Church Music Fund or the Society of St. Margaret – Haiti.

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UPDATE - From the parish:

UTICA, N.Y. The wardens, Vestry and congregation of Grace Church ask the Utica-area community to join us in prayer as we mourn the passing Saturday of the Very Rev. James M. Jensen, Rector of Grace Church since 2001.

Father Jensen died at Wilson Medical Center in Johnson City, N.Y., near Binghamton after being stricken while attending an ordination service in Chenango Bridge. His wife Kathryn and members of the clergy were with him.

He was 62. Father Jensen was the 11th Rector in the history of Grace Church, founded in 1838 in Utica. Grace Church is located at the corner of Elizabeth and Genesee streets.

The Right Rev. Gladstone B. Adams III, Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Central New York, traveled from Syracuse to Grace Church Sunday morning to support the congregation at both the 8 a.m. and 10:30 a.m. Masses.

Bishop Adams pointed to the beginning of Sundays second reading from the letter to the Hebrews, which talks of priests standing day after day at their services. He said it reflected Father Jensens commitment to Grace Church.

He loved being a priest, the bishop said in addressing the congregation at the 10:30 a.m. Mass. He loved being your priest. And he loved you.

Bishop Adams counseled the congregation members to minister to each other in our grief.

Father Jensen was called to be Grace Churchs Rector in spring 2001 following an extensive nationwide search. He served previously at parishes in the mid-west.

During his 8 years at Grace, Father Jensen showed a deep love and commitment to the people of the parish. He gave great support to the music program, to the churchs Christian Education programs and to various community missions, which include a thrift shop on Devereux Street. He was extensively involved in ecumenical efforts with other Utica-area religious leaders and served in several diocesan-level roles including Diocesan Dean for the Eastern District, which includes the Mohawk Valley.

During his tenure, Father Jensen oversaw mergers with St. Georges Episcopal Church in South Utica and St. Pauls Episcopal Church in North Utica.

Susan Ulrich, Directress of the Grace Church Altar Society, had served on the search committee that helped bring Father Jensen to Utica.

He was an outstanding priest in all the capacities in which he served, both in the parish, and in the Diocese, Ulrich said. He guided the Altar Society members in their work through the myriad of liturgies over the year, always in a caring manner and with a wonderful sense of humor. We all feel blessed to have had him serve as our Rector, for what we now realize was much too short a timeframe. He will be missed immensely by all of us who had the pleasure of knowing and working with him.

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