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+
Thursday, April 29, 2010
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+
April 8: An excerpt from Bishop Chrysostom's homily
The following is from a homily of Bishop John Chrysostom (d. 407), which is read at the Easter Vigil in some Orthodox Churches.
Let everyone who loves God rejoice in this festival of light!
Let the faithful servant gladly enter into the joy of is Lord!
Let those who have borne the burden of fasting come now to reap their reward!
Let those who have worked since the first hour receive now their just wage!
Let those who came after the third hour keep this festival with gratitude!
Let those who arrived only after the sixth hour approach with no fear: they will not be defrauded!
If someone has delayed until the ninth hour, let him come without hesitation.
And let not the workman of the eleventh hour be ashamed: the Lord is generous.
He welcomes the last no less than the first.
He welcomes into his peace the workman of the eleventh hour as kindly as the one who has worked since dawn.
The first he fills to overflowing: on the last he has compassion.
to the one he grants his favor: to the other pardon.
He does not only look at the work: he sees into the intention of the heart.
Enter then all of you into the joy of your Master.
First and last, receive your reward...
Abstinent and slothful celebrate this feast.
You have fasted, rejoice today.
The table is laid: come all of you without misgivings.
The fatted calf is served, let us all take our fill.
All of you, share in the banquet of faith: all of you draw on the wealth of his mercy....
Happy Easter!!!
Let everyone who loves God rejoice in this festival of light!
Let the faithful servant gladly enter into the joy of is Lord!
Let those who have borne the burden of fasting come now to reap their reward!
Let those who have worked since the first hour receive now their just wage!
Let those who came after the third hour keep this festival with gratitude!
Let those who arrived only after the sixth hour approach with no fear: they will not be defrauded!
If someone has delayed until the ninth hour, let him come without hesitation.
And let not the workman of the eleventh hour be ashamed: the Lord is generous.
He welcomes the last no less than the first.
He welcomes into his peace the workman of the eleventh hour as kindly as the one who has worked since dawn.
The first he fills to overflowing: on the last he has compassion.
to the one he grants his favor: to the other pardon.
He does not only look at the work: he sees into the intention of the heart.
Enter then all of you into the joy of your Master.
First and last, receive your reward...
Abstinent and slothful celebrate this feast.
You have fasted, rejoice today.
The table is laid: come all of you without misgivings.
The fatted calf is served, let us all take our fill.
All of you, share in the banquet of faith: all of you draw on the wealth of his mercy....
Happy Easter!!!
Friday, April 2, 2010
Ordinary becoming extraordinary
Blessings on your Holy Week! I look forward to seeing you for all our liturgies this week. Tonight, we'll tell the story from the Gospel of John, when Jesus washed his disciples' feet as they met for their last meal together. Tomorrow is Good Friday--but of course there doesn't seem much "good" about it, since it's the day we remember the crucifixion.
Good or not, though, the truth of Good Friday is that it's real. Suffering and death are real. Our liturgies aren't museum pieces; they draw us into a deeper truth of our faith. They are in some ways a mirror of our own experience. Jesus Christ was fully human. Though he was in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself. (Philippians 2: 5) Jesus emptied himself and took on all of the uncertainty, pain, and suffering of human living. Nothing human is alien to the heart of God because of Jesus' closeness to us. This week, Jesus enters the depths of human love, and also human grief and suffering. This week is about us, not just about God.
As he washed the disciples; feet, Jesus invites us to share the self-emptying love he showed in his ministry--wash each other, he says, as I wash you. He gives us an example to follow. But something else happens, too. "Wash each other," our faith tells us, and as we do, we wash Christ himself. This week, we observe this sacrificial closeness God has to us.
But isn't this all of this a little obscure? We all bathe regularly, so what's the point of foot washing in church once a year? We all see the cross every Sunday, so what's the point of going up to it and kneeling in front of it? Or, even more bizarre, kissing it? The answer, I think, is that it's because liturgy helps us to enter the truth of that mystery of God become human, and was willing to suffer death. In our liturgies we have these very ordinary things that become extraordinary signs of God's presence with us. Foot washing and reverencing the cross aren't "sacraments" strictly speaking, but they are (if you'll work with me a little here) sacrament-ish. Like the bread and wine of communion that satisfy fill hungers we didn't know we had, the liturgies of Holy Week bring us into the mystery of Christ's ministry and death in a bodily way that invite us into truths deeper than our own intellectual reflection. That reflection is a crucial part of the life of faith, but it's not the whole story.
On Sunday, we will celebrate the resurrection of Christ. The depth of our solidarity with Christ in his suffering now will also be the depth of our joy in rejoicing with him in the victory of life over all death. Thanks be to God!
Blessings,
Sara+
Good or not, though, the truth of Good Friday is that it's real. Suffering and death are real. Our liturgies aren't museum pieces; they draw us into a deeper truth of our faith. They are in some ways a mirror of our own experience. Jesus Christ was fully human. Though he was in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself. (Philippians 2: 5) Jesus emptied himself and took on all of the uncertainty, pain, and suffering of human living. Nothing human is alien to the heart of God because of Jesus' closeness to us. This week, Jesus enters the depths of human love, and also human grief and suffering. This week is about us, not just about God.
As he washed the disciples; feet, Jesus invites us to share the self-emptying love he showed in his ministry--wash each other, he says, as I wash you. He gives us an example to follow. But something else happens, too. "Wash each other," our faith tells us, and as we do, we wash Christ himself. This week, we observe this sacrificial closeness God has to us.
But isn't this all of this a little obscure? We all bathe regularly, so what's the point of foot washing in church once a year? We all see the cross every Sunday, so what's the point of going up to it and kneeling in front of it? Or, even more bizarre, kissing it? The answer, I think, is that it's because liturgy helps us to enter the truth of that mystery of God become human, and was willing to suffer death. In our liturgies we have these very ordinary things that become extraordinary signs of God's presence with us. Foot washing and reverencing the cross aren't "sacraments" strictly speaking, but they are (if you'll work with me a little here) sacrament-ish. Like the bread and wine of communion that satisfy fill hungers we didn't know we had, the liturgies of Holy Week bring us into the mystery of Christ's ministry and death in a bodily way that invite us into truths deeper than our own intellectual reflection. That reflection is a crucial part of the life of faith, but it's not the whole story.
On Sunday, we will celebrate the resurrection of Christ. The depth of our solidarity with Christ in his suffering now will also be the depth of our joy in rejoicing with him in the victory of life over all death. Thanks be to God!
Blessings,
Sara+
From March 25: Looking towards Holy Week
Next week is Holy Week: A high point of drama in the church year, leading toward the biggest holiday of the year--a holy day, Easter. I find myself feeling a little like Jesus might have as he sat at the table with Martha and Mary and Lazarus and his friends, in the Gospel story we heard for Sunday. They are having dinner together--Jesus has returned, in his inexorable walk toward Jerusalem where the confrontation will take place, a confrontation between him and the empire, the religious hierarchy and his own example of peace and equality. He knows that it's coming, but he doesn't quite know how it's going to go down--I feel a little like that about Holy Week, too, though of course I'm not confronting the powers and principalities of death and sin in such a dramatic way.
Still, I know something is going to happen. Our liturgies don't just tell us "about" what happened to Jesus, they bring us into the reality of those events in a material, as well as spiritual, way. We don't hear a story about some other people having washed each others' feet, we wash the feet of those who gather here, now. My Priest's Handbook (yes, that's the name of it) says, "If the time between Palm Sunday and Easter seems endless, it is meant to. Time is suspended as we ponder and celebrate the great mysteries of our redemption." (D.Michno). These liturgies, from the sweeping high of the Palm Sunday procession to the low of the reading of the Passion on that day, to the contemplative foot washing of Maundy Thursday and reverential procession of the Good Friday cross, to the exuberant Alleluias! of the Easter vigil bring us through these events. And it takes a long time. Our liturgical experience is designed to "get us" both in our intellects, as we think about the events of Christ's passion and resurrection, but also in our bodies and in our hearts as we enact those mysteries.
There is an independent spiritual reality to these liturgies--or, rather, liturgy--the great "Triduum," or "Three Days" of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Great Vigil are, technically, one service. There's no final blessing or dismissal until the end of the Great Vigil of Easter. Sitting here a few days before Palm Sunday, we know it's coming, but can't predict what it will really be like. I can edit and re-edit the bulletins--I could even start writing the sermons (though let's get real--there's little chance of that happening yet), and still, I won't know what it's really like to encounter Jesus at the last supper until I am on my knees in front of someone's bare feet. I won't really know what it's like until I go.
But I know I won't be going alone; as St Paul wrote to the church in Rome, Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. (Romans 26-27)
That Spirit is with us... but for now, we have a few more days of regular old Lent. Like Advent, the other purple season, it's one of preparation--we have a few more days to reflect on what we need to bring with us, or put aside, as we meet Holy Week. What do you need to do to get ready to go there with Jesus? To join in that parade with the palms, and then to acknowledge the depth of betrayal of the Passion play as we all shout, "Crucify him!"? Where do you need the Spirit to accompany you?
Blessings,
Sara+
Still, I know something is going to happen. Our liturgies don't just tell us "about" what happened to Jesus, they bring us into the reality of those events in a material, as well as spiritual, way. We don't hear a story about some other people having washed each others' feet, we wash the feet of those who gather here, now. My Priest's Handbook (yes, that's the name of it) says, "If the time between Palm Sunday and Easter seems endless, it is meant to. Time is suspended as we ponder and celebrate the great mysteries of our redemption." (D.Michno). These liturgies, from the sweeping high of the Palm Sunday procession to the low of the reading of the Passion on that day, to the contemplative foot washing of Maundy Thursday and reverential procession of the Good Friday cross, to the exuberant Alleluias! of the Easter vigil bring us through these events. And it takes a long time. Our liturgical experience is designed to "get us" both in our intellects, as we think about the events of Christ's passion and resurrection, but also in our bodies and in our hearts as we enact those mysteries.
There is an independent spiritual reality to these liturgies--or, rather, liturgy--the great "Triduum," or "Three Days" of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Great Vigil are, technically, one service. There's no final blessing or dismissal until the end of the Great Vigil of Easter. Sitting here a few days before Palm Sunday, we know it's coming, but can't predict what it will really be like. I can edit and re-edit the bulletins--I could even start writing the sermons (though let's get real--there's little chance of that happening yet), and still, I won't know what it's really like to encounter Jesus at the last supper until I am on my knees in front of someone's bare feet. I won't really know what it's like until I go.
But I know I won't be going alone; as St Paul wrote to the church in Rome, Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. (Romans 26-27)
That Spirit is with us... but for now, we have a few more days of regular old Lent. Like Advent, the other purple season, it's one of preparation--we have a few more days to reflect on what we need to bring with us, or put aside, as we meet Holy Week. What do you need to do to get ready to go there with Jesus? To join in that parade with the palms, and then to acknowledge the depth of betrayal of the Passion play as we all shout, "Crucify him!"? Where do you need the Spirit to accompany you?
Blessings,
Sara+
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