Holy Interruptions

Most people don’t like to be interrupted. I’m no exception, especially when I’m in the middle of speaking. Where I don’t mind it so much is when I’m busy with a project at work or at home. There’s a person I used to work with who like Cosmo Kramer would burst into Jerry Seinfeld’s apartment unannounced. I would be busy at my desk, lost in thought, writing, or making a phone call and in would come Kramer pontificating his story mid sentence like a steam of consciousness rapper. Because I shared an office, and knew that Kramer’s actions annoyed everyone but me, I let him have the spotlight, engaging him with clarifying questions or comments to the chagrin of everyone’s occupied selves.

Recently, I’ve noticed my son has a bit of Kramer within him. I’ll be reading a book or relaxing at the end of the day, and in he’ll come, iPad in hand to show me his latest Minecraft creations. Honestly, his obsession with Minecraft used to bother me. I’ve come to accept it as of late, and marvel in his creativity. His artistry and expressiveness have come a long way. Both of us have grown.

I work as a hospital chaplain. My job description should read, Comfortable interrupting patients, staff and guests of the hospital. I interrupt nurses when they’re charting a patient’s record. I interrupt doctors when they’re on rounds. I interrupt patient’s when they’re Facetiming a loved one. Perhaps I could simplify my job description to say that chaplains are holy interrupters. Brian Doyle describes us this way,

[Chaplains] are the ones who knock gently on the doors of patients who are dazed and afraid and in pain, and stick their heads in and ask gently if they can be of service, and many times endure the lash of rude and vulgar response, and have to accept that as the price of doing business; and they are the ones who sometimes walk softly into the room and lay hands on hands or heads and whisper prayers and ask for blessings and healing and restored strength if at all possible, and those are hard things to ask for when the being in the bed is so patiently broken and bruised and frightened and helpless no matter how hard you pray or how huge your empathetic heart; and [chaplains] are the ones who then knock on the next door and the next, day after day week after week, sometimes for many years…”

~A Book of Uncommon Prayer

I’ve been both interrupted and an interrupter. Like Kramer, God has burst into my life, gifts in hand with a story to tell. Like my son, the Divine keeps showing me [their] creative mind in the people I meet and the thin places I navigate. This week begins Spiritual Health Week. If you know or have known a chaplain or pastoral counselor whose made a difference in your, or a loved ones’ life, take time to say ‘thank you,’ or keep them in your prayers. You’ll never know when they may be by to knock on your door and give you a holy interruption.

I See the Moon

This morning, me and my two-year-old son walked his ten-year-old brother to school. Because the days are getting shorter, and thus the nights, longer, the dawn seemed to hover around us like a breath. After escorting his brother safely through the crosswalk we said our goodbyes and turned around to discover the moon still brilliantly lit. I pointed up, “Look at the moon.” It took a moment for him to find it, and once he did he repeated my words, “Look at the moon.” As we walked back home the moon was caught behind a copse. “Where’s the moon,” he worried? I comforted him. “It’s still there.” We played this eye-spy question and answer game all the way back home. “Where’s the moon,” was always answered with, “It’s still there.”

After dropping off my little one at preschool, I returned home and read a commentary by St. John of Karpathos. He wrote, “The moon as it waxes and wanes illustrates the condition of man: sometimes he does what is right, sometimes he sins and then through repentance returns to a holy life.” After reading his words, I remembered the moon and how it was always there yet blocked by those trees for a time.

Thank you, God, for always being there even when I can’t see you.

Renew A Right Spirit Within Me

The writer of Psalm 51 had been around the block a time or two. They recognized their mistakes and how to ask for mercy. They knew that a renewal of spirit was possible no matter what. “Give me just one more last chance,” they seemed to say. 

I remember the first time I made a formal confession to a priest. I was nervous, and slightly humiliated because the priest hearing my confession was no stranger. She was my parish priest. We prayed and ate together. We sang and walked together. We had a spiritual friendship and mutual respect for one another. I remember writing down my confession because I didn’t want to forget anything. I remember confessing in a side chapel with votive candles and stained glass. I remember where the priest sat, and I kneeled. As I recalled my sins, the priest listened. She could tell I was nervous. Maybe she was nervous too? After the formal confession, she stood up, formally absolved me, then put both hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eyes, and said,

“Brandon, you’re going to make a great priest. Now go to the altar and pray Psalm 51, then be on your way.”

I remember feeling lightheaded and free. I remembered joy and tranquility. I felt loved. My spiritual friend, who happened to be my priest, acknowledged that I had been around the block a time or two. She admitted that I had messed up but that God’s mercy is always sufficient. She reminded me (and my own body responded with lightness) that renewal of spirit is always possible. Finally, the Divine gave me one more last chance as God is always eager to forgive and not condemn. I’ll never forget that first confession and the grace given to me by God through my parish priest.

As you finish out the week remember mercy, compassion, and forgiveness as expressed in Psalm 51 or your own spiritual friend. Preach God’s grace this week by touching that friend’s shoulder, looking them in the eyes renewing a right spirit within them as well as your soul.

The Sacred Heart of Jesus

A note about my blog. For the past 7 years I served alongside St. Julian’s Episcopal Church as their priest, a wonderful parish that “raised me” as a brand new priest. Because of my role at St. Julian’s, many of my blog postings were sermons, or redacted sermons, from a particular theological viewpoint – mainly, that of a pastor and shepherd of a Christian congregation. In the Spring of this year my role changed, and I now serve as a hospital chaplain to two hospital systems in the Atlanta area. Therefore, my blog postings may take on a different tone and feel in the months and years to come. I appreciate the many readers of my blog while serving as a parish priest, and invite you to continue with me in this current ministry as I reflect anew in a clinical setting. If for any reason you do not wish to continue this leg of the journey with me and my personal blog, please feel free to ‘unsubscribe,’ and thank you for walking with me through our shared pilgrimage. Godspeed, and now onto today’s posting.

~Fr. Brandon

Today is the feast of The Sacred Heart of Jesus. It’s a day mainly celebrated by Roman Catholic Christians; however, it holds a new place of adoration for me. Last summer I had a mystical experience (you can read about it here) where I had a vision of Jesus on his cross, and a clear image of his sacred, beating heart. Traditionally, this feast day invites all Christians to look, find, and recognize God’s love in the world. Who or what, we may ask, reminds us of God’s love? Lift that person up now. If you find yourself journeying into your memory, offer that God-moment-memory as prayer. My prayer for you all is that you experience God’s love today, now, and in this heartfelt moment.

Pentecost Sunday

Today is the Day of Pentecost. On this holy day, we are reminded of God’s promise never to leave us nor forsake us. God chose to walk among us through the person of Jesus Christ, and God still chooses to walk alongside everyone through God’s Holy Spirit, formally represented in His one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church. Put simply, God shows up in His church, and God shows up in us through our relationships found in one another and in His world. Celebrate the feast of Pentecost at church, in your homes, and in every relationship you discover in God’s creation. 

Resurrection – The Way of Love

Easter not only represents the transformative event of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. It reveals a profound reality in which humanity lives, moves, and has its being. Through Christ, the resurrection act exposed God’s unconditional love for all. This love came as a complementing commitment that nothing, not even death, will be able to separate us from the love of God. At Easter, stand challenged to live into this new reality. Allow God to transcend and translate your life into the love disclosed in and by and through Christ. Resurrection is real, radical, and life-changing. Allow its power to rouse your senses and rejuvenate your commitment to the way of Love.

Contemplating the Cross

Luke 2:22-40 shares the story of The Presentation. In it, we discover the holy family on a pilgrimage to the ancient temple in Jerusalem fulfilling their requirement “as it is written in the law of the Lord” (v 23). That is, to offer their firstborn to the Lord through the sacrificing of a small bird. The Presentation not only marks the time when the young Jesus was presented to God in the temple, it formally marked the Son of God taking on our nature and giving itself back to God the Father. This theodrama played out when Sts. Simeon and Anna announced that the glorious return of Yahweh to his holy temple had happened right before their eyes – For these eyes of mine have seen your salvation (v 30). In the Gospel appointed for this coming Sunday, the young Jesus has now come of age. Entering into the temple court again, he now passes judgment on it and declares that his very body had become the new temple. A few days later, this new temple would give his final sacrifice on the cross, offering himself yet again to the Father for the redemption of the world.

Two thousand years later, are we still like Peter?

~The Rev Brandon Duke

We’re at the point in this season of Lent where the image of Christ’s cross begins to take shape. If Epiphany is the season to reflect on what it means to be a disciple of Jesus, Lent is the time to come alongside Jesus with his cross. Remembering is challenging. Even his closest followers could not comprehend the cross. St. Peter could not fathom the Messiah undergoing suffering and death (Lent II). Sunday (Lent III), we learn that it was only after “he was raised from the dead” that his disciples “believed” (Jn 2:22). Two thousand years later, are we still like Peter? We know the story, and like the disciples, we remember what is written (v 17). Like Peter, we often deny that we will one day die and even ignore the truth that our closest friends and family will do the same. Forgetting we are dust and to dust we will return is prevalent in our culture, even as we have experienced significant death this year due to the ongoing pandemic (Gen 3:19). Contemplating death alone leaves one with a sense of hopelessness. Set this despair up and against the cross of Christ, and death has no sting (1 Cor 15:55). Again, we know the story. God raised him from the dead. We preach Christ crucified (1 Cor 1:23).

There are four more Sundays left in Lent. Use this time to not only remember your death but to contemplate the cross.

**The above reflection was originally posted on Modern Metanoia where The Rev. Brandon Duke writes as a guest blogger.**

Competency + 1

I homeschool our eldest son. The curriculum we use for writing has a pedagogical practice that I’ve grown to admire, not only in teaching the subject of writing but for teaching in general. It’s called the “Competency + 1” model. Here’s how it works: When teaching grammar, for example, a concept is introduced one at a time. The concept is then modeled extensively by the teacher, and when opportunities arise to give examples of the concept, the teacher takes advantage of those opportunities. So if I wanted to teach on nouns, I would introduce a simple definition for a noun. Modeling the concept of a noun is easy. After he writes, for example, we could go back and edit his draft together finding all of the nouns together. While in simple conversation, I could stop him and ask him to tell me what the nouns were in the last sentence he said. Since a noun is a person, place, thing, or idea, I could place tangible things in front of him like a picture or a phone to further the exercise. (You get the point). After these methods of introducing and reinforcing the concept of a noun, he may eventually point out a noun before I do; perhaps in need of recognition or praise. Once we’re to the point of competency, I’m then able to add my “plus 1” – perhaps it’s an adjective that modifies nouns, or a pronoun that replaces a noun, and so on. Here’s where this pedagogical model shines: Once the student has become competent at applying a concept, and even as the teacher introduces new ones, the teacher will still require that the student use the original concept or technique taught within every assignment. For example, suppose I assign a two-paragraph paper, and the original assignment was to underline at least one noun in each sentence. Because adjectives were introduced as his “plus 1”, he underlines a few of the adjectives until he grows comfortable and confident in doing this without additional help. Even if ten concepts have been introduced after the first lesson on nouns, he still has to underline a noun in each sentence. Competency + 1.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus acts as a master teacher to his disciples, the crowd, and most especially to Peter. Jesus has extensively modeled what the way of love looks like. It’s a way that leads to healing, forgiveness, grace, and mercy (to name a few). Not only are these concepts captured in parables and stories told by Jesus, but they are also tangibly expressed in seeing, tasting, hearing, touching, and even smelling the kingdom of God. In this kingdom, the sovereign reigns called the Messiah. Peter, acting as the student, has the correct answer for who the Messiah is, and it’s none other than his teacher and friend. It’s Jesus. Peter is competent in naming the Messiah; however, Peter was incompetent with the consequences of what that meant. Jesus then introduced his very own Competency + 1. It’s a hard lesson because it required everything that Peter had learned up to that point, and yet, it needed an even deeper unknowing of everything he thought he knew about what the Messiah was and what Jesus ultimately had to do. The plus 1 Jesus introduced was the cross. The cross was the Messiah’s final destination. As if that lesson didn’t confuse Peter enough, Jesus then foreshadowed his own death and resurrection. His resurrection was only possible by way of the cross. Participating in Jesus’ resurrection, the lesson continued, meant Peter taking up his cross to follow Jesus. This plus one teaching was so complicated Peter could not master it. No wonder Peter initially rebuked his teaching. Why does taking up one’s cross lead to suffering and death?


Above, I said that Jesus’ way of love leads to healing, forgiveness, grace, and mercy. How can these virtues be accomplished if suffering and death are involved? It’s with questions like this where we all must travel beyond the concept of Jesus as a great teacher. We now enter into the dimension of faith, which is every Christian’s plus 1. Jesus is not a great teacher among many. Jesus is not a great prophet among many. We claim these truths alongside Peter. The truth that Peter could not comprehend that day was that Jesus was none other than God in the flesh, and the cross he would take up to his death ultimately revealed the great paradox that sacrificing the self in love is God’s way of showing the glory of life in his kingdom. This selfless act transcended teaching, going beyond it into the realm of truth, and is why Peter could never master it. It is why Peter would later find and discover healing, forgiveness, grace, and mercy to be gifts of God hewed from the cross.

The truth that Peter could not comprehend that day was that Jesus was none other than God in the flesh, and the cross he would take up to his death ultimately revealed the great paradox that sacrificing the self in love is God’s way of showing the glory of life in his kingdom.

~The Rev. brandon duke


Today is the 2nd Sunday in Lent in the year of Our Lord 2021. It was the 2nd Sunday in Lent – 2020 that we last gathered together at St. Julian’s parish. It’s been one whole year since we’ve worshiped together in our spiritual home. As I think back on this year, there were many times that I didn’t get the message and missed the teaching. In my pride, I resented the suffering that I had to go through. I didn’t want to bear the burden of quarantine and mask-wearing. I wanted to travel freely, to see my family, and be with my church family. In these moments, I intellectually knew that social distancing was necessary for the benefit of all, but in my moodiness, it was all so inconvenient. It wasn’t until very recently that my heart remembered that the way of Jesus is sacrificing the self in love. Like Peter, this became my plus one teaching.

2nd Sunday in Lent – 2020


Once known, I started seeing it everywhere. Self-sacrificing love is when a mother cares for her children even when she’s bone tired. Self-sacrificing love is when a meal you could have had ended up on a neighbor’s table because they need it more than you. Self-sacrificing love is donating time to a cause or even an organ to one who needs it most. Self-sacrificing love gives bread instead of a stone or fish instead of a snake. Once I started finding this type of love, I equated it with Jesus. Like a mother, Jesus cares for us in self-sacrificing love. He shows himself to us in family meals, beside hospital beds, and as a shoulder to cry on. In my suffering comes a love beyond myself that suffers with me. It is this self-sacrificing love that was paradoxically born on the cross of Christ. It is still a profound mystery, and we are all privileged when its power gifts us. So as we begin another year apart, turn your eyes upon Jesus and your feet towards the cross. The cross is the Christian’s plus one and the lens through which to experience this world. Know that you are not alone for Jesus goes before you to show you the way.

My Vision

“I long to see you bathed, drowned in the blood of Christ crucified. And I am telling you that then you will have a name, and I will have found my son again! So bathe, drown yourself, in the blood without discouragement, without despondency!” ~St. Catherine of Siena

I was praying on a Friday knowing this was both a day and an invitation to contemplate the cross of Christ. I had just prayed Morning Prayer with parishioners online, and reading through some Psalms translated by Nan Merrill she opined that I am called to “trace [fears] to the source, rooting them out as weeds.” I then turned to my reading on St. Catherine and came across a letter of hers penned to one of her young disciples who suffered from melancholy and anxiety. The realities found in her letter could have been addressed to me, and she advised him to bathe and drown himself in Christ’s blood.

I put my head down on my desk as I knew I was to stop and pray with St. Catherine’s words. I rotated between the two Collects for Friday and a vision of Christ on the cross. I looked up and for a moment was scared because my vision was blurred and I could not see clearly. Although this temporary blurriness was a few seconds it felt like several minutes. When my vision came to I saw a St. Francis-like cross up and outside my window, and realized my past images of Christ’s cross were not bloody enough. How could I bathe and drown myself in His Blood with this image? I prayed to Jesus to show himself to me. I prayed to Catherine to “go and get him for me.” I then saw visions of blood being poured over my fears and anxieties. The blood was thick and ever flowing. My anxieties were like large square ice blocks, but they were not melting. Were they being drowned? I then felt compelled to pray, “Let your blood teach me. Let your blood teach me” over and over again as I imagined Christ crucified. All of a sudden, I felt physically sick like I needed to throw up. My body dry heaved twice. Nothing came out, but I was forced to the ground and onto my knees. Nothing came up, but I had a sense that something was released. I stayed on the ground head first for a while, abdomen pained and still with the vision of Christ’s cross. I then turned over on my back breathing while my tongue and muscles surrounding my tongue hurt and strained because of what my body had done. I then saw a cockroach run up the wall. I imagined it to be my sins? I imagined it to be what I had just thrown up/my anxiety? I imagined it to be the devil? Then the roach fell and flew to the ground toward me. I dodged him before he hit my face getting up ready to see him. I felt I needed to kill him. I picked up a Bible to do so and it was gone. Was it real? I think so, but I have my doubts. The Psalm, “My heart teaches me night after night,” then came to me as a longing for God (not man) to be the one to teach me from now on. His first lesson was an image of His sacred heart. He was pointing to it like an icon. I suddenly realized that His heart (like all hearts) pump the blood through the body. Will his blood continue to drown my anxieties? I prayed for God to drown me in his Blood. I wanted it to be real, to be messy. I wanted Him to drown me and revive me in his Blood taking my breath and replacing it with His own. 

There is no judgment within me. Only his blood.

There is no anxiety within me. Only his blood.

There is no fear that I cannot withstand because his blood is within me. 

His heart is my heart. He points to it reminding me. 

I am destroyed. I am no longer. 

St. Catherine: Pray for me.

It is no longer satisfactory or satisfying to know about God. I want to know God – know God more deeply and truly. Paradoxically, I build on my relationship with God by knowing more about the saints of the church to the point of praying to them asking them to intercede on my behalf. They’re friends of God and I want to be in their circle and nobody else’s. 

I know not only am I to have my sins always before me, but also the redeeming, sanctifying, drowning blood of Christ.

I know that I must face my fears by trusting in His Blood. His blood will teach me.

Life Elevated

Mark 1:29-39

Next week will be the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, and we’ll read the Transfiguration story. That being said, today truly marks the end of the arc of our journey through this beautiful season. This morning, I’d like to remind us of the gifts this season has brought us by looking back through Sts. Mark and John’s Gospels.

Five weeks ago, I reminded us to be on the lookout for the three miracles of Epiphany – “the baptism of Jesus with the miraculous dove and voice from heaven, the miracle at the wedding feast in Cana, and the miraculous star that led the Magi to Bethlehem.”[1] Combining these stories reminds us that we worship a God that participates in our lives in tangible ways, thus elevating life itself. Epiphany is a “green season” in the church. In other words, it’s a time for spiritual growth, maturity, and discipleship. The green seasons are sometimes referred to as “ordinary times” within the church. We might also claim that for the Christian, spiritual growth, maturity, discipleship, and evangelization is what the church does all the time. It’s so common in the culture of the church that we can claim it as ordinary. Even though we sinners fall short of this claim, nevertheless, we hope to always increase the celebrity of Jesus Christ in ordinary and extraordinary ways.

On the First Sunday after the Epiphany, St. Mark tells the story of Jesus’ baptism leaving behind the Christmas child introducing us to the adult Jesus. Jesus’ first act of solidarity with society as an adult is to go into the human condition’s muddy waters. John’s baptism was a baptism for the repentance of sin. Even though Jesus was without sin, he freely chose to take on the sins of the world to clear the water, to make it drinkable, to change and transform it so much so that when we are baptized, the waters that touch us have already been purified by Christ.

On the Second Sunday after the Epiphany, we are in St. John’s Gospel, where Jesus orders Philip to “Follow me” (Jn 1:43). Philip acquiesces and even brings on a few others. His calling signifies not only God gathering God’s people once again but also remembers a spirit of evangelism: Once we begin following the way of love, our spiritual instinct drives us to share that same love with others.

The Third Sunday after the Epiphany brings us back to St. Mark’s Gospel, where Jesus continues to gather his disciples. Remember, Jesus went through those muddy waters of a sinner’s baptism and was now calling his disciples. What does this mean? To shed the sin that one carries, to follow him, Jesus reminds them to repent. Repentance takes the form of Peter and Andrew dropping their fishing nets, now caught up in the way of love.

On the Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany, we leave images of rivers and oceanic waters to enter into a Capernaum synagogue. Sequentially, God first remembers God’s creation, and now moves into the institutions of humanity. Within the establishment of the church, God does not encounter the holy. Instead, he discovers the demonic. When Jesus drives out the unclean spirit found within the synagogue, the purifying force of God’s love and judgment reveals itself. Jesus orders the demon to “keep silent.” The church had run amuck. It could not save itself. It needed the Savior.

The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany is today. Jesus leaves the institution of the church to enter into the foundations of the family. Here, he does not discover the demonic but sickness. Healing Simon’s mother-in-law, the scripture tells us she then gets up and begins serving them. There’s an intimacy to this story that is peculiar and different from the other narratives found in this Epiphany season yet somehow captures their spirit. St. Mark tells us that Jesus came to Simon’s mother-in-law, took her by the hand, and lifted her up. This little (yet profound) description captures the entire spirit of Epiphany, and within it are its three miracles.

Jesus came to her, took her by the hand, and lifted her up. Jesus came into our condition, takes us by the hand in the waters of baptism, and elevates our spirit. Jesus goes to a wedding in Cana, takes the ordinary water, and makes it extraordinary by becoming wine. He elevates the water’s mood. As a baby, Jesus took the Magi’s hands and lifted their heads heavenward to the guiding star. We might even claim that this secret little passage foreshadows a reversal of the human condition of sin. Remember, Adam and Eve used their hands to grasp the fruit they believed would make them like God. Instead of allowing God to come to them, they hid. Instead of being lifted up to God’s presence, they found themselves east of Eden. To right this wrong, God came to us, and with pierced hands, was lifted up on the cross. Jesus came to her, took her by the hand, and lifted her up. In this little passage is the whole of the Gospel! In this short narrative is God’s M.O. In this small passage is God’s promise to us. We’ve already tried to grasp and be like God. We continue attempting to hide from God. When we are brought low, we instinctively drag others down with us – east of Eden. 

Epiphany has reminded us that we still need a savior, that we still require the savior of the world who calls us to follow him, first by the act and ongoing acts of repentance. Epiphany has reminded us that there is not a place so low that God is not and has not gone to take us by the hand and pull us up and out of the mud and muck. After the healing of Simon’s mother-in-law, the scriptures tell she was able to serve them (Mk 1:31). After we have encountered God, do we desire to serve him and our neighbors? What would it look like to share the blessing, to share the truth, that the great Epiphany of this world is that God loves us so much that he sent his only Son to take us by the hand and lift us up?


[1]                J. Neil Alexander, Celebrating Liturgical Time: Days, Weeks, and Season, Church Publishing: New York, 2014, 36-37.