December 19, 2013
Dear People of Christ Church,
The pageant is tonight! The pageant is tonight!
I'm not sure how it came to pass that churches took on the habit of having children act out the Christmas story, but I am so grateful for it. There's something about the Christmas story that's easy to think we've got it all figured out; it's so familiar and so unfamiliar at the same time. All the heavy theology about human nature and divine nature and all of them coming together can sound so abstract as to be meaningless. At the same time, the manger where we think we've been so many times seems like the house where you grew up, knowing each loose board and creaking step all the way down in your bones. Somehow actually acting it out makes it more and less familiar; our pageant script has a rather sassy innkeeper and innkeeper's spouse, and it just makes you wonder: What was it like to go from door to door looking for a place to stay? What did Mary ponder in her heart those moments after Jesus was born, he heart crushed by wonder and love at the same time? Why haven't you pictured a ladybug there at the scene?
Anything in our spiritual lives that can get us to ask questions, to interrogate our habitual ways of understanding is always fruitful. Part of what faith does is to ease our pain; of course it does, and should, help us feel "better." In faith we know that love is eternal and our souls are kept safe at God's breast. In faith we know that the powers of death are already vanquished. But faith can also lead us to become too comfortable, to forget that God desires our doubts as well as our certainties. By encountering our faith stories as story, we can be a bit more playful, letting our minds wander a little into new visions and new dreams.
Scripture is great about this; much as we forget, each Gospel treats the birth of Jesus in a different way. Luke offers us the evocative manger scene we enact at the holiday and hear on Christmas Eve. But this Sunday, we'll also hear the first part of the Nativity story according to Matthew, in which the location of Jesus' birth isn't mentioned at all-and it's Matthew that gives us the Magi entering to visit Jesus in a house (they don't show up to the manger at all, actually). In Mark, there's no nativity, and in John, we get that beautiful prologue about the Word and the Light shining in the darkness. Again, no manger, no magi. Still, going toward the power of new questions and new visions, I still like the nativity scene that mashes them all together.
So for tonight-what are those idle imaginings and questions you bring? What do you see dancing around the edges of the Christmas story?
See you soon!
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Thursday, December 12, 2013
God’s time, our time
Dec. 12, 2013
Dear People of Christ Church,
Christmas is in less than two weeks, but it seems like Advent just started; it's a little unsettling to have gone from a late Thanksgiving and into a short Advent; it never seems like there's enough time. Of course, it never seems like there's enough time: never, ever, ever.
The English language is kind of vague when it comes to the use of that word, "time"-it can be both mundane sequence and transcendent eternity, but it often has a very literal connotation. "Time" speaks to things that can be numbered and analyzed, but that says nothing about the importance of what has happened or the unfolding of purpose or desire. Greek does a little better; it has both a word for the sense of time-sequence as well as a word for the depth of time, of the nearing of the right time. Chronos is chronology, of one event after another, but kairos is the unfolding of God's time. It's when the planets align and the season is right.
There are 12 days until Christmas (You probably know those "Twelve Days of Christmas for partridges and pear trees are the days between the holiday itself and Epiphany). You may have a lot to do or you may have not enough to do-the seasons of life can be feast or famine. Even though the whole point of the church year is to do some of this work, Advent in particular invites us to try to peer inside time, to look down into the depth of each moment into the transcendent present.
Advent is about waiting; there's chronos in waiting for those days to tick down bite by chocolate Advent calendar bite. On a different level, though, Advent is also a pattern for our whole lives, of watching and waiting for the coming of Christ and the big reconciling of the world. But we also watch for the tiny Advents and Christmases of our daily lives: the birth of a child, the death of a parent, the deep transitions and movements and shifts that make us who we are. It doesn't always have to be BIG, like we say in the Advent communion prayer, "Christ coming again to restore the world." Advent watchful waiting is being open to what the kairos is of the present moment, however slight the movements may be. Christ will restore the world in a big way at the end of time, but Christ is also moving to restore the world in our lives in smaller ways, too.
Kairos treats each moment as having the potential to be a revelation of God's presence because it implicitly acknowledges that our lives are in God's hands. It's not about what we accomplish or where we have to be next. It's about what's happening now, listening to hear what God is doing now. On the first Sunday of Advent, we read Romans 13:11: "Besides this, you know what time (kairos) it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near." The day is near: what do you pray is coming in the right time, the kairos brush with eternity that could come at any moment? What is this season of your life offering you in God's time?
Blessings,
Sara+
Dear People of Christ Church,
Christmas is in less than two weeks, but it seems like Advent just started; it's a little unsettling to have gone from a late Thanksgiving and into a short Advent; it never seems like there's enough time. Of course, it never seems like there's enough time: never, ever, ever.
The English language is kind of vague when it comes to the use of that word, "time"-it can be both mundane sequence and transcendent eternity, but it often has a very literal connotation. "Time" speaks to things that can be numbered and analyzed, but that says nothing about the importance of what has happened or the unfolding of purpose or desire. Greek does a little better; it has both a word for the sense of time-sequence as well as a word for the depth of time, of the nearing of the right time. Chronos is chronology, of one event after another, but kairos is the unfolding of God's time. It's when the planets align and the season is right.
There are 12 days until Christmas (You probably know those "Twelve Days of Christmas for partridges and pear trees are the days between the holiday itself and Epiphany). You may have a lot to do or you may have not enough to do-the seasons of life can be feast or famine. Even though the whole point of the church year is to do some of this work, Advent in particular invites us to try to peer inside time, to look down into the depth of each moment into the transcendent present.
Advent is about waiting; there's chronos in waiting for those days to tick down bite by chocolate Advent calendar bite. On a different level, though, Advent is also a pattern for our whole lives, of watching and waiting for the coming of Christ and the big reconciling of the world. But we also watch for the tiny Advents and Christmases of our daily lives: the birth of a child, the death of a parent, the deep transitions and movements and shifts that make us who we are. It doesn't always have to be BIG, like we say in the Advent communion prayer, "Christ coming again to restore the world." Advent watchful waiting is being open to what the kairos is of the present moment, however slight the movements may be. Christ will restore the world in a big way at the end of time, but Christ is also moving to restore the world in our lives in smaller ways, too.
Kairos treats each moment as having the potential to be a revelation of God's presence because it implicitly acknowledges that our lives are in God's hands. It's not about what we accomplish or where we have to be next. It's about what's happening now, listening to hear what God is doing now. On the first Sunday of Advent, we read Romans 13:11: "Besides this, you know what time (kairos) it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near." The day is near: what do you pray is coming in the right time, the kairos brush with eternity that could come at any moment? What is this season of your life offering you in God's time?
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Grace, penitence, and the Elf on the shelf
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, my facebook feed has been roughly divided evenly among two hot topics in church geekery: pronouncements on the Elf on a Shelf and pronouncements on the eternal war between blue and purple for Advent colors. You will be forgiven if you did not realize these debates were a thing.
As Henry pointed out in church on Sunday when I asked what was different and he exclaimed, "You should be wearing green!" you've probably noticed that the colors have changed for church. Advent is purple, after such a long season of green since Pentecost last June it's no wonder Henry thought it was Just Wrong. He's not the only one who would say that, though, as the partisans in the Blue vs Purple war are all aflutter. Remember what other season is purple? LENT! Do you immediately think of Lent's solemnity and penitence when you think about Advent? You probably don't. Enter: blue. The tradition of using blue for Advent is a medieval tradition that goes back to a knot of ritual practices from the Salisbury Cathedral in the eleventh century that were distinctly English as opposed to Roman. They were Anglican before Anglicanism was cool but also still really "Catholic," pre Reformation as it was. And so in the late nineteenth/ early twentieth century enjoyed quite a revival, today revealing itself in the use of "Sarum blue" in Advent.
The idea with blue is that it visually shifts the emphasis to expectation, not penitence; Lent is when we thing about amending our lives, not Advent. It reminds us of Mary, too. So why don't we use blue at Christ Church? Because in defining Advent against a too-sin-focused Lent, we miss the boat on both Advent and Lent. It's not that our usual understanding of Advent needs less Lent. It's that our usual understanding of Lent needs more Advent (and, of course, we're not going out to spend a bunch of money on new altar hangings).
Here's the thing. What Lent and Advent both have in common more than penitence is grace: the joining of human and divine at Christmas happens for everyone and for all time. You don't earn it. You don't prove yourself. Nobody's reporting back to tattle. Whether you read the Gospel of Matthew (magi) or Luke (shepherds) the birth is heralded by some pretty sketchy characters. Like the resurrection we prepare for in Lent, it's an act of crushing generosity and love that flattens any of our own pretensions to earning our way in. It's a pure gift. Here's where the elf on the shelf comes in: that sucker is supposed to be watching, reporting back to Santa every night. Elf on the shelf is old-style Ash Wednesday, when we catalogue our failures and focus on all the ways we don't measure up. But we only do that for one day-we don't spend a whole season on it, and it's always grounded in the love of God that makes it even possible for us to withstand that honesty.
As a parent of young children I don't hold anything against anyone for trying to extract some better behavior for a time. I also love the idea of an enchanted world where the humdrum stuff that surrounds us come to life. Have you seen Dinovember? You probably want to give your kids Christmas presents, right? Because it's fun. You don't love them any less when they're behaving badly. I mean, the elf probably makes them happy too, but I just wonder if it could seem a bit less failure oriented? Christmas is about so much more. And so is Advent, and Easter, and Lent. Now I have to go find my coffee cup because I think St Peter climbed out of his icon and hid it again.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, my facebook feed has been roughly divided evenly among two hot topics in church geekery: pronouncements on the Elf on a Shelf and pronouncements on the eternal war between blue and purple for Advent colors. You will be forgiven if you did not realize these debates were a thing.
As Henry pointed out in church on Sunday when I asked what was different and he exclaimed, "You should be wearing green!" you've probably noticed that the colors have changed for church. Advent is purple, after such a long season of green since Pentecost last June it's no wonder Henry thought it was Just Wrong. He's not the only one who would say that, though, as the partisans in the Blue vs Purple war are all aflutter. Remember what other season is purple? LENT! Do you immediately think of Lent's solemnity and penitence when you think about Advent? You probably don't. Enter: blue. The tradition of using blue for Advent is a medieval tradition that goes back to a knot of ritual practices from the Salisbury Cathedral in the eleventh century that were distinctly English as opposed to Roman. They were Anglican before Anglicanism was cool but also still really "Catholic," pre Reformation as it was. And so in the late nineteenth/ early twentieth century enjoyed quite a revival, today revealing itself in the use of "Sarum blue" in Advent.
The idea with blue is that it visually shifts the emphasis to expectation, not penitence; Lent is when we thing about amending our lives, not Advent. It reminds us of Mary, too. So why don't we use blue at Christ Church? Because in defining Advent against a too-sin-focused Lent, we miss the boat on both Advent and Lent. It's not that our usual understanding of Advent needs less Lent. It's that our usual understanding of Lent needs more Advent (and, of course, we're not going out to spend a bunch of money on new altar hangings).
Here's the thing. What Lent and Advent both have in common more than penitence is grace: the joining of human and divine at Christmas happens for everyone and for all time. You don't earn it. You don't prove yourself. Nobody's reporting back to tattle. Whether you read the Gospel of Matthew (magi) or Luke (shepherds) the birth is heralded by some pretty sketchy characters. Like the resurrection we prepare for in Lent, it's an act of crushing generosity and love that flattens any of our own pretensions to earning our way in. It's a pure gift. Here's where the elf on the shelf comes in: that sucker is supposed to be watching, reporting back to Santa every night. Elf on the shelf is old-style Ash Wednesday, when we catalogue our failures and focus on all the ways we don't measure up. But we only do that for one day-we don't spend a whole season on it, and it's always grounded in the love of God that makes it even possible for us to withstand that honesty.
As a parent of young children I don't hold anything against anyone for trying to extract some better behavior for a time. I also love the idea of an enchanted world where the humdrum stuff that surrounds us come to life. Have you seen Dinovember? You probably want to give your kids Christmas presents, right? Because it's fun. You don't love them any less when they're behaving badly. I mean, the elf probably makes them happy too, but I just wonder if it could seem a bit less failure oriented? Christmas is about so much more. And so is Advent, and Easter, and Lent. Now I have to go find my coffee cup because I think St Peter climbed out of his icon and hid it again.
Blessings,
Sara+
Friday, November 22, 2013
Wake Up Time!
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week I'm still thinking about all of this apocalyptical stuff; we'll continue to wrestle together with stories of beginnings and endings and crashings of heaven and earth this Sunday, when our friend Rev. Elise Feyerherm tackles "Christ the King" Sunday, always the last Sunday of the Pentecost season. Christ is a king, but a pretty different kind of one. Elise is part of organizing The Advent Project (https://www.facebook.com/sevenweekadvent), which encourages us to think about whether our four weeks currently allotted to Advent makes any sense...but she can tell you about that on Sunday.
Advent is "getting ready" time, but it's also "wake up" time. In my house, I walk into my 6 year old's room and declare "wake up" time and he grunts, rolls over and puts his head under the pillow. I think there's also a spiritual tendency to do that, too. Wake up time! Advent time! Your Savior is coming near! And instead of stopping in our tracks and opening our hands and hearts to the heavens and holy ground of our being, we roll over and hope that no one will open the curtains to let the light in. The fact is, our self-created darknesses often serve us quite well. The darkness of silence is easier when someone says something racist around us. The darkness of looking away from someone in need insulates us from having to ask why our work is compensated more fairly than theirs. Even things that aren't all that big-time "sinful," like taking those we love for granted-even those things are a way of rolling over and closing our eyes to the wonder of life.
I don't remember where it's from, but there's a CS Lewis quote somewhere about how the grass in heaven is so real it hurts to walk on it; not because God wants to cause us pain, but because it's so real. Right now, perched on the edge of Advent, we have an opportunity to go through this "holiday season" a little differently. We haven't yet experienced the full-on assault of Santa in every window. We haven't yet fallen down the rabbit hole of trying to stuff every longing for depth and joy with shiny things. Fun is fun. I have no problem with that. I just wonder what it would be like if we could also find joy in feeding the hungry as well as feeding our hungers. What if the really real could also be really joyful?
Where are you finding joy this almost-Advent?
What helps you to wake up? To slow down?
Check out this great Advent Calendar from my friend and colleague the Rev. Thomas Mousin:
http://thomasmousin.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/2013-advent-calendar.pdf
And check out the Advent Conspiracy while you're at it: http://www.adventconspiracy.org/
And ways to "Green" your Advent with a sustainability calendar
http://www.bu.edu/chapel/life/sustainable-advent-project/
Blessings, Sara+
This week I'm still thinking about all of this apocalyptical stuff; we'll continue to wrestle together with stories of beginnings and endings and crashings of heaven and earth this Sunday, when our friend Rev. Elise Feyerherm tackles "Christ the King" Sunday, always the last Sunday of the Pentecost season. Christ is a king, but a pretty different kind of one. Elise is part of organizing The Advent Project (https://www.facebook.com/sevenweekadvent), which encourages us to think about whether our four weeks currently allotted to Advent makes any sense...but she can tell you about that on Sunday.
Advent is "getting ready" time, but it's also "wake up" time. In my house, I walk into my 6 year old's room and declare "wake up" time and he grunts, rolls over and puts his head under the pillow. I think there's also a spiritual tendency to do that, too. Wake up time! Advent time! Your Savior is coming near! And instead of stopping in our tracks and opening our hands and hearts to the heavens and holy ground of our being, we roll over and hope that no one will open the curtains to let the light in. The fact is, our self-created darknesses often serve us quite well. The darkness of silence is easier when someone says something racist around us. The darkness of looking away from someone in need insulates us from having to ask why our work is compensated more fairly than theirs. Even things that aren't all that big-time "sinful," like taking those we love for granted-even those things are a way of rolling over and closing our eyes to the wonder of life.
I don't remember where it's from, but there's a CS Lewis quote somewhere about how the grass in heaven is so real it hurts to walk on it; not because God wants to cause us pain, but because it's so real. Right now, perched on the edge of Advent, we have an opportunity to go through this "holiday season" a little differently. We haven't yet experienced the full-on assault of Santa in every window. We haven't yet fallen down the rabbit hole of trying to stuff every longing for depth and joy with shiny things. Fun is fun. I have no problem with that. I just wonder what it would be like if we could also find joy in feeding the hungry as well as feeding our hungers. What if the really real could also be really joyful?
Where are you finding joy this almost-Advent?
What helps you to wake up? To slow down?
Check out this great Advent Calendar from my friend and colleague the Rev. Thomas Mousin:
http://thomasmousin.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/2013-advent-calendar.pdf
And check out the Advent Conspiracy while you're at it: http://www.adventconspiracy.org/
And ways to "Green" your Advent with a sustainability calendar
http://www.bu.edu/chapel/life/sustainable-advent-project/
Blessings, Sara+
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Church: find your way
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, of course, I'm thinking about Marcia Luce, who died last Friday. It was definitely a first when during our children's sermon on Sunday it was the priest who burst into tears and not a worried toddler who didn't want to go sit at the front of the church! She will be missed, and even though it's been almost a week now, somehow it was only the experience on Sunday of having to deliver the news that made it real. Marcia was senior warden when I came to Christ Church eight years ago, and was such a great source of support and counsel. She was also always the first to tell me I'd done something wrong, but always in the context of such rapid forgiveness that it was nothing short of holy.
In planning for the burial on Sunday, I've been so struck by what a blessing it is to be a truly multigenerational community. Other than in our own families, there are few places in this world in which the very young and the very old are in relationship with each other, and even fewer where we believe all of us to be equals. Every time I meet with a family to talk about baptizing a baby, I emphasize that their child will never be more of a Christian, never more included, never more important, than on that day of their baptism-and never less, either. When we say we are brothers and sisters in Christ, we mean it: the transcendence of the God who brings us all together also enables us to transcend all those differences. This is not to say that we all need the same thing in the community, but it is to say that we need each other.
There are so many dividing lines in the world-whenever we meet someone our tendency is immediately to put them in a category. There's nothing wrong with the categories in themselves: being gay or being from Waltham instead of San Francisco or being young or old are all part of how we understand ourselves. But Christian community also teaches us that while we can identify with those categories, we are still bound to each other in other ways. This is a profoundly radical way of being in the world. If we really know one another across these differences, it's much harder to dismiss each others' concerns. Even if you don't have a kid in church, you can probably see how hiring a part time director of religious education-and even increasing your pledge a teensy bit to try to help pay for it!-is food for your faith. Even if the crazy-time children's sermon drives you bonkers, you can see how asking questions in a different way might teach everyone something. You might be too much of an introvert to enjoy parish dinners, but you also might sneakily donate something to the silent auction to support the cause. Being part of a community isn't about getting your way, it's about finding your way.
So in the meantime, pray for me, as I prepare for Saturday-and pray for each other, in thanksgiving for the grace that leads you together.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, of course, I'm thinking about Marcia Luce, who died last Friday. It was definitely a first when during our children's sermon on Sunday it was the priest who burst into tears and not a worried toddler who didn't want to go sit at the front of the church! She will be missed, and even though it's been almost a week now, somehow it was only the experience on Sunday of having to deliver the news that made it real. Marcia was senior warden when I came to Christ Church eight years ago, and was such a great source of support and counsel. She was also always the first to tell me I'd done something wrong, but always in the context of such rapid forgiveness that it was nothing short of holy.
In planning for the burial on Sunday, I've been so struck by what a blessing it is to be a truly multigenerational community. Other than in our own families, there are few places in this world in which the very young and the very old are in relationship with each other, and even fewer where we believe all of us to be equals. Every time I meet with a family to talk about baptizing a baby, I emphasize that their child will never be more of a Christian, never more included, never more important, than on that day of their baptism-and never less, either. When we say we are brothers and sisters in Christ, we mean it: the transcendence of the God who brings us all together also enables us to transcend all those differences. This is not to say that we all need the same thing in the community, but it is to say that we need each other.
There are so many dividing lines in the world-whenever we meet someone our tendency is immediately to put them in a category. There's nothing wrong with the categories in themselves: being gay or being from Waltham instead of San Francisco or being young or old are all part of how we understand ourselves. But Christian community also teaches us that while we can identify with those categories, we are still bound to each other in other ways. This is a profoundly radical way of being in the world. If we really know one another across these differences, it's much harder to dismiss each others' concerns. Even if you don't have a kid in church, you can probably see how hiring a part time director of religious education-and even increasing your pledge a teensy bit to try to help pay for it!-is food for your faith. Even if the crazy-time children's sermon drives you bonkers, you can see how asking questions in a different way might teach everyone something. You might be too much of an introvert to enjoy parish dinners, but you also might sneakily donate something to the silent auction to support the cause. Being part of a community isn't about getting your way, it's about finding your way.
So in the meantime, pray for me, as I prepare for Saturday-and pray for each other, in thanksgiving for the grace that leads you together.
Blessings,
Sara+
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Joy, Generosity, and Freedom
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I'm thinking about the practice of generosity. On Tuesday night we were talking about how it's kind of a muscle--the more you do it, the easier it is. A lot of the reason we shy away from deep generosity is fear. On Sunday as part of the intro to stewardship, Sasha Killewald talked about how she and Phil were having a conversation about what to pledge and he threw out a number. Immediately, Sasha recounted, she said, "No way. It's too much." But, Sasha continued, "Really what I was saying is, I'm afraid."
Part of our fear, I think, comes from a misplaced understanding of freedom. It's easy to blame our consumer culture, operating under the assumption that all of our problems can be fixed with money. Many can, and that's not always a bad thing. I can't just knit myself a new hot water heater; I have to pay someone to bring it to my house and install it for me. There is nothing faithless about saving up money for emergencies. But even Jesus advised against "gathering into barns" and finding security in our possessions. If people could be distracted by their stuff even in first-century Palestine, we're toast, right?
Yes and no. It may be that our temptations seem more tempting, but every ancient religion has something to say about real freedom. There is something about our human proclivity to anxiety that has maybe always prompted us to look for security in the wrong places. Whether India or the Middle East or the Americas or Japan, basically everybody always has struggled with finding the transcendent peace that can put "stuff" in its proper place.
Most powerfully, we have God, and we have each other. We gather in church on Sundays bringing different gifts and we all come from different places on our journey with giving. I was raised to tithe at least ten percent, and that's what my own family does. But I still struggle with wondering whether it's "enough." Census factfinder.gov says that mean household income in Waltham is $68,326- a 5% annual pledge would be almost $3,500. Is it only about money? Of course not. This year we're intentionally seeking to honor and nurture our gifts of time and talent as well. But even the most generous with our time still want the lights to be on when we arrive (and, on the other side, even the biggest pledgers still want somebody singing in the choir!).
Still, why should we give? On a Biblical level, sure, we give because we're told to. There are a lot of instructions in the Bible that we can sort of interpret our way out of (three cheers for ending the prohibition on lobster!) But the stuff about giving our money just isn't about interpretation. Does the amount have to be 10%? It's a standard to work toward, but not necessarily a place to stop when you get there.
The other reason to give is more subtle. It's not just because Jesus or Abraham tells you to. The other reason to give is that it's joyful. By refusing to be bound by what our reptile brain and consumer society says is what "security" really is, we're staking our lives in God in a new way, declaring our emancipation.
Finally, we do it because it's who we are. That's where the joy really is. As baptized Christians we join the pattern of God's life, and God's live is one of continual and joyful gift. Thanks be to God!
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, I'm thinking about the practice of generosity. On Tuesday night we were talking about how it's kind of a muscle--the more you do it, the easier it is. A lot of the reason we shy away from deep generosity is fear. On Sunday as part of the intro to stewardship, Sasha Killewald talked about how she and Phil were having a conversation about what to pledge and he threw out a number. Immediately, Sasha recounted, she said, "No way. It's too much." But, Sasha continued, "Really what I was saying is, I'm afraid."
Part of our fear, I think, comes from a misplaced understanding of freedom. It's easy to blame our consumer culture, operating under the assumption that all of our problems can be fixed with money. Many can, and that's not always a bad thing. I can't just knit myself a new hot water heater; I have to pay someone to bring it to my house and install it for me. There is nothing faithless about saving up money for emergencies. But even Jesus advised against "gathering into barns" and finding security in our possessions. If people could be distracted by their stuff even in first-century Palestine, we're toast, right?
Yes and no. It may be that our temptations seem more tempting, but every ancient religion has something to say about real freedom. There is something about our human proclivity to anxiety that has maybe always prompted us to look for security in the wrong places. Whether India or the Middle East or the Americas or Japan, basically everybody always has struggled with finding the transcendent peace that can put "stuff" in its proper place.
Most powerfully, we have God, and we have each other. We gather in church on Sundays bringing different gifts and we all come from different places on our journey with giving. I was raised to tithe at least ten percent, and that's what my own family does. But I still struggle with wondering whether it's "enough." Census factfinder.gov says that mean household income in Waltham is $68,326- a 5% annual pledge would be almost $3,500. Is it only about money? Of course not. This year we're intentionally seeking to honor and nurture our gifts of time and talent as well. But even the most generous with our time still want the lights to be on when we arrive (and, on the other side, even the biggest pledgers still want somebody singing in the choir!).
Still, why should we give? On a Biblical level, sure, we give because we're told to. There are a lot of instructions in the Bible that we can sort of interpret our way out of (three cheers for ending the prohibition on lobster!) But the stuff about giving our money just isn't about interpretation. Does the amount have to be 10%? It's a standard to work toward, but not necessarily a place to stop when you get there.
The other reason to give is more subtle. It's not just because Jesus or Abraham tells you to. The other reason to give is that it's joyful. By refusing to be bound by what our reptile brain and consumer society says is what "security" really is, we're staking our lives in God in a new way, declaring our emancipation.
Finally, we do it because it's who we are. That's where the joy really is. As baptized Christians we join the pattern of God's life, and God's live is one of continual and joyful gift. Thanks be to God!
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Simplifying with More
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, we begin our conversation about stewardship. Even though, of course, it's a year-round endeavor, most often we dedicate several weeks each fall to really focus our attention. I'm excited to have Sasha Killewald and Christine Dutt co-chairing our efforts this year, with a bit of a different focus.
This year, we're thinking about "more."
This may seem kind of ironic, given that I've spent a fair amount of writing in this space for the last few weeks on simplicity. What would St Francis say about us trying to organize ourselves into "more?" Or Thoreau, from his cabin in the woods? Well, it's not more out of nothing. It's more a reallocation. One of the things I've enjoyed about our adult formation conversation on Free is the practice of looking at the big picture of time and money. Our schedules and finances might seem pretty locked in, but there are still a lot of choices to be made. This year with stewardship season we're trying to think about what, if we reallocated our personal energies (both financial resources and time and talent) a little differently, what would be possible. What if we had something going on for adult formation all the time, and everyone participated in at least one Bible study, or book group, or conversation series every year? What if when it came time for yard clean up day, or Fieldstone Fair planning time, each of those endeavors had so many people come we could expand our work even further? What if each of us had a clear sense of purpose in our participation in this community, in how we are crucially part of the mission of God in this place? What if our own callings as baptized Christians were so essential to how we operate in the world that our spiritual practices were first, not a pleasant add on? What if we discovered that "more" in the place of our faith and spirituality could somehow lead to "more" in all other parts of our lives?
These are big questions, and I'm not going to solve them head on and right here. But I look forward to the conversation, and remain grateful for our calling here together on Main Street.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, we begin our conversation about stewardship. Even though, of course, it's a year-round endeavor, most often we dedicate several weeks each fall to really focus our attention. I'm excited to have Sasha Killewald and Christine Dutt co-chairing our efforts this year, with a bit of a different focus.
This year, we're thinking about "more."
This may seem kind of ironic, given that I've spent a fair amount of writing in this space for the last few weeks on simplicity. What would St Francis say about us trying to organize ourselves into "more?" Or Thoreau, from his cabin in the woods? Well, it's not more out of nothing. It's more a reallocation. One of the things I've enjoyed about our adult formation conversation on Free is the practice of looking at the big picture of time and money. Our schedules and finances might seem pretty locked in, but there are still a lot of choices to be made. This year with stewardship season we're trying to think about what, if we reallocated our personal energies (both financial resources and time and talent) a little differently, what would be possible. What if we had something going on for adult formation all the time, and everyone participated in at least one Bible study, or book group, or conversation series every year? What if when it came time for yard clean up day, or Fieldstone Fair planning time, each of those endeavors had so many people come we could expand our work even further? What if each of us had a clear sense of purpose in our participation in this community, in how we are crucially part of the mission of God in this place? What if our own callings as baptized Christians were so essential to how we operate in the world that our spiritual practices were first, not a pleasant add on? What if we discovered that "more" in the place of our faith and spirituality could somehow lead to "more" in all other parts of our lives?
These are big questions, and I'm not going to solve them head on and right here. But I look forward to the conversation, and remain grateful for our calling here together on Main Street.
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Get Over Yourself: Gratitude and Prayer
Dear People of Christ Church,
This Sunday, I'm excited to welcome the Rev. Elise Feyerherm to preach at Christ Church-thanks, too to her for help with blessing animals on Sunday, too. Elise moved to Waltham this summer to join her husband, John, who teaches at a Roman Catholic seminary. Elise will be hanging out at Christ Church while she looks for a permanent position, helping out here and there and lending her beautiful voice to our choir. She has a PhD in Church History from Boston College and was ordained priest in Ohio a few years ago.
Otherwise, things are pretty much humming along for fall; our Tuesday night conversations are such a pleasure, and stewardship season will kick off on October 20. On Sunday our blessing of the animals went well, with special guests Bear, Momo, Sasha, Scout, and Wilbur behaving themselves in an entirely exemplary fashion. We blessed pictures of cats and dogs, dolls and stuffed lizards and dolphins, and Ken Johnson even brought the weekly Tribune picture of a cat in need of a home, to remember pets who aren't so fortunate. See more of Kristin's great pictures here.
It's a lot to be grateful for, this full parish life. Gratitude is, on the surface of it, a simple response to good; I'm thankful that our handicap bathroom is finally in progress. I'm thankful that Suzanne is organizing the parish Fieldstone Fair again. I'm thankful that first grade is going better than kindergarten for my son, that my raspberry bushes are still exploding berries into October. I'm thankful for shelter, work that I love, health, wholeness. Simple gratitude for simple pleasures.
The complicated part (there's always a complicated part, isn't there?) is to discern-to think, pray, and somehow figure out-how that simple gratitude can inspire us to move beyond ourselves. This is the pattern of God's life: taking on human being as Jesus was a divine self-emptying. Somehow that self-emptying is how, and who, God is. In doing so, we are given a pattern for how we can come near to God, how we can participate in that divine Life. Gratitude can be a practice of de-centering, of acknowledging that what we have and who we are isn't our sole accomplishment and possession, but God's. And if it's not just ours, then we can take the hint that it's not supposed to end with us.
How? It's another one of those "hardest to learn is the least complicated" things. One of the classic ways is in contemplative prayer, the silent meditation that the Buddhist tradition teaches so well. Somehow by sitting in silence in the presence of God, we're given a little wiggle room to separate out our own freight train of thoughts and emotions. Another thing a lot of people do is to have a gratitude journal or prayer practice, where the intentional recognition of gifts received helps you remember that you're not quite so much the star of your show. What works for you? What works for you when you need to get out of your own way?
This Sunday, I'm excited to welcome the Rev. Elise Feyerherm to preach at Christ Church-thanks, too to her for help with blessing animals on Sunday, too. Elise moved to Waltham this summer to join her husband, John, who teaches at a Roman Catholic seminary. Elise will be hanging out at Christ Church while she looks for a permanent position, helping out here and there and lending her beautiful voice to our choir. She has a PhD in Church History from Boston College and was ordained priest in Ohio a few years ago.
Otherwise, things are pretty much humming along for fall; our Tuesday night conversations are such a pleasure, and stewardship season will kick off on October 20. On Sunday our blessing of the animals went well, with special guests Bear, Momo, Sasha, Scout, and Wilbur behaving themselves in an entirely exemplary fashion. We blessed pictures of cats and dogs, dolls and stuffed lizards and dolphins, and Ken Johnson even brought the weekly Tribune picture of a cat in need of a home, to remember pets who aren't so fortunate. See more of Kristin's great pictures here.
It's a lot to be grateful for, this full parish life. Gratitude is, on the surface of it, a simple response to good; I'm thankful that our handicap bathroom is finally in progress. I'm thankful that Suzanne is organizing the parish Fieldstone Fair again. I'm thankful that first grade is going better than kindergarten for my son, that my raspberry bushes are still exploding berries into October. I'm thankful for shelter, work that I love, health, wholeness. Simple gratitude for simple pleasures.
The complicated part (there's always a complicated part, isn't there?) is to discern-to think, pray, and somehow figure out-how that simple gratitude can inspire us to move beyond ourselves. This is the pattern of God's life: taking on human being as Jesus was a divine self-emptying. Somehow that self-emptying is how, and who, God is. In doing so, we are given a pattern for how we can come near to God, how we can participate in that divine Life. Gratitude can be a practice of de-centering, of acknowledging that what we have and who we are isn't our sole accomplishment and possession, but God's. And if it's not just ours, then we can take the hint that it's not supposed to end with us.
How? It's another one of those "hardest to learn is the least complicated" things. One of the classic ways is in contemplative prayer, the silent meditation that the Buddhist tradition teaches so well. Somehow by sitting in silence in the presence of God, we're given a little wiggle room to separate out our own freight train of thoughts and emotions. Another thing a lot of people do is to have a gratitude journal or prayer practice, where the intentional recognition of gifts received helps you remember that you're not quite so much the star of your show. What works for you? What works for you when you need to get out of your own way?
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Simple Creatures
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I'm bracing for a little madness. For the first time, we're doing Blessing of Animals in the service-plus children's choir, plus children's sermon. Like having church outside, this is a day for liturgical experimentation. There is a lot of space in the Anglican/Episcopal tradition to communicate local culture; our music, our prayers, our language all express the identity of the community in some way. This is one of the things I love most about being an Episcopalian; there is so much space for particularity even in the structured form of our service. We always open with a declaration of the Trinity. We always close with a charge to go out in the name of the Spirit or the name of Christ to love and serve. In between, we hear Scripture; we interpret it in some way, whether with a traditional sermon or other response. We bless bread and wine, we eat and drink to remember and participate in the Body of Christ.
Even working within those parameters, a lot is possible. In November we'll have our Jazz Mass, and, yes, this Sunday, blessing of animals. At the moment, my family has no pets-both Noah and I grew up with cats, and had one brief experiment with dog ownership (those who were members back in 2009 will remember the ill-fated Cyrus, my St Bernard puppy who got cancer at age 1). So I'm hopeful that each of you will bring your companions, either in the flesh or a photo. Our beloved "Lemon Bear" will probably make an appearance as well, since stuffed animals can come, too.
We bless animals around October 4, St Francis Day, in memory of a saint who was said to be so connected to nature that he preached to the birds and tamed a wild and fearsome wolf. Francis also offers a tradition of simple living, even more important for us now in such a time of ecological crisis. We are constantly burdened by more and more stuff, stuff that seems to multiply on its own when we aren't looking. As a parent I struggle with this a lot; whenever a birthday rolls around, there's the impulse to mark it with more, more more-but after just a few good garage sales this September, my kids have already stacked their closets full of more toys. It's not even just about spending money; stuff is cheap.
But stuff won't warm a cold lap, stuff won't offer a vision of sheer joy in play and creaturely delight. So, as un-simple an endeavor it may seem to be, my hope is that this crazy idea of having pets in church will help connect us to that Franciscan simplicity. A pet isn't "for" anything. They fulfill no function other than to be in community with us. We care for them out of sheer grace and generosity. In offering thanks and praying blessings for these creatures in particular, hopefully our hearts will be moved to act on behalf of creatures everywhere, to make our lives a bit greener and our world a bit healthier. We aren't separate from nature, but rather vital members of a profoundly complex ecosystem. We are creatures with needs before wants, given life by a Creator who longs for us to know the difference.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, I'm bracing for a little madness. For the first time, we're doing Blessing of Animals in the service-plus children's choir, plus children's sermon. Like having church outside, this is a day for liturgical experimentation. There is a lot of space in the Anglican/Episcopal tradition to communicate local culture; our music, our prayers, our language all express the identity of the community in some way. This is one of the things I love most about being an Episcopalian; there is so much space for particularity even in the structured form of our service. We always open with a declaration of the Trinity. We always close with a charge to go out in the name of the Spirit or the name of Christ to love and serve. In between, we hear Scripture; we interpret it in some way, whether with a traditional sermon or other response. We bless bread and wine, we eat and drink to remember and participate in the Body of Christ.
Even working within those parameters, a lot is possible. In November we'll have our Jazz Mass, and, yes, this Sunday, blessing of animals. At the moment, my family has no pets-both Noah and I grew up with cats, and had one brief experiment with dog ownership (those who were members back in 2009 will remember the ill-fated Cyrus, my St Bernard puppy who got cancer at age 1). So I'm hopeful that each of you will bring your companions, either in the flesh or a photo. Our beloved "Lemon Bear" will probably make an appearance as well, since stuffed animals can come, too.
We bless animals around October 4, St Francis Day, in memory of a saint who was said to be so connected to nature that he preached to the birds and tamed a wild and fearsome wolf. Francis also offers a tradition of simple living, even more important for us now in such a time of ecological crisis. We are constantly burdened by more and more stuff, stuff that seems to multiply on its own when we aren't looking. As a parent I struggle with this a lot; whenever a birthday rolls around, there's the impulse to mark it with more, more more-but after just a few good garage sales this September, my kids have already stacked their closets full of more toys. It's not even just about spending money; stuff is cheap.
But stuff won't warm a cold lap, stuff won't offer a vision of sheer joy in play and creaturely delight. So, as un-simple an endeavor it may seem to be, my hope is that this crazy idea of having pets in church will help connect us to that Franciscan simplicity. A pet isn't "for" anything. They fulfill no function other than to be in community with us. We care for them out of sheer grace and generosity. In offering thanks and praying blessings for these creatures in particular, hopefully our hearts will be moved to act on behalf of creatures everywhere, to make our lives a bit greener and our world a bit healthier. We aren't separate from nature, but rather vital members of a profoundly complex ecosystem. We are creatures with needs before wants, given life by a Creator who longs for us to know the difference.
Blessings,
Sara+
Friday, September 27, 2013
Thanksgiving and Abundance
Dear People of Christ Church,
I think I'm still feeling unsettled by Sunday's Gospel--the story of the corrupt manager who, upon finding out he's going to get fired, cuts the debtors' bills so they'll be nice to him when he's out on the street himself. On Sunday, the corruption of the whole system seemed the most important thing; rigged from top to bottom to benefit those who had over those who had not. A lot in our own economic system works that way, too; I likened the situation the debtors found themselves in to one of those "cash 'til payday" lending places that charge exorbitant rates of interest, when suddenly a $150 car repair loan ends up costing twice that when the person just can't quite get on top of it.
There is something about the way we humans seem to "do" society where everything gets messed up; exploitation and greed seem part of our social DNA. Add racism, sexism, homophobia, and all those other structural oppressions to the mix, and it's quite a toxic stew we find ourselves operating in. Jesus always confronted those powers-as we say in the baptismal covenant, "The powers of evil which corrupt and destroy the creatures of this world"--and we're called to do the same.
So Jesus cast his lot in with those on the bottom of the pile. But what do we do when we find ourselves somewhere closer to the middle? We met for our first Tuesday night book group on Mark and Lisa Scandrette's Free: Spending Your Time and Money on What Matters Most, and our conversation thus far is so illuminating. It's one thing to sit back and critique a corrupt system, and in some ways a fairly easy thing to work in the world to change that system. I mentioned in my sermon the Raise Up Massachusetts ballot initiative campaign to increase the minimum wage from $8.00 to $10.50 and secure sick pay for all workers by 2015. That's one thing we can do. But what about our day to day lives? In between soccer and swimming and work commitments and bosses? What are we called to sacrifice? And what kind of sacrifice are we talking about here?
One of the things that I'm loving about the book so far is how honest the authors are. Including sidebars by their daughter, they admit that it's been hard to live as simply as they have (on one non profit income with three kids in the city of San Francisco). The center of their simplicity, though, isn't some kind of harsh moralism that stands outside the world and shakes its finger. The center of their simplicity is faith in God and God's abundance. Holding the things they have lightly makes it possible to receive what God gives (for a taste of Mark's writing, see Helping Kids Develop a Sense of Abundance and Generosity). In the book, Hailey Scandrette talks about how she gets better clothes from thrift stores, and Lisa talks about how she has a weakness for craft supplies. Mark has a thing for designer shoes; there's nothing inherently wrong with these desires--but they have to be held in perspective. Our desire for "more" always has to be grounded in our gratitude for what we have already. In that light, the things we lack are suddenly a lot less important.
The "powers and principalities" of this world are rigged against human flourishing. Whether the Roman empire, or a medieval lord, or a CEO who makes 800 times their employees (Walmart's CEO's $17.6 million total compensation to the average worker's $22,100)(cited from cnn.com).
"The system" has never equally served everyone. But there have always been cracks, places where the light gets through. Jesus teaches us to work on multiple levels; the social as well as the personal. With every diaper we give out, with every phone call to Congress on behalf of kids on food stamps, a little more light squeaks out into the darkness. The power of God's love won't be contained, and there is nothing that can separate us from it.
Blessings,
Sara+
I think I'm still feeling unsettled by Sunday's Gospel--the story of the corrupt manager who, upon finding out he's going to get fired, cuts the debtors' bills so they'll be nice to him when he's out on the street himself. On Sunday, the corruption of the whole system seemed the most important thing; rigged from top to bottom to benefit those who had over those who had not. A lot in our own economic system works that way, too; I likened the situation the debtors found themselves in to one of those "cash 'til payday" lending places that charge exorbitant rates of interest, when suddenly a $150 car repair loan ends up costing twice that when the person just can't quite get on top of it.
There is something about the way we humans seem to "do" society where everything gets messed up; exploitation and greed seem part of our social DNA. Add racism, sexism, homophobia, and all those other structural oppressions to the mix, and it's quite a toxic stew we find ourselves operating in. Jesus always confronted those powers-as we say in the baptismal covenant, "The powers of evil which corrupt and destroy the creatures of this world"--and we're called to do the same.
So Jesus cast his lot in with those on the bottom of the pile. But what do we do when we find ourselves somewhere closer to the middle? We met for our first Tuesday night book group on Mark and Lisa Scandrette's Free: Spending Your Time and Money on What Matters Most, and our conversation thus far is so illuminating. It's one thing to sit back and critique a corrupt system, and in some ways a fairly easy thing to work in the world to change that system. I mentioned in my sermon the Raise Up Massachusetts ballot initiative campaign to increase the minimum wage from $8.00 to $10.50 and secure sick pay for all workers by 2015. That's one thing we can do. But what about our day to day lives? In between soccer and swimming and work commitments and bosses? What are we called to sacrifice? And what kind of sacrifice are we talking about here?
One of the things that I'm loving about the book so far is how honest the authors are. Including sidebars by their daughter, they admit that it's been hard to live as simply as they have (on one non profit income with three kids in the city of San Francisco). The center of their simplicity, though, isn't some kind of harsh moralism that stands outside the world and shakes its finger. The center of their simplicity is faith in God and God's abundance. Holding the things they have lightly makes it possible to receive what God gives (for a taste of Mark's writing, see Helping Kids Develop a Sense of Abundance and Generosity). In the book, Hailey Scandrette talks about how she gets better clothes from thrift stores, and Lisa talks about how she has a weakness for craft supplies. Mark has a thing for designer shoes; there's nothing inherently wrong with these desires--but they have to be held in perspective. Our desire for "more" always has to be grounded in our gratitude for what we have already. In that light, the things we lack are suddenly a lot less important.
The "powers and principalities" of this world are rigged against human flourishing. Whether the Roman empire, or a medieval lord, or a CEO who makes 800 times their employees (Walmart's CEO's $17.6 million total compensation to the average worker's $22,100)(cited from cnn.com).
"The system" has never equally served everyone. But there have always been cracks, places where the light gets through. Jesus teaches us to work on multiple levels; the social as well as the personal. With every diaper we give out, with every phone call to Congress on behalf of kids on food stamps, a little more light squeaks out into the darkness. The power of God's love won't be contained, and there is nothing that can separate us from it.
Blessings,
Sara+
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Our priority: Knowing Christ
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I'm thinking about priorities.
The vestry met this Monday and talked, finally, about whether or not we were going to go through with the training portion of the Hartford Study. I've written about it in this space before, and many of you were gracious enough to participate in focus groups last May with sociologist David Roozen from Hartford Seminary. There are eleven other congregations in the diocese who are also part of it, and, to be honest, it was kind of nice to feel chosen in being recognized as a growing congregation that was worthy of extra attention. The core part of our participation was to be four day-long Saturday trainings, and I spoke with several folks about being part of a team to participate as well as the wider vestry. It was tough to convince anyone.
So we aren't doing it. I'm excited about this decision for a numberof reasons. Obviously, I'm happy to have four more Saturdays with my family. Of course. The other thing is deeper. The assumption underlying the research model is that there are professional experts who can generalize from our demographics and one Sunday visit how to "improve ourselves," that they then have the expertise to show us how. It also felt like there was a nostalgia for a time that church was somehow easier; if we could just get back to a time when there were more volunteers, more bodies, we'd be fine. Now, there is plenty we can do to improve ourselves. And we do want to grow. As Christians, we are invited
to place repentance at the core of our personal and community practices. How are we being open to newcomers? How are we (gently, respectfully) sharing the good news of what God is doinghere? How are we learning, how are we journeying with Christ? How are we respecting one another, how are we being open to the future and the world? How are we each, as a community and individually, transformed by the fire of God's love? Based on what we heard from the Hartford people, it wasn't clear that that's actually what would happen.
Priorities come back to purpose. One of the central tools of the book we're looking at for fall education is a process of discernment for individuals to consider what, exactly, is most important to us in our lives. This helps us to be clearer about how we use our time and money, and offers us an opportunity to be more joyful in making those choices. The authors write:
Paul states that his ultimate goal was to "know Christ" and the power of resurrection (Philippians 3:10). We're intrigued that the core of the Bible's message about our ultimate purpose isn't about doing or achieving. It's about relationship. Anyone, no matter what their age, or location in life, whether they are rich or poor, can pursue and experience what matters most-learning to live life with God. One way to summarize this is to say that our purpose is: to live with God and participate in the restorative activity of God in our world (Scandrette 52).
So vestry is going to take another direction. Experts are not our priority. The living words and work of God are our priority. The world we encounter here and now is our priority. Our fall plan is for vestry to add a quarterly leadership-focused meeting where we dedicate significant time to bigger picture ideas and goals, to create some time for real discernment about what we're doing. We'll still meet every month for our regular meetings. A week from this Sunday our "sermon talk back time" will open a space
for wider conversation about the readings for the day and what it says to us, to get us talking about our parish life and our own responses to Scripture. Later in November we'll look at ourparish vision to see how we're doing and where we need more focus.
Please RSVP here for Tuesday nights-let me know if you can cook, or lead a children's activity, or just come and share in conversation.
Blessings,
Sara+
Friday, September 13, 2013
September 11: Remembering, Again
Dear People of Christ Church,
As I write, it's September 11, and I'm thinking about how impossible it is not to mark anniversaries like this, year by year. You see bumper stickers and facebook status updates that say "never forget," and I'm not quite sure what that means. I don't think anybody's in danger of forgetting. Someone commented about how September 11 is a dose of perspective: to always value the ones you love, to be aware of the precariousness of life. I also hope that it can generate perspective in a different way: to also be aware of how the security we normally feel in this country is an abstract fantasy for so many all over the world. We are called to compassion and solidarity as well as gratitude.
Sitting down at my computer, I don't know what else I could possibly think about other than that morning in New York City twelve years ago, the blue blue of the sky, a fall chill under the late summer sun, the sense of expectation and promise of beginning seminary. I am also aware of how many times I've written this exact account of those days; how my now-husband Noah and I had moved to New York a few weeks earlier for school, not married yet and still figuring out who we were individually as well as together. Each year on this day, I remember kneeling in the seminary chapel hoping, praying, for violence to stop, and each year I remember that day and add up another year of violence. Afghanistan, then Iraq, Libya, Syria. Our violence against ourselves: Islamophobia, the erosion of our civil liberties, the billions that could have relieved poverty and instead funded war. Our polarized political landscape. Guantanamo. I go back to where I was September 11, 2002, passing through a border checkpoint in the Holy Land on the first anniversary of that day: again, violence.
In the Gospel last Sunday we heard Jesus lashing out at the crowds who were following him-he's fed up with their desire just to see the next big thing, watching him do a healing here, an exorcism there. The crowds seem uninterested in real transformation: they want entertainment. Are you in this for real? Do you have what it takes to follow me? Do you? "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple." You can't, Jesus, says, just come along for the ride. You have to be in it, all the way, asking hard questions and making hard choices.
By that standard, nobody can follow. And I do think Jesus was being a little sarcastic-I have a calling from God as a parent and a spouse, and I'm sure I'm not called by Jesus to abandon those I've made a life with. And I do have to commit. Still, the truth is that real discipleship of Jesus is impossible on our own. Our somewhat clunky prayer for this Sunday begins, "O God, because without you we are not able to please you, mercifully grant that your Holy Spirit may in all things direct and rule our hearts." The subject/object/agency in that sentence is pretty convoluted: the Holy Spirit moves in us, prays in us- but as we are made in the image of God, there would be no "us" at all without our Creator.
Forgiveness is certainly impossible on our own. If it's the life of God within us that makes it possible for us to follow God, it is certainly the life of God in us that enables us to forgive. It is the providence of God, too, to forgive where we just aren't ready at the same time as it's the providence of God to enliven our anger at injustice and oppression.
So there's the muddle for today-grief and pain, hope and righteous anger-all one holy stew of God's presence with us and God's being intertwined with ours.
Blessings,
Sara+
As I write, it's September 11, and I'm thinking about how impossible it is not to mark anniversaries like this, year by year. You see bumper stickers and facebook status updates that say "never forget," and I'm not quite sure what that means. I don't think anybody's in danger of forgetting. Someone commented about how September 11 is a dose of perspective: to always value the ones you love, to be aware of the precariousness of life. I also hope that it can generate perspective in a different way: to also be aware of how the security we normally feel in this country is an abstract fantasy for so many all over the world. We are called to compassion and solidarity as well as gratitude.
Sitting down at my computer, I don't know what else I could possibly think about other than that morning in New York City twelve years ago, the blue blue of the sky, a fall chill under the late summer sun, the sense of expectation and promise of beginning seminary. I am also aware of how many times I've written this exact account of those days; how my now-husband Noah and I had moved to New York a few weeks earlier for school, not married yet and still figuring out who we were individually as well as together. Each year on this day, I remember kneeling in the seminary chapel hoping, praying, for violence to stop, and each year I remember that day and add up another year of violence. Afghanistan, then Iraq, Libya, Syria. Our violence against ourselves: Islamophobia, the erosion of our civil liberties, the billions that could have relieved poverty and instead funded war. Our polarized political landscape. Guantanamo. I go back to where I was September 11, 2002, passing through a border checkpoint in the Holy Land on the first anniversary of that day: again, violence.
In the Gospel last Sunday we heard Jesus lashing out at the crowds who were following him-he's fed up with their desire just to see the next big thing, watching him do a healing here, an exorcism there. The crowds seem uninterested in real transformation: they want entertainment. Are you in this for real? Do you have what it takes to follow me? Do you? "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple." You can't, Jesus, says, just come along for the ride. You have to be in it, all the way, asking hard questions and making hard choices.
By that standard, nobody can follow. And I do think Jesus was being a little sarcastic-I have a calling from God as a parent and a spouse, and I'm sure I'm not called by Jesus to abandon those I've made a life with. And I do have to commit. Still, the truth is that real discipleship of Jesus is impossible on our own. Our somewhat clunky prayer for this Sunday begins, "O God, because without you we are not able to please you, mercifully grant that your Holy Spirit may in all things direct and rule our hearts." The subject/object/agency in that sentence is pretty convoluted: the Holy Spirit moves in us, prays in us- but as we are made in the image of God, there would be no "us" at all without our Creator.
Forgiveness is certainly impossible on our own. If it's the life of God within us that makes it possible for us to follow God, it is certainly the life of God in us that enables us to forgive. It is the providence of God, too, to forgive where we just aren't ready at the same time as it's the providence of God to enliven our anger at injustice and oppression.
So there's the muddle for today-grief and pain, hope and righteous anger-all one holy stew of God's presence with us and God's being intertwined with ours.
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Praying with angels
Dear People of Christ Church,
Last week we prayed over our backpacks, the week before we prayed over Emma leaving for college, and this Sunday we'll pray over our children's education folks, thanking them for their service and asking God's blessing on their most holy work. We also prayed for a moment of silence for peace in Syria, prayed for pets and parents as part of our children's sermon, and, of course, we pray every time we celebrate communion-"send your Holy Spirit on these gifts your earth has formed and human hands have made." Church involves a lot of praying, in routine and not-so-routine ways.
But what are we doing, really?
In our series on prayer last year for Lent, Jose shared the prayers of Kierkegaard-"the function of prayer is to change the one who is praying, not the God to whom we pray."
We'll leave aside for now the bigger theological debates about how God is present in bread and wine at Eucharist-our Anglican tradition leaves that to the individual conscience apart from reassuring us that Christ is "really" present. The personal significance to Jesus Christ of our little backpacks and lunch boxes may not be much. But when we place those things at the altar for blessing, we're saying to each other and to ourselves, and to God, "Ok-this is it. I have my mind, my soul, my heart, and my body-and I have these tools to help me do what I have to do. Let these things, along with your love, along with my family and my friends-let even my backpack be something to remind me that I'm not alone.
In the letter to the Hebrews we heard this past Sunday, St Paul reminds the people of the story of Abraham and Sarah, that "some have entertained angels unawares." Before God named them Abraham and Sarah, they were plain old Abram and Sarai, just being kind to strangers. But, as the story in Genesis 18 goes, those strangers turned out to be angels announcing that Sarai would have a child. She who had lost hope of giving birth would be the one in whom the world was blessed. Who knows where we'd be if Abram had told those mysterious travelers that he and Sarai were too busy or didn't have enough resources to help.
The point of the story is that God shows up everywhere, sometimes in the least likely places bringing the least likely gifts. Remembering that even our backpacks can be holy is good practice for looking for God in all of those random corners and different places. Drawing their own angel wings, I encouraged our kids to remember that they, too, could be angels, reaching out to others, especially heading back to school when there would be new people and new things going on.
Remembering that even our stuff can be a reminder of God's presence also leads me to a pitch for our fall education, which extends the conversation to our time. We'll be looking at the ideas in Mark Scandrette's Free: Spending Your Time and Money on What Matters Most. Scandrette invites us to think together from a Christian perspective about how we use these resources and how we can consciously choose to live well and free lives as God desires for us. The book should be in at Back Pages (at a 15% discount!) early next week-call the bookstore to confirm (781) 209-0631.
If there's interest, we'll add an all-ages part (for which we need both children to attend and adults to staff it-RSVP in our survey... ).
Blessings,
Sara+
Last week we prayed over our backpacks, the week before we prayed over Emma leaving for college, and this Sunday we'll pray over our children's education folks, thanking them for their service and asking God's blessing on their most holy work. We also prayed for a moment of silence for peace in Syria, prayed for pets and parents as part of our children's sermon, and, of course, we pray every time we celebrate communion-"send your Holy Spirit on these gifts your earth has formed and human hands have made." Church involves a lot of praying, in routine and not-so-routine ways.
But what are we doing, really?
In our series on prayer last year for Lent, Jose shared the prayers of Kierkegaard-"the function of prayer is to change the one who is praying, not the God to whom we pray."
We'll leave aside for now the bigger theological debates about how God is present in bread and wine at Eucharist-our Anglican tradition leaves that to the individual conscience apart from reassuring us that Christ is "really" present. The personal significance to Jesus Christ of our little backpacks and lunch boxes may not be much. But when we place those things at the altar for blessing, we're saying to each other and to ourselves, and to God, "Ok-this is it. I have my mind, my soul, my heart, and my body-and I have these tools to help me do what I have to do. Let these things, along with your love, along with my family and my friends-let even my backpack be something to remind me that I'm not alone.
In the letter to the Hebrews we heard this past Sunday, St Paul reminds the people of the story of Abraham and Sarah, that "some have entertained angels unawares." Before God named them Abraham and Sarah, they were plain old Abram and Sarai, just being kind to strangers. But, as the story in Genesis 18 goes, those strangers turned out to be angels announcing that Sarai would have a child. She who had lost hope of giving birth would be the one in whom the world was blessed. Who knows where we'd be if Abram had told those mysterious travelers that he and Sarai were too busy or didn't have enough resources to help.
The point of the story is that God shows up everywhere, sometimes in the least likely places bringing the least likely gifts. Remembering that even our backpacks can be holy is good practice for looking for God in all of those random corners and different places. Drawing their own angel wings, I encouraged our kids to remember that they, too, could be angels, reaching out to others, especially heading back to school when there would be new people and new things going on.
Remembering that even our stuff can be a reminder of God's presence also leads me to a pitch for our fall education, which extends the conversation to our time. We'll be looking at the ideas in Mark Scandrette's Free: Spending Your Time and Money on What Matters Most. Scandrette invites us to think together from a Christian perspective about how we use these resources and how we can consciously choose to live well and free lives as God desires for us. The book should be in at Back Pages (at a 15% discount!) early next week-call the bookstore to confirm (781) 209-0631.
If there's interest, we'll add an all-ages part (for which we need both children to attend and adults to staff it-RSVP in our survey... ).
Blessings,
Sara+
Friday, August 30, 2013
Marching to a New Ground
Dear People of Christ
Church
This week, there's a strange combination of heavy-heartedness
and hope in the air with the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington
and the prospect of military strikes in Syria . Our situation around racism in this country
is much improved, but the gulf remains between the opportunities our society
affords to people of color and those who are white. This past summer, I was camping in the Black
Hills of South Dakota struck by so much injustice toward Native American
peoples when the George Zimmerman verdict was handed down. Again, again, again, thought of how Martin
Luther King Jr's image of the bounced check (read the whole speech here) -a
promise of equality and freedom that simply has not been honored. It's not just Trayvon Martin; it's not just
George Zimmerman. It's not just the idea of "standing your ground," it's
the constant human temptation toward violence and force. Witness: the assumption that more violence
can end violence in Syria .
As Martin Luther King, Jr, also said that day: "Again and again we must. rise
to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force."
I'm interested in
that soul force, inhabiting space in a different way.
The usual standing your ground is based on the underlying
assumption that one individual's right to the ground trumps the rights of the
other person. But when I read my Bible,
it seems to say that even the life of an aggressor is sacred: Love your enemies
(Matthew 5: 43 -38). What if we found a different ground?
Last week, a bookkeeper stopped a school shooting outside of
Atlanta . A man turned up loaded with guns and
ammunition declaring that he was going to kill everybody, including himself. With
an AK 47, 500 rounds of ammunition, and no will to live, he ought to have been
unstoppable.
But he wasn't.
Finding a shared place of suffering, step by step, over an
agonizing conversation (all captured on tape in a 911 call), Antoinette Tuff
calmly, slowly, was able to connect with the prospective shooter. "We all
go through things in life," she said, and talked about how she had felt
there was nothing to live for when her marriage ended the year before. Rather
than allowing her own pain to cut her off, she was able to reach out from it. Rather than writing him off as a crazed
madman, they had a conversation. This is as good a piece of evidence for the
resurrection as I can imagine; in God's solidarity with us, sparing nothing,
our own pain can be transformed. Not because God wants us to suffer, or pulls
strings from the great beyond. Nobody
was at a keyboard in the sky ending a marriage in 2012 to save the lives of
children in 2013. But as Antoinette Tuff prayed that day, thinking of her
pastor's sermon the week before about anchoring in Christ, she followed the
pattern of love and connection that Jesus embodied. And yes, drawing on her pain was part of
that. And, yes, a black woman saving the life of a white man 50 years later
almost to the day from the March on Washington
is kind of amazing, too.
It is much, much harder to live this way. It is impractical, and messy, and slow. But it's what will save us. It's what has.
Blessings,
Sara+
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
This Fall
Dear People of Christ Church,
Vestry met on Monday, and it was so good to be back together scheming about all the things we'll do together this year. One new thing I'll invite us toward on September 1 when we return to the 10:00 service is a blessing over all of our backpacks as we head back to work and school for the new year. Even though I haven't started a new school year for 10 years, I always get a sense of promise and newness in turning toward fall, so briefcases and other work bags will also be welcome (we'll also have our first Sunday of the month children's sermon on that day as well, along with our special diaper collection).
This year we're also trying out a new start time for Children's Education, starting the classes at 9:45 instead of 10. The structure of our Godly Play program is dependent on being able to start all together, so we're hoping that having more time will enable a smoother transition and opportunity for deeper reflection. The key question for Godly Play is "I wonder," and it's hard to "wonder" freely if you're panicked about whether your kids are going to get upstairs in time for communion.
Yet ANOTHER new thing is an experiment with our coffee hour configuration. As we sang in my Montessori class at age 4, "Make new friends, but keep the old...one is silver and the other's gold." By making a switch to round tables with food in the middle (separate from the coffee), we hope that we'll be more nimble in being able to talk with different people, but also have sitting room for more in depth conversation. Please offer your feedback to the vestry.
This fall, we also have some great educational opportunities to look forward to. Last spring, we were part of a Hartford Seminary study of growing congregations and many people participated in focus groups and filled out surveys about what's working well and where we need to focus our energy. As part of our learning, we'll send a team of 4-6 people to a series of consultations (4 Saturdays, at different locations) for leadership training and coaching in our area of growth. If you'd be interested in being part of that group, please let me know. For five or six weeks over September/ October, we look forward to a series on looking for that elusive life balance of work and play, time and money, based on the work of Mark and Lisa Scandrette in their book, Free: Spending Your Time and Money on What Matters Most. Come September, I'm looking forward to trying a "sermon talk back" conversation one Sunday a month to hear more about where you are hearing the word of God both reflected in preaching (where I kind of get to monopolize the floor) as well as in your life in the world.
I'm also looking forward to the diocesan resource day on peace (see below), our yard sale (coming up in just a few weeks), and all the ministries we engage in that bring us closer to God and one another. Don't forget to talk with Anna Jones (annapeacebaby@gmail.com) about whether you might be able to bring a meal to the Community Day Center; we're now on the third Thursday of the month, and hope to get a schedule down for the whole year.
Peace!
Sara+
Vestry met on Monday, and it was so good to be back together scheming about all the things we'll do together this year. One new thing I'll invite us toward on September 1 when we return to the 10:00 service is a blessing over all of our backpacks as we head back to work and school for the new year. Even though I haven't started a new school year for 10 years, I always get a sense of promise and newness in turning toward fall, so briefcases and other work bags will also be welcome (we'll also have our first Sunday of the month children's sermon on that day as well, along with our special diaper collection).
This year we're also trying out a new start time for Children's Education, starting the classes at 9:45 instead of 10. The structure of our Godly Play program is dependent on being able to start all together, so we're hoping that having more time will enable a smoother transition and opportunity for deeper reflection. The key question for Godly Play is "I wonder," and it's hard to "wonder" freely if you're panicked about whether your kids are going to get upstairs in time for communion.
Yet ANOTHER new thing is an experiment with our coffee hour configuration. As we sang in my Montessori class at age 4, "Make new friends, but keep the old...one is silver and the other's gold." By making a switch to round tables with food in the middle (separate from the coffee), we hope that we'll be more nimble in being able to talk with different people, but also have sitting room for more in depth conversation. Please offer your feedback to the vestry.
This fall, we also have some great educational opportunities to look forward to. Last spring, we were part of a Hartford Seminary study of growing congregations and many people participated in focus groups and filled out surveys about what's working well and where we need to focus our energy. As part of our learning, we'll send a team of 4-6 people to a series of consultations (4 Saturdays, at different locations) for leadership training and coaching in our area of growth. If you'd be interested in being part of that group, please let me know. For five or six weeks over September/ October, we look forward to a series on looking for that elusive life balance of work and play, time and money, based on the work of Mark and Lisa Scandrette in their book, Free: Spending Your Time and Money on What Matters Most. Come September, I'm looking forward to trying a "sermon talk back" conversation one Sunday a month to hear more about where you are hearing the word of God both reflected in preaching (where I kind of get to monopolize the floor) as well as in your life in the world.
I'm also looking forward to the diocesan resource day on peace (see below), our yard sale (coming up in just a few weeks), and all the ministries we engage in that bring us closer to God and one another. Don't forget to talk with Anna Jones (annapeacebaby@gmail.com) about whether you might be able to bring a meal to the Community Day Center; we're now on the third Thursday of the month, and hope to get a schedule down for the whole year.
Peace!
Sara+
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Emergence
Dear People of Christ Church,
I'm glad to be back writing to you after my recent whirlwind tour of our country. My family put just over 10,000 miles on our car driving to San Francisco and home, via the Wild Goose Festival in North Carolina. Mostly camping, mostly national parks, mostly 3 year old Adah and 6 year old Isaiah coexisting peacefully in the back seat.
I'd never been to Wild Goose before--a four day annual gathering of "a community gathered at the intersection of justice, spirituality, music and art." When I was planning the trip, I told the Christ Church vestry it was a conference. Noah and I told the tow truck driver who helped us get out of the woods that it was a revival. Both were right.
We heard speakers from across the spectrum of Christian expression, from Lutheran pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber (tweeting @sarcasticluther) to veteran civil rights activist and historian Vincent Harding, to post-evangelical, post-modern, post-everything minister Brian McLaren, to Momastery blogger Glennon Melton... several of the sessions were interviews with NPR's Krista Tippett, and will air on her show, On Being, over the next month or two.
As someone who grew up in a liturgical tradition, I didn't quite fit along with the primarily evangelical (or formerly evangelical) crowd, but we were all asking similar questions. How does the church respond to a world that doesn't settle for the same old answers (if, in fact, it ever did, which is a whole other issue)? How do we make our churches vital, compassionate communities across all kinds of difference? How do we invite Jesus into the way we parent, spend our money, relate to our bodies, advocate for justice? Theologically, of course Jesus is already there-but day to day, it's easy to forget that. We have to do that work in and through each moment, not just intellectually answer the question in the abstract and be done with it.
Personally as well as politically-Jesus is there. He has gone to Emmaus, to the picket line, to the hospital bed, to the boardroom. The hope and energy of Wild Goose was a good way to end a drive across the country-day to day, even in this cradle of early America, I don't think a lot about where this country came from-all the promise and freedom as well as the suffering. Driving through Indian reservation after reservation, I couldn't ignore that question anymore--hearing from my friend Rob, a priest serving the Episcopal Church on the Standing Rock Reservation, who talked about how divided the white community there was from Native Americans even now. I couldn't ignore hearing about how sacred the Black Hills were to the Lakota, and how treaties were broken again and again. Seeing the wide-open spaces of the West, I could also imagine how early settlers saw that space and wanted to find their own success there.
In one of his talks, Vincent Harding talked about the call for each of us to "make it our concern" to bring real democracy to birth in this country. Despite all our history, we are still emerging as a democracy, he said-there is more to do to bring about the circumstances for flourishing and equal participation for every person. For every person-including those who are on the opposite side from us. The discipline, Harding said in a forum on non-violence, is to constantly try to look at others with compassion-even those who might deny your own humanity, to remember that they are still a sister or brother. That's how Jesus saw others-it's not an easy invitation, but it's the one we're given. We may or may not be successful, but that's the work. Rev. William Barber talked about the prophetic call-God told Ezekiel to preach to the people: "Your job is to speak to them. Whether they listen to you is not your concern. Just because they don't listen doesn't give you the authority to quit."
So that's what I come back mulling over-what kind of church are we, will we be, in this new day? What kind of priest am I called to be? What kind of city do we want to inhabit? As we begin our ninth year of ministry together this fall, I look forward to what we will discover!
Blessings,
Sara+
I'm glad to be back writing to you after my recent whirlwind tour of our country. My family put just over 10,000 miles on our car driving to San Francisco and home, via the Wild Goose Festival in North Carolina. Mostly camping, mostly national parks, mostly 3 year old Adah and 6 year old Isaiah coexisting peacefully in the back seat.
I'd never been to Wild Goose before--a four day annual gathering of "a community gathered at the intersection of justice, spirituality, music and art." When I was planning the trip, I told the Christ Church vestry it was a conference. Noah and I told the tow truck driver who helped us get out of the woods that it was a revival. Both were right.
We heard speakers from across the spectrum of Christian expression, from Lutheran pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber (tweeting @sarcasticluther) to veteran civil rights activist and historian Vincent Harding, to post-evangelical, post-modern, post-everything minister Brian McLaren, to Momastery blogger Glennon Melton... several of the sessions were interviews with NPR's Krista Tippett, and will air on her show, On Being, over the next month or two.
As someone who grew up in a liturgical tradition, I didn't quite fit along with the primarily evangelical (or formerly evangelical) crowd, but we were all asking similar questions. How does the church respond to a world that doesn't settle for the same old answers (if, in fact, it ever did, which is a whole other issue)? How do we make our churches vital, compassionate communities across all kinds of difference? How do we invite Jesus into the way we parent, spend our money, relate to our bodies, advocate for justice? Theologically, of course Jesus is already there-but day to day, it's easy to forget that. We have to do that work in and through each moment, not just intellectually answer the question in the abstract and be done with it.
Personally as well as politically-Jesus is there. He has gone to Emmaus, to the picket line, to the hospital bed, to the boardroom. The hope and energy of Wild Goose was a good way to end a drive across the country-day to day, even in this cradle of early America, I don't think a lot about where this country came from-all the promise and freedom as well as the suffering. Driving through Indian reservation after reservation, I couldn't ignore that question anymore--hearing from my friend Rob, a priest serving the Episcopal Church on the Standing Rock Reservation, who talked about how divided the white community there was from Native Americans even now. I couldn't ignore hearing about how sacred the Black Hills were to the Lakota, and how treaties were broken again and again. Seeing the wide-open spaces of the West, I could also imagine how early settlers saw that space and wanted to find their own success there.
In one of his talks, Vincent Harding talked about the call for each of us to "make it our concern" to bring real democracy to birth in this country. Despite all our history, we are still emerging as a democracy, he said-there is more to do to bring about the circumstances for flourishing and equal participation for every person. For every person-including those who are on the opposite side from us. The discipline, Harding said in a forum on non-violence, is to constantly try to look at others with compassion-even those who might deny your own humanity, to remember that they are still a sister or brother. That's how Jesus saw others-it's not an easy invitation, but it's the one we're given. We may or may not be successful, but that's the work. Rev. William Barber talked about the prophetic call-God told Ezekiel to preach to the people: "Your job is to speak to them. Whether they listen to you is not your concern. Just because they don't listen doesn't give you the authority to quit."
So that's what I come back mulling over-what kind of church are we, will we be, in this new day? What kind of priest am I called to be? What kind of city do we want to inhabit? As we begin our ninth year of ministry together this fall, I look forward to what we will discover!
Blessings,
Sara+
Friday, July 5, 2013
Sabbath
Dear People of Christ Church,
This Sunday, we head into our summer schedule of having just one service at 9:30 in place of our usual 8:30 and 10, kicked off with our annual Church in the Garden. This year we're blessed with a unique portable organ, lent to us by Bill Weber, to support our singing even better. Bring a chair or blanket (there will also be some folding chairs from the parish hall set up) and stay for our outdoor coffee-less hour, too. We meet on the lawn in the shade, so don't worry about getting too hot.
Last week, I wrote about celebration-this week, as I see pictures of my family already on vacation posted on facebook, I'm thinking about rest (I leave on Monday to join them, so it's also my own longing at work!). Rest isn't slacking, or laziness, but part of our calling as spiritual beings. The New Zealand prayer book translates Psalm 127 like this: "It is but lost labor that we haste to rise up early, and so late take rest, and eat the bread of anxiety. For those beloved of God are given gifts even while they sleep."
Gifts from God, even as you sleep!
In our busy lives, though, it's hard to remember the importance of Sabbath. We are so intent in our culture on being productive, on having something to show for ourselves. "Empty hands are the devil's playground," our grandmothers taught us. But it's only with empty hands that we can accept what God has to give us.
We "eat the bread of anxiety;" the psalm cites it as an intentional act. We get caught up and forget that we choose the way we live our lives. Even in our "time off," we go shopping, we consume things we don't need. We want, at the end of the day, to say that we did something. But what would it be like if you just didn't do anything? If you put aside all the things that people expect of you, that you expect from yourself, all those needs and random wants? What if you came before God with empty hands and a silent mind and just prayed for them to be filled with God's quiet and love?
Important, too, is how your Sabbath impacts those around you. The meaning of Sabbath is rigorously outlined in the Old Testament for the Jews to follow-Sabbath is part of the law. But the implications of Sabbath aren't just for the Jews. They are commanded not to work, not just for themselves but so that their slaves and their animals also don't work. Sabbath extends outward from one person through to the community. "Six days you shall do your work, but on the seventh day you shall rest, so that your ox and your donkey may have relief, and your homeborn slave and the resident alien may be refreshed." (Exodus 23: 12) Of course, we are reading now in Galatians about how Christ came to take us out from under the law. How readily does God receive our rest when it's given freely, rather than commanded? Take a moment and give God the gift of your rest, and see how your receive God's grace in return.
Peace,
Sara+
This Sunday, we head into our summer schedule of having just one service at 9:30 in place of our usual 8:30 and 10, kicked off with our annual Church in the Garden. This year we're blessed with a unique portable organ, lent to us by Bill Weber, to support our singing even better. Bring a chair or blanket (there will also be some folding chairs from the parish hall set up) and stay for our outdoor coffee-less hour, too. We meet on the lawn in the shade, so don't worry about getting too hot.
Last week, I wrote about celebration-this week, as I see pictures of my family already on vacation posted on facebook, I'm thinking about rest (I leave on Monday to join them, so it's also my own longing at work!). Rest isn't slacking, or laziness, but part of our calling as spiritual beings. The New Zealand prayer book translates Psalm 127 like this: "It is but lost labor that we haste to rise up early, and so late take rest, and eat the bread of anxiety. For those beloved of God are given gifts even while they sleep."
Gifts from God, even as you sleep!
In our busy lives, though, it's hard to remember the importance of Sabbath. We are so intent in our culture on being productive, on having something to show for ourselves. "Empty hands are the devil's playground," our grandmothers taught us. But it's only with empty hands that we can accept what God has to give us.
We "eat the bread of anxiety;" the psalm cites it as an intentional act. We get caught up and forget that we choose the way we live our lives. Even in our "time off," we go shopping, we consume things we don't need. We want, at the end of the day, to say that we did something. But what would it be like if you just didn't do anything? If you put aside all the things that people expect of you, that you expect from yourself, all those needs and random wants? What if you came before God with empty hands and a silent mind and just prayed for them to be filled with God's quiet and love?
Important, too, is how your Sabbath impacts those around you. The meaning of Sabbath is rigorously outlined in the Old Testament for the Jews to follow-Sabbath is part of the law. But the implications of Sabbath aren't just for the Jews. They are commanded not to work, not just for themselves but so that their slaves and their animals also don't work. Sabbath extends outward from one person through to the community. "Six days you shall do your work, but on the seventh day you shall rest, so that your ox and your donkey may have relief, and your homeborn slave and the resident alien may be refreshed." (Exodus 23: 12) Of course, we are reading now in Galatians about how Christ came to take us out from under the law. How readily does God receive our rest when it's given freely, rather than commanded? Take a moment and give God the gift of your rest, and see how your receive God's grace in return.
Peace,
Sara+
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
This Week with the Supremes
Dear People of
Christ Church,
When Bishop Gayle
Harris visited us last May, she spent some time with vestry after our service
talking about how things are going at Christ Church. We talked about our usual
struggles, with people's so-full lives trying to create time apart for prayer
and for life together at church. We talked about our successes, about our
growth in our community and our very good problem of needing more leaders for
children's ministries. We were stumped, though, when she asked us this
question: "How do you party?"
How do we party,
indeed? Well, um, ah, there's...coffee hour. And the Christmas Pageant is a
little like a party, now that it comes with dinner afterwards. Softball last
week was a party, kind of. We used to have a parish picnic (why did we stop
doing that?). The fact is, though, that celebration just for its own sake
actually isn't a huge part of our life together in an intentional way. The
Ladies' Evening Group does have their fun, so special credit goes to Jeanne
Hewitt for organizing the last tea, even in such a serious crowd...
I was
thinking about this yesterday, in the wide smile I had over seeing the Supreme
Court rulings over Proposition 8 (which banned same sex marriage in California,
now thrown out) and the repeal of the "Defense of Marriage Act" (a
misnomer if ever there were one-thankfully, declared unconstitutional). So,
yay! But then I started thinking about all the states where equal marriage may
not be a reality for some time to come. And then I thought about the decision
yesterday repealing part of the Voting Rights Act, even as racism is so endemic
and many people still have difficulty enacting this basic right of American
democracy. And then...and before long I forgot I was celebrating.
Win some, lose some, right? Wrong.
Why is this
important?
I think it speaks to
a certain tension in the Christian life that we all face, both in our lives
individually and in our life together as a parish. There. is. so. much. to.
do. I don't have to tell you that. It can feel a little tricky to step
back and look around and just celebrate so much that is good. Shouldn't we use
that time to work harder? Shouldn't we be the kind of people who find working
to be celebrating?
Maybe, but then there's this:
Maybe, but then there's this:
"The Son of
Man came eating and drinking, and they say, "Look, a glutton and a
drunkard, a friend of tax-collectors and sinners!" Yet wisdom is
vindicated by her deeds.' (Matthew11:19)
In this exchange,
Jesus is naming the tension-John the Baptist didn't eat or drink, and you said
he had a demon. Now I'm here, and you say I'm a drunk. What gives? In his
life, Jesus gave us an example of how to live-how to celebrate and be joyful,
how to spend time away in prayer, how to be with those who have nothing, how to
love those we disagree with.
So here's my hope.
My hope is to find, not some halfway-between middle ground between delight and
sorrow where we're too calm and cool to be joyful. My hope is to exult, deeply,
with those whose marriages are now recognized by the federal government (in
just 13 states, for now). My hope is also for 37 other states to
recognize all marriages, and for Congress to permanently enshrine protection
for all voters into the law. As I hope for those things, I also want to
remember to look toward an even deeper joy, a deeper hope, for the
reconciliation of all people and all creation with our Creator, with Jesus
God's beloved, where we can meet each other freely. As we heard
from Galatians on Sunday, in Christ there is no slave or free, no Jew or Greek,
no male or female...no black or white, no straight or gay, not even any
conservative or liberal. And on our way there, I'll pray for wisdom to vindicate
both my joy and my sorrow. Now who's going to be the chair of the party
committee?
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Our Building
Dear People of
Christ Church,
This week, I'm passing on a building update from senior warden Jonathan
Duce...many thanks for all the hard work, Jonathan!
As you've probably
noticed, our tower is looking significantly shinier, and the lift is gone! Our
engineers from Simpson Gumpertz & Heger have submitted six field reports
since April 15th.. Each report documents the progress of our tower
repairs. The most recent report states that the cross is securely in place at
the top of the spire and repointing at the spire is complete. A lot of
attention has been paid to detail such as the ochre color of sand to match the
ochre color of the original mortar in the as closely as possible. The final mix
is made up of: 5 parts East Hartford yellow sand, 1 part East Hartford Red
sand, 1 part Iron Clad gray ("buff") cement, 1 part lime.
The final work to
be done on the outside was to repair the roof stone slabs at the tower stairs.
Interior tower work starts next. Our mortar and cross stabilization was paid
for by our CPA (Community Preservation Act) grant for historic preservation
from the city of Waltham, which will also cover the majority of the interior
roof work. Our own capital campaign funds have gone to the project oversight
from SGH, to be sure everything is done to spec.
Another capital
campaign project is to improve handicap accessibility. This spring, the
vestry voted to engage Perry Brothers Construction to rebuild the sacristy
bathroom (and resulting sacristy re-design). The paperwork is now slowly making
its way through the city permitting process. Once the permits are in place work
will begin. We have been told that it will be a 4-5 week construction timeline
once the crew gets started.
The generosity and
faith on the part of everyone at Christ Church in contributing to the capital
campaign has been an inspiration; if you haven't yet made a pledge, please see
the full write up about the work to be done here. Our final tally was $311,220 in commitments, from 45
individuals and families. Our average pledge was close to $7,000 divided
over five years...you are amazing givers! Since we met our first
campaign goal, 85% of funds now stay at Christ Church with 15% going to wider
mission
Thank you for your
gifts, and for your patience!
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Listening for signs and wonders
Dear People of Christ Church,
This morning, I've been organizing for our conversation tonight with Rob and Christine about preparing for death; we have a booklet, A Christian Prepares for Death, which will be available tonight and online, and there are some terrific new resources on the medical side from the Massachusetts Medical Orders for Life Sustaining Treatment website-it's based around a newly available form for medical guidance for those who are terminally ill, but it also has some other great Q and A around the different choices we face at the end of our lives. Still, I hope to see you tonight at7pm , in the clergy office (come through any of the doors,
with the exception of the front door of the church itself). If you can't come,
I'll upload the document to our online library, or I can send you a hard copy
if you want.
I'm also still feeling "wow"ed by our Bible Study conversation on the Acts of the Apostles on Sunday; about nine of us gathered for a phenomenal conversation. One new member talked about receiving more generous help than he ever could have imagined, quite out of the blue, and how it took him years to accept that he just happened to have met an angel in the cornfields ofIowa ,
and to stop trying to pay back the one who helped him. It's hard to be
vulnerable, to give voice to our need and to share our suffering-even harder to
accept help where it comes and just receive it gracefully. Erin Jensen started
out our conversation with her own questions about the way the biblical writers
talk about "signs and wonders"-at Christ
Church
I'm also looking forward to our reflection and action discussion after church on June 23, a week from this Sunday. We'll meet in small groups (each facilitated by a vestry member) to talk about what's going well and what new things we'd like to see happen atChrist Church
Blessings,
Sara+
This morning, I've been organizing for our conversation tonight with Rob and Christine about preparing for death; we have a booklet, A Christian Prepares for Death, which will be available tonight and online, and there are some terrific new resources on the medical side from the Massachusetts Medical Orders for Life Sustaining Treatment website-it's based around a newly available form for medical guidance for those who are terminally ill, but it also has some other great Q and A around the different choices we face at the end of our lives. Still, I hope to see you tonight at
I'm also still feeling "wow"ed by our Bible Study conversation on the Acts of the Apostles on Sunday; about nine of us gathered for a phenomenal conversation. One new member talked about receiving more generous help than he ever could have imagined, quite out of the blue, and how it took him years to accept that he just happened to have met an angel in the cornfields of
I'm also looking forward to our reflection and action discussion after church on June 23, a week from this Sunday. We'll meet in small groups (each facilitated by a vestry member) to talk about what's going well and what new things we'd like to see happen at
Blessings,
Sara+
Monday, June 10, 2013
Preparing for Gentle Death
Dear People of Christ Church
As you may have
heard on Sunday, this week we'll gather at 7pm to hear from our own Rob
Atwood and Christine August on end of life care. Rob is a hospice social worker
and Christine is an ICU nurse-both come to us with a great wealth of knowledge
of how we die. It happens to everyone, and even God in Jesus Christ went
there with us, but it's still a topic we fear. The fact is, though,
talking with the people we love about what we want near the end of our own
lives, or what they want at the end of theirs, is one of the greatest gifts we
can give. But it's hard. We don't want to be ghoulish, or make anyone
uncomfortable, or we can't countenance the idea of not having those we love
with us every day. We'd just rather talk about it...another day.
In a Christian context,
though, we're given a new freedom, a different context to consider the death of
our bodies. We can stand neither "for" nor "against" death,
but beside, as a known part of our human existence that will happen to us all.
Francis of Assisi put it this way in the hymn we know as "All
Creatures of our God and King:"
And thou most kind and gentle
Death,
Waiting to hush our latest breath,
O praise Him! Alleluia!
Thou leadest home the child of
God,
And Christ our Lord the way hath
trod.
O praise Him! O praise Him!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
Kind and gentle death, leading us
home to God. Wow.
Life is a tremendous gift, and we
are stewards-caretakers-of these bodies and souls that are given us. They are a
blessing. Our life is a blessing. Modern medicine and technology are a
blessing. There are many of you whose lives I treasure who have survived
illnesses that just twenty years ago would have been a death sentence.
As much as we are grateful for all the many treatments that are now
possible to prevent death, we also know that there's more to the story than
just our bodies' eventual end.
We have a responsibility to
preserve life, but we can also be realistic about what treatments are likely to
be effective and which are not. If nothing can separate us from God and
the love of those we love, then we don't have to approach death as the
enemy. Choices about care can be made from the standpoint of compassion
for the whole person, not just the scientific alleviation of a particular
symptom or illness. If someone near death is unable to swallow or loses
interest in food, for example, is it compassionate to give a feeding tube? It's
a hard question. It may prolong the life of their body, but that may come
at another cost.
In our Church's teaching about the
end of life, we differentiate between "passive" and
"active" ways in which death may be hastened. The passive withholding
of treatment is an ethical choice; if there is no prognosis for recovery, the
question becomes whether the patient's dying process is being prolonged, as
opposed to whether their actual life is being extended. At the same time,
when the physician assisted suicide referendum came around at election time, I
voted "no;" to take an action specifically with the desired outcome
being death is not, in my view, an ethical choice. As Episcopalians, also, we
respect each others' freedom of conscience. These issues are complicated, and
we don't condemn those who believe otherwise. There are times when the
lines are blurry and that's why it's so important that we talk to those we love
about the choices they want us to make. Fill out the legal paperwork for
who will be your health care proxy if you can't make decisions for
yourself. Put down, in writing if necessary, the kind of treatment
you do and do not want and tell that person.
As part of our conversation next
week, I'll also make available a booklet we put together several years ago
called "A Christian Prepares for Death," which leads you through many
of the choices to be made in preparing for the kind of burial you want. We
might think, "I won't exactly be present, so I'll let the people who
survive me make the choices." But let me tell you from the experience of
going through this with a lot of people-the most comforting thing for the
surviving person is to know what you would have wanted! This goes for
whether you want to be cremated or have "Go Tell it on the Mountain"
sung as much as for whether you would want to be removed from a ventilator.
Small decisions loom awfully large in a time of grief. Communication
about death is not morbid--it's one of the most loving things you can do.
I'll leave you with this piece of
Scripture:
For I am convinced that neither
death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to
come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation,
will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our
Lord. (Romans 8:38-39)
Thanks be to God!
Blessings,
Sara+
Sara+
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Thursday, May 23, 2013
From May 23: Trinity Sunday
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week I’m writing from “Gathering 2013,” a meeting of
youngish clergy from across the whole Episcopal Church. We’re a diverse group
of “Gen X” and “Millennial” folks, ranging in age from our mid twenties to
early fifties—I’m about in the middle third. We serve in cities and the
country, in cathedrals and small parishes, and all the range in between. We’re
talking about our churches and our lives, our hopes and fears, and discovering
all the ways our stories intersect—and don’t.
We long to take risks, to be more comfortable with speaking the truth of
the Gospel rather than succumbing to our fear or desire to be liked. We long to
DO a little less and BE a little more, which is why, in place of staying up
late to finish my letter to you, I offer instead this blessing for Trinity
Sunday (this Sunday) from Jan Richardson.
I hope you can take a moment to pray, to be, and to reflect on where the
mystery of God is with you today, as always, and how you are ready to receive
it.
Poured Into Our Hearts: A Blessing for Trinity Sunday from
Jan Richardson - Read her whole piece
here
Like a cup
like a chalice
like a basin
like a bowl
like a chalice
like a basin
like a bowl
when the Spirit comes
let it find our heart
like this
shaped like something
that knows how to receive
what is given
that knows how to hold
what comes to fill
that knows how to gather itself
around what arrives as
unbidden
unsought
unmeasured
love.
Sara+
PS:
Curious about Brene Brown, whose work on vulnerability I
mentioned in the sermon last week? Watch her 20 minute “TED” talk here.Wednesday, May 22, 2013
From May 16: The Pentecost Experience
Dear People of Christ Church,
As I write, I’m sitting at Café on the Common: my second office. It’s lively, bright, and sunny, with the whole spectrum of our city sitting and drinking their coffee. Fat/thin, young/old, black/white, business-serious and summer-casual: everybody’s here. I wonder if this is what it felt like on that day of Pentecost, 2000 years ago—the disciples just hanging around, doing what they had to do, and then, boom! Tongues of fire and a riot of languages, everyone met by the Holy Spirit exactly where they were, finding them each in their own languages, but also uniting them in a common experience. This Sunday, we’ll have our own linguistic Pentecost moment, with Spanish, German, Italian, Swedish, Hebrew, and even Welsh portions of readings (all of it will also be printed, as usual, in English so you can follow along).
The Pentecost experience of unity in diversity was something we experienced last Sunday at the Mother’s Day walk for peace, too. Thousands of people had gathered in Dorchester from all around—we had our Christ Church sign, just as there were banners from Episcopal Churches in Walpole and Sudbury, Unitarians from Lexington and Chelmsford, and individuals from all over with T shirts or buttons memorializing those they had lost. The day was pervaded by a deep sense of mourning, as well as a deep sense of possibility. Terrible things have happened. But newness and grace are possible.
First, we can start asking some different questions; the usual narrative we tell around tragic violence puts the focus on the victim. We talk about how someone was “in the wrong place at the wrong time,” with the subtext that it could perhaps have happened to anyone. This is a natural response; it is, strictly speaking, true: Jorge Fuentes was walking down his own street, and had someone else been walking down that street at the same time his killer pulled out a gun, that person could have been shot instead. There was nothing about Jorge that would have made someone single him out. Yes, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it didn’t “just” happen. It’s more complicated than that.
While we think we are preserving the innocence of the dead, we’re still putting all the focus on the victim, not the perpetrator. Tina Chery, the founder of the Louis Brown Peace Institute, said on Sunday that we should instead ask: “Where did they get the gun?” These crimes are perpetrated by individuals who are, themselves, part of a wider context. There is a whole web of poverty and violence and poor education that brings them to that point. And a whole other system of criminality and commerce that brings the gun that they pick up.
The police have not arrested the person who killed Jorge, but what about the other 6,000 youth nationwide who have been killed by gun violence since he was in September? That’s 12,000 parents whose children have died. What about those guns? What about those communities where 1% of the population terrorize the rest? What if there were the same level of outcry whenever any person, anywhere, were killed? What if, as a culture, we really and truly valued the life of every person? What would have to change? How would each of us have to change?
I don’t have all the answers—not even close. There was something so holy, though, about all of us pouring through the streets of Dorchester, just for a morning, to stand with Tina, and Jorge’s mom, and Scarlett, whose six year old son was killed in Newtown, CT who also walked that day. As Rev. Tim Crellin, priest at St Stephen’s, Boston, said, “These are the first of many steps.”
Last night, at our Alewife Deanery meeting, we talked about how to move forward in this work for peace in our cities. All of our contexts are different; Waltham and Burlington won’t need the same thing, and neither will Bedford and Cambridge. Below, you’ll see an announcement about a community meeting that’s happening in Newton that our own Heather Leonardo heatherleonardo@gmail.com plans to attend. So please be in touch with her if you want to be part of that. Finally, mark your calendars for September 28, when the annual diocesan resource day will host workshops on nonviolence organizing. And feel free to give money--we’ve so far raised $200 for the Louis D Brown institute, and will collect donations for one more Sunday; write B Peace on your check.
And pray! This Sunday the disciples were gathered in one place praying, when they were surprised by the Spirit. It can happen to us, too.
Peace,
Sara+
As I write, I’m sitting at Café on the Common: my second office. It’s lively, bright, and sunny, with the whole spectrum of our city sitting and drinking their coffee. Fat/thin, young/old, black/white, business-serious and summer-casual: everybody’s here. I wonder if this is what it felt like on that day of Pentecost, 2000 years ago—the disciples just hanging around, doing what they had to do, and then, boom! Tongues of fire and a riot of languages, everyone met by the Holy Spirit exactly where they were, finding them each in their own languages, but also uniting them in a common experience. This Sunday, we’ll have our own linguistic Pentecost moment, with Spanish, German, Italian, Swedish, Hebrew, and even Welsh portions of readings (all of it will also be printed, as usual, in English so you can follow along).
The Pentecost experience of unity in diversity was something we experienced last Sunday at the Mother’s Day walk for peace, too. Thousands of people had gathered in Dorchester from all around—we had our Christ Church sign, just as there were banners from Episcopal Churches in Walpole and Sudbury, Unitarians from Lexington and Chelmsford, and individuals from all over with T shirts or buttons memorializing those they had lost. The day was pervaded by a deep sense of mourning, as well as a deep sense of possibility. Terrible things have happened. But newness and grace are possible.
First, we can start asking some different questions; the usual narrative we tell around tragic violence puts the focus on the victim. We talk about how someone was “in the wrong place at the wrong time,” with the subtext that it could perhaps have happened to anyone. This is a natural response; it is, strictly speaking, true: Jorge Fuentes was walking down his own street, and had someone else been walking down that street at the same time his killer pulled out a gun, that person could have been shot instead. There was nothing about Jorge that would have made someone single him out. Yes, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it didn’t “just” happen. It’s more complicated than that.
While we think we are preserving the innocence of the dead, we’re still putting all the focus on the victim, not the perpetrator. Tina Chery, the founder of the Louis Brown Peace Institute, said on Sunday that we should instead ask: “Where did they get the gun?” These crimes are perpetrated by individuals who are, themselves, part of a wider context. There is a whole web of poverty and violence and poor education that brings them to that point. And a whole other system of criminality and commerce that brings the gun that they pick up.
The police have not arrested the person who killed Jorge, but what about the other 6,000 youth nationwide who have been killed by gun violence since he was in September? That’s 12,000 parents whose children have died. What about those guns? What about those communities where 1% of the population terrorize the rest? What if there were the same level of outcry whenever any person, anywhere, were killed? What if, as a culture, we really and truly valued the life of every person? What would have to change? How would each of us have to change?
I don’t have all the answers—not even close. There was something so holy, though, about all of us pouring through the streets of Dorchester, just for a morning, to stand with Tina, and Jorge’s mom, and Scarlett, whose six year old son was killed in Newtown, CT who also walked that day. As Rev. Tim Crellin, priest at St Stephen’s, Boston, said, “These are the first of many steps.”
Last night, at our Alewife Deanery meeting, we talked about how to move forward in this work for peace in our cities. All of our contexts are different; Waltham and Burlington won’t need the same thing, and neither will Bedford and Cambridge. Below, you’ll see an announcement about a community meeting that’s happening in Newton that our own Heather Leonardo heatherleonardo@gmail.com plans to attend. So please be in touch with her if you want to be part of that. Finally, mark your calendars for September 28, when the annual diocesan resource day will host workshops on nonviolence organizing. And feel free to give money--we’ve so far raised $200 for the Louis D Brown institute, and will collect donations for one more Sunday; write B Peace on your check.
And pray! This Sunday the disciples were gathered in one place praying, when they were surprised by the Spirit. It can happen to us, too.
Peace,
Sara+
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