I hope your Christmas preparations are going well, that your Advent has been a satisfying time of reflection and preparation. As Christmas approaches on Saturday, it's easy to dwell on all the prayers unsaid, all the things we might have squeezed into this time of preparation but didn't. Advent is short! Either way, though, the holiday will come, Christ will be born, and we will be joined to God.
I shared the following poem in this space a few years ago, but thought I'd sent it out again. It comes from the poet Mary Oliver (a fellow Episcopalian) from her book Thirst.
The Vast Ocean Begins Just Outside Our Church: The Eucharist
Something has happened /to the bread/ and the wine.
They have been blessed./What now? /The body leans forward
To receive the gift/ from the priest's hand,/ then the chalice.
They are something else now/from what they were/ before this began
I want/ to see Jesus,/ maybe in the clouds
or on the shore,/ just walking,/ beautiful man
and clearly/ someone else/ besides.
On the hard days/ I ask myself/ if I ever will.
Also there are times/ my body whispers to me/ that I have.
What I appreciate about the poem is that truth about the retrospective nature of so much spiritual experience. We don't always recognize the importance or power of what we are undergoing at the time; sometimes the power or profundity takes a while to filter through our consciousness. As they walked with Jesus on the way to Emmaus, the disciples just knew "a stranger;" it was only afterwards that they asked "Were not our hearts burning within us as we walked?" (Luke 24:32) We don't typically spend our days gape-mouthed at the Beauty of Creation or the Grace of Our Salvation In Christ. We don't realize our hearts are on fire. We get distracted; we are busy; we just don't see what's right in front of us. After one of my kids has had a bad night I don't even see things that are materially in front of me, much less spiritually so. Oliver points to how we still know Christ's presence even in our forgetting. As the bread and the wine become "something else" after they are blessed, we do, too-but it can take a while. Somehow our bodies know what has left the forefront of our minds.
At Christmas, as Oliver says, our bodies whisper-God has been here. God has been with us. Be silent. Remember. Remember.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Dec. 16: Grappling with hope
Dear People of Christ Church,
This weekend, we have several opportunities for celebration of the coming holiday. Saturday, we'll join together with St Peter's for a party with a Christingle service. Christingle was introduced to us a few years ago by a Christ Churcher who'd experienced in when he was working in England-it's a beautiful service of light and song (and a lot of candy, in the form of an orange covered in gumdrops-truly something for everyone). That will be at 3 pm on Saturday. Sunday, I hope you'll join us for our Christmas Play-"A Child is Born." It will take the place of most of the Liturgy of the Word (the beginning part of the service when we have Scripture readings, the sermon, the creed, and prayers). We'll open with a hymn and the Gospel, but then enjoy the play and the carols that are part of it.
This Advent, I continue to be gripped by hope. Not a "yes we can" kind of hope (though that kind is all fine, too)-but an almost argumentative, confrontational hope. I have felt a little like Jacob, wrestling with the angel. In the story in Genesis, Jacob is traveling back to Caanan, when he is attacked by a stranger, with whom he wrestles all night, and knocks his hip out of joint. Finally, the morning comes and the angel asks him to let him go, but Jacob says, "I will not let you go, unless you bless me." There's something in this story about holding on to a promise of God-the promise of blessing, in Jacob's case-and contending with God that it be realized. I feel a little like the hope of Christmas is something I'm wrestling with. I want it; I want to believe in peace and justice and the kingdom where the lion lies down with the lamb and swords are bent into ploughshares, but I have such doubt, too.
Looking around our world, it's hard to see how love will win out in the end. But those are the promises of the prophets and the promises of Christ. I believe them, but their fulfillment seems so far away. I want to hold on to that hope more strongly, really to possess it and live through it. It's a palpable desire-almost like romantic love, where the beloved is the only thing you can see.
Our own experiences, though, are through earthly time, and we are bound by it. God's promises aren't confined by that linearity. As part of the Eucharistic prayer, we say "Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again." The divine reality isn't quite as chronological as that, though. In the resurrection, the battle is already won-death no longer has the last word. Yet wherever we look, there is death-death in our economic system that favors rich over poor, death in the abundance of war, death as we act out of fear rather than love. So we are praying for the grace to live in that hope, to act on it, to bring those promises of justice to reality, at same time as we celebrate the coming of that baby who changes-has already changed, and will change-absolutely everything.
Paradoxically, I think it's my struggle with that hope that makes it feel all the more promising; as something outside of myself, I sense its reality, even as it's something I feel I don't fully have. So I guess I am not having such a peaceful Advent after all, but I'm grateful for it. What are you being gripped by this Advent? What are you longing for?
Blessings,
Sara+
This weekend, we have several opportunities for celebration of the coming holiday. Saturday, we'll join together with St Peter's for a party with a Christingle service. Christingle was introduced to us a few years ago by a Christ Churcher who'd experienced in when he was working in England-it's a beautiful service of light and song (and a lot of candy, in the form of an orange covered in gumdrops-truly something for everyone). That will be at 3 pm on Saturday. Sunday, I hope you'll join us for our Christmas Play-"A Child is Born." It will take the place of most of the Liturgy of the Word (the beginning part of the service when we have Scripture readings, the sermon, the creed, and prayers). We'll open with a hymn and the Gospel, but then enjoy the play and the carols that are part of it.
This Advent, I continue to be gripped by hope. Not a "yes we can" kind of hope (though that kind is all fine, too)-but an almost argumentative, confrontational hope. I have felt a little like Jacob, wrestling with the angel. In the story in Genesis, Jacob is traveling back to Caanan, when he is attacked by a stranger, with whom he wrestles all night, and knocks his hip out of joint. Finally, the morning comes and the angel asks him to let him go, but Jacob says, "I will not let you go, unless you bless me." There's something in this story about holding on to a promise of God-the promise of blessing, in Jacob's case-and contending with God that it be realized. I feel a little like the hope of Christmas is something I'm wrestling with. I want it; I want to believe in peace and justice and the kingdom where the lion lies down with the lamb and swords are bent into ploughshares, but I have such doubt, too.
Looking around our world, it's hard to see how love will win out in the end. But those are the promises of the prophets and the promises of Christ. I believe them, but their fulfillment seems so far away. I want to hold on to that hope more strongly, really to possess it and live through it. It's a palpable desire-almost like romantic love, where the beloved is the only thing you can see.
Our own experiences, though, are through earthly time, and we are bound by it. God's promises aren't confined by that linearity. As part of the Eucharistic prayer, we say "Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again." The divine reality isn't quite as chronological as that, though. In the resurrection, the battle is already won-death no longer has the last word. Yet wherever we look, there is death-death in our economic system that favors rich over poor, death in the abundance of war, death as we act out of fear rather than love. So we are praying for the grace to live in that hope, to act on it, to bring those promises of justice to reality, at same time as we celebrate the coming of that baby who changes-has already changed, and will change-absolutely everything.
Paradoxically, I think it's my struggle with that hope that makes it feel all the more promising; as something outside of myself, I sense its reality, even as it's something I feel I don't fully have. So I guess I am not having such a peaceful Advent after all, but I'm grateful for it. What are you being gripped by this Advent? What are you longing for?
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Christ Church and St Peter's
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I’d like to share with you a piece that had intended to go in last week’s Quarterly, but just didn’t quite fit. Speaking of the Quarterly, I’ve heard from a few of you that your copies didn’t arrive intact; you should have had 8 pages (2 double-sided tabloid size 11x17 sheets). If you didn’t, please let me know and I can get it for you—or, you can download the whole thing from our website.
There are two reflections here—one from me and one from Rev. Christine, pastor ot ST Peter’s Angligan Church of Uganda, our partner here at 750 Main St.
From Rev. Sara
Recently, I had the opportunity to attend a meeting at the diocese with priests from many African nations, among them our friends Rev. Christine and Rev. Mary. St Peter’s is part of a wide tapestry of African congregations in many shapes and sizes, as are their English-speaking partner congregations. Bishop Bud Cederholm is initiating a conversation about an overall mission plan for ministries with Africans in Eastern Massachusetts, a conversation I feel blessed to be part of. We at Christ Church are part of a very important part of the work of our diocese in welcoming Anglicans from far and wide into our midst.
Part of the vision for the future is for St Peter’s (part of our Christ Church family for 2 1/2 years), to begin to discern whether God is calling them to buy their own building. They have begun a building fund to save money—at this point, their poster in the parish hall (much like our own stewardship thermometer) has a $250,000 goal for the next five years.
On one hand, it feels surprising to introduce the idea at this time, with Micah Intern Paul Hartge’s work with us and when it still feels like we are in the beginning of our relationship. There is a wonderful line from the Quran quoted by Diana Eck in the book our daytime book group read recently—“We have made you into nations and tribes that you may know one another.” We are blessed to do that work here—we are all one church, whether one building or several!
As we recently welcomed Resurrection Chapel, a Haitian Congregation, we will always have others sharing our building, both in responsible stewardship of space and in our mission to help others grow in Christ. It’s a shame to leave this beautiful building empty, and there are many, many congregations in need of hospitality. We are thankful for the opportunity to support each other in our growth and flourishing. Christine puts it much better in her piece, below.
From Rev. Christine:
We are on the move, in thought but not yet in body. We have Christ Church to thank for our progress both now and in the future. Daughter to Mother. That is St. Peter’s to Christ Church. And what a relationship we have! Now two years of nurturing us, nay, more than two! Thank you Christ Church! We are doing well, growing and maturing.
You know how we crawled, stood up, and then walked. What a marvel! And Christ Church has been with us all the time; you have backed us to this very day. You are awesome Rev. Sara and all the saints at Christ Church. And now, St. Peter’s has come to a point of daring to peep into the future and have seen ourselves moving away from mother’s home to our own place. But of course this is still in the far distant future. Never the less we are venturing to set in motion the initial baby steps in that direction. And what maturity for Christ Church and the Episcopal Church at large, will have engendered!!
On my own behalf, and that of my colleague and associate priest Rev. Dr. Alex Kasirye-Musoke, and the entire St. Peter’s family I extend to each of you our deep gratitude for your big, magnanimous hearts. Together we move on representing God in the world.
We continue to marvel at the mystery of the gospel and to allow it to impact our lives. Our desire is to develop gospel shaped lives. We are far from the goal to be sure, but we are working at it; we are tenacious, resolute, definite, steadfast and resilient. Please continue praying for us. Maranatha! (Aramaic for “Come, Lord Jesus!”)
This week, I’d like to share with you a piece that had intended to go in last week’s Quarterly, but just didn’t quite fit. Speaking of the Quarterly, I’ve heard from a few of you that your copies didn’t arrive intact; you should have had 8 pages (2 double-sided tabloid size 11x17 sheets). If you didn’t, please let me know and I can get it for you—or, you can download the whole thing from our website.
There are two reflections here—one from me and one from Rev. Christine, pastor ot ST Peter’s Angligan Church of Uganda, our partner here at 750 Main St.
From Rev. Sara
Recently, I had the opportunity to attend a meeting at the diocese with priests from many African nations, among them our friends Rev. Christine and Rev. Mary. St Peter’s is part of a wide tapestry of African congregations in many shapes and sizes, as are their English-speaking partner congregations. Bishop Bud Cederholm is initiating a conversation about an overall mission plan for ministries with Africans in Eastern Massachusetts, a conversation I feel blessed to be part of. We at Christ Church are part of a very important part of the work of our diocese in welcoming Anglicans from far and wide into our midst.
Part of the vision for the future is for St Peter’s (part of our Christ Church family for 2 1/2 years), to begin to discern whether God is calling them to buy their own building. They have begun a building fund to save money—at this point, their poster in the parish hall (much like our own stewardship thermometer) has a $250,000 goal for the next five years.
On one hand, it feels surprising to introduce the idea at this time, with Micah Intern Paul Hartge’s work with us and when it still feels like we are in the beginning of our relationship. There is a wonderful line from the Quran quoted by Diana Eck in the book our daytime book group read recently—“We have made you into nations and tribes that you may know one another.” We are blessed to do that work here—we are all one church, whether one building or several!
As we recently welcomed Resurrection Chapel, a Haitian Congregation, we will always have others sharing our building, both in responsible stewardship of space and in our mission to help others grow in Christ. It’s a shame to leave this beautiful building empty, and there are many, many congregations in need of hospitality. We are thankful for the opportunity to support each other in our growth and flourishing. Christine puts it much better in her piece, below.
From Rev. Christine:
We are on the move, in thought but not yet in body. We have Christ Church to thank for our progress both now and in the future. Daughter to Mother. That is St. Peter’s to Christ Church. And what a relationship we have! Now two years of nurturing us, nay, more than two! Thank you Christ Church! We are doing well, growing and maturing.
You know how we crawled, stood up, and then walked. What a marvel! And Christ Church has been with us all the time; you have backed us to this very day. You are awesome Rev. Sara and all the saints at Christ Church. And now, St. Peter’s has come to a point of daring to peep into the future and have seen ourselves moving away from mother’s home to our own place. But of course this is still in the far distant future. Never the less we are venturing to set in motion the initial baby steps in that direction. And what maturity for Christ Church and the Episcopal Church at large, will have engendered!!
On my own behalf, and that of my colleague and associate priest Rev. Dr. Alex Kasirye-Musoke, and the entire St. Peter’s family I extend to each of you our deep gratitude for your big, magnanimous hearts. Together we move on representing God in the world.
We continue to marvel at the mystery of the gospel and to allow it to impact our lives. Our desire is to develop gospel shaped lives. We are far from the goal to be sure, but we are working at it; we are tenacious, resolute, definite, steadfast and resilient. Please continue praying for us. Maranatha! (Aramaic for “Come, Lord Jesus!”)
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Advent
Dear People of Christ Church,
Today or tomorrow, our Quarterly newsletter will find its way to your mailbox (or you can download it). The articles in its pages lead us into different reflections on what Advent means-Advent, as well as its broader theme of "prophecy." In observing Advent myself I've been thinking about how there's so much tension in it. Advent is a season of paradox and antonym (whether real or perceived as such).
Light, dark, power, weakness, anticipation, resolution. Living in this "in between" time of Jesus' ministry and return, we live in a world in which we know that the battle has already been won, that God's embrace of us can never be alienated. The resurrection is a sign of death's loss of ultimate power. At the same time, incompleteness, lack, and need are all around us. In the words of Paula Tatarunis' poem in the Quarterly, "There is no lack of lack." Even the beautiful weather today seems to highlight the darkness; seeing the sunshine outside my window now, I know that when I leave for home this evening it will be dark.
Still, there is this light-light in the Advent wreath, light illuminating houses, light in the faces of those who love us. And, always, the True Light-as the Gospel of John so beautifully proclaims, the coming into being of "life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. (John 1: 3-5). It is not overcome, but there is still plenty of dark.
Just this morning, I heard of one person's brother dying, another having been diagnosed with cancer. All of those sweeping categories of Light and Dark aren't abstract for long. The biggest mystery is that we are each part of this cosmic drama, personally and palpably. Jesus Christ was not born for another people at another time-he was born for us, in all time and beyond all time. The Word, the logos which is the light of the world through whom and in whom everything came to be is our mother tongue. In the words of writer Caryll Houselander, "We are only syllables of the Perfect Word." We are part of all of this; each of us, created in the image of God, through this Word of God, through this Christ-"who was, and is, and is to come."
This cold clear day, take a moment to ask yourself what your paradoxes are this Advent-where is your light, your dark? How are you holding the tension? How does Christ inhabit that tension with you?
Blessings,
Sara+
Today or tomorrow, our Quarterly newsletter will find its way to your mailbox (or you can download it). The articles in its pages lead us into different reflections on what Advent means-Advent, as well as its broader theme of "prophecy." In observing Advent myself I've been thinking about how there's so much tension in it. Advent is a season of paradox and antonym (whether real or perceived as such).
Light, dark, power, weakness, anticipation, resolution. Living in this "in between" time of Jesus' ministry and return, we live in a world in which we know that the battle has already been won, that God's embrace of us can never be alienated. The resurrection is a sign of death's loss of ultimate power. At the same time, incompleteness, lack, and need are all around us. In the words of Paula Tatarunis' poem in the Quarterly, "There is no lack of lack." Even the beautiful weather today seems to highlight the darkness; seeing the sunshine outside my window now, I know that when I leave for home this evening it will be dark.
Still, there is this light-light in the Advent wreath, light illuminating houses, light in the faces of those who love us. And, always, the True Light-as the Gospel of John so beautifully proclaims, the coming into being of "life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. (John 1: 3-5). It is not overcome, but there is still plenty of dark.
Just this morning, I heard of one person's brother dying, another having been diagnosed with cancer. All of those sweeping categories of Light and Dark aren't abstract for long. The biggest mystery is that we are each part of this cosmic drama, personally and palpably. Jesus Christ was not born for another people at another time-he was born for us, in all time and beyond all time. The Word, the logos which is the light of the world through whom and in whom everything came to be is our mother tongue. In the words of writer Caryll Houselander, "We are only syllables of the Perfect Word." We are part of all of this; each of us, created in the image of God, through this Word of God, through this Christ-"who was, and is, and is to come."
This cold clear day, take a moment to ask yourself what your paradoxes are this Advent-where is your light, your dark? How are you holding the tension? How does Christ inhabit that tension with you?
Blessings,
Sara+
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Litany for Thanksgiving - From the Book of Common Prayer
Dear People of Christ Church,
Happy Thanksgiving!
Thanks to everyone who contributed to our fifth annual (!) Thanksgiving basket project. We are distributing 19 Thanksgiving dinners to families and 2 of our local homeless shelters. This outpaces all our previous efforts!
In that spirit of Thanksgiving, I'd like to share with you the Litany from our prayer book. Everything we have has been given to us--reason for us to give thanks, and reason for us to share.
S+
Let us give thanks to God for all the gifts so freely bestowed upon us.
For the beauty and wonder of your creation, in earth and sky and sea,
We thank you, Lord.
For all that is gracious in the lives of men and women, revealing the image of Christ,
We thank you, Lord.
For our daily food and drink, our homes and families, and our friends,
We thank you, Lord.
For minds to think, and hearts to love, and hands to serve,
We thank you, Lord.
For health and strength to work, and leisure to rest and play, We thank you, Lord.
For the brave and courageous, who are patient in suffering and faithful in adversity,
We thank you, Lord.
For all valiant seekers after truth, liberty, and justice,
We thank you, Lord.
For the communion of saints, in all times and places,
We thank you, Lord.
Above all, we give you thanks for the great mercies and promises given to us in Christ Jesus our Lord;
To Christ be praise and glory, with you, O Father, and the Holy Spirit, now and for ever.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Thanks to everyone who contributed to our fifth annual (!) Thanksgiving basket project. We are distributing 19 Thanksgiving dinners to families and 2 of our local homeless shelters. This outpaces all our previous efforts!
In that spirit of Thanksgiving, I'd like to share with you the Litany from our prayer book. Everything we have has been given to us--reason for us to give thanks, and reason for us to share.
S+
Let us give thanks to God for all the gifts so freely bestowed upon us.
For the beauty and wonder of your creation, in earth and sky and sea,
We thank you, Lord.
For all that is gracious in the lives of men and women, revealing the image of Christ,
We thank you, Lord.
For our daily food and drink, our homes and families, and our friends,
We thank you, Lord.
For minds to think, and hearts to love, and hands to serve,
We thank you, Lord.
For health and strength to work, and leisure to rest and play, We thank you, Lord.
For the brave and courageous, who are patient in suffering and faithful in adversity,
We thank you, Lord.
For all valiant seekers after truth, liberty, and justice,
We thank you, Lord.
For the communion of saints, in all times and places,
We thank you, Lord.
Above all, we give you thanks for the great mercies and promises given to us in Christ Jesus our Lord;
To Christ be praise and glory, with you, O Father, and the Holy Spirit, now and for ever.
Community and Diocesan News
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week it feels as though every last possible task is trying to be completed before Thanksgiving-Advent bulletins created, worship calendar finished, newsletter articles done. None of them will be quite finished, and yet God is still with us. No matter how stressed or anxious we are, God is present and we are loved. [deep breath]
On Tuesday, a few of us attended the City of Waltham's Community Preservation Committee meeting to answer questions about our application for funds through the CPA act's historic preservation category. The Community Preservation Act was adopted in 2005 to create a fund for historic preservation, open space, and affordable housing. The money comes from a mix of property tax surcharges and state matching grants. The CPC Committee approves the initial application, and then the wider city council group approves it. On Tuesday, Shawn Russell, our treasurer, and I went before the committee to answer questions about our application, while our cheering section sat up front and prayed for us. With few questions, we were approved! Those funds will be spent on restoration of the tower and windows, in tandem with a capital campaign project which you'll hear more about soon. Special thanks to everyone who worked hard to complete the application (particularly Shawn, Jonathan, Cindy, and some last minute editing by Mike)-and especially Bill Fowler, whose knowledge of city politics was instrumental in getting us in front of the committee as soon as we did and who fielded many contractor visits.
In other news, this week Bishop Suffragan Bud Cederholm announced his retirement. I saw him at a meeting last night and told him I was happy for him, but sad for us! Fortunately, we still have a year together and he will continue to be involved in the diocese after his retirement.
I'm pasting the announcement from the Episcopal e-news below. To read the full letter, visit diomass.org.
Blessings to all of you who are expecting guests or who will be traveling for the holiday.
peace,
Sara+
This week it feels as though every last possible task is trying to be completed before Thanksgiving-Advent bulletins created, worship calendar finished, newsletter articles done. None of them will be quite finished, and yet God is still with us. No matter how stressed or anxious we are, God is present and we are loved. [deep breath]
On Tuesday, a few of us attended the City of Waltham's Community Preservation Committee meeting to answer questions about our application for funds through the CPA act's historic preservation category. The Community Preservation Act was adopted in 2005 to create a fund for historic preservation, open space, and affordable housing. The money comes from a mix of property tax surcharges and state matching grants. The CPC Committee approves the initial application, and then the wider city council group approves it. On Tuesday, Shawn Russell, our treasurer, and I went before the committee to answer questions about our application, while our cheering section sat up front and prayed for us. With few questions, we were approved! Those funds will be spent on restoration of the tower and windows, in tandem with a capital campaign project which you'll hear more about soon. Special thanks to everyone who worked hard to complete the application (particularly Shawn, Jonathan, Cindy, and some last minute editing by Mike)-and especially Bill Fowler, whose knowledge of city politics was instrumental in getting us in front of the committee as soon as we did and who fielded many contractor visits.
In other news, this week Bishop Suffragan Bud Cederholm announced his retirement. I saw him at a meeting last night and told him I was happy for him, but sad for us! Fortunately, we still have a year together and he will continue to be involved in the diocese after his retirement.
I'm pasting the announcement from the Episcopal e-news below. To read the full letter, visit diomass.org.
Blessings to all of you who are expecting guests or who will be traveling for the holiday.
peace,
Sara+
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Bishop Robinson's Retirement
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I have been praying for Gene Robinson and the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire. As we celebrated our own diocesan convention in Lynn last Saturday, Dio NH also had theirs, and received the news that Bishop Robinson would be retiring in 2013. (look for something in our Quarterly newsletter about our own Convention from one of our representatives, Mike Balulescu)
Bishop Robinson was elected in 2003 and consecrated in 2004, which brought to head global conflicts that had been stirring for some time about the interpretation of Scripture on the topic of homosexuality. In his remarks, he talked about how he always appreciated the people of New Hampshire-He said "New Hampshire is always the place I remain, simply, 'the Bishop.' This is the one place on earth where I am not 'the gay Bishop." That evening, I received a call from the Boston Globe looking for comments (apparently I am the only Episcopalian who answers their phone after 9 pm on Saturdays), and got quoted the next day in the paper. When asked about the dispute in the church, I said it was "tragic"-and since I saw it in print, I've really struggled with what that means.
Is it, in fact, tragic? I think the means of the schism are tragic in a way that the ends are not. What's tragic is thinking about so much actual ministry that could have happened over the last ten years if we hadn't been bickering. Tragedy is a gay teenager killing himself. Tragedy is a mother being unable to nurse a baby because she doesn't have enough food to eat. It is sad when people who had been in communion are no longer, but it's probably not a full-on tragedy. What is perplexing about all of this as well is that these moves to enforce some kind of centralized orthodoxy are completely contrary to the theological spirit of Anglicanism that has served us so well for hundreds of years. In the overall scheme of things, 100,000 people have left the Episcopal Church in the US over this issue, but over 2 million have stayed. And how many of you are here because you want to be part of a church that recognizes the ministry of all people? How many of you feel loved by each other even though you may disagree about some things?
On Tuesday, in our politics and faith conversation we talked about why it's so hard to be civil when we disagree; in our conversation I think we managed to do so, even with people on opposite sides of some issues. In this polarized world though, we have found ourselves dividing-or being pushed-into separate corners. Hopefully, a church is a place where we can recognize each other's humanity and love each other without having to agree perfectly on every issue. There is, after all, that whole "made in the image of God" idea-it applies to everyone, whatever our opinions.
In an interview with NPR yesterday, Bishop Gene talked about how the opposition he's received-even death threats-have in some ways strengthened his faith. "Believing in the Resurrection... death is not the worst thing. Not living your life, that's the worst thing."
Let's all pray for the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire and Bishop Gene as they move forward in the last chapters of their ministry together.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, I have been praying for Gene Robinson and the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire. As we celebrated our own diocesan convention in Lynn last Saturday, Dio NH also had theirs, and received the news that Bishop Robinson would be retiring in 2013. (look for something in our Quarterly newsletter about our own Convention from one of our representatives, Mike Balulescu)
Bishop Robinson was elected in 2003 and consecrated in 2004, which brought to head global conflicts that had been stirring for some time about the interpretation of Scripture on the topic of homosexuality. In his remarks, he talked about how he always appreciated the people of New Hampshire-He said "New Hampshire is always the place I remain, simply, 'the Bishop.' This is the one place on earth where I am not 'the gay Bishop." That evening, I received a call from the Boston Globe looking for comments (apparently I am the only Episcopalian who answers their phone after 9 pm on Saturdays), and got quoted the next day in the paper. When asked about the dispute in the church, I said it was "tragic"-and since I saw it in print, I've really struggled with what that means.
Is it, in fact, tragic? I think the means of the schism are tragic in a way that the ends are not. What's tragic is thinking about so much actual ministry that could have happened over the last ten years if we hadn't been bickering. Tragedy is a gay teenager killing himself. Tragedy is a mother being unable to nurse a baby because she doesn't have enough food to eat. It is sad when people who had been in communion are no longer, but it's probably not a full-on tragedy. What is perplexing about all of this as well is that these moves to enforce some kind of centralized orthodoxy are completely contrary to the theological spirit of Anglicanism that has served us so well for hundreds of years. In the overall scheme of things, 100,000 people have left the Episcopal Church in the US over this issue, but over 2 million have stayed. And how many of you are here because you want to be part of a church that recognizes the ministry of all people? How many of you feel loved by each other even though you may disagree about some things?
On Tuesday, in our politics and faith conversation we talked about why it's so hard to be civil when we disagree; in our conversation I think we managed to do so, even with people on opposite sides of some issues. In this polarized world though, we have found ourselves dividing-or being pushed-into separate corners. Hopefully, a church is a place where we can recognize each other's humanity and love each other without having to agree perfectly on every issue. There is, after all, that whole "made in the image of God" idea-it applies to everyone, whatever our opinions.
In an interview with NPR yesterday, Bishop Gene talked about how the opposition he's received-even death threats-have in some ways strengthened his faith. "Believing in the Resurrection... death is not the worst thing. Not living your life, that's the worst thing."
Let's all pray for the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire and Bishop Gene as they move forward in the last chapters of their ministry together.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Mission statement
Dear People of Christ Church,
This past week, we celebrated the end of our official stewardship campaign with a delicious soup and bread lunch. Sarah Staley has been a great chair of our stewardship campaign, and the food was delicious. Thanks be to God-and to each of you who have made--and will make--pledges for 2011.
On Sunday at soup and bread, we spread out paper on each of the tables to invite reflection on hospitality, outreach, faith, and stewardship. The first three came out of our GPS and Vestry retreat. Initially, they came to us as a place to put our focus for our work in the coming years-places where we are particularly passionate, and want to develop our mission further. As I thought about them, though, it seemed to me that they were actually more than that-they were at the center of what our community is about all the time, not just things we need some more work on. It's not entirely surprising that we decided to focus on things that we are already pretty serious about.Tyler Mailman's picture on Sunday of "Holding the Doors Open" (above) is about as good a description of hospitality as I can imagine.
After the group did our work around the mission statement, the GPS committee has moved on to putting some thoughts together around vision. Nothing will say it all-particularly not tidy bullet points (ten of them). This process, though, of putting-into-words has been fascinating. What is it, really, that makes us who we are? There is a lot that is un-sayable-as a Christian believer in a pretty "deconstructionish" mode I'm very committed to the notion that words are unreliable and unsteady. At the same time, not articulating a vision and settling down to be a generic "nice church" also isn't something I can get very excited about. It's a discernment process--trying on some things and seeing if they fit. How do we tackle big concepts like oppression? Are we dodging something central to our faith if we leave them out? Or are we being inclusive so as not to be misunderstood? [In that case, as in many others, the Book of Common Prayer came to the rescue--we have cut and pasted liberally from its articulation of things]. So I do think we need this-- and I've kind of enjoyed the challenge. Also, we have benefited a lot from the gifts and talents of our group members. Mike Balulescu has emerged as an amazing scribe for the group, keeping us focused and not letting us get too wordy. So special thanks to him and to Jonathan Duce, our chair.
After more than a month of meetings, we have a draft--loosely categorized under the themes of hospitality, outreach, and faith. The ten concepts we've named will help us to structure our strategic planning for the next several years. This Sunday, we'll distribute copies of the draft that the committee has come up with. It's not a perfect document, but it is a starting place for us to consider how we articulate our hopes for the community. Each of us will have some time to think about it in the coming week, and then we'll have a parish meeting after the 10:00 service on Sunday to hear each other's thoughts. The GPS committee will meet on November 23, and then offer a final draft. If you aren't able to make it to church this Sunday but would like to see what the committee has come up with, please let me know and I will get you the draft.
Blessings,
Sara+
This past week, we celebrated the end of our official stewardship campaign with a delicious soup and bread lunch. Sarah Staley has been a great chair of our stewardship campaign, and the food was delicious. Thanks be to God-and to each of you who have made--and will make--pledges for 2011.
On Sunday at soup and bread, we spread out paper on each of the tables to invite reflection on hospitality, outreach, faith, and stewardship. The first three came out of our GPS and Vestry retreat. Initially, they came to us as a place to put our focus for our work in the coming years-places where we are particularly passionate, and want to develop our mission further. As I thought about them, though, it seemed to me that they were actually more than that-they were at the center of what our community is about all the time, not just things we need some more work on. It's not entirely surprising that we decided to focus on things that we are already pretty serious about.Tyler Mailman's picture on Sunday of "Holding the Doors Open" (above) is about as good a description of hospitality as I can imagine.
After the group did our work around the mission statement, the GPS committee has moved on to putting some thoughts together around vision. Nothing will say it all-particularly not tidy bullet points (ten of them). This process, though, of putting-into-words has been fascinating. What is it, really, that makes us who we are? There is a lot that is un-sayable-as a Christian believer in a pretty "deconstructionish" mode I'm very committed to the notion that words are unreliable and unsteady. At the same time, not articulating a vision and settling down to be a generic "nice church" also isn't something I can get very excited about. It's a discernment process--trying on some things and seeing if they fit. How do we tackle big concepts like oppression? Are we dodging something central to our faith if we leave them out? Or are we being inclusive so as not to be misunderstood? [In that case, as in many others, the Book of Common Prayer came to the rescue--we have cut and pasted liberally from its articulation of things]. So I do think we need this-- and I've kind of enjoyed the challenge. Also, we have benefited a lot from the gifts and talents of our group members. Mike Balulescu has emerged as an amazing scribe for the group, keeping us focused and not letting us get too wordy. So special thanks to him and to Jonathan Duce, our chair.
After more than a month of meetings, we have a draft--loosely categorized under the themes of hospitality, outreach, and faith. The ten concepts we've named will help us to structure our strategic planning for the next several years. This Sunday, we'll distribute copies of the draft that the committee has come up with. It's not a perfect document, but it is a starting place for us to consider how we articulate our hopes for the community. Each of us will have some time to think about it in the coming week, and then we'll have a parish meeting after the 10:00 service on Sunday to hear each other's thoughts. The GPS committee will meet on November 23, and then offer a final draft. If you aren't able to make it to church this Sunday but would like to see what the committee has come up with, please let me know and I will get you the draft.
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Community of Learning
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week Paul Hartge, our Micah Intern, will be our preacher at both services. It's been wonderful these past few weeks to hear the different voices of our stewardship speakers, and we'll also hear from Bill Fowler this week about what stewardship means to him. Please turn in your pledge cards, and really consider in prayer how your financial giving to your church community can reflect how valuable our community is.
A church community is a community of pastoral care, fellowship, and worship, but it's also a community of learning and teaching. Even those who don't attend our book groups or seasonal series are still learners as they approach their faith; in listening to Scripture as part of our worship, in hearing sermons, in reading the Quarterly and (hopefully) reading pieces in this space as well. We never stop learning in our daily lives; our faith commitments can also be areas of intellectual growth.
We're a learning community, but we're also a teaching community. Of course we teach our children, but we teach each other, too. Having Paul Hartge, our Micah intern with us this year is about learning from him and what he has to share, but it's also about his learning from us. Part of this year for him is discerning whether God might be calling him to ordained ministry. Each person in this community is part of that discernment work as he learns about ministry and his gifts and desires. And so, this week, he turns his focus to preaching.
During my year as a Micah intern, I had the chance to preach both at my internship site (the Church of St John the Evangelist in Boston), and at the Episcopal Chaplaincy at Boston University. As part of my work with St John's, I worked with homeless people in Boston, so when two men whom I'd worked with in that community found out I was preaching, they came out on a cold December evening to hear me. I was, of course, nervous, but afterwards Matthew and Al held up signs like Olympic judges-one "10" and one "9.5." (Matthew thought it was a little much for me to receive two perfect tens, but he assured me that I'd done well). I actually still have those signs-a reminder of that time of intense prayer and work, certainly, but also support from the people I was ministering with. So all blessings to Paul this Sunday! I know each of you will offer him the hospitality of your listening hearts.
Speaking of learning, you've also seen printed here that we hope to offer a series on faith and politics in November. All the way back to St Augustine (and certainly earlier), the question of the relation of the individual believer to his or her country has been a subject of lively debate in the Christian tradition. In the founding of this country, the separation of church and state was viewed to protect the church from the state, rather than the other way around, as we tend to read it now. What do St Paul's words about being transformed, rather than conformed to the world, have to say to us? To our civic participation? This series will be more a time to talk about these wider issues than, necessarily, a "pro/con" on what the church says about particular issues (though we will get to some of them as well). Please let us know of your interest in participating. We're hoping to get a Bible Study off the ground, too, possibly jointly with St Peter's.
Finally, you'll see in our "Staff news" section that we have big news! Stephen and his wife Tanya expect the birth of their daughter in early November, and my family and I are moving to Medford, where my husband's church is, as well as my son's preschool, which my daughter will soon attend. (It's Mama's turn to have the longer commute, and our kids are ready for a house with a proper yard). Our new house is West Medford, not far from the Arlington line, so it's not too far. I will likely be out of the office Wednesday and Thursday of next week, but Emilie, our administrator, always knows how to find me and I'll be on email.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week Paul Hartge, our Micah Intern, will be our preacher at both services. It's been wonderful these past few weeks to hear the different voices of our stewardship speakers, and we'll also hear from Bill Fowler this week about what stewardship means to him. Please turn in your pledge cards, and really consider in prayer how your financial giving to your church community can reflect how valuable our community is.
A church community is a community of pastoral care, fellowship, and worship, but it's also a community of learning and teaching. Even those who don't attend our book groups or seasonal series are still learners as they approach their faith; in listening to Scripture as part of our worship, in hearing sermons, in reading the Quarterly and (hopefully) reading pieces in this space as well. We never stop learning in our daily lives; our faith commitments can also be areas of intellectual growth.
We're a learning community, but we're also a teaching community. Of course we teach our children, but we teach each other, too. Having Paul Hartge, our Micah intern with us this year is about learning from him and what he has to share, but it's also about his learning from us. Part of this year for him is discerning whether God might be calling him to ordained ministry. Each person in this community is part of that discernment work as he learns about ministry and his gifts and desires. And so, this week, he turns his focus to preaching.
During my year as a Micah intern, I had the chance to preach both at my internship site (the Church of St John the Evangelist in Boston), and at the Episcopal Chaplaincy at Boston University. As part of my work with St John's, I worked with homeless people in Boston, so when two men whom I'd worked with in that community found out I was preaching, they came out on a cold December evening to hear me. I was, of course, nervous, but afterwards Matthew and Al held up signs like Olympic judges-one "10" and one "9.5." (Matthew thought it was a little much for me to receive two perfect tens, but he assured me that I'd done well). I actually still have those signs-a reminder of that time of intense prayer and work, certainly, but also support from the people I was ministering with. So all blessings to Paul this Sunday! I know each of you will offer him the hospitality of your listening hearts.
Speaking of learning, you've also seen printed here that we hope to offer a series on faith and politics in November. All the way back to St Augustine (and certainly earlier), the question of the relation of the individual believer to his or her country has been a subject of lively debate in the Christian tradition. In the founding of this country, the separation of church and state was viewed to protect the church from the state, rather than the other way around, as we tend to read it now. What do St Paul's words about being transformed, rather than conformed to the world, have to say to us? To our civic participation? This series will be more a time to talk about these wider issues than, necessarily, a "pro/con" on what the church says about particular issues (though we will get to some of them as well). Please let us know of your interest in participating. We're hoping to get a Bible Study off the ground, too, possibly jointly with St Peter's.
Finally, you'll see in our "Staff news" section that we have big news! Stephen and his wife Tanya expect the birth of their daughter in early November, and my family and I are moving to Medford, where my husband's church is, as well as my son's preschool, which my daughter will soon attend. (It's Mama's turn to have the longer commute, and our kids are ready for a house with a proper yard). Our new house is West Medford, not far from the Arlington line, so it's not too far. I will likely be out of the office Wednesday and Thursday of next week, but Emilie, our administrator, always knows how to find me and I'll be on email.
Blessings,
Sara+
Wrangling over Words
Dear people of Christ Church,
This Sunday, we celebrate the baptism of Olivia Christie. Olivia has been coming to Christ Church with her big brother Nicholas (3) and parents Amy and David. Welcome to the household of God, Olivia!
This week as we celebrate the Eucharist with Baptism, we'll continue our journey through the books of Jeremiah and Timothy. We've been reading both continuously since September, and we'll be with them for several more weeks. It's good to spend some more time listening to the same books in church, but it doesn't leave a lot of space to spend sustained time grappling with them since preachers tend to focus more on the Gospel texts for Sundays. Given continuous readings, they don't often tie up neatly with the themes of the Gospel.
The letters of first and second Timothy is one of the books we call "the pastorals"-scholars are pretty sure that Paul himself didn't write them, but as part of the Biblical canon we still read them and value what they have to say. Of course, we value them in context; Timothy is also the book that counsels women not to speak in church, so it requires a bit of cultural unpacking as well. These last few weeks Timothy has had some very memorable phrases, in which he speaks to the people who aren't as steadfastin their beliefs as he would like. In that world, like ours, there was a lot of competition for religious allegiance, and a lot of controversy, and he jumps right into the fray. Last week we heard him counsel "avoid wrangling over words, which does no good but only ruins those who are listening." This week, he warns, "For the time is coming when people will not put up with sound doctrine, but having itching ears, they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own desires."
Who are these people with itchy ears? Are they the people who don't bother coming to church? Agnostics and atheists? Is it us? And is it really such a bad thing? I think I want to speak in defense of those "itchy eared folks," those who wrangle over words and interrogate received texts and beliefs. Timothy was speaking to a community that worried that people would abandon their faith in favor of the next big thing. Then and now, people are distractable. It seems to me, though, that "wrangling" is actually part of the call of the Christian, not a liability to faith. Today, the obstacle to faith isn't doubt, it's apathy. We should start to worry when we don't even care enough to struggle. Being critical of our historical faith doesn't mean we'll fall away, it means that we are interested! As long as we're asking questions, we're engaging; as long as we are "wrangling over words" we're affirming that the words that we say have power.
This week, I invite you to take a few minutes of prayer and do some of that interrogation. Do it in love, trusting God to be with you. Ask God to sit with you in your questions, and guide you to listen for God's word. Ask yourself how God speaks to you in your current context, in your life here and now.
Ask, and the door will be opened unto you, seek and ye shall find..
Blessings,
Sara+
This Sunday, we celebrate the baptism of Olivia Christie. Olivia has been coming to Christ Church with her big brother Nicholas (3) and parents Amy and David. Welcome to the household of God, Olivia!
This week as we celebrate the Eucharist with Baptism, we'll continue our journey through the books of Jeremiah and Timothy. We've been reading both continuously since September, and we'll be with them for several more weeks. It's good to spend some more time listening to the same books in church, but it doesn't leave a lot of space to spend sustained time grappling with them since preachers tend to focus more on the Gospel texts for Sundays. Given continuous readings, they don't often tie up neatly with the themes of the Gospel.
The letters of first and second Timothy is one of the books we call "the pastorals"-scholars are pretty sure that Paul himself didn't write them, but as part of the Biblical canon we still read them and value what they have to say. Of course, we value them in context; Timothy is also the book that counsels women not to speak in church, so it requires a bit of cultural unpacking as well. These last few weeks Timothy has had some very memorable phrases, in which he speaks to the people who aren't as steadfastin their beliefs as he would like. In that world, like ours, there was a lot of competition for religious allegiance, and a lot of controversy, and he jumps right into the fray. Last week we heard him counsel "avoid wrangling over words, which does no good but only ruins those who are listening." This week, he warns, "For the time is coming when people will not put up with sound doctrine, but having itching ears, they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own desires."
Who are these people with itchy ears? Are they the people who don't bother coming to church? Agnostics and atheists? Is it us? And is it really such a bad thing? I think I want to speak in defense of those "itchy eared folks," those who wrangle over words and interrogate received texts and beliefs. Timothy was speaking to a community that worried that people would abandon their faith in favor of the next big thing. Then and now, people are distractable. It seems to me, though, that "wrangling" is actually part of the call of the Christian, not a liability to faith. Today, the obstacle to faith isn't doubt, it's apathy. We should start to worry when we don't even care enough to struggle. Being critical of our historical faith doesn't mean we'll fall away, it means that we are interested! As long as we're asking questions, we're engaging; as long as we are "wrangling over words" we're affirming that the words that we say have power.
This week, I invite you to take a few minutes of prayer and do some of that interrogation. Do it in love, trusting God to be with you. Ask God to sit with you in your questions, and guide you to listen for God's word. Ask yourself how God speaks to you in your current context, in your life here and now.
Ask, and the door will be opened unto you, seek and ye shall find..
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Hospitality
Dear people of Christ Church,
By now, hopefully you've received your stewardship mailing, or taken a look at the materials displayed at the back of the church. This year's campaign is loosely tied around some themes that emerged from our vestry and GPS ministry committees--hospitality, outreach, and faith. We try to be a welcoming church-- follow up with newcomers when we get those little yellow cards, and hopefully talk with folks at coffee hour or after the service. Hospitality is a deeper Gospel value, though, than just responding to people in a polite way.
In the Biblical world that Jesus grew up in, hospitality was a cardinal virtue. One of my favorite icons is of the three angels who visited Abraham at the oaks of Mamre (it's also interpreted as an icon of the Trinity, and if you look carefully it seems as though the angels are including you, the viewer, as a having a seat at the table). They seem just to be ordinary travelers, but Abraham bends over backwards to welcome them. They slaughter a calf, make cakes, and eat under the oak trees, and the angels tell Abraham and Sarah that they will conceive a child. Sarah laughs, but with God, all things are possible. The story gets picked up again in the letter to the Hebrews, where we are reminded, "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it." (Heb. 13:2). St Benedict used to tell his monks to welcome every knock on the door saying, "It is the Lord."
The thing about church, though, is that it's easy to always think of ourselves as the welcomers--as if we were the hosts of the table. But the first table we gather around is the altar-the ultimate symbol of hospitality. The coffee hour table comes next, but first is that liturgical, divine hospitality where we are all guests. My Lutheran friends are fond of quoting Martin Luther as saying that Christian evangelism is just one beggar telling another where to find food.
On Sundays, "Welcoming" is bigger than just you or me. It's bigger, even, than our work together. The altar guild puts out what we need to set the table, the priest says the blessing, the people say Amen, and we all eat. We are the Body of Christ and God's hands, but we are not the source. It's God feeding us. We each are welcomed every time we share the Eucharist without qualification. Without regard to our past or our potential, we are welcomed. Without regard to our intelligence, our age, our mindfulness or distraction, we are welcomed. The hospitality of the Eucharist lights a candle testifying to a new reality-dark though it is, we will keep saying Eucharisto! Thank you.
Blessings,
Sara+
PS: for the WS Merwin poem from which I stole parts of that last line, you can click here.
By now, hopefully you've received your stewardship mailing, or taken a look at the materials displayed at the back of the church. This year's campaign is loosely tied around some themes that emerged from our vestry and GPS ministry committees--hospitality, outreach, and faith. We try to be a welcoming church-- follow up with newcomers when we get those little yellow cards, and hopefully talk with folks at coffee hour or after the service. Hospitality is a deeper Gospel value, though, than just responding to people in a polite way.
In the Biblical world that Jesus grew up in, hospitality was a cardinal virtue. One of my favorite icons is of the three angels who visited Abraham at the oaks of Mamre (it's also interpreted as an icon of the Trinity, and if you look carefully it seems as though the angels are including you, the viewer, as a having a seat at the table). They seem just to be ordinary travelers, but Abraham bends over backwards to welcome them. They slaughter a calf, make cakes, and eat under the oak trees, and the angels tell Abraham and Sarah that they will conceive a child. Sarah laughs, but with God, all things are possible. The story gets picked up again in the letter to the Hebrews, where we are reminded, "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it." (Heb. 13:2). St Benedict used to tell his monks to welcome every knock on the door saying, "It is the Lord."
The thing about church, though, is that it's easy to always think of ourselves as the welcomers--as if we were the hosts of the table. But the first table we gather around is the altar-the ultimate symbol of hospitality. The coffee hour table comes next, but first is that liturgical, divine hospitality where we are all guests. My Lutheran friends are fond of quoting Martin Luther as saying that Christian evangelism is just one beggar telling another where to find food.
On Sundays, "Welcoming" is bigger than just you or me. It's bigger, even, than our work together. The altar guild puts out what we need to set the table, the priest says the blessing, the people say Amen, and we all eat. We are the Body of Christ and God's hands, but we are not the source. It's God feeding us. We each are welcomed every time we share the Eucharist without qualification. Without regard to our past or our potential, we are welcomed. Without regard to our intelligence, our age, our mindfulness or distraction, we are welcomed. The hospitality of the Eucharist lights a candle testifying to a new reality-dark though it is, we will keep saying Eucharisto! Thank you.
Blessings,
Sara+
PS: for the WS Merwin poem from which I stole parts of that last line, you can click here.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Children's Sunday changes, and a welcoming community
This week, we'll celebrate our regular first Sunday of the month children's Sunday. This year, we're going to try something a little different for children's Sundays. We're scaling back the every month children's Sunday just a little--we'll still do the children's sermon instead of the "regular" one, but I won't have all the kids up at the altar. At the same time, we'll ramp up and have two larger scale kids' Sundays a year, where kids will be at the altar helping to bless the bread and the wine, as well as doing the oblations, the readings, etc. The first big kids' Sunday will be on October 3, when we'll also celebrate "Creation Sunday," and encourage everyone to walk, bike, or carpool to church. After all, part of the reason we conserve is to have a healthy earth for future generations. It's also St Francis Day weekend, so stay tuned for some possible animal-blessing announcements.
Whether you have kids or not, the children who are part of our community have a connection to you--even if you don't know it. We all form part of the community they will carry with them for all their lives. Having our kids in church every month is a blessing to all of us. It reminds us that you never have to wait to receive the blessings of God. I'd also like to pass on a few thoughts about kids in church from children's educator Rhonda Waters, a friend of mine who'll soon be ordained in Montreal. She offers some suggestions for families, and for the wider congregation:
+Small children like to wander. Rejoice if you have a wanderer in your midst -- it's a sign that she/he feels safe in your community. And remember -- a wandering child is almost always quieter than an uncomfortable and restless child. Parents, do know where your kids are, but don't be too mortified if they climb the chancel steps.
+Sunday School is important but so is incorporating kids into the worshipping community. In fact, Sunday School can become a problem if it serves only to separate kids from the rest of the Body of Christ -- de-corporating the worshipping community, if you will. We are one body in Christ--each one of us.
+Kids should be seated where they can see what's going on. The front of a church actually has quite a lot to look at and quite a few people move around over the course of a service. Children who can see are more apt to pay attention because there is something to pay attention to. Families, sit near the front!
I am so grateful for the ways Christ Church is a welcoming community to everyone. Single adults, older adults, families, couples--thanks to each of you for making this community a place with holy--and whole--worship for all.
Blessings,
Sara+
Whether you have kids or not, the children who are part of our community have a connection to you--even if you don't know it. We all form part of the community they will carry with them for all their lives. Having our kids in church every month is a blessing to all of us. It reminds us that you never have to wait to receive the blessings of God. I'd also like to pass on a few thoughts about kids in church from children's educator Rhonda Waters, a friend of mine who'll soon be ordained in Montreal. She offers some suggestions for families, and for the wider congregation:
+Small children like to wander. Rejoice if you have a wanderer in your midst -- it's a sign that she/he feels safe in your community. And remember -- a wandering child is almost always quieter than an uncomfortable and restless child. Parents, do know where your kids are, but don't be too mortified if they climb the chancel steps.
+Sunday School is important but so is incorporating kids into the worshipping community. In fact, Sunday School can become a problem if it serves only to separate kids from the rest of the Body of Christ -- de-corporating the worshipping community, if you will. We are one body in Christ--each one of us.
+Kids should be seated where they can see what's going on. The front of a church actually has quite a lot to look at and quite a few people move around over the course of a service. Children who can see are more apt to pay attention because there is something to pay attention to. Families, sit near the front!
I am so grateful for the ways Christ Church is a welcoming community to everyone. Single adults, older adults, families, couples--thanks to each of you for making this community a place with holy--and whole--worship for all.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, September 2, 2010
From 8/26: No one's excluded
This week, I've continued to watch with sadness the unfolding of dramatic Islamophobia in our country. Just this morning, the newspaper included stories about the church in Florida that's planning "Burn a Koran" day on September 11, and a New York cab driver who was stabbed by his passenger after answering affirmatively to the question "are you a Muslim." And, of course, the debate over "the mosque at ground zero" (which is neither a mosque nor at ground zero (it's a community center; there's already a mosque) rages on. On Sunday in my sermon, I said that it felt like our whole country was bent over by fear; we are in need of a collective "Daughter, you are healed" as Jesus spoke to the woman bent over for 18 years. We're collectively bent over by fear, unable to see or hear.
In the daily office this morning, another Scripture passage hit me over the head in speaking to fear of Islam (or fear of gay marriage, or fear of immigrants, or fear of any group). The early church was, we know, in a very diverse context. There were constant questions about who could be part of the church and who couldn't--and what was required for them to do to join. As a movement solidly in the Jewish community, what do to with those who wanted to follow Jesus but weren't Jews? Jews and Gentiles weren't even supposed to eat together, much less pray or be part of the same community.
That all changed with the conversion of Cornelius, the centurion--an officer in the Roman army. He and Simon Peter had simulataneous visions concerning the inclusion of Gentiles in the church. Cornelius was told in his vision to send people to get Peter, while Peter's message was a little less clear. He saw a large sheet coming down with all kinds of animals that were forbidden for Jews to eat.
"A voice spoke: Get up, Peter; kill and eat.' But Peter said, 'By no means, Lord; for I have never eaten anything that is profane or unclean.' The voice said to him again, a second time, 'What God has made clean, you must not call profane." (Acts 10:13-15).
Totally confused, Peter tries to figure out what's going on when Cornelius' people appear and ask Peter to go with them. He goes, and tells Cornelius and his companions: 'You yourselves know that it is unlawful for a Jew to associate with or to visit a Gentile; but God has shown me that I should not call anyone profane or unclean. So when I was sent for, I came without objection." (Acts 10:28-29)
There's an important shift here, which is why it kind of hit me over the head. Peter's vision was of animals--he could easily have interpreted his vision as being about the Jewish dietary laws (the text even tells us that he was hungry). Kill and eat--it doesn't say anything about people. But in the course of wrestling with it and praying, Peter discerns that God isn't just talking about some narrow ban on certain foods, he's being told that being a Christian is about extending grace and love to everyone--even those who are not Jews or Christians! "God has shown me that I should not call anyone profane or unclean." Cornelius was an agent of the state that had oppressed and separated the Jewish people for years. If he wasn't worthy of recrimination, then nobody is.
And if the Roman military wasn't "out" in Jesus' day, I can't think of anyone now who could be, either. At that critical period in the formation of this movement around Jesus, the invitation of the risen Lord was toward wider embrace and wider inclusion. We have to listen to Peter, now, and reconnect with that heritage of our Christian faith. Whether it's gender, race, religion, or sexuality, Christian voices need to be heard--no one is excluded from God's love, and everyone should be free to live and pray as they are called.
Blessings,
Sara+
In the daily office this morning, another Scripture passage hit me over the head in speaking to fear of Islam (or fear of gay marriage, or fear of immigrants, or fear of any group). The early church was, we know, in a very diverse context. There were constant questions about who could be part of the church and who couldn't--and what was required for them to do to join. As a movement solidly in the Jewish community, what do to with those who wanted to follow Jesus but weren't Jews? Jews and Gentiles weren't even supposed to eat together, much less pray or be part of the same community.
That all changed with the conversion of Cornelius, the centurion--an officer in the Roman army. He and Simon Peter had simulataneous visions concerning the inclusion of Gentiles in the church. Cornelius was told in his vision to send people to get Peter, while Peter's message was a little less clear. He saw a large sheet coming down with all kinds of animals that were forbidden for Jews to eat.
"A voice spoke: Get up, Peter; kill and eat.' But Peter said, 'By no means, Lord; for I have never eaten anything that is profane or unclean.' The voice said to him again, a second time, 'What God has made clean, you must not call profane." (Acts 10:13-15).
Totally confused, Peter tries to figure out what's going on when Cornelius' people appear and ask Peter to go with them. He goes, and tells Cornelius and his companions: 'You yourselves know that it is unlawful for a Jew to associate with or to visit a Gentile; but God has shown me that I should not call anyone profane or unclean. So when I was sent for, I came without objection." (Acts 10:28-29)
There's an important shift here, which is why it kind of hit me over the head. Peter's vision was of animals--he could easily have interpreted his vision as being about the Jewish dietary laws (the text even tells us that he was hungry). Kill and eat--it doesn't say anything about people. But in the course of wrestling with it and praying, Peter discerns that God isn't just talking about some narrow ban on certain foods, he's being told that being a Christian is about extending grace and love to everyone--even those who are not Jews or Christians! "God has shown me that I should not call anyone profane or unclean." Cornelius was an agent of the state that had oppressed and separated the Jewish people for years. If he wasn't worthy of recrimination, then nobody is.
And if the Roman military wasn't "out" in Jesus' day, I can't think of anyone now who could be, either. At that critical period in the formation of this movement around Jesus, the invitation of the risen Lord was toward wider embrace and wider inclusion. We have to listen to Peter, now, and reconnect with that heritage of our Christian faith. Whether it's gender, race, religion, or sexuality, Christian voices need to be heard--no one is excluded from God's love, and everyone should be free to live and pray as they are called.
Blessings,
Sara+
From 8/19: What do we value?
I had a wonderful vacation, but after settling in a little it's nice to be back. We spent the first week camping in North Conway and visiting friends in Montreal, and then went with them to Isle La Motte, Vermont, where we rented a house for 2 weeks. Being away, I was very aware of my relationship to technology. You could get wireless internet from across the street if you sat on the front porch of the house, and our iphones kept us connected (though very, very slowly) to the newspaper and our home email. So I was, comparatively, untethered. It took a while, though-the first week of vacation I was constantly posting on Facebook-Adah eats sand! Isaiah manages not to break an arm on the swing set! The sunset is beautiful! (somehow everything on Facebook seems to need exclamation points). By the end, I'd cut back-but couldn't resist putting up a picture of the Lake Chaplain duct tape boat races (it's what it sounds like-boats, made of duct tape, piloted mostly by teenagers).
I thought about it a lot--in one way, how nice to be able to share; my mother, visiting her sister in Sweden, could see what we were doing in New Hampshire. At the same time, when someone responds, you're back to the device; looking at what clever thing someone else has posted in response to your cleverness. Kind of narcissistic. My pile of books reflected my uneasiness.
My first read was Hamlet's Blackberry. Unfortunately, the title turned out to be more clever then the book, which was pretty superficial. I liked the historical perspective, though-it's about how innovation has challenged, and helped, human flourishing over the years. And every time, the next big thing is touted as the means to a good life, and every time, people get panicked about how technology is changing them. The early Greeks were stressed out about writing the same way many of us get stressed out over email. Same for the printing press, same for the erasable "tables" people used to jot down notes (Hamlet's device, of the title). Another book, along the same theme of discontent with contemporary frenzy, was lent to me by Gene Burkart: Helena Norberg-Hodge's Ancient Futures: Learning from Ladakh. Applying 16 years of living in Ladakh, she writes about what happened to the "Little Tibet" region of northern India when international development set in. A formerly placid, contented society became infected with acquisitiveness, insecurity, etc. It was published almost 20 years ago so I would be interested in a second edition!
Though I turned to both books out of the same impulse--a kind of questioning of contemporary technological society--their underlying approaches couldn't be more different. In the one, technology comes out the victor--we just have to learn to manage it rather than being managed by it. In the other, technology was the problem, pretty much from start to finish ("human scaled" projects, however, like solar ovens were cool). Both, though, offered a vision of an alternative--the Ladakh book, certainly more so-that another way is possible.
It all comes back to the essential question: what do we value? How do we create, to totally contort a phrase from Dorothy Day, a life in which it is easier to do what we really want? What disciplines can we adopt and what choices can we make to encourage us to remember what it was that we really wanted?
I need church for that--and I'm glad to be back.
Blessings,
Sara+
I thought about it a lot--in one way, how nice to be able to share; my mother, visiting her sister in Sweden, could see what we were doing in New Hampshire. At the same time, when someone responds, you're back to the device; looking at what clever thing someone else has posted in response to your cleverness. Kind of narcissistic. My pile of books reflected my uneasiness.
My first read was Hamlet's Blackberry. Unfortunately, the title turned out to be more clever then the book, which was pretty superficial. I liked the historical perspective, though-it's about how innovation has challenged, and helped, human flourishing over the years. And every time, the next big thing is touted as the means to a good life, and every time, people get panicked about how technology is changing them. The early Greeks were stressed out about writing the same way many of us get stressed out over email. Same for the printing press, same for the erasable "tables" people used to jot down notes (Hamlet's device, of the title). Another book, along the same theme of discontent with contemporary frenzy, was lent to me by Gene Burkart: Helena Norberg-Hodge's Ancient Futures: Learning from Ladakh. Applying 16 years of living in Ladakh, she writes about what happened to the "Little Tibet" region of northern India when international development set in. A formerly placid, contented society became infected with acquisitiveness, insecurity, etc. It was published almost 20 years ago so I would be interested in a second edition!
Though I turned to both books out of the same impulse--a kind of questioning of contemporary technological society--their underlying approaches couldn't be more different. In the one, technology comes out the victor--we just have to learn to manage it rather than being managed by it. In the other, technology was the problem, pretty much from start to finish ("human scaled" projects, however, like solar ovens were cool). Both, though, offered a vision of an alternative--the Ladakh book, certainly more so-that another way is possible.
It all comes back to the essential question: what do we value? How do we create, to totally contort a phrase from Dorothy Day, a life in which it is easier to do what we really want? What disciplines can we adopt and what choices can we make to encourage us to remember what it was that we really wanted?
I need church for that--and I'm glad to be back.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Summer's Theme: Youth and Young Adults
This week, I'm trying to tie up all my loose ends before my vacation starts on Monday. I've been struck recently about how the theme for this summer at Christ Church seems to be youth and young adults:
We hosted New England Climate Summer last week (last week's e crier post was about them--if you missed it, you can see it on the blog).
We worked at B Safe last Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday:
B Safe is the Episcopal urban day camp we've volunteered with for several years. This year, we added an extra day, helping for 3 days instead of 2 as we have in the past. In sponsoring days at B Safe, we are responsible for providing lunch and paying for a Friday field trip. As one of the kids said to Bill on Wednesday, "You're the guy with the good sandwiches!" --chicken salad, not just tuna! Christ Church has been very generous with donations--about $525 gathered so far--but we are still $164.00 short of covering the cost, so if you have funds to spare, we are still collecting. Special thanks to Bill Fowler for organizing us, and to everyone who made lunches and came to Houghton's Pond and St Augustine and St Martin's in Roxbury.
We have been getting ready to (hopefully) host an intern from the Micah Project:
Rev Christine Nakyeyune, the pastor of St Peter's, and I have been interviewing candidates for an intern position as part of the diocesan Micah Project program. If we are matched with the right person, an intern for 30 hours per week will work with Christ Church and St Peter's to facilitate our joint work, and also help out in each individual congregation. The selection process is, in the end, up to the director of the Micah Project, but I am hopeful that we'll have a person work with us. They'd be here September 2010-July 2011.
This week we are work site for young people from Rediscovery, Inc:
Rediscovery is a local non profit that serves those who are "aging out" of the foster care system. Working with ages 16-24, they help provide resources for children to gain leadership, employment, and life skills. Rediscovery has an impressive record of success. 72% of youth have either received a high school diploma or GED or are on track to do so before leaving their care, compared with 33% average among all youth aging out of foster care. The Rediscovery program we're involved in is a grant they received for summer jobs; for an eight week period, crews of workers go from site to site helping out in the community (at no cost to the host). Here at Christ Church, they painted our bike rack (by the way--thanks to Plug & Play for donating it, and Ken Johnson for delivery) and put a coat of waterproofing on the handicap ramp. They also painted the downstairs back hallway for us, and are now working on the entry way and stairs down to Lower Fales Hall and the Grandma's Panty area. We are thankful for Rediscovery's work with these young people, and thankful that we can benefit from their hard work! Thanks to Warren Barret, Peter Lobo and Jonathan Duce for their support of this project as well.
Our confirmation students' book drive just wrapped up, and our partnership with Children of Incarcerated Parents is beginning with our drive for school supplies. So many thanks to those who have, and will, donate!
I am so proud of how we have been able to open our building, and ourselves, to the needs and gifts of the community around us. Every summer, I think, "Maybe it will slow down this year..." and it never quite does. Thanks be to God!
Blessings,
Sara+
We hosted New England Climate Summer last week (last week's e crier post was about them--if you missed it, you can see it on the blog).
We worked at B Safe last Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday:
B Safe is the Episcopal urban day camp we've volunteered with for several years. This year, we added an extra day, helping for 3 days instead of 2 as we have in the past. In sponsoring days at B Safe, we are responsible for providing lunch and paying for a Friday field trip. As one of the kids said to Bill on Wednesday, "You're the guy with the good sandwiches!" --chicken salad, not just tuna! Christ Church has been very generous with donations--about $525 gathered so far--but we are still $164.00 short of covering the cost, so if you have funds to spare, we are still collecting. Special thanks to Bill Fowler for organizing us, and to everyone who made lunches and came to Houghton's Pond and St Augustine and St Martin's in Roxbury.
We have been getting ready to (hopefully) host an intern from the Micah Project:
Rev Christine Nakyeyune, the pastor of St Peter's, and I have been interviewing candidates for an intern position as part of the diocesan Micah Project program. If we are matched with the right person, an intern for 30 hours per week will work with Christ Church and St Peter's to facilitate our joint work, and also help out in each individual congregation. The selection process is, in the end, up to the director of the Micah Project, but I am hopeful that we'll have a person work with us. They'd be here September 2010-July 2011.
This week we are work site for young people from Rediscovery, Inc:
Rediscovery is a local non profit that serves those who are "aging out" of the foster care system. Working with ages 16-24, they help provide resources for children to gain leadership, employment, and life skills. Rediscovery has an impressive record of success. 72% of youth have either received a high school diploma or GED or are on track to do so before leaving their care, compared with 33% average among all youth aging out of foster care. The Rediscovery program we're involved in is a grant they received for summer jobs; for an eight week period, crews of workers go from site to site helping out in the community (at no cost to the host). Here at Christ Church, they painted our bike rack (by the way--thanks to Plug & Play for donating it, and Ken Johnson for delivery) and put a coat of waterproofing on the handicap ramp. They also painted the downstairs back hallway for us, and are now working on the entry way and stairs down to Lower Fales Hall and the Grandma's Panty area. We are thankful for Rediscovery's work with these young people, and thankful that we can benefit from their hard work! Thanks to Warren Barret, Peter Lobo and Jonathan Duce for their support of this project as well.
Our confirmation students' book drive just wrapped up, and our partnership with Children of Incarcerated Parents is beginning with our drive for school supplies. So many thanks to those who have, and will, donate!
I am so proud of how we have been able to open our building, and ourselves, to the needs and gifts of the community around us. Every summer, I think, "Maybe it will slow down this year..." and it never quite does. Thanks be to God!
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
This week, Christ Church is hosting a group from New England Climate Summer. (NECS is a program for college students to take a summer to work for advocacy on environmental issues. It's linked to the 350.org movement, founded by Bill McKibben, which teaches that in order to have a stable planet at the optimum level of air quality for human existence, that we can have no more than 350 parts per million of carbon dioxide (ppm) in the atmosphere. Currently we are at 390ppm--there's a long distance to go.
The decision to support the NECS group came at the last minute; a general request had gone out months ago. I considered it for a moment, and figured someone else would help. College students? Staying here for a week? Too risky! But then, a few days before they were set to roll into town, I got a call from the group's team leader. The place where they had intended to stay had been forced to cancel. Could we help? I called Jonathan and Cindy and talked it over with them (and considered what the insurance company would say) and we decided to go ahead with it. There are people in every day this week, as it happens, so they won't be alone in the building for long.
Observing the "someone else will help" attitude in myself got me thinking about how we tend to be as a society on environmental issues. Too hard, too risky, someone else will figure it out. I recently watched the movie "No Impact Man" about a family in New York City who tries to live with as little environmental impact as possible for a year. The project was sort of panned in the media--it was more the dad's desire than the mom's, though she went along and talked guiltily in the film about enjoying the iced water she could get at work. Their two year old mostly just noticed that she had cloth diapers, now, and that they didn't watch TV anymore. No electricity, no toilet paper, no car.
The major critique was that it was a stunt; a short term, "look at me" kind of project that wouldn't actually change things. Colin Beaven, the "No Impact Man" of the title, granted that it was. What I was so struck by, though, was that he said that he felt like liberals (which he labels himself as) always look for the Big Solution--get government to fix it. Conservatives think government is the problem-and that individuals need to take charge. So the "No Impact" program was, in a way, a conservative project-to take personal responsibility as far as it could go. I found this interpretation kind of intriguing.
It's so overwhelming to even contemplate the level of change in our lifestyle that it will take to address what our environment needs. Our book for our summer reading group, God has a Dream, by Desmond Tutu, talks about how discouraging it can be to think about social change and justice work. We think that because we can't do it all ourselves, all at once, it's not worth it. Nelson Mandela was in prison for 27 years--27 years!--and even that time, Tutu says, was not wasted. Apartheid ended in God's time. As the oil spill in the Gulf goes on 85 days, it's hard to be patient.
Maybe patience isn't what's called for, exactly, but maybe faith is. Not patience for the solution to come, but faith that your work is helping to bring it about. Everything happens in God's time--a real solution to climate change is happening in God's time, too. As God's fellow workers, though, in this vineyard of our earth, we do have some work ahead of us.
Blessings,
Sara+
To see some real numbers on how much small, personal changes actually DO make a difference (and how you might actually be happier having made them), visit Colin Beaven's blog: here.
The Climate Cyclists
The Science of 350 ppm
The decision to support the NECS group came at the last minute; a general request had gone out months ago. I considered it for a moment, and figured someone else would help. College students? Staying here for a week? Too risky! But then, a few days before they were set to roll into town, I got a call from the group's team leader. The place where they had intended to stay had been forced to cancel. Could we help? I called Jonathan and Cindy and talked it over with them (and considered what the insurance company would say) and we decided to go ahead with it. There are people in every day this week, as it happens, so they won't be alone in the building for long.
Observing the "someone else will help" attitude in myself got me thinking about how we tend to be as a society on environmental issues. Too hard, too risky, someone else will figure it out. I recently watched the movie "No Impact Man" about a family in New York City who tries to live with as little environmental impact as possible for a year. The project was sort of panned in the media--it was more the dad's desire than the mom's, though she went along and talked guiltily in the film about enjoying the iced water she could get at work. Their two year old mostly just noticed that she had cloth diapers, now, and that they didn't watch TV anymore. No electricity, no toilet paper, no car.
The major critique was that it was a stunt; a short term, "look at me" kind of project that wouldn't actually change things. Colin Beaven, the "No Impact Man" of the title, granted that it was. What I was so struck by, though, was that he said that he felt like liberals (which he labels himself as) always look for the Big Solution--get government to fix it. Conservatives think government is the problem-and that individuals need to take charge. So the "No Impact" program was, in a way, a conservative project-to take personal responsibility as far as it could go. I found this interpretation kind of intriguing.
It's so overwhelming to even contemplate the level of change in our lifestyle that it will take to address what our environment needs. Our book for our summer reading group, God has a Dream, by Desmond Tutu, talks about how discouraging it can be to think about social change and justice work. We think that because we can't do it all ourselves, all at once, it's not worth it. Nelson Mandela was in prison for 27 years--27 years!--and even that time, Tutu says, was not wasted. Apartheid ended in God's time. As the oil spill in the Gulf goes on 85 days, it's hard to be patient.
Maybe patience isn't what's called for, exactly, but maybe faith is. Not patience for the solution to come, but faith that your work is helping to bring it about. Everything happens in God's time--a real solution to climate change is happening in God's time, too. As God's fellow workers, though, in this vineyard of our earth, we do have some work ahead of us.
Blessings,
Sara+
To see some real numbers on how much small, personal changes actually DO make a difference (and how you might actually be happier having made them), visit Colin Beaven's blog: here.
The Climate Cyclists
The Science of 350 ppm
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Sharing our legacy
This week, we're getting ready for our participation in Waltham History Month, which we'll observe this Saturday with a service of historic Morning Prayer according to the Book of Common Prayer of 1792. After the service, we'll have tours of the church.
Each Sunday as I celebrate the Eucharist, I face our "Great West Window." The dominant images are, of course, Jesus, Mary, and other ordinary stained glass fare. But if you look closely, you also see more unusual images: a lathe, a car, a watch mechanism, gear pump, bicycle wheel, spindle and shuttle, and a foundry ladle. The industrial history of our city is all there (looking even more closely, the window is full of tiny rivets). My own work life is pretty comfortable--there are the occasional late nights and early mornings, but 200 years ago the typical Waltham woman worked at the Lowell textile mill, not in a nice office. The "mill girls" worked for twelve hours a day, from 5 am to 7 pm. They lived together in factory- provided housing, had only Sundays off, and were paid $0.40 per day, less than half of what the lowest paid male worker received. Ouch!
When it comes to Waltham history, of course, you can't go far without meeting the Paines. In our church you can't go far without them; Robert Treat Paine, Jr was elected senior warden of Christ Church in 1897. He was a man of a lot of privilege, the grandson of one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence (Robert Treat Paine, Sr), and a very wealthy lawyer. Paine Jr's wife, Lydia Lyman P, died suddenly during the construction of the church, and they dedicated the chancel windows in her memory (the woman kneeling in red in the window is based on a picture of Lydia herself).
Paine was instrumental in building this church and Trinity Church, Copley Square, but he was also intensely dedicated to the rights and protection of those who were less well-off than he. Deeply influenced by his friend Phillips Brooks, the rector of Trinity, he founded a number of organizations to benefit working people, and funded the construction of affordable housing in Boston--many of which were sold to workers at cost. He also was president for many years of the pacifist American Peace Society.
When the demands of his philanthropic work became too demanding, he gave up his work in law. On this decision, he said, "This I regretted for many years. Yet at length I reached the conviction that as we only had this life on earth once, I was not willing to devote at least half of it to the mere business of making money."
The "mere business of making money" --he'd already made a ton of it by that time, but it's still a moving transformation on the part of someone who could have gone from having everything to having--what?--more of everything. We may wonder whether the care and feeding of this behemoth structure we've inherited is worth our time and energy. Paine did--in one part of his autobiography he says that if he knew from the beginning how much the construction of Christ Church would end up costing he may not have gone through with it. But he did, and here we are. After our beautiful church service in the garden on July 4, it'll feel different being inside again.
Still, it is a blessing, and not just for us. This Saturday's service is a chance to open our doors to the wider community and offer a day for them to share this gift. A group lead by Shawn Russell, our treasurer, is busy at work on a grant to apply for Waltham CPA (Community Preservation Act) funds to help restore our building. It's part of Waltham's history--Paines and Lymans and Storers all called this home. This year at history day, we're especially mindful of the legacy of Paine's work--and our place in continuing both his love for the church and his work on behalf of those who are less fortunate.
Each Sunday as I celebrate the Eucharist, I face our "Great West Window." The dominant images are, of course, Jesus, Mary, and other ordinary stained glass fare. But if you look closely, you also see more unusual images: a lathe, a car, a watch mechanism, gear pump, bicycle wheel, spindle and shuttle, and a foundry ladle. The industrial history of our city is all there (looking even more closely, the window is full of tiny rivets). My own work life is pretty comfortable--there are the occasional late nights and early mornings, but 200 years ago the typical Waltham woman worked at the Lowell textile mill, not in a nice office. The "mill girls" worked for twelve hours a day, from 5 am to 7 pm. They lived together in factory- provided housing, had only Sundays off, and were paid $0.40 per day, less than half of what the lowest paid male worker received. Ouch!
When it comes to Waltham history, of course, you can't go far without meeting the Paines. In our church you can't go far without them; Robert Treat Paine, Jr was elected senior warden of Christ Church in 1897. He was a man of a lot of privilege, the grandson of one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence (Robert Treat Paine, Sr), and a very wealthy lawyer. Paine Jr's wife, Lydia Lyman P, died suddenly during the construction of the church, and they dedicated the chancel windows in her memory (the woman kneeling in red in the window is based on a picture of Lydia herself).
Paine was instrumental in building this church and Trinity Church, Copley Square, but he was also intensely dedicated to the rights and protection of those who were less well-off than he. Deeply influenced by his friend Phillips Brooks, the rector of Trinity, he founded a number of organizations to benefit working people, and funded the construction of affordable housing in Boston--many of which were sold to workers at cost. He also was president for many years of the pacifist American Peace Society.
When the demands of his philanthropic work became too demanding, he gave up his work in law. On this decision, he said, "This I regretted for many years. Yet at length I reached the conviction that as we only had this life on earth once, I was not willing to devote at least half of it to the mere business of making money."
The "mere business of making money" --he'd already made a ton of it by that time, but it's still a moving transformation on the part of someone who could have gone from having everything to having--what?--more of everything. We may wonder whether the care and feeding of this behemoth structure we've inherited is worth our time and energy. Paine did--in one part of his autobiography he says that if he knew from the beginning how much the construction of Christ Church would end up costing he may not have gone through with it. But he did, and here we are. After our beautiful church service in the garden on July 4, it'll feel different being inside again.
Still, it is a blessing, and not just for us. This Saturday's service is a chance to open our doors to the wider community and offer a day for them to share this gift. A group lead by Shawn Russell, our treasurer, is busy at work on a grant to apply for Waltham CPA (Community Preservation Act) funds to help restore our building. It's part of Waltham's history--Paines and Lymans and Storers all called this home. This year at history day, we're especially mindful of the legacy of Paine's work--and our place in continuing both his love for the church and his work on behalf of those who are less fortunate.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
To follow, not just admire
This Sunday, July 4, we'll be celebrating the Eucharist out on the lawn. I hope that if you're in town, you'll join us at 9 AM. It's the first Sunday of the month, which would be our usual Children's Sunday, but since there will be enough going on as it is (and it would also be hard to see and hear), I'll just preach a shorter, extemporaneous sermon. I think, though, that our outside worship will help to accomplish some of what we try to do in our those services: to unsettle our sedate habits (which heaven knows we Episcopalians have plenty of), to listen for the Gospel in unexpected places. Like our children's services, it wouldn't be appropriate to do all the time, but I'm looking forward to it. Plus it's a good time to use up the rest of the delicious communion bread that our confirmation class made us for Holy Week!
We'll continue reading the book of Kings (more about that on Sunday). Our Gospel has Jesus sending out "the 70." He's already sent out the twelve disciples on mission within Israel, but these will go on a wider journey. 70 is the traditional Jewish number of nations of the world--the descendants of Noah (Genesis 10: 2-31). The seventy are "like lambs into the midst of wolves," defenseless in the midst of hostile communities. But the coming of Christ is a reign of peace, when, as the prophet Isaiah announced, the wolf and lamb will eat together (Isa 65:25). They are sent into the midst of wolves--our Gospel tells us that they are instructed not to bring a bag or a staff, either. That's symbolic of their work--they have only themselves and their story, their hands, their feet.
The seventy just have themselves; that's all we have, too. And sometimes it can feel as though there are wolves out there. All we have is the way we live our lives. All we have is the story of the work that Christ has done in our lives, that we have been freed and forgiven, and called and sent out to give that to others. Being a church is not just about keeping it for ourselves and talking about how good we feel! Last year, when New Hampshire Bishop Gene Robinson was in Boston, I saw this quote in an interview with him:
It seems to me that the greatest danger that you and I face as a church, as individuals and corporately, is that we will be admirers of Jesus only, and not followers. We love to admire Jesus, don't we? We love to gather, and slap each other on the back, and say, 'How great it is to see you again this Sunday.' And we love to listen to those great stories about Jesus. Wasn't he a great guy? Didn't he do some awesome things? But following him is not only much harder, but the point. If the church is in danger of anything, it is in danger of being a club of admirers of Jesus, rather than followers.
We are sent out to the corners of the world with just ourselves, to tell the story of peace, love, and justice--not just tell the story of Christ's ministry, death, resurrection--peace, justice, and love--but to do his work, too. To follow, not just admire.
That's the invitation we have to give others--radical acceptance, radical growth, and radical social change--a world where no one is worth less than another, where the lion lies down with the lamb. And though I am very proud of Bishop Katharine these days for her theological poise and grace, all of the power plays of all the Archbishops are beside the point.
How does your faith impact your life? What will you do differently, in this new life you've been given? How will you be telling the story, today, tomorrow, the day after?
Blessings,
Sara+
We'll continue reading the book of Kings (more about that on Sunday). Our Gospel has Jesus sending out "the 70." He's already sent out the twelve disciples on mission within Israel, but these will go on a wider journey. 70 is the traditional Jewish number of nations of the world--the descendants of Noah (Genesis 10: 2-31). The seventy are "like lambs into the midst of wolves," defenseless in the midst of hostile communities. But the coming of Christ is a reign of peace, when, as the prophet Isaiah announced, the wolf and lamb will eat together (Isa 65:25). They are sent into the midst of wolves--our Gospel tells us that they are instructed not to bring a bag or a staff, either. That's symbolic of their work--they have only themselves and their story, their hands, their feet.
The seventy just have themselves; that's all we have, too. And sometimes it can feel as though there are wolves out there. All we have is the way we live our lives. All we have is the story of the work that Christ has done in our lives, that we have been freed and forgiven, and called and sent out to give that to others. Being a church is not just about keeping it for ourselves and talking about how good we feel! Last year, when New Hampshire Bishop Gene Robinson was in Boston, I saw this quote in an interview with him:
It seems to me that the greatest danger that you and I face as a church, as individuals and corporately, is that we will be admirers of Jesus only, and not followers. We love to admire Jesus, don't we? We love to gather, and slap each other on the back, and say, 'How great it is to see you again this Sunday.' And we love to listen to those great stories about Jesus. Wasn't he a great guy? Didn't he do some awesome things? But following him is not only much harder, but the point. If the church is in danger of anything, it is in danger of being a club of admirers of Jesus, rather than followers.
We are sent out to the corners of the world with just ourselves, to tell the story of peace, love, and justice--not just tell the story of Christ's ministry, death, resurrection--peace, justice, and love--but to do his work, too. To follow, not just admire.
That's the invitation we have to give others--radical acceptance, radical growth, and radical social change--a world where no one is worth less than another, where the lion lies down with the lamb. And though I am very proud of Bishop Katharine these days for her theological poise and grace, all of the power plays of all the Archbishops are beside the point.
How does your faith impact your life? What will you do differently, in this new life you've been given? How will you be telling the story, today, tomorrow, the day after?
Blessings,
Sara+
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
From June 24: Action Steps to End Homelessness
Tonight, Christ Church will be the host for the "Interfaith Collaborations to End Homelessness: Next Steps for the Boston Region." Building on the work of the March 25 Forum, which welcomed State Senator Byron Rushing, tonight's meeting will bring us together to look at some action steps for ending homelessness. There are several important bills before the legislature, and the state's affordable housing law will be on the ballot in November.
In his address at the first meeting, Byron Rushing (one of "ours"--he's an Episcopalian) talked about how his family was poor as a child. "Why are we poor," he asked his mother. "Because we don't have any money." "Why are the homeless homeless? Because they have no homes." People of my generation don't realize that it hasn't always been this way, that homelessness as an accepted fact of life is a fairly recent phenomenon. Rushing reminded us: "I want to make clear to young people: It's something that doesn't have to be, because it's not something that always was," Rushing said.
Instead, people like me are inclined to rush to services; day centers so people don't have to be outside, storage lockers, PO Boxes, voicemail, shelter beds. But if you have a home, that's not necessary. The state spends thousands of dollars to put people in temporary housing in hotels when our shelters are filled; it's astonishingly poor logic to say that society can't get organized enough to create affordable housing, but we can use more than twice the money that that would take to give (inadequate) temporary shelter.
My first church job, ten years ago, was with the homeless work at St John's, Bowdoin Street in Boston and Ecclesia Ministries. At 21, I had never met anyone who was homeless, nevermind actually shared a meal or a prayer. I soon learned that being homeless is kind of like a full time job. Though many homeless people also have paid employment, in addition to that they spend time going from shelter to shelter, fulfilling requirements for public assistance. They find a shelter with a bed available, and have to arrive at a certain time and leave at a certain time, and figure out the schedule of available meals around the city. Fighting addiction or mental illness, everything becomes even more complicated. There are health costs, too--to society and to individuals. According to the Boston's Health Care for the Homeless, "119 street dwellers accounted for an astounding 18,384 emergency room visits and 871 medical hospitalizations over a five year period. The average annual health care cost for individuals living on the street was $28,436, compared to $6,056 for individuals in the cohort who obtained housing."
Meeting the direct needs of people, with food and a bed to sleep in, is a start, but it's not the final answer. I'm reminded of a story often told by former NAACP Chairman Julian Bond:
Two men are sitting by a river and see, to their great surprise, a helpless baby floating by. They rescue the child, and to their horror, another baby soon comes floating down the stream. When that child is pulled to safety, another baby comes along. As one man plunges into the river a third time, the other rushes upstream.
"Come back!" yells the man in the water. "We must save this baby!"
"You save it," the other yells back. "I'm going to find out who is throwing babies in the river and I'm going to make them stop!"
That's the challenge of justice work; don't just pull the baby out of the water; find out why so many of them are getting thrown in. The move of charity is to pull out the babies--we have to do that, too--have to give them diapers, and give their grandparents food--but that's not the whole of our task. Tonight's meeting, in whatever small way, invites us to see how we can accomplish the justice work that is set before us as well.
Blessings,
Sara+
In his address at the first meeting, Byron Rushing (one of "ours"--he's an Episcopalian) talked about how his family was poor as a child. "Why are we poor," he asked his mother. "Because we don't have any money." "Why are the homeless homeless? Because they have no homes." People of my generation don't realize that it hasn't always been this way, that homelessness as an accepted fact of life is a fairly recent phenomenon. Rushing reminded us: "I want to make clear to young people: It's something that doesn't have to be, because it's not something that always was," Rushing said.
Instead, people like me are inclined to rush to services; day centers so people don't have to be outside, storage lockers, PO Boxes, voicemail, shelter beds. But if you have a home, that's not necessary. The state spends thousands of dollars to put people in temporary housing in hotels when our shelters are filled; it's astonishingly poor logic to say that society can't get organized enough to create affordable housing, but we can use more than twice the money that that would take to give (inadequate) temporary shelter.
My first church job, ten years ago, was with the homeless work at St John's, Bowdoin Street in Boston and Ecclesia Ministries. At 21, I had never met anyone who was homeless, nevermind actually shared a meal or a prayer. I soon learned that being homeless is kind of like a full time job. Though many homeless people also have paid employment, in addition to that they spend time going from shelter to shelter, fulfilling requirements for public assistance. They find a shelter with a bed available, and have to arrive at a certain time and leave at a certain time, and figure out the schedule of available meals around the city. Fighting addiction or mental illness, everything becomes even more complicated. There are health costs, too--to society and to individuals. According to the Boston's Health Care for the Homeless, "119 street dwellers accounted for an astounding 18,384 emergency room visits and 871 medical hospitalizations over a five year period. The average annual health care cost for individuals living on the street was $28,436, compared to $6,056 for individuals in the cohort who obtained housing."
Meeting the direct needs of people, with food and a bed to sleep in, is a start, but it's not the final answer. I'm reminded of a story often told by former NAACP Chairman Julian Bond:
Two men are sitting by a river and see, to their great surprise, a helpless baby floating by. They rescue the child, and to their horror, another baby soon comes floating down the stream. When that child is pulled to safety, another baby comes along. As one man plunges into the river a third time, the other rushes upstream.
"Come back!" yells the man in the water. "We must save this baby!"
"You save it," the other yells back. "I'm going to find out who is throwing babies in the river and I'm going to make them stop!"
That's the challenge of justice work; don't just pull the baby out of the water; find out why so many of them are getting thrown in. The move of charity is to pull out the babies--we have to do that, too--have to give them diapers, and give their grandparents food--but that's not the whole of our task. Tonight's meeting, in whatever small way, invites us to see how we can accomplish the justice work that is set before us as well.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Mission Statement
As you know, the "GPS" (God's People Serving) Committee has been meeting for some time now at crafting a mission statement. Working from the surveys we received, we attempted to gather all the different threads of what we are about as a congregation. Here's what we have:
Christ Church Waltham is a welcoming Episcopal community brought together in our common worship of God and united in our desire to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves.
At the parish meeting on Sunday, June 6, about 25 people met after the service to review our draft and talk in small groups. What about the Holy Spirit? Why say "persons," and not "people?" Is it too self-congratulatory to say that we are welcoming? Is it redundant to say "brought together" in one clause and "united" in another? What's with all of those verbs? And shouldn't it be about Waltham, since that's where we are?
These ideas in hand, we returned to the drawing board.
In our group, we tended toward the old joke of four people and five opinions. For some of us, changing to "people" made sense. After all, "persons" sounds a little strange, and you want the reader's emphasis to be on "all," not on wondering about the word choice. For others, though, the emphasis of "persons" helped to stress that we seek and serve Christ in each individual soul; not some generalized mass of humanity. We all liked that "seek and serve Christ in all persons" is the phrasing in the baptismal covenant in the Book of Common Prayer, and we liked the emphasis on remembering our baptism. (loving your neighbor as yourself also follows in the BCP)
Could we make it shorter? We tried! We also wrote some versions with mention of the Holy Spirit. We have a reference to Christ, and to "God" (which isn't specific, but might be read as God the Father or God the Creator). Paradoxically, though, adding in the Holy Spirit could have the unintended result of making "God" mean only God the Father/Creator (since it would be juxtaposed with the other two parts of the Trinity). But our worship is about all three, so we were back to having God just be "God," to signify the Trinity as a whole. The notion of being brought together (from different places) and united (in our differences) really resonated with us, so ended up keeping all of the verbs, too. Initially, our draft just said "We are a welcoming Episcopal Community..." but then people at the Sunday meeting suggested adding "Waltham," so we changed the first sentence to "Christ Church Waltham is..."
Being part of this process has been both fascinating (in an intellectual way) and a spiritual gift. The openness of each person to the voice of the others in the group is so moving, and to be part of a process of dialogue where consensus takes shape is just plain cool. It's not so much that we convinced each other of our opinions, but that the result just emerged.
We had planned to have GPS and Vestry meet together this Saturday for a retreat to talk more about vision and strategic plans for the coming years, but that has been postponed so that more members have a chance to participate. We're hoping for late August, so you'll hear more about the work then. As always, please feel free to talk with me or any vestry or GPS member if you have further thoughts.
Blessings,
Sara+ writing for the GPS Committee:
Mike, Sarah, Gene, Jonathan, Christie, Kristin, Cindy, and Marcia
Christ Church Waltham is a welcoming Episcopal community brought together in our common worship of God and united in our desire to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves.
At the parish meeting on Sunday, June 6, about 25 people met after the service to review our draft and talk in small groups. What about the Holy Spirit? Why say "persons," and not "people?" Is it too self-congratulatory to say that we are welcoming? Is it redundant to say "brought together" in one clause and "united" in another? What's with all of those verbs? And shouldn't it be about Waltham, since that's where we are?
These ideas in hand, we returned to the drawing board.
In our group, we tended toward the old joke of four people and five opinions. For some of us, changing to "people" made sense. After all, "persons" sounds a little strange, and you want the reader's emphasis to be on "all," not on wondering about the word choice. For others, though, the emphasis of "persons" helped to stress that we seek and serve Christ in each individual soul; not some generalized mass of humanity. We all liked that "seek and serve Christ in all persons" is the phrasing in the baptismal covenant in the Book of Common Prayer, and we liked the emphasis on remembering our baptism. (loving your neighbor as yourself also follows in the BCP)
Could we make it shorter? We tried! We also wrote some versions with mention of the Holy Spirit. We have a reference to Christ, and to "God" (which isn't specific, but might be read as God the Father or God the Creator). Paradoxically, though, adding in the Holy Spirit could have the unintended result of making "God" mean only God the Father/Creator (since it would be juxtaposed with the other two parts of the Trinity). But our worship is about all three, so we were back to having God just be "God," to signify the Trinity as a whole. The notion of being brought together (from different places) and united (in our differences) really resonated with us, so ended up keeping all of the verbs, too. Initially, our draft just said "We are a welcoming Episcopal Community..." but then people at the Sunday meeting suggested adding "Waltham," so we changed the first sentence to "Christ Church Waltham is..."
Being part of this process has been both fascinating (in an intellectual way) and a spiritual gift. The openness of each person to the voice of the others in the group is so moving, and to be part of a process of dialogue where consensus takes shape is just plain cool. It's not so much that we convinced each other of our opinions, but that the result just emerged.
We had planned to have GPS and Vestry meet together this Saturday for a retreat to talk more about vision and strategic plans for the coming years, but that has been postponed so that more members have a chance to participate. We're hoping for late August, so you'll hear more about the work then. As always, please feel free to talk with me or any vestry or GPS member if you have further thoughts.
Blessings,
Sara+ writing for the GPS Committee:
Mike, Sarah, Gene, Jonathan, Christie, Kristin, Cindy, and Marcia
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Growth and The Great Commission
On Sunday, we were sad to share the news that Mary Bonnyman passed away last Thursday afternoon at Epoch, where she'd been staying for some time. Her granddaughter, Chrissie, was with her, and she'd had a good day. She was 95. The service for Mary will be this Saturday at 11 AM. She'll be buried later this summer in her family's plot in her native Nova Scotia.
In our "GPS" meetings, we've been talking about growth; what does it mean to grow? Do we want to? It feels like we're supposed to want to, but it can also feel good to be in a church where you know everyone. Is it OK to just want to be sustainable, with enough people and money to accomplish the things we want to do? Of course, there aren't really simple answers to any of these things. It's hard when things change--even positive changes. The Great Commission, which ends the Gospel of Matthew, tells us we have to. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age. (28:19-20).
Unfortunately, a lot of terrible things in Christian history have happened in the name of the Great Commission. In her excellent Pentecost letter, our Presiding Bishop, Katharine Jefferts Schori, talks about how, "in their search for uniformity, our forebears in the faith have repeatedly done much spiritual violence in the name of Christianity," giving examples of the suppression of Native American cultural practices which, theologically, are congruent with Christian orthodoxy but made missionaries personally uncomfortable. Too often, that kind of missionary work ends up being a dividing line, with "Good Christian" on one side of the line, and "Condemned Heathen" on the other. And almost always in that scheme, the "Good Christians" are all supposed to think and act the same.
The good news is that it doesn't have to be this way. We don't have to be old-style missionaries who travel the world (or stand with sandwich board signs on the street corner) telling people to repent. But we are still called to share our faith. I was talking with Noah about this the other day and he put it rather starkly: "If my faith is important to me, and I don't share it with others, then I'm saying 'this wonderful thing is MINE, and you can't have it."
Instead, we can share our faith out of the example of our lives--how we are changed, how we learn generosity, and peace, and kindness and justice--and how we are fed, forgiven, and loved.
But what happens when people actually take us up on it? If everyone invited a friend to church, and our sleepy summer services ended up with as many people as Easter Sunday? What would that feel like? Are we ready to open our arms to just anybody? I hope so, and I also hope that when we do talk about growth, that we can get out from under the financial imperative. Yes we need more pledges. Yes we need to grow to support our building and our staff. But we also need to grow because it's part of our faith. Spiritually, I believe we are called to a kind of "holy instability" when it comes to our communities, because they don't just belong to us. We need to always be facing outward toward the world to welcome in that world. It needs what we have!
We need to take care of ourselves, too--but the good news is that we can do both at the same time. We can take care of ourselves by having a potluck supper and games night at the same time as we make that event Bring a Friend to Church party. It's not a zero-sum game, where being open to others means not taking care of ourselves. There's enough grace, and space, for everyone when we realize that it's not our job to provide it--it's God's. And God can always come up with enough for everyone.
Blessings,
Sara+
For Bishop Katharine's Pentecost letter, click here.
Her letter is a response to Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams, whose own Pentecost letter was a sort of reprimand of the American Church--For Diana Butler Bass' very good analysis of the conflict, "The REAL Reason for the Anglican-Episcopal Divide" click here. She points out that recent disagreements over sexuality are actually disagreements about how Anglicanism works--and what kind of church we want to be.
In our "GPS" meetings, we've been talking about growth; what does it mean to grow? Do we want to? It feels like we're supposed to want to, but it can also feel good to be in a church where you know everyone. Is it OK to just want to be sustainable, with enough people and money to accomplish the things we want to do? Of course, there aren't really simple answers to any of these things. It's hard when things change--even positive changes. The Great Commission, which ends the Gospel of Matthew, tells us we have to. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age. (28:19-20).
Unfortunately, a lot of terrible things in Christian history have happened in the name of the Great Commission. In her excellent Pentecost letter, our Presiding Bishop, Katharine Jefferts Schori, talks about how, "in their search for uniformity, our forebears in the faith have repeatedly done much spiritual violence in the name of Christianity," giving examples of the suppression of Native American cultural practices which, theologically, are congruent with Christian orthodoxy but made missionaries personally uncomfortable. Too often, that kind of missionary work ends up being a dividing line, with "Good Christian" on one side of the line, and "Condemned Heathen" on the other. And almost always in that scheme, the "Good Christians" are all supposed to think and act the same.
The good news is that it doesn't have to be this way. We don't have to be old-style missionaries who travel the world (or stand with sandwich board signs on the street corner) telling people to repent. But we are still called to share our faith. I was talking with Noah about this the other day and he put it rather starkly: "If my faith is important to me, and I don't share it with others, then I'm saying 'this wonderful thing is MINE, and you can't have it."
Instead, we can share our faith out of the example of our lives--how we are changed, how we learn generosity, and peace, and kindness and justice--and how we are fed, forgiven, and loved.
But what happens when people actually take us up on it? If everyone invited a friend to church, and our sleepy summer services ended up with as many people as Easter Sunday? What would that feel like? Are we ready to open our arms to just anybody? I hope so, and I also hope that when we do talk about growth, that we can get out from under the financial imperative. Yes we need more pledges. Yes we need to grow to support our building and our staff. But we also need to grow because it's part of our faith. Spiritually, I believe we are called to a kind of "holy instability" when it comes to our communities, because they don't just belong to us. We need to always be facing outward toward the world to welcome in that world. It needs what we have!
We need to take care of ourselves, too--but the good news is that we can do both at the same time. We can take care of ourselves by having a potluck supper and games night at the same time as we make that event Bring a Friend to Church party. It's not a zero-sum game, where being open to others means not taking care of ourselves. There's enough grace, and space, for everyone when we realize that it's not our job to provide it--it's God's. And God can always come up with enough for everyone.
Blessings,
Sara+
For Bishop Katharine's Pentecost letter, click here.
Her letter is a response to Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams, whose own Pentecost letter was a sort of reprimand of the American Church--For Diana Butler Bass' very good analysis of the conflict, "The REAL Reason for the Anglican-Episcopal Divide" click here. She points out that recent disagreements over sexuality are actually disagreements about how Anglicanism works--and what kind of church we want to be.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Giving with open hands
This Sunday, we'll observe our regular first Sunday of the month Children's Service, and also meet after the service to talk about the results of the "GPS" (God's People Serving) Committee's work on our mission statement. I hope you'll plan to stay after the service to give your input on the mission statement the group has drawn up. I love it!
This Sunday's Gospel has the story of the Prophet Elijah being sent to a widow in Sidon. It's in the middle of a drought, which sent to punish king Ahab for worshipping his wife's pagan God, Baal (Jezebel, who happens to be from Sidon herself). Elijah goes in order to be fed; God doesn't tell him why he's going, or what he's supposed to do when he gets there. Just go, God tells him. She'll feed you. And so he goes. Elijah's mission unfolds as he arrives--as it turns out, he winds up with something to give the widow as well, but at first, it's not clear whether she'll "get" anything out of the deal. He goes to receive.
It's a counter-intuitive mission. This week, I started re-reading a book I first encountered a long time ago, called Poustinia, by Catherine Doherty. I picked it up again because Doherty is mentioned in Thomas Merton's Seven Story Mountain, which we just finished at our daytime book group. Doherty, an immigrant from Russia, started the Madonna House Apostolate, an intentional Christian community where Thomas Merton stayed briefly in Harlem before entering the monastery.
Doherty's unique insights are the combination of a life formed in the Orthodox spirituality of Russia, but oriented outward through the influence of Roman Catholic social justice teaching. In her book, she talks about the Russian tradition of the urodivoi, the fool for Christ: the one who gives away everything--really, everything--and begs for alms. Like Elijah, the fool goes out in order to be fed. The fool is able to support him or herself, but instead throws their life on the mercy of others, spending the day in prayer and pleading. She tells the story of one such person her father knew, who went to the slums and personally gave away all his money (which he'd dramatically just converted to bags of gold and silver). The father met the man years later, begging outside a church, still there, still praying, still with nothing. Why have you done this, the father asks, "I am atoning for the men who have called Christ a fool during his lifetime, and during all the centuries thereafter."
This is a challenging notion for us--it cuts at the heart of American notions of accomplishment and worth--not to mention practicality. Doherty writes, "If you want to see what a 'contribution' really is, look at the Man on the cross. That's a contribution. When you are hanging on a cross you can't do anything because you are crucified." The fool for Christ goes to be crucified with him; Elijah's mission was similar. Was he sent to the woman to be a burden? God miraculously gave her the food to give Elijah, but neither knew in advance what the outcome would be. Their mutual faith created the gift. What if we gave with such open hands? What would we receive, even if we gave all we had?
This Sunday's Gospel has the story of the Prophet Elijah being sent to a widow in Sidon. It's in the middle of a drought, which sent to punish king Ahab for worshipping his wife's pagan God, Baal (Jezebel, who happens to be from Sidon herself). Elijah goes in order to be fed; God doesn't tell him why he's going, or what he's supposed to do when he gets there. Just go, God tells him. She'll feed you. And so he goes. Elijah's mission unfolds as he arrives--as it turns out, he winds up with something to give the widow as well, but at first, it's not clear whether she'll "get" anything out of the deal. He goes to receive.
It's a counter-intuitive mission. This week, I started re-reading a book I first encountered a long time ago, called Poustinia, by Catherine Doherty. I picked it up again because Doherty is mentioned in Thomas Merton's Seven Story Mountain, which we just finished at our daytime book group. Doherty, an immigrant from Russia, started the Madonna House Apostolate, an intentional Christian community where Thomas Merton stayed briefly in Harlem before entering the monastery.
Doherty's unique insights are the combination of a life formed in the Orthodox spirituality of Russia, but oriented outward through the influence of Roman Catholic social justice teaching. In her book, she talks about the Russian tradition of the urodivoi, the fool for Christ: the one who gives away everything--really, everything--and begs for alms. Like Elijah, the fool goes out in order to be fed. The fool is able to support him or herself, but instead throws their life on the mercy of others, spending the day in prayer and pleading. She tells the story of one such person her father knew, who went to the slums and personally gave away all his money (which he'd dramatically just converted to bags of gold and silver). The father met the man years later, begging outside a church, still there, still praying, still with nothing. Why have you done this, the father asks, "I am atoning for the men who have called Christ a fool during his lifetime, and during all the centuries thereafter."
This is a challenging notion for us--it cuts at the heart of American notions of accomplishment and worth--not to mention practicality. Doherty writes, "If you want to see what a 'contribution' really is, look at the Man on the cross. That's a contribution. When you are hanging on a cross you can't do anything because you are crucified." The fool for Christ goes to be crucified with him; Elijah's mission was similar. Was he sent to the woman to be a burden? God miraculously gave her the food to give Elijah, but neither knew in advance what the outcome would be. Their mutual faith created the gift. What if we gave with such open hands? What would we receive, even if we gave all we had?
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Presiding Bishop Schori's article on the Gulf oil spill
I'm passing on an article I read online by our Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori. Before becoming ordained, she was an oceanographer, and was elected the head of the Episcopal Church, in 2006. --Sara+
A Lesson from the Gulf Oil Spill: We Are All Connected
By The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori
The original peoples of the North American continent understand that we are all connected, and that harm to one part of the sacred circle of life harms the whole. Scientists, both the ecological and physical sorts, know the same reality, expressed in different terms. The Abrahamic traditions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) also charge human beings with care for the whole of creation, because it is God's good gift to humanity. Another way of saying this is that we are all connected and there is no escape; our common future depends on how we care for the rest of the natural world, not just the square feet of soil we may call "our own." We breathe the same air, our food comes from the same ground and seas, and the water we have to share cycles through the same airshed, watershed, and terra firma.
The still-unfolding disaster in the Gulf of Mexico is good evidence of the interconnectedness of the whole. It has its origins in this nation's addiction to oil, uninhibited growth, and consumerism, as well as old-fashioned greed and what my tradition calls hubris and idolatry. Our collective sins are being visited on those who have had little or no part in them: birds, marine mammals, the tiny plants and animals that constitute the base of the vast food chain in the Gulf, and on which a major part of the seafood production of the United States depends. Our sins are being visited on the fishers of southern Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida, who seek to feed their families with the proceeds of what they catch each day. Our sins will expose New Orleans and other coastal cities to the increased likelihood of devastating floods, as the marshes that constitute the shrinking margin of storm protection continue to disappear, fouled and killed by oil.
The oil that continues to vent from the sea floor has spread through hundreds of cubic miles of ocean, poisoning creatures of all sizes and forms, from birds, turtles, and whales to the shrimp, fish, oysters, and crabs that human beings so value, and the plankton, whose life supports the whole biological system -- the very kind of creatures whose dead and decomposed tissues began the process of producing that oil so many millions of years ago. . .
The reality is that this disaster just may show us as a nation how interconnected we really are. The waste of this oil -- both its unusability and the mess it is making -- will be visited on all of us, for years and even generations to come. The hydrocarbons in those coastal marshes and at the base of the food chain leading to marketable seafood resources will taint us all, eventually. That oil is already frightening away vacationers who form the economic base for countless coastal communities, whose livelihoods have something to do with the economic health of this nation. The workers in those communities, even when they have employment, are some of the poorest among us. That oil will move beyond the immediate environs of a broken wellhead, spreading around the coasts of Florida and northward along the east coast of the U.S. That oil will foul the coastal marshes that also constitute a major nursery for coastal fauna, again a vital part of the food chain. That oil will further stress and poison the coral reefs of Florida, already much endangered from warming and ocean acidification. Those reefs have historically provided significant storm protection to the coastal communities behind them. . .
There is no place to go "away" from these consequences; there is no ultimate escape on this planet. The effects at a distance may seem minor or tolerable, but the cumulative effect is not. We are all connected, we will all suffer the consequences of this tragic disaster in the Gulf, and we must wake up and put a stop to the kind of robber baron behavior we supposedly regulated out of existence a hundred years ago. Our lives, and the liveliness of the entire planet, depend on it.
To see the entire text on Huffington Post, click here.
A Lesson from the Gulf Oil Spill: We Are All Connected
By The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori
The original peoples of the North American continent understand that we are all connected, and that harm to one part of the sacred circle of life harms the whole. Scientists, both the ecological and physical sorts, know the same reality, expressed in different terms. The Abrahamic traditions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) also charge human beings with care for the whole of creation, because it is God's good gift to humanity. Another way of saying this is that we are all connected and there is no escape; our common future depends on how we care for the rest of the natural world, not just the square feet of soil we may call "our own." We breathe the same air, our food comes from the same ground and seas, and the water we have to share cycles through the same airshed, watershed, and terra firma.
The still-unfolding disaster in the Gulf of Mexico is good evidence of the interconnectedness of the whole. It has its origins in this nation's addiction to oil, uninhibited growth, and consumerism, as well as old-fashioned greed and what my tradition calls hubris and idolatry. Our collective sins are being visited on those who have had little or no part in them: birds, marine mammals, the tiny plants and animals that constitute the base of the vast food chain in the Gulf, and on which a major part of the seafood production of the United States depends. Our sins are being visited on the fishers of southern Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida, who seek to feed their families with the proceeds of what they catch each day. Our sins will expose New Orleans and other coastal cities to the increased likelihood of devastating floods, as the marshes that constitute the shrinking margin of storm protection continue to disappear, fouled and killed by oil.
The oil that continues to vent from the sea floor has spread through hundreds of cubic miles of ocean, poisoning creatures of all sizes and forms, from birds, turtles, and whales to the shrimp, fish, oysters, and crabs that human beings so value, and the plankton, whose life supports the whole biological system -- the very kind of creatures whose dead and decomposed tissues began the process of producing that oil so many millions of years ago. . .
The reality is that this disaster just may show us as a nation how interconnected we really are. The waste of this oil -- both its unusability and the mess it is making -- will be visited on all of us, for years and even generations to come. The hydrocarbons in those coastal marshes and at the base of the food chain leading to marketable seafood resources will taint us all, eventually. That oil is already frightening away vacationers who form the economic base for countless coastal communities, whose livelihoods have something to do with the economic health of this nation. The workers in those communities, even when they have employment, are some of the poorest among us. That oil will move beyond the immediate environs of a broken wellhead, spreading around the coasts of Florida and northward along the east coast of the U.S. That oil will foul the coastal marshes that also constitute a major nursery for coastal fauna, again a vital part of the food chain. That oil will further stress and poison the coral reefs of Florida, already much endangered from warming and ocean acidification. Those reefs have historically provided significant storm protection to the coastal communities behind them. . .
There is no place to go "away" from these consequences; there is no ultimate escape on this planet. The effects at a distance may seem minor or tolerable, but the cumulative effect is not. We are all connected, we will all suffer the consequences of this tragic disaster in the Gulf, and we must wake up and put a stop to the kind of robber baron behavior we supposedly regulated out of existence a hundred years ago. Our lives, and the liveliness of the entire planet, depend on it.
To see the entire text on Huffington Post, click here.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
"One who is sent"
Yesterday was the feast of Junia and Andronicus. Paul describes them as "my relatives and prison companions; they are notable Apostles, and they were in Christ before me." (Romans 16:7). Through some tricky translation, earlier Bibles have rendered "Junia" (a common female name of the time) as "Junius" (an invented name, but with a masculine ending). Even though early church writers like John Chrysostom and St Jerome assumed her to be a woman, later translators thought a female apostle was too scandalous, and so changed the ending of the name. Yesterday I was with the Sisters of St Anne in Arlington where I say the Mass for them regularly, and we celebrated their day. Otherwise, I have to admit, the significance of May 18 may not have occurred to me.
Thinking about Junia, an apostle--literally, "one who is sent"--feels fitting as we prepare for Martha's service tomorrow. Martha shared her voice with us at Christ Church after a lifetime of professional singing, notably for 25 years at Old North in Boston--including one service attended by Queen Elizabeth! Martha was a faithful "apostle," using her gifts to bring others to the Gospel.
In the Anglican tradition, our theology goes that everyone is a saint; all Christians are saints. We still honor those in whose lives Christ has been known in a particularly powerful way--the traditional "saints"--we have feast days for John the Baptist, and Mary, and St Paul--but we also have feast days for Enmagahbowh, the first Native American priest (June 12, the anniversary of my ordination) and for Jonathan Daniels, an Episcopal seminarian and civil rights activist murdered in Alabama when he stepped in front of a bullet intended for a teenager who was part of the group he was with. The writer CS Lewis has a day, too. Thursday, when we celebrate her life, we'll remember Martha.
In our conception of sainthood, we're one family of saints, in community from now back to Abraham--or maybe Eve--all of us praying together in community together. At death, life is changed, not ended--we are all still alive in the presence of God. Being an apostle is being sent--we are all called, but it's true that we don't all heed that call. Our prayer for Junia and Andronicus invites us to ask for the grace to answer, as they did.
Almighty God, whose Son the Risen Christ sent forth your Apostles Andronicus and Junia to proclaim the Gospel and extend your reign; send us forth in your Holy Spirit that like them we, both men and women, may co-operate as faithful witnesses to the Gospel of Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit in perfect unity, one God, now and forever. Amen.
Junia and Andronicus witnessed to the events of Christ's ministry and life "in the flesh"--we witness to Christ's ministry and life "in the Spirit." But knowing Christ in each other also brings that reality into the present and into the real. We knew Christ in Martha, and by her grace and love she knew Christ in us, too. Thanks be to God.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thinking about Junia, an apostle--literally, "one who is sent"--feels fitting as we prepare for Martha's service tomorrow. Martha shared her voice with us at Christ Church after a lifetime of professional singing, notably for 25 years at Old North in Boston--including one service attended by Queen Elizabeth! Martha was a faithful "apostle," using her gifts to bring others to the Gospel.
In the Anglican tradition, our theology goes that everyone is a saint; all Christians are saints. We still honor those in whose lives Christ has been known in a particularly powerful way--the traditional "saints"--we have feast days for John the Baptist, and Mary, and St Paul--but we also have feast days for Enmagahbowh, the first Native American priest (June 12, the anniversary of my ordination) and for Jonathan Daniels, an Episcopal seminarian and civil rights activist murdered in Alabama when he stepped in front of a bullet intended for a teenager who was part of the group he was with. The writer CS Lewis has a day, too. Thursday, when we celebrate her life, we'll remember Martha.
In our conception of sainthood, we're one family of saints, in community from now back to Abraham--or maybe Eve--all of us praying together in community together. At death, life is changed, not ended--we are all still alive in the presence of God. Being an apostle is being sent--we are all called, but it's true that we don't all heed that call. Our prayer for Junia and Andronicus invites us to ask for the grace to answer, as they did.
Almighty God, whose Son the Risen Christ sent forth your Apostles Andronicus and Junia to proclaim the Gospel and extend your reign; send us forth in your Holy Spirit that like them we, both men and women, may co-operate as faithful witnesses to the Gospel of Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit in perfect unity, one God, now and forever. Amen.
Junia and Andronicus witnessed to the events of Christ's ministry and life "in the flesh"--we witness to Christ's ministry and life "in the Spirit." But knowing Christ in each other also brings that reality into the present and into the real. We knew Christ in Martha, and by her grace and love she knew Christ in us, too. Thanks be to God.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Personal prayer
This week, we met for our last class in our Episcopal Church intro. We talked about Anglican/Episcopal resources for personal prayer. There are as many ways to pray as there are people to pray them, but one of the most characteristically Anglican ones is the Daily Office. (for E Crier Meditations on the daily office, look at the ecrier blog page--I've posted a few reflections up there that I did before I started archiving there). Today, our office gave us a text from Leviticus, which made me think of the national debate on Arizona's new immigration law:
When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God. (Lev. 19: 33-34)
Yesterday, I was talking with an acquaintance and mentioned we were going to Arizona to visit my in-laws. Arizona? Is it safe there? It's been all over the news!" Perplexed, I said, "Safe?" "Yes," the person responded, as if assuming I must live in a cave, "All the illegal immigrants. That's what's been all over the news." "Oh," I said. "Actually, my in laws have been active in trying to get rid of that law. But it's perfectly safe." And then I made a googly eye face at Adah, and was relieved the conversation had ended.
I was troubled by it for a while; immigration is such a complicated issue and there's no way I could do it justice here, but immigrants as a group are not dangerous! For the most part, they are people, like anyone, trying to make a life for themselves and their families. Whether they have legal documents or not, everyone pays taxes. One statistic I saw says that illegal immigrants pay 7 billion--with a "B"--dollars in social security taxes and 2.5 billion in Medicare taxes. They will never receive any benefit from either system. Immigration is a complicated issue, and I don't have an easy fix---but a law that makes it a crime to buy groceries without a passport is not part of the solution.
We could talk all day about evidence about what immigration does for our country. Biblically, though, it doesn't matter at all whether people are "good" and hardworking or "bad" and just sitting around the house all day. We are all equally created in the image of God and we are all equally loved and treasured by our creator. In the Baptismal Covenant we promise to respect the dignity of every human being--and there aren't any loopholes to that.
The Leviticus line quoted above is one line in a series of laws that we often skip over in our readings in church. The holiness code also has rules about kindness to the poor--a few verses before the one above, it also says "You shall not reap to the very edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest...you shall leave them for the poor and the alien." It explicitly says NOT to collect everything that is yours--it expects the "poor and alien" to make their way through your field and take what they find--they aren't supposed to have to ask.
Admittedly, there's a lot in Leviticus that we don't believe in (like the prohibition against tattooing a few lines earlier, or the rules about cloth made of more than one kind of fiber)--but this is solid, "love thy neighbor" kind of stuff. What's interesting to me, too, is that it's in the context of prohibitions against idolatry. You aren't just supposed to be generous to the outsider because it's the kind thing to do; it's because being generous to the outsider is part of what it is to be human in relation to God. It's God's job to be the judge and Creator; it's our job to be created--to be creatures, and part of being a created being is to recognize your rightful place beside other created beings, which means loving and caring for them and not regarding yourself as more worthy or above them. (I could spin this out theologically about the oil spill in the Gulf, too, but I've already gone on for some time.)
So where does this leave us on the other side of the country? Advocating, certainly, but also praying. Pray for the immigrants, pray for the police, and pray for those who suffer--on all sides of the border. Those who are victimized by crime, and those who perpetrate it. Pray for Arizona Governor Jan Brewer, too, and for all our legislators who are trying to find creative--and humane--solutions.
Blessings,
Sara+
To join in saying the Daily Office with Christians all across the globe--all of them reading Leviticus right now :) --you can get out your prayer book, or visit the Missionstclare.com
When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God. (Lev. 19: 33-34)
Yesterday, I was talking with an acquaintance and mentioned we were going to Arizona to visit my in-laws. Arizona? Is it safe there? It's been all over the news!" Perplexed, I said, "Safe?" "Yes," the person responded, as if assuming I must live in a cave, "All the illegal immigrants. That's what's been all over the news." "Oh," I said. "Actually, my in laws have been active in trying to get rid of that law. But it's perfectly safe." And then I made a googly eye face at Adah, and was relieved the conversation had ended.
I was troubled by it for a while; immigration is such a complicated issue and there's no way I could do it justice here, but immigrants as a group are not dangerous! For the most part, they are people, like anyone, trying to make a life for themselves and their families. Whether they have legal documents or not, everyone pays taxes. One statistic I saw says that illegal immigrants pay 7 billion--with a "B"--dollars in social security taxes and 2.5 billion in Medicare taxes. They will never receive any benefit from either system. Immigration is a complicated issue, and I don't have an easy fix---but a law that makes it a crime to buy groceries without a passport is not part of the solution.
We could talk all day about evidence about what immigration does for our country. Biblically, though, it doesn't matter at all whether people are "good" and hardworking or "bad" and just sitting around the house all day. We are all equally created in the image of God and we are all equally loved and treasured by our creator. In the Baptismal Covenant we promise to respect the dignity of every human being--and there aren't any loopholes to that.
The Leviticus line quoted above is one line in a series of laws that we often skip over in our readings in church. The holiness code also has rules about kindness to the poor--a few verses before the one above, it also says "You shall not reap to the very edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest...you shall leave them for the poor and the alien." It explicitly says NOT to collect everything that is yours--it expects the "poor and alien" to make their way through your field and take what they find--they aren't supposed to have to ask.
Admittedly, there's a lot in Leviticus that we don't believe in (like the prohibition against tattooing a few lines earlier, or the rules about cloth made of more than one kind of fiber)--but this is solid, "love thy neighbor" kind of stuff. What's interesting to me, too, is that it's in the context of prohibitions against idolatry. You aren't just supposed to be generous to the outsider because it's the kind thing to do; it's because being generous to the outsider is part of what it is to be human in relation to God. It's God's job to be the judge and Creator; it's our job to be created--to be creatures, and part of being a created being is to recognize your rightful place beside other created beings, which means loving and caring for them and not regarding yourself as more worthy or above them. (I could spin this out theologically about the oil spill in the Gulf, too, but I've already gone on for some time.)
So where does this leave us on the other side of the country? Advocating, certainly, but also praying. Pray for the immigrants, pray for the police, and pray for those who suffer--on all sides of the border. Those who are victimized by crime, and those who perpetrate it. Pray for Arizona Governor Jan Brewer, too, and for all our legislators who are trying to find creative--and humane--solutions.
Blessings,
Sara+
To join in saying the Daily Office with Christians all across the globe--all of them reading Leviticus right now :) --you can get out your prayer book, or visit the Missionstclare.com
Thursday, May 6, 2010
From December 14, 2006: On Praying the Daily Office in Community
I am so pleased to be back with you, and home in Waltham. Last week was terrific, but it’s good to be back, too. One of the wonderful things about my retreat last week was the experience of regular prayer in community. I spent about half an hour in silent prayer alone each day, but the rhythm of the chanting of psalms, reading of Scripture, and singing of hymns for prayer morning, noon and night (plus Eucharist—-usually I went to four services a day) was a profound experience of God in community. I didn’t know anything about the other people I was praying with—-didn’t know why the monks had chosen to become monks (it’s a community of about 12 men), didn’t know who the other retreatants were (there were 15 of us staying at the monastery, all of us in silence for the week), or why they came. The structure of the daily office prayer services is such that personal preference or experience has nothing to do with it. It is a structure that the church has followed for a millennium—-psalms, canticles, reading from Scripture, hymns. There is no preaching, no editorializing. It is what it is.
If it sounds impersonal, it is—-but in the best possible way. Tapping into that same experience that Christians have had for centuries, I knew myself to be one in a line of believers, all of whom have struggled with the same issues. I am not the first person to be nervous about parenthood. I am not the first priest who has wondered how best to serve her congregation. I am not the first person just to get tired sometimes, and to wonder where God is in all of it. I am not the first person to feel exquisite joy and gratitude in meeting Christ in the sacraments.
Fastened as we each inevitably are in our own perceptions, prejudices, preferences and experiences, it is a gift to know that our lives do not rely on our own skills or success or on the esteem others have of us. We are not so special, after all, and what a relief it is! Our lives, when it comes down to it, are not just ours. We rely on God, and on each other, on those other fifteen people whom I was in silence with and didn’t know; on each of you and the church we are; on our families, friends, and neighbors. In America we are so accustomed to our individuality; certainly this is a positive thing. I heard on the radio this morning that today is the anniversary of the adoption of the Bill of Rights—-ours is the first country to so enshrine this idea of the individual in the foundation of our society. I am thankful for my freedom—-thankful for democracy, and personal property, and all of those good things we enjoy and those who made them possible with real sacrifice. I’m thankful for those who fought for women’s rights, who are the reason that I can have a ministry both with my family and as an ordained, full-time priest. I’m thankful for all of these things that make me “me”—-but after last week, I’m also thankful for a break from all the “me-ness.” Thankful to be one in a line of millions of Christians, no more and no less beloved by our creator.
Blessings,
Sara+
If it sounds impersonal, it is—-but in the best possible way. Tapping into that same experience that Christians have had for centuries, I knew myself to be one in a line of believers, all of whom have struggled with the same issues. I am not the first person to be nervous about parenthood. I am not the first priest who has wondered how best to serve her congregation. I am not the first person just to get tired sometimes, and to wonder where God is in all of it. I am not the first person to feel exquisite joy and gratitude in meeting Christ in the sacraments.
Fastened as we each inevitably are in our own perceptions, prejudices, preferences and experiences, it is a gift to know that our lives do not rely on our own skills or success or on the esteem others have of us. We are not so special, after all, and what a relief it is! Our lives, when it comes down to it, are not just ours. We rely on God, and on each other, on those other fifteen people whom I was in silence with and didn’t know; on each of you and the church we are; on our families, friends, and neighbors. In America we are so accustomed to our individuality; certainly this is a positive thing. I heard on the radio this morning that today is the anniversary of the adoption of the Bill of Rights—-ours is the first country to so enshrine this idea of the individual in the foundation of our society. I am thankful for my freedom—-thankful for democracy, and personal property, and all of those good things we enjoy and those who made them possible with real sacrifice. I’m thankful for those who fought for women’s rights, who are the reason that I can have a ministry both with my family and as an ordained, full-time priest. I’m thankful for all of these things that make me “me”—-but after last week, I’m also thankful for a break from all the “me-ness.” Thankful to be one in a line of millions of Christians, no more and no less beloved by our creator.
Blessings,
Sara+
From September 20, 2007: On the Daily Office
This week, I’ve really been enjoying the prayer of the Daily Office. The prayer of the Daily Office is a way of marking time through prayer. You might have heard of the medieval “Book of Hours”—-that’s the daily office, in a different form. Our own prayer book contains rites of Morning and Evening prayer, and has a separate lectionary that assigns readings for each time of day, on a 2 year cycle. Some of the dietary laws in Leviticus might get left out, but in two years you make it through pretty much all of the Bible. Each day has a reading from the New Testament, the Old Testament, the Gospels, and the psalms. The readings are interspersed with canticles (songs of praise), and are read in a fixed form that includes the recitation of the Confession, the Apostles’ Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, the General Thanksgiving, and other prayers for the day. As you know, last week we did Morning Prayer as it would have been celebrated when this parish opened—-this is the same service, but now it’s practiced more as personal or monastic prayer than for congregations on Sunday morning. Some congregations do it during the week, too—-maybe this parish has done that at one time or another.
The idea of the Daily Office is that, by marking the beginning and the end of the day, your time is consecrated to God. The BCP also offers prayers for noonday and bedtime (called compline), which are also very helpful. I’ve practiced it off and on (mostly on) for about five years now. I wrote in this space when I got back from a monastic retreat last year about the daily office, about what a comfort it is to practice a method of prayer that depends not one iota on my own skill or creativity.
This year, I’ve found myself comforted by the office in a different way. I’ve been struck by how each day begins entirely new, as a clean slate. As I pray the Confession and Absolution of sins, I encounter a new sense of my own forgiveness. As I read the Apostles’ Creed, I have a new sense of myself coming to believe in our faith, and feeling comforted in the tradition of belief it articulates. Each day begins with Scripture, of stories of other people who tried to get things right, like I do, and failed, and tried again, just as I do. Each day begins with the Gospel, of a new piece of “good news” (since that’s what the word “gospel” means). Another neat thing about the daily office is that, pretty much without fail, whenever you’re praying it, there’s a good chance that someone else is doing it, too. A Roman Catholic monk or an Episcopal nun or a Lutheran pastor—-in Africa, or Indiana, or even Waltham—-someone, somewhere, is praying with you. And you can do it absolutely anywhere—-on the train, in your cubicle, or in your kitchen.
You can also pray the daily office online; there are a number of sites that compile the service for you, with no shuffling of books. One such site is at http://www.missionstclare.com/, which offers it in English or Spanish.
Blessings,
Sara+
The idea of the Daily Office is that, by marking the beginning and the end of the day, your time is consecrated to God. The BCP also offers prayers for noonday and bedtime (called compline), which are also very helpful. I’ve practiced it off and on (mostly on) for about five years now. I wrote in this space when I got back from a monastic retreat last year about the daily office, about what a comfort it is to practice a method of prayer that depends not one iota on my own skill or creativity.
This year, I’ve found myself comforted by the office in a different way. I’ve been struck by how each day begins entirely new, as a clean slate. As I pray the Confession and Absolution of sins, I encounter a new sense of my own forgiveness. As I read the Apostles’ Creed, I have a new sense of myself coming to believe in our faith, and feeling comforted in the tradition of belief it articulates. Each day begins with Scripture, of stories of other people who tried to get things right, like I do, and failed, and tried again, just as I do. Each day begins with the Gospel, of a new piece of “good news” (since that’s what the word “gospel” means). Another neat thing about the daily office is that, pretty much without fail, whenever you’re praying it, there’s a good chance that someone else is doing it, too. A Roman Catholic monk or an Episcopal nun or a Lutheran pastor—-in Africa, or Indiana, or even Waltham—-someone, somewhere, is praying with you. And you can do it absolutely anywhere—-on the train, in your cubicle, or in your kitchen.
You can also pray the daily office online; there are a number of sites that compile the service for you, with no shuffling of books. One such site is at http://www.missionstclare.com/, which offers it in English or Spanish.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Baptism
This past Sunday, I had the pleasure of attending the baptism of our close friends' baby (Gavin is exactly 24 hours older than my daughter Adah). It was a joint service between Christ Church Somerville (where his mom is senior warden) and St Luke's and St Margaret's, Brighton (where his dad is the vicar). I don't often get the chance just to attend church, and it was a treat to be at a baptism where I didn't have to do anything! In the sermon, the preacher (Chris Fike, from CC Somerville) talked about how baptism is the very best gift anyone can give a baby. We don't baptize babies because they're sinful, he said, and we don't baptize babies to keep them from going to hell. We baptize them to welcome them into the "household of God," as the prayer says, to invite them to take their place in the councils of the church and our work together. Gavin's ministry so far is mostly one of love--he loves and is loved--and in the eyes of God, that is enough.
Baptism is a gift: it is a gift to raise a child in a Christian community where they know that no matter what, they will always be loved. Church isn't just an activity to be squeezed in next to all the other activities in our lives; church is an identity, a way of being in the world (all seven days--not just on Sundays). It's an event, not a location. In the words of William Stringfellow (thanks to Gene Burkart for passing this on)--"God's people are called now, not now and then." We are called to love and be loved. And no matter what we do, however diligent or half hearted we are, baptism can never be revoked. You can't lose it, and you can't give it back.
But we are forgetful people--every baptism we celebrate is a reminder of our own baptisms; we say the baptismal covenant together to support the newly baptized and their families and to recommit ourselves. We need to do it, need to make those promises again and again--to respect the dignity of every human being, to seek and serve Christ in all persons, to love our neighbors as ourselves.
This Sunday at our 10 AM service, we'll gather at the font with Claire Mailman and Henry Nolte (his older brother, Griffin, was baptized at Christ Church a few years ago). As part of our regular children's service, all the kids will gather around the font and remember the gift that they were each given. They might not know exactly what it means, or quite grasp all the intricacies of the Trinity and the sacraments. That's not important right now--they know enough: baptism is a party! When else do we get to throw water around inside? The whole season of Easter is one big celebration of the resurrection, and every baptism connects us to that incredible event. In baptism, we join with Christ in his baptism, and we are raised with him to a new life of peace, justice, and love. And with every drop of holy water on every person's head, the gifts multiply and the joy extends. Thanks be to God.
Blessings,
Sara+
Baptism is a gift: it is a gift to raise a child in a Christian community where they know that no matter what, they will always be loved. Church isn't just an activity to be squeezed in next to all the other activities in our lives; church is an identity, a way of being in the world (all seven days--not just on Sundays). It's an event, not a location. In the words of William Stringfellow (thanks to Gene Burkart for passing this on)--"God's people are called now, not now and then." We are called to love and be loved. And no matter what we do, however diligent or half hearted we are, baptism can never be revoked. You can't lose it, and you can't give it back.
But we are forgetful people--every baptism we celebrate is a reminder of our own baptisms; we say the baptismal covenant together to support the newly baptized and their families and to recommit ourselves. We need to do it, need to make those promises again and again--to respect the dignity of every human being, to seek and serve Christ in all persons, to love our neighbors as ourselves.
This Sunday at our 10 AM service, we'll gather at the font with Claire Mailman and Henry Nolte (his older brother, Griffin, was baptized at Christ Church a few years ago). As part of our regular children's service, all the kids will gather around the font and remember the gift that they were each given. They might not know exactly what it means, or quite grasp all the intricacies of the Trinity and the sacraments. That's not important right now--they know enough: baptism is a party! When else do we get to throw water around inside? The whole season of Easter is one big celebration of the resurrection, and every baptism connects us to that incredible event. In baptism, we join with Christ in his baptism, and we are raised with him to a new life of peace, justice, and love. And with every drop of holy water on every person's head, the gifts multiply and the joy extends. Thanks be to God.
Blessings,
Sara+
April 20: Episcopal Priest Barbie
Last week, I received an invitation to go on the Callie Crossley show. Crossley hosts an hourlong interview show on WGBH (89.7, weekdays at 1:00), and I'll be going on tomorrow (Wednesday, April 21) with the Rev. Julie Blake Fisher, creator of the facebook group "Friends of Episcopal Church Barbie" and rector of Christ Church Kent, Ohio. I had noticed "Rev. Barbie" online before, but hadn't really looked at it until I got the call from the radio show.
Barbie, rector of St Barbara's By the Sea (in Malibu, of course) has been getting quite a bit of press-both from those who think it's cute and funny, and those who think it's mocking and ridiculous. Of course, Barbie herself is kind of a freighted question; she's reinforcement for all the unhealthy body image stuff that girls and women experience in our culture, but she's also such an iconic image of American childhood. I had Barbies, and my son always looks at the dolls in the store. (The other day, we noticed that astronaut Barbie, first introduced in 1965, is back) Blake Fisher has put together a full sacristy of vestments and equipment, right down to the thurible. She put it together as a hobby and an ordination gift for a friend of hers; it's not quite available at your local big box store.
I find it fascinating that this is getting so much press; if I'm a priest, and I'm a woman, why shouldn't Barbie get to be one, too? Instead, I've read comments about how ordination just "doesn't stick to a woman"--it slips off, like Teflon. Or, they call her a "priestess," and talk about how it's debasing the church. I forget that there is such vitriol in some corners of the world for who I am and what I do. I grew up in a church that had a woman priest when I was in high school, and I never thought the ministry was closed to me for that reason. I had all kinds of other critiques and questions for the church when I was growing up, but my own gender (as far as ordination went) wasn't one. I came to Christ Church almost five years ago and wondered what it would be like to be in a place where there had never been women clergy before. Once I was here, though, I became your pastor, not just the person behind the altar, and we do pretty well together! There is plenty of sexism in the world and I think my eyes are pretty open to it, but this is one place where I just haven't really felt it once we got to know each other. As a female leader in the church, I'm glad to be able to give to girls the same gift given to me-the sense that this is normal, that there is no part of God's work here on earth that is not open to us.
So hopefully Rev. Barbie is an entryway into a broader conversation about women in ministry. Even with a female presiding bishop, we still have a long way to go in the church. There is still a stained glass ceiling! Women still tend to get called to more marginal churches, and are still more often in part time work. I was so excited when Trinity Boston, called Anne Bonnyman to be their rector; they're one of the largest in the country, and that is surely a good sign. With the consecration of Mary Glasspool as bishop suffragan of the Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles coming up, it's notable that not only is there no comment that she's a woman, the amount of comment that she's a lesbian is less than we would have thought as well.
So here we are, getting on with our work together, men and women, young and old. This Sunday, our "GPS" (God's People Serving) Ministry Discernment Group will host a session for the congregation to do an Appreciative Inquiry conversation. You might remember in 2009 when we did this as part of the rector search process. This time, it will be an effort to help us craft a mission statement for the church and chart some strategic goals for the next several years. What is it that makes Christ Church special to you? Please stay for a while longer on Sunday to be part of this. Contact Jonathan Duce or Marcia Luce if you would like to give your input but won't be here this week.
Blessings,
Sara+
The Callie Crossley Show on WGBH
Religion news online
Barbie, rector of St Barbara's By the Sea (in Malibu, of course) has been getting quite a bit of press-both from those who think it's cute and funny, and those who think it's mocking and ridiculous. Of course, Barbie herself is kind of a freighted question; she's reinforcement for all the unhealthy body image stuff that girls and women experience in our culture, but she's also such an iconic image of American childhood. I had Barbies, and my son always looks at the dolls in the store. (The other day, we noticed that astronaut Barbie, first introduced in 1965, is back) Blake Fisher has put together a full sacristy of vestments and equipment, right down to the thurible. She put it together as a hobby and an ordination gift for a friend of hers; it's not quite available at your local big box store.
I find it fascinating that this is getting so much press; if I'm a priest, and I'm a woman, why shouldn't Barbie get to be one, too? Instead, I've read comments about how ordination just "doesn't stick to a woman"--it slips off, like Teflon. Or, they call her a "priestess," and talk about how it's debasing the church. I forget that there is such vitriol in some corners of the world for who I am and what I do. I grew up in a church that had a woman priest when I was in high school, and I never thought the ministry was closed to me for that reason. I had all kinds of other critiques and questions for the church when I was growing up, but my own gender (as far as ordination went) wasn't one. I came to Christ Church almost five years ago and wondered what it would be like to be in a place where there had never been women clergy before. Once I was here, though, I became your pastor, not just the person behind the altar, and we do pretty well together! There is plenty of sexism in the world and I think my eyes are pretty open to it, but this is one place where I just haven't really felt it once we got to know each other. As a female leader in the church, I'm glad to be able to give to girls the same gift given to me-the sense that this is normal, that there is no part of God's work here on earth that is not open to us.
So hopefully Rev. Barbie is an entryway into a broader conversation about women in ministry. Even with a female presiding bishop, we still have a long way to go in the church. There is still a stained glass ceiling! Women still tend to get called to more marginal churches, and are still more often in part time work. I was so excited when Trinity Boston, called Anne Bonnyman to be their rector; they're one of the largest in the country, and that is surely a good sign. With the consecration of Mary Glasspool as bishop suffragan of the Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles coming up, it's notable that not only is there no comment that she's a woman, the amount of comment that she's a lesbian is less than we would have thought as well.
So here we are, getting on with our work together, men and women, young and old. This Sunday, our "GPS" (God's People Serving) Ministry Discernment Group will host a session for the congregation to do an Appreciative Inquiry conversation. You might remember in 2009 when we did this as part of the rector search process. This time, it will be an effort to help us craft a mission statement for the church and chart some strategic goals for the next several years. What is it that makes Christ Church special to you? Please stay for a while longer on Sunday to be part of this. Contact Jonathan Duce or Marcia Luce if you would like to give your input but won't be here this week.
Blessings,
Sara+
The Callie Crossley Show on WGBH
Religion news online
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
April 15: Intro to the Episcopal Church
Continued Easter Blessings!
This week, our "Introduction to the Episcopal Church" Class met for the first time. I offer this every spring (or so) for new parishioners and for those who are considering confirmation or reception into the Episcopal Church. We had a good sized group meet, and we started with the rather ambitious goal of covering "The beginnings of the Anglican Church and the foundations of Anglicanism, The Episcopal Church in the US: polity, governance, and our diocese." Needless to say, it was a discussion from about 50,000 feet up.
In going around the room to talk about what people hoped to get out of the class, Christie mentioned that she had been raised in a non denominational church, which was an independent congregation, and liked the idea of how the Anglican Church spans the globe--and time. This is one of the things that I love about the Episcopal Church, too, and especially Anglicanism in general. Going all the way back to the beginning of the Reformation, the Anglican tradition has shared and honored some of the same traditions and commitments. We've always been "about" respecting local communities and local desires, even when those desires differ from place to place. We've always been "about" the experience of the individual and the local community, not about the dictates from a distant hierarchy.
At every stage of Anglican history, there has been someone saying, "That can't possibly hang together as a church. All those people are too different." But we're still here and still together. This is one of the tragic things about the disputes right now in the church; I think that those who would like to see the Episcopal Church in the US excluded in some way are misreading hundreds of years of Anglican theology. We are loosely allied, but that's been our strength. The Anglican Communion is a Communion because we are all, in some way, descended from the churches that have their home in the English reformation of the 16th century. All of us, in some way, are on a continuum of being "Catholic" and "Protestant," and all of us have some form of the Book of Common Prayer, whether it be the more recent books like our own, edited in 1979, or translations of the 1662 BCP translated into local languages. All of us believe in the Creeds, the Sacraments, and Scripture--and that we have experience and reason to guide our practice. That casts a pretty wide net, and it's one I'm comfortable with.
We had some news from our own diocese this week as well. Bishop Gayle Harris had taken a leave of absence this fall, which extended through the winter. She will be back in the diocese of May 3, working in some of the same capacities as before. Bishop Shaw goes on sabbatical starting in May as well, and Bishop Cederholm will be in charge of the diocese in his absence. Please keep them all in your prayers.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, our "Introduction to the Episcopal Church" Class met for the first time. I offer this every spring (or so) for new parishioners and for those who are considering confirmation or reception into the Episcopal Church. We had a good sized group meet, and we started with the rather ambitious goal of covering "The beginnings of the Anglican Church and the foundations of Anglicanism, The Episcopal Church in the US: polity, governance, and our diocese." Needless to say, it was a discussion from about 50,000 feet up.
In going around the room to talk about what people hoped to get out of the class, Christie mentioned that she had been raised in a non denominational church, which was an independent congregation, and liked the idea of how the Anglican Church spans the globe--and time. This is one of the things that I love about the Episcopal Church, too, and especially Anglicanism in general. Going all the way back to the beginning of the Reformation, the Anglican tradition has shared and honored some of the same traditions and commitments. We've always been "about" respecting local communities and local desires, even when those desires differ from place to place. We've always been "about" the experience of the individual and the local community, not about the dictates from a distant hierarchy.
At every stage of Anglican history, there has been someone saying, "That can't possibly hang together as a church. All those people are too different." But we're still here and still together. This is one of the tragic things about the disputes right now in the church; I think that those who would like to see the Episcopal Church in the US excluded in some way are misreading hundreds of years of Anglican theology. We are loosely allied, but that's been our strength. The Anglican Communion is a Communion because we are all, in some way, descended from the churches that have their home in the English reformation of the 16th century. All of us, in some way, are on a continuum of being "Catholic" and "Protestant," and all of us have some form of the Book of Common Prayer, whether it be the more recent books like our own, edited in 1979, or translations of the 1662 BCP translated into local languages. All of us believe in the Creeds, the Sacraments, and Scripture--and that we have experience and reason to guide our practice. That casts a pretty wide net, and it's one I'm comfortable with.
We had some news from our own diocese this week as well. Bishop Gayle Harris had taken a leave of absence this fall, which extended through the winter. She will be back in the diocese of May 3, working in some of the same capacities as before. Bishop Shaw goes on sabbatical starting in May as well, and Bishop Cederholm will be in charge of the diocese in his absence. Please keep them all in your prayers.
Blessings,
Sara+
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