Each morning when I get to work, I sit with an icon of the road to Emmaus. Shortly after the crucifixion (but before the resurrection is understood) Cleopas and another disciple are going toward Jerusalem when a stranger appears and asks them what they’re talking about. They don’t recognize the risen Christ in their midst, but as they walk, the stranger interprets Scripture and teaches them about the Messiah. Only afterwards, as they share a meal, is he revealed as the risen Christ. He disappears, and they marvel together: Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road? (Luke 24:32) Looking back over the year, we can see.
Our hearts were burning:
We said goodbye to friends—moving on to new adventures, Ian and Becky left for the Coast Guard. We celebrated Holy Week and Easter, our liturgies carrying us through those wild days of Christ’s Passion and Resurrection. We cared for those far away, as we gathered money to buy pigs for people in Haiti rebuilding their lives after the earthquake, and near, as we worked with the children at B Safe in Boston, while all year offering food to seniors in Waltham and diapers to parents in need. People took on new ministries, listening to where God lead them, and put down old ministries, as they were lead to new challenges. We were reminded of the preciousness of our time together, as we said our farewell alleluias to Martha White and Mary Bonnyman in May and June. John entered hospice; his good humor still is a pleasure each time I visit. Adah, Vanessa, Alana, Henry, Claire, and Olivia, were baptized. Paul joined us in September, reminding us of how important it is to nurture new leaders, and gave us an opportunity to work more closely with our friends at St Peter’s. We applied for a Community Preservation grant from the city, taking our place with the Paines, Lymans, and Winns, and all those who’ve gone before in caring for our building.
Each year I sit down to write this report—now, my sixth—I have the same flush of gratitude and excitement at what we are doing at Christ Church. It’s been a busy year—these days of burning hearts—but we’ve also had some very fruitful space for reflection and discussion with the work of the GPS (“God’s People Serving”) Committee, magnificently chaired by Jonathan Duce. In our work in creating mission and vision statements of the church, we’ve had wonderful opportunities to listen to each other and consider what we are about here (see the GPS report for so-far final drafts of everything). Our hearts were burning within us again and again—sometimes we even knew God was with us at the time!
Throughout this process of discerning the mind of our community, I’ve also been so aware of the individual gifts that we each bring to the table. Working with Jonathan and Cindy as wardens has helped me see through new eyes what real leadership looks like—both on the level of creative visioning and the day to day planning that gets things done. I am so grateful to them for what they have taught me and what they do for this church. Very grateful, too, that Cindy will be able to stay on for another year as vestry member. With Shawn as treasurer and Michelle Driscoll as clerk, it’s been a pleasure to see them apply their own extraordinary gifts to those ordinary tasks and making them their own. Our whole vestry has been such a talented body; each one’s individual perspective has immeasurably enriched us all. Joy, Ed, and Jeanne, our outgoing members, will be missed—but I will look forward to seeing what new projects they take on!
In 2011, I pray our hearts will continue to burn with the brightness of God’s love, listening for the Spirit’s guidance and acting with the strength of the Gospel. Thanks be to God, and to each of you!
e
Thoughts on faith and life from Sara Irwin, rector at Christ Episcopal Church in Waltham, Massachusetts (www.christchurchwaltham.org). Published weekly.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
On Violence: Response to Tucson Shootings
This week, my thoughts have been in Tucson, where a gunman attacked Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords (still in critical condition) and killed six people. I've been puzzling over the national debate about the event-where the debate has become focused, and about how different poles of the political spectrum have dealt with it.
So far, it seems like the debate has been in two varieties; one: we need to "tone down" the political debate. That people of goodwill can disagree, that we can put aside our differences and work for the common good. The other side would say that an isolated act of violence by someone who apparently has a tenuous connection to reality is not a commentary on anything in society at all. Of course, there are different varieties of both arguments; some on the one side say that it's the especially contentious nature of the debate in Arizona itself, particularly the debate about immigration. Apart fromgeneral anti-government rambling, the assailant doesn't seem particularly allied with one side or the other. He clearly meant to attack Congresswoman Giffords, but what was it about her politics in particular? We don't really know yet. What both of these views don't examine, though, is the wider picture of language and culture. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel said "Words make worlds." It's not just how we talk about politics--it's how we talk, period.
We use violent imagery without even thinking about it-without even realizing what we are saying. We are "up in arms" at something, "bombarded" with images, "shooting down" each other's opinions. Violence is so intertwined with our existence in the world we don't even realize it. The problem isn't just with our political debate. Being polite is really nice, but what's going on is deeper than that. Our "dialogue" (if that word isn't too charitable) is the symptom, not the real issue. It's not just about how we speak to each other, it's about what we believe about each other. Being cruel doesn't mean that you hold your opinion any more fervently, but listening to our political life, it would seem that way. Listening to myself, I realize just how the imagery of force is part of my thinking. Recalling how I felt some days during the last presidency, I think I know what it's like for those now on the opposite side of the spectrum.
The issue isn't the culture of a particular state. The problem is with the endemic nature of deep, ingrained violence in human interaction. As a person of faith, I know that God's reality is so much wider than what I see. There is much to be lament in this moment in our national culture, but the goodnews is that there is Good News-we are still reading the prophet Isaiah, still hearing that vision as we did in Advent of those brilliant reversals and restorations that are possible with God's help.
At Finn's baptism on Sunday, we were reminded of the baptismal covenant promise "to renounce the evil powers that corrupt and destroy the creatures of this world." Those powers are out there. They're "in here," too--we've all internalized them. But God's power is bigger. In the life of Jesus and his forgiving response to the violence he suffered, we don't just have an abstract example of what is possible. It's not that somebody wrote a story about a new way to live. We have evidence of new life and new possibility in the resurrection. Violence doesn't get the last word. Freedom wins--not a freedom that says "I'm right and you're wrong," but a freedom of abundance that holds all of us secure in love and lets us know there is nothing to fear.
This week, as all of this continues to swirl, pray for all the victims of the shooting. Pray, too, for the country of Haiti on this year anniversary of the earthquake there. Pray, pray, pray. Pray and give thanks for all that you have and all that is possible in Christ. Then pray that all of our hands and hearts will be strong and compassionate enough to be those of Christ in this world.
So far, it seems like the debate has been in two varieties; one: we need to "tone down" the political debate. That people of goodwill can disagree, that we can put aside our differences and work for the common good. The other side would say that an isolated act of violence by someone who apparently has a tenuous connection to reality is not a commentary on anything in society at all. Of course, there are different varieties of both arguments; some on the one side say that it's the especially contentious nature of the debate in Arizona itself, particularly the debate about immigration. Apart fromgeneral anti-government rambling, the assailant doesn't seem particularly allied with one side or the other. He clearly meant to attack Congresswoman Giffords, but what was it about her politics in particular? We don't really know yet. What both of these views don't examine, though, is the wider picture of language and culture. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel said "Words make worlds." It's not just how we talk about politics--it's how we talk, period.
We use violent imagery without even thinking about it-without even realizing what we are saying. We are "up in arms" at something, "bombarded" with images, "shooting down" each other's opinions. Violence is so intertwined with our existence in the world we don't even realize it. The problem isn't just with our political debate. Being polite is really nice, but what's going on is deeper than that. Our "dialogue" (if that word isn't too charitable) is the symptom, not the real issue. It's not just about how we speak to each other, it's about what we believe about each other. Being cruel doesn't mean that you hold your opinion any more fervently, but listening to our political life, it would seem that way. Listening to myself, I realize just how the imagery of force is part of my thinking. Recalling how I felt some days during the last presidency, I think I know what it's like for those now on the opposite side of the spectrum.
The issue isn't the culture of a particular state. The problem is with the endemic nature of deep, ingrained violence in human interaction. As a person of faith, I know that God's reality is so much wider than what I see. There is much to be lament in this moment in our national culture, but the goodnews is that there is Good News-we are still reading the prophet Isaiah, still hearing that vision as we did in Advent of those brilliant reversals and restorations that are possible with God's help.
At Finn's baptism on Sunday, we were reminded of the baptismal covenant promise "to renounce the evil powers that corrupt and destroy the creatures of this world." Those powers are out there. They're "in here," too--we've all internalized them. But God's power is bigger. In the life of Jesus and his forgiving response to the violence he suffered, we don't just have an abstract example of what is possible. It's not that somebody wrote a story about a new way to live. We have evidence of new life and new possibility in the resurrection. Violence doesn't get the last word. Freedom wins--not a freedom that says "I'm right and you're wrong," but a freedom of abundance that holds all of us secure in love and lets us know there is nothing to fear.
This week, as all of this continues to swirl, pray for all the victims of the shooting. Pray, too, for the country of Haiti on this year anniversary of the earthquake there. Pray, pray, pray. Pray and give thanks for all that you have and all that is possible in Christ. Then pray that all of our hands and hearts will be strong and compassionate enough to be those of Christ in this world.
Epiphany Blessing From June 6
Today is the day we celebrate the magi's visit to the cradle of baby Jesus. I was with the Sisters of St Anne this morning, celebrating the Eucharist with them and some friends.
We prayed a wonderful Epiphany blessings, which I'll share with you here:
May Almighty God, who led the Wise Men by the shining of a star to find the Christ, the Light from Light, lead you also, in your pilgrimage, to find the Lord. Amen.
May God, who sent the Holy Spirit to rest upon the Only begotten at his baptism in the Jordan River, pour out that Spirit on you who have come to the waters of new birth.
Amen.
May God, by the power that turned water into wine at the wedding feast at Cana, transform your lives and make glad your hearts. Amen.
And the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, be upon you and remain with you for ever.
Amen.
An old church custom is the blessing of homes at the new year; there is a nice service you can do yourself at the worship well site. Sorry I didn't think to hand out holy water and blessed chalk in advance.
We prayed a wonderful Epiphany blessings, which I'll share with you here:
May Almighty God, who led the Wise Men by the shining of a star to find the Christ, the Light from Light, lead you also, in your pilgrimage, to find the Lord. Amen.
May God, who sent the Holy Spirit to rest upon the Only begotten at his baptism in the Jordan River, pour out that Spirit on you who have come to the waters of new birth.
Amen.
May God, by the power that turned water into wine at the wedding feast at Cana, transform your lives and make glad your hearts. Amen.
And the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, be upon you and remain with you for ever.
Amen.
An old church custom is the blessing of homes at the new year; there is a nice service you can do yourself at the worship well site. Sorry I didn't think to hand out holy water and blessed chalk in advance.
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