Dec. 1, 2008: Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori

 

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ:

The first day of December is marked as World AIDS Day, and has been observed since 1988. Episcopalians join billions of people around the world to remember the devastation caused by the AIDS pandemic over the past generation, and to recommit to ensuring a future without AIDS for generations still to come. As our church year begins, it is especially appropriate to remember, pray, and work together to alleviate the suffering inflicted by this disease and its consequences.

As Episcopalians, we understand that we are part of a body that has AIDS – both the Body of Christ and the larger body of the family of God. More than half of our worldwide Anglican Communion lives in countries destabilized by epidemic rates of HIV infection, including several dioceses of The Episcopal Church. Parish communities in the United States have been responding to HIV and AIDS for more than 25 years.

In the United States, this year’s commemoration comes in a moment of transition for American democracy. A new President and new Congress will shape this nation’s response to HIV/AIDS at home and around the world. Many significant challenges face America’s leaders in the coming years.

We must find ways to build on successes in fighting HIV and AIDS in the developing world. American leadership since 2003 has brought life-saving treatment to more than 1.7 million people in sub-Saharan Africa (in contrast to 50,000 in 2002), while supporting more than 33 million counseling and testing sessions and providing prevention services for nearly 13 million pregnant women. Still, more than 6,000 people continue to die each day as a result of the pandemic, and infection rates in some of the hardest-hit places continue to grow. Earlier this year, Congress and the President pledged significantly increased funding, and renewed strategies, for the global fight against AIDS. It will be up to the new Congress and Administration to keep the promises that have been made by their predecessors.

The incoming Administration of President-elect Obama is soliciting suggestions from citizens for national priorities in the year ahead at www.change.gov. I urge all Episcopalians living in the United States to ask President-elect Obama and his Administration to make the fight against AIDS at home and around the world a priority, even in difficult economic times. The security and well-being of the world depends on health and healing for all. You can join your voice with those of other Episcopalians who will take action in the months and years ahead to advocate for strong U.S. responses to the HIV/AIDS pandemic by signing up for the Episcopal Public Policy Network at www.episcopalchurch.org/eppn.

I commend to Episcopalians the National Episcopal AIDS Coalition, www.neac.org, a grassroots group that has been working in Episcopal communities for more than two decades to support caregivers, give guidance on prevention, and advocate for a more compassionate AIDS policy. In particular, I draw your attention to the online quiz NEAC has developed for Episcopal communities to commemorate this World AIDS Day.

Christians around the world marked the First Sunday of Advent yesterday as a season of hope and expectation, remembering that the "Sun of Righteousness shall rise with healing in his wings" (Malachi 4:2). On this World AIDS Day, I pray that the God who tents with humanity will raise us up to work together to make the divine dream of healing and abundant life for all creation a reality – may your kingdom come, O Lord, and speedily.

Your servant in Christ,
The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori
Presiding Bishop
The Episcopal Church

http://www.episcopalchurch.org/presiding-bishop.htm 

Dec. 1: World AIDS Day-my post from 2006

[12/1/2006]

What a busy week at Christ Church. Our building is buzzing with preparation for the Fieldstone Fair, which is tomorrow.  We’ve been putting the final touches on our stewardship materials, and I’m going on retreat next week, so Carolyn and I have been working on the worship leaflets for December 10 as well as for this Sunday.  In the midst of this, the copier jams, our good printer is still at the repair shop, and the phone rings off the hook!  Not dissimilar to your own busy-ness, either, I suspect.  There is something about late fall and the holiday season that makes the introspection we are invited toward in Advent that much more elusive.

 Important as it is, though, introspection is not always what we are called to. Today is World AIDS Day.  Just thinking about the numbers is staggering: 4 million new cases worldwide every year. 25 million people killed since the first case was identified 25 years ago.  An estimated 3.1 million (between 2.8 and 3.6 million) dead from the virus in 2005 of which, more than half a million (570,000) were children.  AIDS is a disease that often gets talked about as something that happens to “other people”—gay men. IV drug users.  Poor people. People far away.  People in the inner city.  Whoever it is, we reassure ourselves, it’s not us.

 

The trouble is, we are Christians; and as Christians, those distinctions don’t hold up so well. Jesus was serious about that “love your neighbor” business. God isn’t being born among us this Christmas as one of us—God is being born among us this Christmas as one of all of us. We are made in God’s image. So God created, and it was good. And that means that the face of God is just as present in a drug user dying of AIDS, just as manifest in someone whose sexuality is different from yours, just as manifest in a poor person, or a rich person, or an American, or an African, or in me, or in you. 

 And the numbers are staggering; An estimated 3.1 million (between 2.8 and 3.6 million) dead from the virus in 2005, of whom more than half a million (570,000) were children.  How can we grasp such numbers? How can we see the face of God in such a vast quantity of people?

 Maybe we can’t; maybe it’s impossible to imagine as many people as live in Chicago or Los Angeles dying from a single disease in a single year.   The limits of our imaginations, though, should not be the limits of our prayer, nor should it be the limits of our willingness to be moved by such tragedy, however unimaginable. This is where we meet the limit of introspection; no amount of quiet thought or respectful silence can suffice. We are called to honest prayer of lamentation and hope, coupled with substantive action on behalf of and in solidarity with those who are suffering.

 Many of us participated in the June Jubilee walk for AIDS relief in Africa; over 30,000 was raised for Anglican mission in Kenya, Uganda and Tanzania. Our dollars fund programs for orphan feeding and education programs, as well as initiatives for home health care.  Perhaps you would be interested in joining a mission trip to Africa to witness our support and care. Perhaps you will vote in such a way as to support the use of our tax dollars for AIDS relief abroad and sensible solutions for AIDS prevention in the United States.  However you decide to take action, know that there is no grand solution, no master plan that will fix every problem; there are only individual steps, taken slowly by individual people, to cross the bridge.

 

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has...” Margaret Mead

 For more information, see http://www.worldaidscampaign.info

On eliminating extreme poverty: http://www.one.org

 

 

 

Thanksgiving

A few of us met after church last Sunday to talk about our Advent liturgy. We change the service music and prayers each season to highlight particular theological themes, and also to help our best loved prayers to stay fresh in our minds. This fall we’ve used a set of prayers of the people written by parishioner Paula Tatarunis; this Advent, we’ll use a set from the Episcopal Diocese of Iowa, written by the Rev. Susanne Watson Epting. For our Confession and Post Communion Prayer, we’ll use prayers from the Anglican Church in New Zealand. Our Eucharistic Prayer and the lyrics for the service music come from our own 1979 Book of Common Prayer, so there will still be plenty in the service that feels familiar. Reaching all the way back to Queen Elizabeth in the 16th Century and the beginnings of what we now call “Anglicanism,” we have talked about how the uniformity of our worship joins us together even amongst great differences. We are fortunate to be able to use prayers from our Anglican sisters and brothers on the other side of the globe. Stephen, our organist, has written us beautiful new settings for the season which will carry us through Epiphany. Please take a moment to visit his website, where he has kindly recorded the Gloria for us to practice before Sunday. We’ll also take a few minutes to practice right before the service. www.stephensikorski.com/christchurch Thank you, Stephen!

One of the lines from the post communion prayer has especially stayed with me, and seems very appropriate for Thanksgiving. The prayer concludes, “Accept, O God, our sacrifice of praise. Accept our thanks for all you have done. Our hands were empty, and you filled them. Amen, amen.” “Our hands were empty, and you filled them”—the Christian life is all about opening our hands. God freely gives us life, love, and grace. Even the tasks set before us are gifts from God. We are called to open our hands and give thanks. Sometimes life is difficult and chaotic. It doesn’t always feel like a gift. But even in those times, Christ is with us. Our Savior suffered, too. And sometimes, life is pure grace. The other morning, as Noah and I stumbled downstairs for breakfast (earlier than I would prefer, I have to admit), he with Isaiah in his arms and me with the dog, that line occurred to me. Quite literally, our arms have been filled!
As turn our attention to the holiday, please pray especially for those who are in difficulty this week. For the sick and the suffering, for those who are in conflict with their families and for those who are far from friends. May they be blessed and held in the embrace of our God who calls us each by name, and loves us with a boundless love. Have a happy Thanksgiving!

Gifts

As I sit to write today, I find myself wondering (as so frequently I do!) where the time has gone. Thanksgiving is already next week, as we get catapulted into the fervor of the holiday season. I hope, whatever your plans are for next week, you travel safely.

 Already Christmas shopping, I’ve been thinking about the theology of gifts. There is a lot of dialogue in theological circles about whether a gift can really be a gift if it’s exchanged or expected. The true meaning of a gift is that it’s freely given—no strings attached, no expectation of a gift in return, no expectation, even of gratitude. By that standard, a lot of what we do isn’t gift giving at all; it’s a trade.  Parenthood is a true gift in that respect—hearing from a mother at the end of her rope with a teenaged child the other day, I thought about the wonderful gift that she gives him—the gift of accepting his anger, even at the cost of her own pain. He might grow up and thank her for that constancy and love; he might not. But either way, she still gives the gift out of the love that binds them together.  A cynic might argue that parents just care for our children so they will eventually care for us, but I think that misses something. Our love isn’t our own achievement; love comes from somewhere else.  As the first letter of John says, “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God…God is love and those who abide in love abide in God.”  As we love, we give the love that we first received in Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us. A parent, however imperfectly, reflects that love. In a faith community, we aim to mirror that love as well.

 That’s real gift giving—but I think the smaller gifts we give each other are important, too. Of course the Christmas season can get too commercialized and acquisitive. Like much in our life, it can be empty and exchange-based.  But at its best, gift giving is an invitation to transformation.  The trick, though, is that we have to be open to the ways that giving changes us—not the way that we expect our giving to change others.  The gift I give to you is as much for me as it is for you. 

 This is what giving to a church is about, too. To give, really and truly sacrificially, is to trust God. Not just fitting in those extra few dollars at the end of the year, but really building that giving into the fabric of each of our days.  Someone was telling me recently about having decided not to buy a leaf blower. It’s the height of fall, and the leaves are everywhere, and it would certainly be nice to have one.  But he decided to give the money to church, instead, and something changed. Raking on the next Saturday morning, his daughter jumped in the leaves and they spent time together. He wasn’t standing in Sears and thinking, “if I don’t buy this, then God will reward me and I will have more family time,” he just gave out of faith, and received an unexpected blessing.  There will be times that raking those leaves will be a chore, but maybe other doors will open, and he’ll talk to the neighbors. Maybe he’ll be able to give the money that he would have spent on fuel to someone who’s hungry. The choices we make echo forward, as well as back, helping us to see our past in new ways. It is, as they say, not what you want, but what you need.  

Nov. 13: God's surprises

This week, I have been called to “practice what you preach” with a vengeance.

We got a puppy. Unlike whatever sweet creature the Obamas bring to the White House, though, my little fluffball will not be little for long—in a moment of reckless spontaneity, we got a St Bernard. Cyrus is not quite seven weeks, and already weighs at least 20 lbs and will probably reach about 150.  The farm where we get our meat (Chestnut Farms in Harwick MA, has an agreement with Waltham Fields here in town where they bring the share of food to town once a month) had these tiny puppies at pickup two weeks ago, and I melted. One of our cats died this fall, and I have not been ready to consider another. I have a birthday coming up so Noah suggested that he could be my present. Cyrus is too small to be at home alone for very long, so he has come to the office with me this week.  If you’re wondering where the name comes from, Cyrus the Great was the 6^th Century BCE Babylonian King who enabled Jewish faith and life to flourish, though he himself was Persian.  There is one etymology that says that, rather than meaning “like the sun,” and being connected to the Greek Kyrie (lord), the name Cyrus means “humiliator of the enemy in verbal contest.” But I’m letting that one go. He doesn’t bark too much. . . yet.

 The reason I say I am practicing what I preach is thiat this whole adventure gives me a deep sense of God’s surprise and presence in unlikely places. God comes to us in ordinary ways, in the stuff of our lives. We can’t predict how or when or why—God’s gifts just find us somehow, when we need them.  I had thought that maybe, when he was older, we might get a dog for Isaiah to care for. But I have always been a cat person, so I was pretty reluctant. Now, God laughs: “So, you want a surprise, do you? You want me to bring you out of your ordinary habits, to get help you to outside more often?  Here you go!”

 And here we are. It’s only been a few days, but I’ve already talked to more people on Main Street than I ever did in three years of ministry here.  I’m enjoying even today’s grey autumn. I’ve met old people and young people, mothers with babies, people who work next door and people who are waiting for the bus. The sense of openness to others that implausible gift has led me into is only grace—simple and subtle and wonderful.  I don’t just rush from the car into the office, and stay at my desk for hours. I have to get up, go out, run around.  Play is not something I’ve made very much space for in my life, but this week, it’s been two hours!  And, of course, Isaiah is thrilled.

I also wanted to share with you the actions of our diocesan convention over the weekend.  You can see the full wording of these on the bulletin board at church, and I’ll have an electronic copy of them next week.  In addition to hearing about a new ministry to veterans in the diocese (let me know if you’re interested in talking more about that) and electing people to various diocesan committees, we passed seven resolutions, for the most part unanimously:

+Resolution creating a diocesan policy on immigration

+Resolution in support of transgender civil rights and inclusion in the ministries of all the baptized

+Resolution affirming actions of the 75^th General Convention on slavery and reconciliation

+Resolution on Christian formation/education regarding the spirituality, history, and practice of nonviolence in the Christian tradition

+Resolution for General Convention endorsing Feast Day on May 17 for Saints Andronicus and Junia, Apostles (as well as a second resolution on Andronicus and Junia approving use of their feast day in this diocese)

+Resolution confirming the support of the Diocese of Massachusetts for the work of the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem (which also included provision for further interfaith dialogue with Jews and Muslims).

Diocesan Convention is one of those things that’s much more compelling in the abstract than in its execution. That we are part of a (for the most part) democratically governed church, that anyone can submit a resolution for consideration, that priests, bishops, deacons, and lay people ALL have a say in  the decisions that are made is a great thing.  Sitting still in a conference room for two days is less compelling, so I have to remind myself that it is a privilege to be there. Each congregation has two lay delegates who can vote at convention, but anyone can attend—let me know if you’d be interested in it next year. I believe it is scheduled for November 6 and 7.

From Nov. 5--Election Thoughts

This week, the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts is getting ready for our annual diocesan convention. We meet to discuss the life of the diocese and to vote on resolutions presented by the people and congregations of our community.  Of course, my thoughts have been more dominated by Tuesday’s election than anything that we might vote on this weekend.  As I’ve been reading the newspaper and hearing people’s reactions on the radio, I find myself with tears in my eyes at the joy and celebration of what this election means for our country. I know that all of you readers might not agree on the policy subtleties of the coming Obama presidency, but I think everyone can agree that the election our first African American president represents a momentous occasion for our country.

It may be just a coincidence (or it may be quite remarkable) that this election is during a time that the Episcopal Church is grappling with its own complicity and enmeshment with racism and the legacy of slavery. One of our resolutions for this weekend’s convention proposes a process of dialogue and research into how we in our own diocese and parishes benefited historically, and currently, from that sinful institution, and how we can become “a transformed, anti-racist church and work toward healing, reconciliation and a restoration of wholeness to the family of God.”  One of our tools for reflection is a film was made by a woman in our diocese, Katrina Browne, called “Traces of the Trade.” I hope we’ll be able to find some time to watch the film together here at Christ Church. Katrina discovered that her ancestors, the DeWolfe family of Bristol, Rhode Island, were the largest slave trading family in US history.  Exposing the lie of the notion that slavery was just a Southern issue, the film follows her and nine other family members as they retrace the Triangle Trade route of their ancestors, from Rhode Island, to Ghana, to Cuba, and back. They discuss what the history of their family—and our country—means for us today, and what white America is called to do in terms of apology and reparation. 

 

In a service of repentance held at the Church of St Thomas in Philadelphia, our Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori reflects on how “through it all, people of privilege looked the other way, and too few found the courage to question inhuman ideas, words, practices, or laws. We and they ignored the image of Christ in our neighbors . . . we will not experience the full resurrection until the whole body of Christ rises again.” 

And this week, we elected our first African American president, a child of a Kenyan and a Kansan, who rose through the ranks of American politics on a promise of hope, rather than the security of privilege.  It is often said that story represents the best of America, of our diversity and opportunity and possibility, and I think it is certainly true. The number of new voters, new volunteers, and new voices in our political dialogue signaled the way so many people found their story reflected in his story.  Whatever the policy differences are between republicans and democrats in this country, this election is one small sign that a more inclusive day has arrived in American politics.

Still, there is still so much racism in this country. It is not easy for us to talk about what all of this means, about how race did (or didn’t) figure in to the election.  A vote for Obama doesn’t mean that one person has conquered all their racist impulses, and a vote against him doesn’t mean that someone else hasn’t.  The state ballot initiatives against same sex marriage and against adoption by unmarried persons remind us that equality for all God’s children is still far off.  And yet, and yet.  This election is an opening, a crack in the door of that dark dungeon of suspicion and hatred.  The way forward is not easy. The challenges facing us are many, and hard. But we do not travel alone. Our Christian faith holds us up in the promise of a hope wider than anything any politician can give us.   The unity we have in the Gospel is far deeper than any unity we might have as a nation or as a political belief.   And all of us here at Christ Church, in all of our difference, have so, so much to be grateful for in our life together.

 

A Prayer for Leadership

Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I’d like to share with you a prayer for leadership written by Sister Joan Chittister. She’s a Roman Catholic Benedictine nun—I’ve been on retreat several times at her convent, which is a few miles from where I grew up in Erie, PA. Please keep all the candidates for office in your prayers over the next week, and pray that all goes smoothly—and fairly—on Election Day next Tuesday. Georgie Hallock of the League of Women Voters reminds us that the polls are open from 7 am to 8 pm here in Massachusetts. If you need a ride to the polls (or would be willing to give someone a ride), please let me know. Also, remember that there are also three ballot questions to decide. A (non partisan) voter guide on the ballot questions is at www.voteinfo.info.

Prayer for Leadership (On Election Day and Other Times)
Joan D. Chittister, OSB

Give us, O God,
Leaders whose hearts are large enough
To match the breadth of our own souls
And give us souls strong enough
To follow leaders of vision and wisdom.

In seeking a leader, let us seek
More than development for ourselves —
Though development we hope for —
More than security for our own land —
Though security we need —
More than satisfaction for our wants —
Though many things we desire.

Give us the hearts to choose the leader
Who will work with other leaders
To bring safety
To the whole world.

Give us leaders
Who lead this nation to virtue
Without seeking to impose our kind of virtue
On the virtue of others.

Give us a government
That provides for the advancement of this country
Without taking resources from others to achieve it.

Give us insight enough ourselves
To choose as leaders those who can tell
Strength from power,
Growth from greed,
Leadership from dominance,
And real greatness from the trappings of grandiosity.

We trust you, Great God,
To open our hearts to learn from those
To whom you speak in different tongues
And to respect the life and words
Of those to whom you entrusted
The good of other parts of this globe.

We beg you, Great God,
Give us the vision as a people
To know where global leadership truly lies,
To pursue it diligently,
To require it to protect human rights
For everyone everywhere.

We ask these things, Great God,
With minds open to your word
And hearts that trust in your eternal care.
Amen.

Jubilee Walk for AIDS in Africa

The Alewife Deanery Jubilee Walk is this weekend! I hope it’s not too late to convince you to come and walk with me and my family in solidarity with our brothers and sisters in Africa who are afflicted by AIDS. We meet at Christ Church at 9:30 to carpool to Bedford. If your kids are skeptical about walking four miles, they can ride their bikes.

I’ve written in this space before about the efforts of this diocese to work on behalf of those with AIDS (for my post about the Jubilee Walk last year, look at the e crier blog at www.ecrier.blogspot.com) For the Jubilee Walk and Worship, churches from around the diocese participate to walk the Minuteman trail that goes from Cambridge to Bedford. Some begin at Bedford Train Depot (that’s us) and others begin walking from Alewife, and we meet in the middle for a worship service with Bishop Shaw and lunch at the Church of the Redeemer in Lexington.

In partnership with African provinces and dioceses, we support programs in Africa for training home-based care workers, supporting orphan feeding and education, assisting Anglican hospitals and clinics to deliver basic medical care to orphans and afflicted families and to pregnant women, providing testing and aftercare, and preventing transmission. Our diocese supports ministries in Tanzania, Kenya, and Uganda. Last fall, Bishop Masereka preached here at Christ Church to talk about the efforts of his foundation. This fall, three Jubilee graduates will go to college in Uganda with scholarships form the Bishop Masereka Christian Foundation (http://www.bmcf.org).

In Kenya, the Mother’s Union Orphan Feeding program provides a nutritious meal to local children each Saturday The ministry is supported by our diocese, and is held at 15 parishes. From January to March of this year, the program served 57,492 meals—that’s almost 5000 children per week! In addition to supplying funds to support local efforts, the diocese has also commissioned Dianne Smith as missioner in Kenya to work with the hospital and mobile care programs. You can visit Dianne’s blog at http://www.heart-to-god.blogspot.com.

I think it’s especially important for a smaller church like Christ Church to know about and support these global programs. It’s easy to think that because we are just 70 or 80 people gathered on a Sunday, we can’t do anything to help with the world’s problems. But connected with our diocese, and connected with the global Anglican Communion, there is a lot that we can do—a lot that we are already doing. Walking a few miles one Saturday a year doesn’t sound like a lot, but it’s a start. I hope you’ll join me. If you’d just like to make a donation, write your check to Christ Church with “Jubilee Ministries” in the memo line. For more on the diocesan ministries, visit www.diomass.org/mission/AIDS_in_Africa. Working closer to home, the National Episcopal AIDS Coalition seeks to raise awareness and help ministries with people with AIDS herein the US. They’re at http://neac.org/.

Jubilee Ministries (from June 2007)

The June Jubilee “Walk and Worship” for AIDS relief in Africa is June 23!

I’ve written in this space before about the efforts of this diocese to work on behalf of those with AIDS in the global South, particularly in Africa. For the June Jubilee Walk and Worship, churches from around the diocese participate to walk the Minuteman trail that goes from Cambridge to Bedford.. Some begin at Bedford Train Depot (that’s us) and others begin walking from Alewife, and we meet in the middle for a worship service and celebration at the Church of the Redeemer in Lexington.

In partnership with African provinces and dioceses, we use the funds raised and our own skills to plan and administer programs in Africa for training home-based care workers, supporting orphan feeding and education, assisting Anglican hospitals and clinics to deliver basic medical care to orphans and afflicted families and to pregnant women, providing testing and aftercare, and preventing transmission.

What can your money buy?
$8: A year’s worth of Saturday meals for a child in Maseno, Kenya
$25: Supplies for a medical kid to be used by volunteers in the Diocese of Tanga (Tanzania) who make home visits to people with AIDS
$250: Secondary school fees for one child in Kasese, Uganda for one year
$4000: Funding for one parish to operate a Saturday orphan care program for one year

While it’s true that it’s an important fundraiser (we raised over 30,000 dollars last year), it’s also important to participate in the walk itself. The Jubilee walk is one way that we can be, just for one day, standing in solidarity with those who are suffering the terrible effects of AIDS. Sometimes it’s important physically to put ourselves in motion. As Rabbi Abraham Heschel said, these actions are “praying with our feet.” I think this is the reason we feel called to participate in political protests and the like; I’m not always sure, exactly, that they accomplish very much. But in a world where it sometimes seems that problems are too overwhelming for a clear solution, we need to do something, to stand somewhere to be counted. June Jubilee is like that. Events like this are also very important for the life of the global Anglican Communion. They show that we are in love and solidarity with our brothers and sisters in Christ no matter what differences we might have on topics like sexuality. For those of you unable to walk several miles, help is needed at the Church of the Redeemer in Lexington to set up and clean up. We also need someone to staff the dessert bake sale table. And if you can’t walk and you can’t donate, you can always pray. Prayer is the most important work of all.

God's Beloved Children

This morning, as I do every month, I was celebrating the Eucharist with the Sisters of Saint Anne, an Episcopal Convent in Arlington. I had brought along my son, Isaiah, and my mother, who’s visiting this week. Since the service is at 8 am and I couldn’t let him off at daycare before, the idea was for my mom to hold Isaiah during the service, and then we’d drop him off on the way home. Of course, it was not so simple.

 I should preface this by saying that even though they see each other fairly infrequently Isaiah loves my mother. She is much more fun than I am, and this week Isaiah has enjoyed himself immensely. But once I got behind that altar, Isaiah wanted mama, now, please, and cried and cried. My mother tried to calm him down but he was not interested. The sisters love Isaiah—the nuns are retired now, but years ago they had a school and children were always at the center of their life together. But all the smiles and peek-a-boo in the world from these sweet ladies was not enough to distract him. So after I read the Gospel, I invited Isaiah to come up and help with the sermon. Securely attached to my hip, all was right with his world again. He stayed there through the Eucharistic Prayer and all the way to the end—the one-handed Fraction was a little rough, but I think it turned out okay.

 

The Gospel for the day rather cryptic, so I had already decided to preach on the Epistle instead:

 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, just as he chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love. He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved. (Eph 1: 3-6)

 Every spiritual blessing is ours. God our Creator has chosen us, before the foundation of the world. God chose us for adoption, to be beloved children through Christ, according to the pleasure of God’s will. As I reflected on this passage with the sisters, I wondered what it would be like if each of us were so aware of our connection to God as children are aware of their parents. Young children are so observant, so aware at every moment of what their parents are doing. What if we were so aware at all times of what God, our beloved abba were doing? (Abba is the term Jesus used, more akin to “daddy” than “father”) What if, at the invitation to come close to God, we remembered the child’s inclination to run toward love?

 Instead, when we feel we are separated from God, it becomes all the harder for us to come near. Sin and anxiety make it harder for us to see that God is right there with us. And as my mother pointed out as we left, when we’re separated from God it becomes all the harder for us to see love in other places. Isaiah just wanted me, but forgot how much he loves his grandmother. But the circle goes both ways—when we are near to God, we are also more open to the love of our families and friends that surrounds us on every side, too.

 Take a moment now to dwell in God’s desire for you: that “glorious grace bestowed on us in the Beloved.” Nothing can separate you from that.  Not your worry, not your anger, not your grief. God is with you, longing for you, even there. Thanks be to God.

October 9: Abundance and Worry

This week, I’ve been thinking about the economy, in all its whirling uncertainty. It’s all so abstract—I heard that a stack of 700 billion dollar bills would reach 54 miles into the sky, but that doesn’t help me understand the recent bail-out any better. The amount is staggering.   Now we know, too, the crisis isn’t confined to the United States, either—it’s worldwide, stretching all the way to China. As a non-financially oriented person myself, I have a hard time understanding what’s really going on—how bad is it? What do we do? How did we get here? Who can I blame?  All of these swirling questions contribute not just to worry, but to a deep, deep uncertainty about the future.  And this is the week we get our pledge cards! How can I give to church when I don’t even know what I’ll have for myself?

 There’s a strain in Christian spirituality that says, simply, don’t worry. It’s faithless to worry. If you worry, then you doubt God’s providence, generosity and care.  But I don’t buy it.

 It’s not faithless to worry. What is faithless is to allow ourselves to be paralyzed by our worry. It’s faithless to let your worry crowd out your prayer or your ability to hear the needs of others.  Jesus says,” I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10).  What does “abundant life” mean in a time where fear and scarcity seem to be the order of the day? Every time you hear the news, it’s about how there isn’t enough. How can Jesus claim that there is not just enough, but plenty? 

 We have a hard time seeing it, but we have glimpses of that dream of God “… the Lord will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear. (Isaiah 25:6)  As we come together for the sacraments each Sunday, the Body of Christ feeds us, and we taste that abundant life for ourselves. As we hear the promises of Jesus in Scripture, we taste it. As we hear sing the hymns, we taste it. As we greet each other at the peace, we taste it.  As food is distributed at Grandma’s Pantry, we taste it.

 We trust God whose son Jesus Christ became human, and walks with us—not God, “out there,” but risen Christ, Holy Spirit, Creator and Father, right here.  We don’t just “trust God” in the abstract—we trust God in each other. We don’t just sacrifice in the abstract—we sacrifice for, and, importantly with, each other.  There is plenty to be worried about. That is okay. There is an opening, here, to invite God into that space of concern and care. There is no reason to insist that everything is fine when it clearly is not. But what our prayer can do is align us in our worry, to share the burden with God. This doesn’t mean that there is nothing to carry—but it reminds us that we don’t carry it alone.

 You’ll receive your pledge packet this Sunday in church, (we’ll mail it to you if you aren’t here). Before you fill it out, take a deep breath. Ask for the grace to see the invitation to pledge as an opportunity to exercise trust and to draw near to God.  Pray for the grace to see how God shares your worry, and ask God how you can share the grace of God’s peace with others.

 

St Francis

On Tuesday at our education series, “Commit,” we talked about how we become Christians—about baptism. We talked quite a bit about how—or, indeed if—our identity as Christians puts us in opposition to our dominant culture. There are, we decided, definitely values of “the world” that we would reject—“more is better,” for example—but we acknowledged that as widespread as the Christian faith is in our cultural context, that alone does not put us out of synch with what’s around us. Your interpretation of the faith answers that question—not just your claim of the label “Christian.”

One Christian who has had a very clear view of the relationship between Christian faith and the world is Saint Francis of Assisi. We remember him these days more with celebrations of creation than abstinence from worldly pleasures, but his life teaches us about both of those. This week, we’ll observe the Feast of St Francis with a celebration of blessing of animals on Saturday afternoon—bring your pets at 4:00 pm, and we’ll thank God for all the gifts we receive in their companionship with us. Of course, stuffed animals and pictures of pets are welcome, too. On a personal note, one of my cats died this week, so I will be especially mindful of her.

Francis was born in Assisi, in 1182. His father was a very wealthy cloth merchant, and as a child, Francis would have planned to join his father’s successful business when he grew up. But Francis was converted to Christ, and resolved to give everything up for poverty. Francis found his home in nature, freed from possessions. He gave up all conventional pleasure—money, sex, food—for a brown wool robe and a begging bowl. He wanted to be poor, to be free. St. Francis, in fact, didn’t really do a great deal of anything; Francis’ example was in the way that he was. In poverty and community, Francis embodied simple joy. He embodied joy in difficulty, in hunger, and in cold. He embodied joy in enticing others to come and be “fools for Christ;” (1 Corinthians 4:10)—to forget about productivity, forget about consumption, forget about accomplishment, and just focus on the love of God.

The people of Assisi were deeply alarmed by Francis’ behavior. Most people thought he was crazy, giving up everything his father had worked for, all the accomplishment and wealth and respect. In one story, Francis’ father finds him preaching in the town square. He is horrified that this bizarre son is embarrassing him. He lashes out at Francis the only way he knows how—to threaten to take everything from him. But Francis isn’t threatened at the prospect of losing material possession. He strips off all his clothes and gives them back to his father.

One description of Francis’ life talks about him as “the most popular and admired, but probably the least imitated; few have attained to his total identification with the poverty and suffering of Christ.” I’m not convinced, though, that Francis would have appreciated this, though intended to be praise. For Francis it wasn’t about accomplishment or praise; it was about freedom.

I don’t know what Francis would think about the fact that we bless animals in celebration of him—probably, he’d be glad that we are willing to be, even just for an afternoon, “Fools for Christ,” remembering God’s blessing even in the more playful corners of our lives. Probably he would also hope that we would feed a few hungry people on our way to church. Whether you have a pet to bring or not, please come this week—we’ll meet on Saturday on the lawn (by the St Francis statue, of course!) at 4:00.

Seek the Lord

This week, I wanted to share with you a few pieces of nature writing I read recently. Whenever the seasons change, I always find myself paying more attention to what’s going on in my environment. I check the weather constantly, secretly rooting for cooler days and turning leaves at the same time as I dread having to turn on the heat and face the oil bill.

 Fall is captivating to us, novelist Chris Bohjalian says, because it reminds us of our mortality.  

The whole of autumn is about transience. The entire natural world seems to be shutting down, moldering, growing still. The days are short, the nights are long, and everything looks a little bleak . . . except for those leaves. Those kaleidoscopically lovely maples and birches and oaks allow us to gaze for a moment at the wonder of nature and to accept the inevitable quiescence of our own souls. Like so much else around us, it's not the leaves' beauty that moves us: It's the fact their beauty won't last. (Boston Globe, Sept. 22)

 The leaves are dying, brilliantly and raucously, sparing nothing as they go.  Even though we speed up every fall with more activity, more work, there is still part of us that is preparing to hunker down for the long winter that is to come.  Our technologically focused 21^st Century life seems separate from nature, but fall reminds us of what we already know.  The cycles of creation, birth and death, are part of our life, too.

 The other piece I wanted to share with you is from Verlyn Klinkenborg, from Sunday’s New York Times.  Writing from a trip to northern Finland, he talks about the quiet,

deep in the forest north of the Arctic circle. Listening in the silence, at first he is disturbed by how little he hears—to fill the sound, he throws rocks, stamps his feet. A week later, things are different. Standing in the same spot he hears not deafening silence, but rushing water.  He writes,

Why had I not heard it that first night? The answer, I suppose, is that I was too busy not hearing the things I’m used to hearing, including the great roar that underlies the city’s quietest moments. It had taken a week to empty my ears, to expect to hear nothing and to find in that nothing something to hear after all. (NYT, 9/21/08)

 Nothing is something to hear--I think what both writers are pointing to is the way we do, or don’t, attend to our surroundings and our created nature. Our mortality is with us in every moment, but we forget.  We think technology can fix everything, and we try to engineer ourselves out our own mortal, fleshy selves. Accustomed to the sounds of ordinary city life, Klinkenborg is aware of how in their absence, they are still with him—he hears that they are not there, but doesn’t hear what is. Many of the blessings of our life are right in front of us, but we are quick to overlook them.

 The second song of Isaiah from the rite for Morning Prayer says, Seek the Lord while he wills to be found; call upon him when he draws near. The Lord always wills to be found, and is closer than we know.

  [My description of these articles is fine, but please look them up for yourself!  

Bohjalian: www.boston.com/bostonglobe/editorial_opinion/oped/articles/2008/09/22/death_and_the_lesson_of_the_leaves Klinkenborg:   www.nytimes.com/2008/09/21/opinion/21sun4.html

September 18: Election Season

Skimming through an editorial in the New York Times this afternoon, I noticed with a start that election day is in six weeks. Six weeks! It seemed like the primary season would never end, and so it seems like the election never will either—but it will end, and very soon.  I have to admit that I am completely drawn into the circus.  With simultaneous excitement and groaning, I can’t wait to hear the next outlandish thing—God’s will is for a gas pipeline?  Outrageous!— They spent  how much on that jacket?! And I get so upset at what seem to me to be clearly unfair attacks at “my” candidate. It is a little like being 14 years old: a roller coaster of emotion of high and low, with a pretty distant relationship to reality.

 The problem, of course, is that it trivializes the whole process. Talking about Michele Obama’s dress or Sarah Palin’s glasses distracts us from what’s going on, but like a moth to flame, here we all are. There is so much at stake in this election—our nation’s response to the climate crisis, the chaos in our economy, the future of American engagement in the world—this is not a little thing.

 This election, as all elections do, comes down to our values. Not the media stereotype of “values voters” that we heard about in 2004, some amorphous group supposedly motivated by their antipathy to same sex marriage, but the real values of our Christian faith. What kind of world do we want to live in?  What hard choices are we willing to make? Will we avoid easy answers to our problems if it means protecting the environment? Will we take the risk of dialogue over rushing to war?   Who will be on the Supreme Court, and what historic decisions will they make?  Do we phrase our hopes for our world in terms of fighting “them”  (whoever “they” happen to be at the moment) or do we believe that God’s dream of peace can actually be realized? That’s the will of God that I’m looking to serve. 

  I know that all of us in our parish community don’t agree on the issues.  We would not be much of a community if the world looked the same to each one of us.  In my sermon on Sunday, I shared a prayer for us to be able to hold our opinions as you might hold a bird in your hand. Hold on too tightly, and its fragile wings are crushed.  Hold on too loosely, and the bird flies away.  What’s hard is that we have to hold our opinions and fight for them, but not fight against our brothers and sisters who disagree with us. The troubling thing in this election is that that we seem to be doing exactly the opposite.  The campaigns fight each other on personality, not policy.  Rather than respecting each other and entering into a dialogue on what’s actually going on in our country, we are threatening each other and not talking at all about our situation—and time is short.  Let’s pray for campaigns that address our need for a just, peaceful, and secure society, not our desire for more gossip.

 Here’s the prayer for our Nation from the Book of Common Prayer—a little “traditional” sounding, but lovely.

Almighty God, who hast given us this good land for our heritage: We humbly beseech thee that we may always prove ourselves a people mindful of thy favor and glad to do thy will. Bless our land with honorable industry, sound learning, and pure manners. Save us from violence, discord, and confusion; from pride and arrogance, and from every evil way. Defend our liberties, and fashion into one united people the multitudes brought hither out of many kindreds and tongues. Endue with the spirit of wisdom those to whom in thy Name we entrust the authority of government, that there may be justice and peace at home, and that, through obedience to thy law, we may show forth thy praise among the nations of the earth. In the time of prosperity, fill our hearts with thankfulness, and in the day of trouble, suffer not our trust in thee to fail; all which we ask through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

September 11: Pray for Peace

This morning, as you did, I woke up not particularly aware of the date. As I drove into church, though, I noticed the flag at the Plympton School at half mast, and remembered—it’s September 11. Seven years ago, I was in my first week of school as a student at General Seminary in New York City, about a mile and a half from the World Trade Center. I was sitting in class when the chapel bells started to ring, summoning the community to come together. 

 And so began the last seven years of war. War in Afghanistan, war in Iraq, war “on terror.”  What was different on September 12, 2001, was not that the world was somehow more violent or that evil was somehow more triumphant after what had happened the day before; what was different was that it was happening to me.  On September 11, 2002, a year after the attacks in the US, I was standing at a border crossing on the Gaza Strip. I was nervous about being there, but I was also nervous that I wasn’t at home in New York; what if there were more attacks on the anniversary of the first one?  It also occurred to me, though, that the violence between Israelis and Palestinians was of once piece with the violence that had caused the events of the previous year.  Standing in Gaza, I was all too aware of how many people in the world lived with that sense of fear.  It was different now, though, because I had had a taste of it myself.  The world hadn’t changed, but I had. 

There is so much violence: the violence of seemingly endless war, of course, the violence of hatred, the violence of greed. It seems that there is no way out. But we are Christians.

 We are called to a hope not of military triumph, but the hope of God’s dream of justice and peace. We know that there is a way that does not draw lines of who is in or out. There is a way of peace that does not distinguish between Israeli, Palestinian, American, or Pakistani. It’s not an easy way of peace. It’s not just sitting down and drinking tea together. It’s not wishing that things were different. It’s an altogether transformed reality that is just beyond our imaginations. It’s not easy, but it is there.

 It’s the vision of Isaiah, of the lion laying down with the lamb. It’s the vision of Amos, who called for justice to roll down like waters, and righteousness like an everliving stream.  It’s the vision of Jesus Christ, who prayed forgiveness for those who attacked him. Today, let us pray for forgiveness, too. Pray for the grace to accept God’s forgiveness for our own sins, and the grace to forgive others their sins against us.  

Many Sundays, our service ends with this blessing: “the Peace of God which passes all our understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and of God’s Son Jesus Christ.” God’s peace may pass our understanding, but does not escape our grasp. Pray for the grace, and the guidance, to reach for it.

 

Salvation is near

This week, we return to our regular schedule of church in full swing, with services at 8 and 10. Since it’s the first Sunday of the month we’ll have all the kids in church with us.  Rather than the usual children’s sermon, though, we’ll get to see our Sunday School program, Godly Play, in action. Teacher Jonathan Duce will tell the Creation story in Godly Play style, so all the grownups will be able to see what it’s all about.  Christ Church has used the Godly Play curriculum for a number of years now. Based around Montessori techniques of education, it is a child-centered program that tries to respond to where the kids are, rather than transmitting some body of knowledge from “on high.”  Based around telling stories of the Bible, the children are invited to ask questions. I wonder why Noah built the ark? I wonder why there were two animals of each kind? The kids gather in a circle, hear the story, “wonder,” and then chose projects (like art or sandbox play) that help them to consider it.  After the service, we’re invited to go downstairs to the Godly Play room for an open house.

 Ideally, “wondering” is how we should all engage with our faith—the Bible is so much more a book of opening dialogue than it is a book of offering definitive commandments. Jesus taught in parables to engage his followers into his teaching, and we are called to engage, to “wonder,” too. We have to listen for the Spirit of the Scripture: what it means as a whole, not just to the letter of what any single text might say.   We are called to “wonder” about how it all applies to our lives and to the life of the world.

 We bring so much to our readings of the Bible. Individually, we bring our rich and varied life experiences. Intellectually, we bring the best of human knowledge—historical, theological, and even scientific research—to the Bible. Our experiences and our knowledge help us to frame our “wonderings” about the Scripture.  This Sunday, we’ll hear St Paul give a summary of the law—“summed up in this word, "Love your neighbor as yourself." Paul continues, “Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.”  We all spend our entire lives figuring out how to love each other. Salvation is so near to us, Paul says, in this love.

Salvation is near to us.  In acts of love great and small—in writing out your pledge checks, in volunteering at your kids’ school, in working extra hours to support your family, in laughing with your neighbors, in working for peace, in praying for each other. Salvation is near as we all come back from our vacations and settle in at the altar together again.  Salvation is near as we learn new things and take on new projects this fall. Salvation is near.  Where are you nearing to your salvation?  Who are you called to love? 

Reading Dorothy Day

Lately as part of my prayer, I’ve been reading the diaries of Dorothy Day, published in a volume entitled “The Duty of Delight.” I ordered it at the Catholic Worker conference I attended in July. As a founder of the Catholic Worker movement, Day lived in voluntary poverty with those in need and traveled among the “houses of hospitality” founded by the movement. The newspaper, “The Catholic Worker” that she started advocated for equitable working conditions, pacifism, and the Catholic faith through the thirties and forties, to much social opposition. Day spent her time with communists and longshoremen; priests and alcoholics. Her radical interpretation of the Gospel was hard, her politics were uncompromising—and there’s a lot about what she advocated that I strongly disagree with. But reading her is still a little like spending a few minutes with a saint every morning.

A saint, but not, well, a “saint.” She was not perfect. The gift of reading someone’s diaries is that you really get to see what they were like—their frustrations and irritations, impatience with themselves and with others. The holiness of her life was that she was constantly on a path toward God, but never lived her life in such a way as to insulate herself from those who were not. She never separated herself morally, or even bodily. She lived with the people she served, sharing grimy kitchens and cold winters because she believed that Jesus would have done so.

I am very aware of how comfortable my life is—vacations with family, pleasant bike rides to my well-furnished office, delicious food on my dinner table. The beauty of Day’s writing, though, is that she helps you to move beyond the paralysis of “I’m a bad person for not living like that” and into a wider, more grace-filled space of love and forgiveness for others. There is nothing particularly holy about being obsessed with one’s sins. The holiness comes in when your awareness of your own faults opens you to forgive the faults of those around you. Day summarizes it this way; “It makes one unhappy to judge people and happy to love them.” (June 25, 1938) Indeed.

We are all on the journey toward God—sometimes halting and stumbling, and sometimes running with abandon and joy. Day quotes St Catherine of Siena: “All the way to heaven is heaven, because He said I am the way.” Jesus Christ has already reconciled us to God, and we are loved more than we now. The light of God’s hope reflects back on us already, even in the darkest moments of the present.

Thanks be to God!

fall

I had a wonderful time traveling in Sweden visiting with my family, but I am glad to be back writing to you. Your vestry has been busy working behind the scenes this summer to plan for fall, with great ideas for stewardship (in October) adult education (our Tuesday class continues, starting Sept. 30), and discernment about the future of Christ Church (look for a letter from Senior Warden Marcia Luce to come in a few weeks). Bishop Gayle Harris will be visiting with us on September 28.

There are also some exciting diocesan events coming up too, with parish resource day on September 27, held here in Waltham at Bentley College. Workshops will be offered on such diverse topics as environmental stewardship and ending global poverty and parish leadership and financial practice. Each of our bishops will also be speaking—Bishop Tom on a new book of his on Scripture; Bishop Bud on “Worshipful Work for Vestries and Committees” and Bishop Gayle on “Anglican Evangelism: Telling our Stories.” Here at Christ Church, we will be hosting the diocesan Eucharistic Visitor training on September 20. As you know, we have recently initiated a pastoral care team for people to visit the homebound. Whether you’d like to visit the same person regularly or if you’d just be willing to be “on hand” to bring communion to those who are in the hospital once in a while, I hope we’ll have a good turnout from Christ Church on that day. There are many ways to participate.

Yet another event is happening on September 23, when WATCH (The Waltham Alliance to Create Housing) will hold a community forum at Christ Church to talk about the future of downtown Waltham and local development. It’s not just about housing! There is much in store for us, and you can read more about each of these events in the Fieldstone Crier, which will be mailed in early September.

At the same time as I am looking forward to the fall, I have to remind myself that we still have a full ten days before Labor Day (and hopefully many more sunny and warm days before New England’s October chill). We are constantly looking forward, constantly plotting and planning for what is to come ahead. Of course, we need to plan, and it is good to get excited about the year. Even though I haven’t been in school for a while, the fall always still reminds me of new classes, new teachers, and new possibilities. But it’s easy to get ahead of ourselves and forget the Sabbath rest that these long days hope for us. I’ll close with the prayer for Saturdays from the Book of Common Prayer (p. 99—it’s in the rite for Morning Prayer)

Almighty God, who after the creation of the world rested from all your works and sanctified a day of rest for all your creatures: Grant that we, putting away all earthly anxieties, may be duly prepared for the service of your sanctuary, and that our rest here upon earth may be a preparation for the eternal rest promised to your people in heaven; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Bishop Harris Writes from Lambeth

Dear People of Christ Church,

This week the bishops of the Anglican Communion began their work in earnest together, with Bible study, worship, conversation, and prayer. The bishops have invited us to participate with them as they march on behalf of the Millenium Development Goals (more on them a post you can read from June of 2006, at www.ecrier.blogspot.com. The bishops (of whom 880 were invited, and 670 are in attendance) will march physically through the streets of London—we are invited to march “virtually,” by voicing our support for legislation to alleviate global poverty. For more on how to participate, visit http://www.e4gr.org/virtualmarch.html.

Our bishops Tom, Bud, and Gayle have been writing home to us. I was especially moved by Bishop Gayle’s reflection, which arrived Tuesday and which I pass on to you here.

She writes,
It is the second full day of the Lambeth Conference following our initial retreat. And amidst the worship, greetings, laughter, conversation and gatherings we began the day in our Bible study groups discussing fear.

Fear is powerful. It motivates withdrawal and angry encounters. It is the building material for walls of separation and it distorts reality. Fear causes us to react with panic or retreat to defensive positions.

We examined fear in the context of the account of Jesus walking on the troubled waters of the Sea of Galilee found in the Gospel of John, chapter 6, verses 14-21. When the disciples saw him, they were terrified, and Jesus said, “It is I; do not be afraid.”

There has been much anxiety in the worldwide Anglican Communion leading to this conference. At times the worry of division and the outcries of strident voices have brought some of our brothers and sisters to a place of fear about the continuation of our communion with each other. And yet even now Jesus comes to us in our troubled state and says, “do not be afraid,” for ourselves as individuals and as a fellowship in Christ.

Jesus is very present here. He is discovered in our common ground of mission articulated in Isaiah 61:1-4, which Jesus restated in Luke 4: 18-21. He is discovered in our open and honest sharing. He is present as we break bread with each other.

In my Bible study, several of us admitted to having fears about engaging one another here. Our diversity of theological interpretations and cultural differences are blessing and difficulty. But when we began listening to how and what we fear, together as a group, we discovered, first, that we are more alike than we thought, and second, in fear we were focusing on ourselves. Fear obscures our vision and perception, making us unable to clearly see Jesus among us and in each of us. (Fear is the basis of the exclusion of Gene Robinson from Lambeth.) In fear we focus on the troubled waters tossing us about and are not able to see Jesus who comes to us and seeks us.

Yesterday, Bud and I, along with a group of other bishops, walked with Gene across a nearby green to join an outdoor celebration of the Eucharist. There was reason for us to be afraid in going to this service: aggressive media, protesters and threats of violence towards Gene. Yet through the troubling distractions we walked on toward and in the presence of Christ. This afternoon when the management of the Lambeth Conference denied Gene access to our scheduled gathering of American bishops, it was fear that motivated that decision, over our several requests and objections. Fear again troubled the waters of fellowship, obscuring Jesus.

Every hour I meet people I do not know and who are very different from me, who have fears and are traveling with me on this sea called Lambeth. And in most circumstances, we have helped each other to see it is Jesus who is coming towards us, calling us out of our fears. We must not be so focused on the troubles that we cannot recognize Jesus. We must not be afraid. It is in and with Jesus that each and every one of us can continue together in our journey in life and faith. ---- +Gayle Elizabeth Harris


You can find links to more news about Lambeth (and see a video about what, exactly, they’re doing there) and see more about what our bishops are doing at http://www.diomass.org

The Millenium Development Goals (from 6/22/06)

Note: This post was written during the Episcopal Church's General Convention, in the summer of 2006.

There has been much talk in the media this week about “schism” and separation in the Anglican Communion. On Tuesday, we heard that Archbishop Rowan Williams is calling for the establishment of something called an “Anglican Covenant” system whereby churches who have taken positions that challenge the understandings of the wider church on sexuality might be “churches in association” of the Anglican communion rather than “Constituent churches.” Such a system will take years to discuss and implement. For now, we are, if a bit uneasily, still all together. One of the interesting challenges that has come up in the last few years has been to define exactly what it is that the Anglican Communion is and does—no small matter. Stay tuned, and don’t believe everything you see on TV!

In other Convention news, the Millennium Development Goals were officially adopted as part of our ministry strategy for the Episcopal Church. The Millennium Development Goals propose that we in the “developed world” (a problematic, but useful, designation) have the power to abolish extreme poverty. Which is defined as living on one dollar a day or less. If we all donate just 0.7% of our budgets and income (that’s all of us—me and you and the government and Bill Gates), this is actually possibly in the next ten years. You may have heard of the goals from rock star Bono’s work on the ONE Campaign:

1. Eradicate extreme poverty and hunger.
2. Achieve universal primary education.
3. Promote gender equality and empower women.
4. Reduce child mortality.
5. Improve maternal health.
6. Combat HIV/AIDS, malaria and other diseases.
7. Ensure environmental sustainability.
8. Create a global partnership for development with targets for aid, trade and debt relief.

It is the stranger to whom we are always called, always reaching further and further out, always struggling to embody Christ’s love for all God’s creation. As Matthew 25 says, as we do it to the least of these, we do it to Christ—imagine Jesus Christ dying of malaria, or as a little girl whose parents cannot afford to send her to school, or as an orphan whose parents have died of AIDS. It is that work that the MDG’s seek to promote.

The affirmation of this work—from ALL sides of the political spectrum—is a sign that whatever divides us in political or social sentiment, the Gospel always invites us to seek and serve Christ in all people. We may be in various structures of communion with our fellow Anglicans, but it is only the work we do for God’s people that ultimately has the power to unite us.

July 16: Celebration

Dear People of Christ Church,

This week, my family and I are spending the week at the Barbara C Harris Camp, our diocesan summer camp (named for Barbara Harris, a bishop in our diocese and the first female bishop in the Anglican Communion) . Noah and I are chaplains, and Isaiah is along for the ride (literally, since I’ve been carrying him around in a little front pack for much of the time). We work on worship--preaching and celebrating the Eucharist—and with the kids’ Bible study and activities. Yesterday I went along with a group of 11 and 12 year olds to beginner horseback riding lessons—church camp is not about church EVERY second, after all. And Isaiah loves the attention from the “big” kids. So we are having a good week.

Last Sunday, we had a great time with Cameron’s baptism and the blessing of our new sprinkler and flowers. We recited parts of a song from St Francis of Assisi, the Canticle of the Sun. We prayed in memory of those who died this year, in thanksgiving for those who gave to fund it, and to the glory of God. Our sexton, Gary, came and gave us a demonstration of the sprinklers, too. Special thanks go to him and to Marcia Luce, who spearheaded the project and was still putting finishing touches on the flowers over the weekend. And thanks to all the team of “Mighty Gardeners” who will continue to weed and maintain all summer! You can see pictures of the event on our website, www.christchurchwaltham.org.

On the other side of the ocean, the bishops of the Anglican Communion begin meeting today for the Lambeth Conference, which takes place in England every ten years. I hope you’ll keep the bishops in your prayers this week. Pray for Archbishop Rowan Williams, who presides over the conference and is, I believe, doing his best to keep us all together. The fact that no one (myself included) seems entirely happy with his decisions tells me that he must be doing a good job. Please also pray for Bishop Gene Robinson of New Hampshire. He was not invited to the conference itself, but has still traveled to England to meet people and try to have some kind of dialogue. Bishop Robinson just wants to be a bishop—not the “gay bishop,” not a troublemaker, just a pastor to his people. At one event, he took questions and said that he wished everyone could come visit him in his diocese where, he said, “90 percent of the time” he is performing diocesan tasks and can often be found “in a church basement with a macaroni salad.”

While it is true that our Church faces some serious challenges, parishes across the globe are staying faithful to their ministries and trying to seek and serve Christ in the people around them. It might seem odd to bless things like a boiler (as we did last year) or a sprinkler system like we did on Sunday. I think, though, that we have to take all the opportunities we can to celebrate what we have and what we are doing together. Tragedy makes room for itself—it squeezes in and derails our predictable wants. But we have to pay more attention to those times for celebration. They can too easily dart by us before we realize.

So Gene Robinson eats his pasta salad, and we bless our flowers, and the kids at camp sing to Jesus with guitars and drums and hand motions, and the church moves forward.
Thanks be to God.

July 8: Nothing can separate us from the love of God

Dear People of Christ Church,
In the Daily Office this morning, we had one of my favorite passages from Romans:

If God is for us, who is against us?. . . For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Rom 8: 31, 38-39)

As I read it, though, it seemed so abstract—beautiful, but abstract. I do not, on a daily basis, tend to think about angels and rulers (occasional angry thoughts about the present administration notwithstanding)—but I do get wrapped up in the task at hand, at wondering how it will all get done, the phone calls completed and the bills paid, and that one annoying person who gets under my skin is still bothering me, and wondering why Isaiah finds it so amusing to empty out the salt shaker on the rug. And also wondering if I am a bad mother for allowing him to do so, being grateful that at least he is not trying to eat the computer mouse or climb off the porch, and is also being quiet.

So I thought about a more everyday version of it, with apologies to St Paul.
If God is for us, who is against us?. . . For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor stress, nor dirty dishes, nor humid weather, nor senseless tragedy, nor traditionalist bishops, nor poverty, nor wealth, nor grouchy children, nor anything else in all creation can separate us from the love of God.

What would be on your list? What are those ordinary sins and mundane problems that distract you from the love of God? What would it be like to live every moment with a complete awareness of how God’s love encircles you at every turn, how God’s forgiveness follows you, as Psalm 139 says, “presses upon you behind and before?” How can you give those things that worry you to God, to entrust to God’s care those things that sidetrack you from that love?

Take a second right now to enjoy God’s all-abiding delight in you.
Amen, Alleluia!

Blessings,
Sara+

July 2: The Anglican Future

I wanted to write to give you a little update on what’s been going on in the Anglican Communion. You may have seen in the news a recent conference in Jerusalem, “GAFCON” (Global Anglican Future Conference). In a very strongly worded statement, archbishops from the Global South declared a new locus of power separate from the archbishop of Canterbury. They have agreed on what they claim is a new way forward of walking separately from what they perceive is the heresy of the Church in the US and Canada’s inclusion of gays and lesbians in the life of the church. The meeting comes just a few weeks before the Lambeth Conference, a gathering of all the bishops in the Anglican Communion (well, most of them—more on that later) that happens every ten years. Many of the attendees at the GAFCON conference are boycotting Lambeth this year, however, to show their disapproval for what they see as the Archbishop of Canterbury’s capitulation to western liberalism. Unfortunately Bishop Gene Robinson, (the bishop of New Hampshire, who happens to be gay) has been un-invited to Lambeth, in a nod to the anti-gay elements of the communion who oppose his consecration. At the same time, the irregularly consecrated anti-gay bishops (those who are sent by provinces in Africa to be “missionaries” to American churches who are unhappy with recent developments over sexuality) have also been un-invited, so it is clear that the Archbishop is trying to follow what he perceives as a middle way.

In media reports it seems that even the attendees of the conference are divided over whether it represents schism or not—Archbishop Akinola of Nigeria says “There is no longer any hope” for unity; while the archbishop of Sydney, Australia, says that it’s not about breaking up. I wanted to share with you the statement from our own Presiding Bishop, the Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori. She is very wise!!

Much of the Anglican world must be lamenting the latest emission from GAFCON. Anglicanism has always been broader than some find comfortable. This statement does not represent the end of Anglicanism, merely another chapter in a centuries-old struggle for dominance by those who consider themselves the only true believers. Anglicans will continue to worship God in their churches, serve the hungry and needy in their communities, and build missional relationships with others across the globe, despite the desire of a few leaders to narrow the influence of the gospel. We look forward to the opportunities of the Lambeth Conference for constructive conversation, inspired prayer, and relational encounters.

Yes—let’s get on with our mission—let’s move forward in worship together, and feeding the hungry, and curing the sick. Amen!

From June 25: The waters flow from God's altar

I had a wonderful time on vacation last week—we were camping on the island of Chincoteague, Virginia, and really enjoyed the time away. I came back to this wonderful prayer in my email in box I’d like to share with you today. It comes from the World Council of Churches Cycle of Prayer, which is for Brazil this week.

I received it from the Latin American and Caribbean Church News listserv, which you can visit at http://www.alcnoticias.org. Click on the “English” tab at the top right.

And the waters will flow from your altar, Lord
and flood the earth.
And we will be like a garden watered,
cared for,
exposed to life.

Oh! let these waters come,
impetuous and pure,
and destroy the powers
and clean the paths
which my people will take,
singing and rejoicing
in an endless celebration,
the Word, Life, Freedom
and the Resurrection!

And the waters will flow from your altar, Lord,
and clean away the debris
and we will have courage to act,
to serve,
to change the world.

And the waters will flow from your altar, Lord,
life will be rekindled,
and we will see the new creation,
act of your love.

Amen, alleluia!

From June 16:Henri Nouwen on Hospitality

Our Old Testament reading for this past Sunday came from the book of Genesis. During these days of Pentecost, we have the opportunity to read consecutively from Genesis all summer—through most of August. The lectionary allows us to delve more deeply into these stories of our faith—stories that Jesus himself would have heard taught in the synagogues where he also taught. This past Sunday, we met Abraham and Sarah as they are visited by angels bringing a wonderful promise—that they will have a son, even in their old age. The author of the letter to the Hebrews comments on it: Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. (Heb 13: 2). In my sermon, I was reflecting with you about the importance of hospitality—for us to be both givers and receivers of it. I quoted a passage from the writer Henri Nouwen, which I’d like to share again with you here.

[Hospitality] means primarily the creation of a free space where the stranger can enter and become a friend instead of an enemy. Hospitality is not to change people, but to offer them space where change can take place. It is not to bring men and women over to our side, but to offer freedom not disturbed by dividing lines. It is not to lead our neighbor into a corner where there are no alternatives left, but to open a wide spectrum of options for choice and commitment. It is not an educated intimidation with good books, good stories and good works, but the liberation of fearful hearts so that words can find roots and bear ample fruit. It is not a method of making our God and our way into the criteria of happiness, but the opening of an opportunity to others to find their God and their way. rich and poor. . . The paradox of hospitality is that it wants to create emptiness, not a fearful emptiness, but a friendly emptiness where strangers can enter and discover themselves as created free; free to sing their own songs, speak their own languages, dance their own dances.

This week, keep your eyes open for those angels you find occasion to entertain, “unaware.” Keep your heart open for times that you become an angel of God to others, as they share the gift of hospitality with you.

Prayers for the Church in Zimbabwe

This week, I wanted to share some news of our bishop, The Rt. Rev M. Thomas Shaw, SSJE. The SSJE means that he’s a monk—a brother in the Society of St John the Evangelist, a monastery in Cambridge (SSJE is a great resource—see www.ssje.org for more on their ministries). Bishop Shaw is our diocesan bishop, and his work is supported by two suffragan (assisting) bishops, The Rt. Revs Gayle Harris and Bud Cederholm. Gayle will be visiting us next fall, in September (she was also here in the spring of 2006), and Bud was here in March of 2007.

Tom just came back from a trip to Zimbabwe, taken at the request of our Presiding Bishop, Katharine Jefferts Schori and with the invitation of Sebastian Bakare of the Diocese of Harare. This is from his statement about the trip:
I was asked to travel to Harare to express the church’s solidarity with our Anglican brothers and sisters in the Diocese of Harare who are under profound oppression and to gather information for the presiding bishop about the political situation there. I interviewed some 50 priests, lay people and human rights lawyers in Harare over the course of my one week stay. I can report that the situation in Zimbabwe is indeed grave. There are widespread violations of human rights, daily reports of murder and torture and an economic and humanitarian crisis of enormous proportions. The inflation rate is one million percent and unemployment ranges between 80-90%. There are long lines for gas and at banks, limited electricity and clean water and virtually empty shelves in supermarkets. . . . Thousands of Anglican worshipers have been locked out of their churches, their church properties have been occupied by government-backed allies and their personal automobiles have been confiscated. A local priest must move from house to house every night to avoid possible arrest. A nine-year-old boy and a widowed mother of five children were beaten by police for failing to leave the church site.

In an article in the Boston Globe about his trip, Bishop Shaw talked about the inspirational faith of the Church there:
Sunday I went to this really poor township, and over 400 people were worshiping in this yard of this person's house, spilling out into the road. It was an unbelievable experience. The enthusiasm, the joy that these people have is pretty profound. . . I preached about the fact that they are not isolated in the Anglican Communion, and that there were literally millions of people around the globe that . . . are praying for them…. And I preached about that they were a real model for the rest of us around the world, in the way that they are standing up against oppression, and not letting it get in the way of their worship for God.

We’ll hear more about the international church in the coming weeks as Anglican bishops across the globe prepare to travel to the Lambeth Conference, a meeting of all the bishops that happens every ten years (the conference is from July 16 to August 3). Please take a moment now to pray for Christians everywhere, especially the church in Zimbabwe, and for fair elections there later this month.

For a short video and the Boston Globe article, visit http://www.boston.com/news/world/africa/articles/2008/06/06/bishop_finds_flock_tormented_in_zimbabwe/?page=full

For more background on the situation for the Anglican Church in Zimbabwe, see
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/16/world/africa/16zimbabwe.html?sq=zimbabwe%20anglican&st=cse&scp=1&pagewanted=all

Eating Locally (from March, 2007)

God said, ‘See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food. And to every beast of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food.’ And it was so. God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good. (Genesis 1: 29-31)

This week, a lot of events around environmental issues and food have come across my desk. Earth day isn’t until April 22, but a lot of things are happening now. You can see some of the events listed below. On a very close-to-home note, Waltham Fields Community Farm is selling shares in their Community Supported Agriculture Program. I don’t think I’ve every used this space to encourage you consider buying anything, so I hope you’ll excuse it just this once.

Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) is a movement that started here in Massachusetts in an effort to help local farmers, the environment, and to improve food quality. Right here in Waltham, on Beaver Street, Waltham Fields Community Farm grows a wide variety of vegetables (some fruits, but mostly veggies). As a CSA shareholder, you take on a portion of the risk—and the benefit—of your local farm. Noah and I were shareholders for the first time last year—some of you may have heard me talk about it. You pay a fee for the season and pick up delicious, fresh vegetables and fruit for 20 weeks, from June to October. You also get “pick your own” privileges on the farm for special treats like cherry tomatoes, strawberries, herbs, and flowers. The food is delicious and an excellent value (about 20 dollars a week for enough veggies to feed 2 adults and children, plus leftovers—one week we had ten pounds of tomatoes!). Moreover, the positive environmental impact of eating locally and pesticide-free is tremendous. (WCF, while they use organic practices, are not officially certified “organic.”)

Have you ever considered how much energy it takes to drive a cucumber from California to Massachusetts? A lot! Why do that, when we can grow cucumbers right here? Remember that E. coli bacteria scare last year when the California spinach was contaminated, but the farm and packaging systems were so large it took weeks to figure out where the illness came from? By eating straight from the farm, such risks are significantly minimized. And it tastes better, too. A tomato that was harvested last week has significantly more flavor than one that was picked before it was ripe, and spent weeks in a truck or grocery store distribution center. In addition to which, WCF donates hundreds of pounds of food to local hunger relief organizations. (If you were at the Waltham Interfaith Thanksgiving service last November, you heard from Janet, who distributes vegetables at the Salvation Army).

Of course, being a CSA member isn’t the only way to respond to environmental food issues. Buying from the Waltham farmers market has much of the same impact, without the commitment to the whole growing season and up front financial investment. But I have to say, visiting the farm every week and seeing and smelling the ground where your food came from is simply a spiritual experience. As modern people, it is easy for us to lose sight of how God’s creation nourishes us directly, and how intimately we really are connected to God’s creation. We are given dominion over the earth, but we are also charged to be caretakers. We each have a part to play in that work.

For more on the farm, visit http://www.communityfarms.org/ or call 781-899-2403.

If you’re interested in hearing more about the impact of local food systems, ask one of our youth. Last October, we spent the day at the Lincoln Food Project, another local farm that works for hunger relief and local agriculture

Question Authority

This past Sunday for our usual first-Sunday-of-the-month children’s service at Christ Church, our youth group took parts of our service. Thanks to Caroline Beermann, who lead a reflection with the children, Emma Scalisi who read the Gospel, Devon Franklin who wrote and read the Prayers of the People, and MaryAnn Murray, who lead the psalm and read the second reading. Thanks, too, to Suzanne Hughes, our talented youth group leader (who is also our very talented treasurer) who shepherded them in their preparations for the day.

It didn’t occur to me at the time, but the readings were especially appropriate for a young person to reflect on. There’s one line, which on reading the text for the first time it’s easy to skip over: Now when Jesus had finished saying these things, the crowds were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as their scribes. Watching Caroline sit with our kids, I was struck by how important it must be for kids to see other kids in leadership—in the same way as it was important for me to have a woman priest growing up, to see that I could do that, too. Our kids need to have that example of being included in the leadership and witness of God in this church. Caroline had the authority to teach with them because she is a member of this community. We have something to learn from everyone. Caroline talked about how the authority of Jesus came from love—not (and here I’m extending what she said a little) from the power of institutional authority or worldly respect, like the scribes.

Authority is a tricky thing—I once had a bumper sticker that said, “Question Authority.” Of course, anyone who has ever been sixteen years old probably feels that sentiment at one time or another, but I don’t think it’s just about adolescent rebellion. Being a Christian is about trying to see how God sees, not how the world sees—and that means that status in the world is not of ultimate value. It can be nice to be successful in the world’s eyes, but it’s not what we’re called to do. In his letter to the Galatians Paul writes: Am I now seeking human approval, or God’s approval? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still pleasing people, I would not be a servant^* of Christ. (Gal 1: 10)

But we want to be nice. We want to have others’ approval. We want, especially, to have the approval of those who can benefit us. We judge each other. And so we might be more interested in talking to the well-dressed person at coffee hour than the one who looks like they slept outside. We want our kids to be friends with the “right” kind of people. We stereotype people, categorizing them by sexual orientation, race, gender, politics. I know I do this—I feel so strongly about the things I believe, sometimes it can be hard to imagine that any sane person could disagree. Do they have their heads in the sand? Are they blind? Or am I?

A bishop can be respected for his or her depth of education, or experience, or sensitivity, but God’s love is not any more present with those wearing purple shirts than with those wearing sarcastic T shirts or dirty overcoats. The Gospel is just as likely to be heard out of the mouth of a teenager as it is the archbishop, however many more resources he might have at his disposal to articulate them. The challenge to each of us, of course, is to listen.