Perspective and prayers of thanks

Thanks to each of you who came on Sunday to welcome Bishop Shaw, and especially to Cathy Hughes and all those who made our delicious lunch. As you know, our annual meeting is this Sunday, so we will be having ONE worship service at 9 AM. At the annual meeting, I'll invite new members (to be an "official" member, you pledge for the year and come to church-pretty simple) to sign our membership book. It has signatures going back to the nineteenth century.
It gives a certain perspective; we are just taking care of this place for now, and others will come later. Stretching both back in time and forward in time, we are one church, one Body of Christ-however long we've been here or however long we'll stay. Below, I'm pasting my report to the annual meeting. If you didn't pick up a copy in church last Sunday, please go to our website to download a copy so you can read it before the meeting, or let me know you need one and I can email it to you.
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Report of the Rector, 2010
I think it is the writer Annie Lamott who has said that she only really knows two prayers: "please, please" and "thank you, thank you." I think the work of a report like this falls into the second category--it is a prayer of thanks.

Thanks to more people than I could name--but I will try.
Our wardens, Jonathan and Marcia, have been such a good team this year, and Suzanne Hughes and Shawn Russell have rounded out a wise executive committee that has led us far. Suzanne stepped into her role in 2008 after it had not been occupied by a "full time" treasurer for a number of years, and has done truly heroic work in getting us organized. That, coupled with her work as youth group leader during most of that time has often made me wonder if she sleeps! I also want to give deep thanks to Cathy Hughes for her work on fellowship. In looking for someone to take over, it is nearly impossible to cover all the things Cathy has done in her leadership on this front. Thanks, also, to Sheila Gillen, who is stepping down as wedding coordinator, having shepherded countless couple at Christ Church through that planning process. Having arrived as a relatively "green" priest (and not in the ecological sense") in 2005, she has certainly taught me a lot about the ins and outs of getting down the aisle. This year also marks the end of Alice Mula's leadership of the White Elephant room--a ministry that has equipped many kitchens (not to mention raised many dollars), over the years. Thanks to Alice and helper Marie Palmiotto. Shawn Russell is also moving on to a new ministry as treasurer, after having been clerk for 2 years. Finally, there are probably not enough words in the world to thank Marcia Luce for her support, honesty humor, and kindness since I arrived at Christ Church. She was senior warden when I arrived and then came back for another term after a short break. She has really been alongside me the whole time I've been here and I truly could not have done anything without her.

Happily, this year we also welcomed some new people into leadership who will continue to lead us into the future: the toddler room couldn't have gotten off the ground without Chris Jensen, and our Godly Play program got a great shot of energy when Erin Jensen came on board. Cindy Hutchison did a fantastic job on running the stewardship campaign when I was on leave, and I am thrilled she'll be our junior warden. Also in the "not enough words to thank" category is Jonathan Duce, who did a wonderful job when I was on maternity leave and led the parish through the rector discernment process. I write with deep gratitude to all of Christ Church as a parish for calling me as rector, and especially to him and Marcia.

There is a prayer in the rector installation liturgy which says "May God who has given you the will to do these things give you the grace and power to perform them." That is certainly where I find my own prayer these days--that's in the "please please" category. It is such a joy and occasion of grace to be able to minister with you. Especially when I was away I was so aware of how much my work as your priest is woven through my own life. I truly feel it is my vocation; it is part of the way that I "am" in this world--and I am grateful that my being the rector is also part of how Christ Church "is," too, at this time.

Going through our reports at the end of the year is always a combination of inspiring and daunting: inspiring, since it reminds me of how much we've accomplished, and a little daunting, as I think about how we will do that, and more, in the coming year! The Epistle reading for the 4th Sunday after Epiphany is the famous "love" passage from Paul's first letter to the Corinthians. It concludes, "For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love." When I arrived here at Christ Church a little over four years ago, that was what struck me most; the love that each of you hold for this place. In the last four years, we have grown by leaps and bounds--in our outreach, in our education, and in welcoming new friends. But that core of the love of Christ that I met when I first arrived is what all of those other accomplishments have been building on. The generations of Hewitts, and Hughes, and Lobos (and Larades and Coates), and our longtime leaders like those I mentioned above, have done more than just keep the doors open--they've also kept their hearts open, and that is the grace of God. Thank you, and thanks to everyone who has joined our parish and will travel with us into the future.

Blessings,
Sara+

Grappling with Ideas

On Tuesday, I was with the Sisters of Saint Anne in Arlington, where I celebrate Mass regularly. The service was a celebration of the Confession of St Peter; Jesus, asking the disciples who others think he is, finally corners Peter, in an almost aggressive way: but who do you say that I am? For once, the disciple who seems so frequently to not quite understand things, nails it right on the head: "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God" (Matthew 16: 13-19).
It's an important passage for all of us, but it becomes especially relevant at the turning points in our lives. Our confirmation class has been meeting since last fall with Michele Driscoll, and I've been able to sit in with them several times since I got back from leave. It's so exciting to see someone really grapple with ideas and meaning, to see a light go on.

One of the most stimulating conversations we've had since I've been back was last Sunday, when we had a member of a local Zen community speak with us about his practice. We were all impressed by how clearly and practically he framed his spiritual practice--not just the doing of it (meditation) but also the reasons behind it. What was even more exciting was that as he spoke, I found myself checking off similarities with our Christian belief. We come to similar conclusions, but from a very different place. Mike sat down and said that he was a little nervous, but was telling himself one of the core beliefs of Zen Buddhism--that he was already perfect-- that each one of us is perfect.

In Zen, that idea grounds the practitioner in the idea that however much he or she works in their spiritual practice, s/he simultaneously still has a ways to go, and is already "there." The basic belief is one of acceptance--we spend a lot of energy trying to convince ourselves that things are a certain way (generally, we are trying to convince ourselves that we are right!), but frequently who is right or wrong is beside the point. We can undertake different actions to shape our future, but if the sky is blue, there is nothing I can do to make it pink, except wait for the sunset.

Thinking about our "perfection"--Buddha nature--brings me to the Christian belief in the imago dei, the notion that we are created in the image of God. Our baptism brings us into communion with Christ, and we become his body here on earth. We are joined to the love that brought him to the cross and through the resurrection: a love stronger than death. In the words of one friend of mine, rather than thinking of our "original sin," we should remember our "original blessedness" (this will sound familiar to those of you who participated in the "Connect" course we did a few years ago). We are created in God's image--beautifully, perfectly, whole--though we so frequently behave in ways that betray that essential blessing.

Comparing religious beliefs in this way will only get you so far; after all, even if I can come up with analogies between Buddhism and Christianity, at the end of the day I still find "the way, the truth, and the life" in Jesus Christ, not in Buddha. But insofar as encounters with other faiths cast light on our beliefs in a new way, it's a powerful way to remind ourselves of the truths we believe in as well-and to reconnect with Christian practices we've lost. We always associate meditation with Buddhism, but there is a powerful strain of that kind of practice in Christian history as well. Of course, we call it contemplative prayer--but that's a story for another day.

Blessings,
Sara+

Disaster in Haiti

Today, pray for Haiti.
Already the poorest nation in the western hemisphere, the recent earthquake has created devastation we cannot now even imagine. The diocese of Haiti is one of the largest dioceses (they're part of the American Episcopal Church), serving more than 100,000 members. A friend of mine worked at the Cathedral there some years ago, and they have already heard that the daughter of one of Haiti's deputies to General Convention was killed. Lisa Mbele-Mbong was a human rights worker for the UN and did not survive the collapse of the human-rights section of the building that housed the United Nations Stabilization Mission in Haiti.

In addition to its 168 congregations, the diocese of Haiti's ministry includes 254 schools, medical clinics, and other development projects like micro-financing and reforestation programs. We have heard so far that the cathedral and the bishop's home have been destroyed-reports are still coming in at what other ministries have been damaged. The bishop and his family are safe, as is a Massachusetts member of the Episcopal Young Adult Service Corps who is teaching at the seminary there. Another young adult volunteer, Mallory Holding, is also fine, but the convent of the Sisters of Saint Margaret (who also have a convent in Boston) has been destroyed. Unconfirmed reports indicate the sisters are safe (there is a link to the Sisters' Haiti page below).

Our own Episcopal Relief and Development (er-d.org) is already contributing to the relief effort. Since the diocese of Haiti is so strong, they have been doing disaster preparedness work for some time. With the biggest earthquake in 200 years, though, this is not something you can really prepare for--and it certainly doesn't feel as though we here can do very much.

In his statement on the disaster, Bishop Shaw wrote,
Please know how much our prayers are needed. An unfathomable catastrophe like this in a place that has already known so much hardship really does have us questioning God at the deepest levels of our faith. Yet we must know that God is more present to suffering than any of us could ever possibly be, and that as we are willing to take on the suffering of others, whether through our prayer, our donations or our service, we join God in God's compassionate presence.
Give prayers, and, even if it's just a small amount, give money. On a gut level, I am inclined to ransack my cupboards for spare blankets, but at this point material goods are less needed than the freedom for relief organizations to buy the supplies they need. We'll have bulletin inserts from Episcopal Relief and Development on Sunday, or you can make out a check to Christ Church with "Haiti Donation" in the memo line and we can send them as a group.

Blessings,
Sara+

Episcopal Relief and Development: www.er-d.org

Mallory Holding's blog: www.holdinghaiti.blogspot.com

The Sisters of Saint Margaret: www.ssmbos.com

More on the response from parishes in our diocese: www.diomass.org

Recklessness

This week, I've been missing my puppy. I've written in this space before about adopting a Saint Bernard puppy for my birthday in November of 2008, and the ups and downs of learning to be "mommy" to a creature that eventually would outweigh me. Unfortunately Cyrus got bone cancer, which is common in giant breed dogs (even puppies), and we had to say goodbye to him shortly before Christmas.

I often joked that adopting Cyrus was the most reckless thing I'd ever done. He was named after King Cyrus of Persia, a gentle conqueror known for promoting the religious freedom and observance of his subjects, notably the people of Israel--I hoped for a gentle giant. Puppies, however, are not known for gentleness. For a year, my life felt overwhelmed by caring for him. Never having had a dog--much less raised one from 6 weeks of age--I had no idea of what hard work it would be, or exactly how much time we'd end up spending together. Always having been a cat person, I sort of assumed that he would learn to take care of himself. Not so. Cyrus came to work, he sat in the car when I had appointments; he even came to clergy meetings with me sometimes. If I'm honest, I admit that there were [many] times when I regretted having adopted him. He'd taken over my Friday nights with puppy kindergarten. He'd taken over my car, which smelled like dog. He'd started taking over my office, leaving our sexton a lot more vacuuming than he'd signed up for. And walking him every morning made me late for work. When he was small, he left holes in the ankles of my pants from chasing me just walking across the room. When he was big, he went after our chairs (and, oddly, the bottom step of our staircase). It was the wrong time to adopt a dog, it was possibly the wrong dog to have in the first place--a toddler and an enormous puppy with another baby on the way? What were we thinking?

Of course, I'm miserable without him.
I miss the attention to the natural world I had from walking him. Last year's Christmas sermon was all about walking the dog, and God's fingerprints in creation. I miss what everyone says about dogs-how forgiving they are, and always glad to see you. I miss the connections with people he invited me into; when you see one hundred pound-plus puppy walking a very pregnant woman, you can't help but laugh. In the two weeks that Adah was overdue, he got more walks than he could have dreamed of.

This is all a very roundabout way of coming back to the point I was thinking about in last week's e-crier--about what it means to be part of a community, and what it means to support one. In a community, we are given to each other-some by chance, some by necessity, some by intention-but always by the grace of God. Just like adopting Cyrus was a reckless decision, joining a spiritual community sort of is, too--you just don't know what it will be like. You can try it out for a while, and even hover on the edges, but eventually you are in it. And it changes you. We hurt each other, we laugh with each other, we forgive each other. You might idly wonder if you should have a bigger church or a different church, but here you are, and someone has to serve the coffee and read the lesson, and you are glad to help.

Coming back to work, I am so aware of how grateful I am for each one of you. In the last few weeks I've been able to visit with some of our older members who haven't been able to come out very much. Today, I as sat with Muriel Nurse, she was telling me about her grandson and the things she's tried to teach him. The most important thing, she said, is to never hesitate to tell someone you love them. It's good advice for us all.

Blessings,
Sara+

Stewardship Thoughts Back from leave

I’m so glad to be back writing to you in this space. There were several times when I was on leave and came across something and thought, “I’d like to share that with Christ Church.” I was aware of how much I benefit from being in this community in addition to it being “just” my work. So it is good to be back. The bag of chocolate truffles that someone left on the table in my office also helped, and the Pageant on Sunday was fantastic—thanks to Jonathan Duce, our fearless organizer, all the parents and participatns, and especially the Hobins, who made a great holy family.

Having been away for stewardship season this year, it was sort of odd to see it in the newsletter how we crept towards our goal, without being part of the conversation. We are now at about $76,000—still about 9,000 below last year’s figure, and unfortunately $24,000 below our goal of $100,000. Those totals (which might seem a little discouraging) actually don’t quite tell the whole story. Of course we need to have the money, and certainly more is better, but fully 19 of those pledges were increases over last year. 5 of them were entirely new pledges. Looking at the numbers so far, there are some wonderfully generous people in our congregation, some increasing their pledges by thirty percent, even fifty percent.

Keeping the doors open here at Christ Church isn’t cheap; before we’ve even hired a priest, administrator, organist or sexton, we’ve already spent close to $87,000 on building maintenance, candles, and heat, electricity, and phone, and our share to the diocese. When you want to pay people to preach the sermon, play the organ, print the bulletin and take out the trash, it adds more than double that amount. Well, I can hear you saying, “I don’t know if I quite get thousands of dollars worth out of coming to church. Coffee hour is great, and Rev. Sara is fine, but come on, that’s a lot of money.”

It’s true—if you’re looking for personal satisfaction, a hot tub is probably a better investment than a church pledge. But that’s the thing—contributing to your church community isn’t about personal satisfaction. It’s nice when it feels good, but what you’re really doing when you support this church is making sure the doors can be open for everybody else. The Gospel is about all the people who haven’t heard it yet—it’s good news, and it needs to be shared. They haven’t had a chance to support this community yet. You have. Each of us has a wonderful story to tell about the work God is doing in our lives to heal us and allow us to share the love of Christ. Celebrating church every Sunday here in Waltham is part of the way we tell that story, all of us together.

So… thanks so much to those of you who have given from your hearts to keep this community going. There is a wonderful spirit in this place, I am so glad to be back here with you, and thrilled that my new daughter Adah will get to be part of it, too!