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+
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
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+
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