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Last Saturday, The Rt. Rev. Kirk Stevan Smith, Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Arizona, instituted the first ever Lesser Feast of Endicott Peabody, Apostle to Arizona and Educator of Presidents. Peabody was born of blue blood stock in New England, and educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, England. While there, apparently he felt a call to Holy Orders, and enrolled in the Episcopal Theological School in Cambridge, MA. After his first semester, Peabody responded to a call to assist in the start-up of a struggling church in the god-forsaken edge of the country: Tombstone, AZ. He left his comfortable life and environs, and headed west.
It was a long journey, and even longer when he got there. His diary and letters are filled with self-doubt, as well as his keen sense of God’s call for him to be there. He embraced Tombstone. Before he left at the end of six months time Peabody had raised up a congregation of 200 members, mainly by knocking on every door in Tombstone, introducing himself and explaining what he was up to, and then inviting that person to church on Sunday. He also started a men’s baseball team to play the other mining village teams in the area; this, no doubt, made him respectable among the men of Tombstone and endearing to the women. He also raised the money among the residents of the town to build a wood-frame Episcopal church that stands to this day: St. Paul’s, named by Peabody after his favorite apostle, and in many respects, his inspiration for his life and ministry.
Peabody—or “Cotti,” as his family called him—was athletic, handsome, and probably spoke with somewhat of a British accent. In many respects, he was a cross-cultural missionary. He exemplified a brand of “muscular Christianity” popular at that time in America. (My hometown of Winona Lake, IN, nineteenth-century baseball-player-turned-evangelist, Billy Sunday, probably served as another example of a member of the school of “muscular Christianity.”) At any rate Peabody’s success for God came from his fostering relationships with the people of Tombstone, including its famous sheriff, Wyatt Earp, whose family donated the funds for the altar rail at St. Paul’s.
After leaving St. Paul’s, Peabody returned to the east coast, finished seminary, and decided to start a school in 1884 in Groton, Massachusetts for young men of families of means, to instill in them the virtues of character and faith. He was founding Headmaster and chaplain to the Groton School for its first 56 years. His most famous student was Franklin Delano Roosevelt, who called Peabody the most influential person in his life, after his parents. Peabody also founded the Brooks school in Andover, named after the famous preacher and Episcopal bishop, Philips Brooks, who wrote the Christmas carol, “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”
The inaugural Feast of Endicott Peabody was celebrated at Trinity Episcopal Cathedral in downtown Phoenix, at 11:00 AM, Saturday, November 17, the day that Peabody died; this year also marks the 150th anniversary of the year of his birth. There to help celebrate this historic day was the great-grandson of Endicott Peabody, Endicott “Cotti” Peabody, and great-great-grandson, Endicott “Kit” Peabody. Great-grandson Cotti spoke fondly of his ancestor, whom he never met, but whose life played heavily in his own formation as a man and Christian—how could it not? It probably doesn’t surprise you to learn that both Cotti and Kit are graduates of the Groton School, and delightful men, very proud of their forebear and his impact on Arizona’s Episcopal heritage and history, and in their own lives.
Bishop Smith preached a wonderful sermon on the life of Peabody, quoting extensively from his letters and diary (the Bishop has a doctorate in Medieval Church history, and his notable skills of scholarship easily made it interesting and engaging). Great-grandson Cotti took some time as well to share some wonderful stories of his great-grandfather from the Peabody family’s recollections and legacy.
One of my favorite stories involved the first-time visit by great-grand Cotti to Tombstone and St. Paul’s Church about ten years ago. He said he was absolutely overcome with awe upon entering the church, seeing with his own eyes the wonderful (and little!) church that seemed so large in the stories of his childhood. As he stood there on that Sunday morning before the service began, the priest in charge of the parish came up and seeing that he was a visitor the clergyman introduced himself. Cotti, who was speechless to this point, and whose face showed obvious emotion at being in this holy place of childhood legacy, composed himself and said in return, “Hello, I’m Endicott Peabody,” to which the priest replied, “The hell you are!” Eventually the clergyman believed him, and welcomed him to his forebear’s church.
In addition to the members of the Peabody family present there also was a former Headmaster of Groton School now living in Fort Worth, TX, and the current Dean of Students at Groton School, plus Arizona friends of the family and other friends. The Peabody men were wonderful, gracious and so appreciative as well as completely awed at the idea that the church wishes now to honor his ancestor, with the ultimate goal of having Endicott Peabody added to the Lesser Feast and Fasts of the whole Episcopal Church, thereby becoming the first American Episcopal educator in our church’s calendar of saints.
Having been involved with Episcopal Schools in one way or another for the first fourteen and a half of my almost fifteen years of ordained ministry, I thoroughly enjoyed the whole affair, its celebratory feel, and its sincere gratitude for the life, witness and ministry of this remarkable man. If you don’t know about Endicott Peabody, I hope that this brief article will inspire you to go deeper and learn more, for his method and courage still serves as an example of relational ministry and its effectiveness for us all.

Back in the 80’s, ex-Genesis member Phil Collins wrote and recorded hit song after hit song. One song that he recorded dealt with a very real, but prior to that, untouched topic and cultural issue in popular music—homelessness. The song tells the story of a bag lady and a passerby that he observes in a city. The chorus goes something like this:
“Oh, think twice, for it’s another day for you, for you and me in paradise;” something to that effect.
Collins puts a human face and feelings to homelessness. He implies—I think—that homelessness is everyone’s issue, and that we personally need to do something about it, because if we did, not only would it have a tremendous impact on the problem, but we might be changed, as well.
In one of my earlier posts on this blog, I mentioned the Arizona Canal system, and how nice it is to walk along the banks of the canal early in the morning to get some exercise, fresh air, and time alone with my thoughts and intercessory prayers.
One October Saturday morning I came across one of my new neighbors in Phoenix I hadn’t met before. Even though it was late morning, probably after 10:00, this neighbor was still asleep on the ground amidst a large, dirty comforter that covered him completely. A shopping cart sat nearby that held his other belongings—stuff that looked like trash to me. His shoes sat nearby, and his socks were carefully tucked in the open tops, yet hanging out somewhat to air out. I walked on by, not knowing what to do, feeling powerless and thinking about the priest in the story of the Good Samaritan.
Over the next few weeks I continued to see the same comforter and shopping cart, but in different places: once, amid some trees and benches near the canal bridge in a little park by the walking and horseback underpass; another time in a culvert between the paved path and the gravel path along the edge of the canal; I always saw him somewhere along the canal. It must offer some safety and relative freedom from harassment by law enforcement—though, to be honest, I have no idea how the police feel about the presence of homeless persons in north central Phoenix.
I have seen other “shopping cart people,” as well. Usually, one can see them in and around the parking lot of the shopping center where I go to rent videos and take my dry cleaning. Actually, there’s a couple who are shopping cart people, a man and a woman. They have a shopping cart filled to overflowing with plastic bags, broken down cardboard boxes and what seems like dozen of empty plastic gallon milk jugs tied to this rolling pile of plastic and personal treasure. Perhaps they are just really vigilant recyclers, but I have seen them early in the morning and late at night rolling the cart down streets and sidewalks, at hours of the day that most people are just waking up or going to bed. I think I’ve seen sleeping bags rolled up on their cart, but can’t specifically remember. Phoenix has very nice weather; it’s not too cold at night or in the morning—yet. Over the past week or so it has been getting cooler in the morning. It will get cold at night here; the desert climate can get very cold when the sun goes down.
I found that seeing homeless people in the part of Phoenix in which I presently live is a real awakening that not everything is perfect here (or elsewhere), even in communities where as much blight and the blighted are engineered or designed out as possible. Things are tough right now in the country, no matter where you live. I read on BBC’s news blog last week (can’t find a link—sorry!) that over the past seven years, real wages for the top five percent of wage earners in the U.S. have gone up a little over 50%, whereas real wages for the bottom five percent of wage earners have actually fallen over three percent the past seven years (clearly meant to mark the era of the GW Bush presidency). If that’s true, that isn’t right.
Forty-five percent of the world’s population lives on less than $1 per day; over half of the world’s population lives on less than $2 a day. The average US citizen lives on $78 a day, taking in the costs of education, housing, food, insurance, clothing, transportation.
The Millennium Development Goals (MDG’s) ask of us to contribute .07% of our income to eradicate extreme poverty in this world, among seven other worthy goals, such as reducing child mortality, achieving universal primary education, promoting gender equality and empowering women and other far reaching like-minded goals for the better of our neighbors on this planet. That’s less than one penny per dollar of income; we North Americans spend more money on gourmet coffee in six months than it would cost us to contribute to the MDG’s. I spend more on books, and it causes me to pause now before buying books with one-click shopping. Do I really need another book, or could someone use food, fresh water, pre-natal vitamins, or a basic education more?
I haven’t figured out what to do about the homeless guy who sleeps along the canals in Phoenix, but I can help others like him by contributing to an organization dedicated to funding the MGD’s, such the Episcopal Relief and Development fund. And while I know that in some way I am doing my part, I also know that I still need to meet Jesus face to face in the homeless here in Phoenix, because Jesus in that person has something to teach me.