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+
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
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.
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