Dear People of Christ Church,
Thanks to all who came out for the annual meeting!
In addition to the oh-so-exciting “prayer for a church meeting,” we offered prayers for those who died in 2014 and celebrated new members who signed our volume of the 1898 bylaws (You can get a more recent copy—just let me know). If you missed out and would still like to sign, please let me know and there will be a part two. As we have for the last number of years, we also gave appreciation pins to those whose service we were particularly grateful over the year—Jerome Fung, for sharing his musical gifts with us, Jessica Mailman, responsible for the overhaul of our website, Andrea Shirley, who concluded her term as vestry member and served (and continues to serve) as deanery representative, and Chris Jensen, who concluded his time as parish treasurer. Thank you, thank you, thank you Jerome, Jessica, Andrea, and Chris! We also welcomed on new leadership to vestry—Chris Leonardo and Anna Jones are each joining for regular terms of service, and Mike Hughes is coming on as treasurer. This parish is so blessed to have these thoughtful, faithful, creative leaders!
The bulk of the meeting centered in having conversations about the four themes that came out of informational interviews conducted by the vestry to discern where our energy is most needed at church: the building, the community, outreach, and ministries with children. In preparation, we gathered annual reports from all the different ministries we’ve engaged in over the year. At the meeting itself, our emphasis was more on preparing for 2015 than looking back at 2014, but please do read the report (here is the correct link!). Please also, if you were at the meeting, offer feedback to me and the vestry about your experience. Having so much emphasis on the new year was new for 2014, and we want to have a balance between looking forward and looking back.
Speaking of feedback, in the new year we continue to discern how best to pray our intercession list. This Sunday in response to parishioner input we’re including a short explanation of those for whom we pray in the bulletin, and we continue hearing the names from the congregation. So far input has been very positive, so please let us know how you experience it with our survey, either online or in church on Sunday (in the bulletin). Another survey is about our plans for Christian formation. What do you want to learn? What format works best for you? Do you want more focus on the Bible? More on getting to know each other? Would you be part of making it happen? Please let us know here.
Why all the information gathering? The BCP catechism says “The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ.” That is the mission of the church. And if what we’re doing isn’t directed toward God, then we’re not living up to what God desires for us. Listening to each other is part of that work. At the same time, it’s also not just about accommodating the personal preferences of 100 different individuals; we are also called to hope for the best of the whole, not just own wants.
As I said in my sermon last Sunday, the church is the church as it is—we are the church. You are the church. It matters if you’re here on Sunday and it matters what you think. And I continue to be blessed to serve you and God in this place!
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Friday, January 23, 2015
Annual Meeting Sunday
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week I’m passing along my annual report—please come to the annual meeting on Sunday! We look forward to voting in some excellent leaders (Chris Leonardo and Anna Jones to vestry, Mike Hughes to treasurer) and will hopefully have some fruitful conversation about our calling to ministry in the new year. This will be the first order of business, so even if you can’t stay for the whole meeting, please come for the conversation. Plans for a children’s activity are underway. Also remember it’s one service, at 9:30! Please also join me in offering prayers of gratitude for the service of Louise Wilkes, Andrea Shirley, and Chris Jensen, whose elected terms come to a close but whose ministries certainly continue.
…
Sitting down to write this report for you for the tenth time (the anniversary of our ten years of work together will be September 15), I’m always so grateful for all the ways in which you are so generous with each other and with this parish. Writing this year I am thrilled and excited that we have met our astonishingly ambitious 2015 pledge goal. St Francis of Assisi talked about being a fool for Christ. If any of us in 2012 had said we’d increase our stewardship giving by more than thirty percent in the space of two years, they would have been told in no uncertain terms they were just a fool. But here we are, and wow.
There were a lot of “wow” moments this year. Of course, the narthex, which literally brought tears to my eyes. We had the biggest ever participation in our Lenten small group educational series on the The Restoration Project. We listened to the movement of God in each others’ lives in those conversations, and came nearer to each other as well.
The vestry had its first ever “retreat retreat” for our annual time together, spending the day at Bethany House of Prayer, allowing us to reflect on how the Spirit had been weaving Her way through our conversations. A pivotal time I think for all of us on vestry was our conversations about the possibility of hiring a part time director of religious education. Though the search overall wasn’t successful, it was a grace-filled time of listening to each other, both in the vestry and in the team that did interviews and imagined together what the person might bring. I’m hopeful that the time might be right in 2015. Our Spring Arts Night was so much fun, and a great way to see God’s gifts in the lives of the performers. Kira Cohn’s pogo stick rendition of Happy was definitely a highlight of the year.
I’m grateful that our building has continued to offer home to so many different ministries and (ad)ventures. January of 2014 did begin on a sad note for our friends at St Peter’s, who experienced a split in their congregation, leading to half or so forming a new community in Belmont. I am grateful to the Diocese of Massachusetts for providing grant funds to enable St Peter’s to continue to meet the bulk of their financial responsibility to Christ Church. I was also glad that many members of St Peter’s joined us when we welcomed Bishop Shaw on his last visitation to the parish in March, and that many continue to join us for our Holy week Services.
I am so grateful for Victoria Sundgren and Sasha Killewald, wardens extraordinaire who keep me focused and attentive to so much. Our lay led compline series has been a great example of the vocation of the whole church to prayer, and the musical gifts of Jerome Fung are a constantly unfolding gift to the church. I’m also thrilled to have Christine Dutt working with our expanded older kids offerings and partnership with Good Shepherd Watertown and Erin Jensen continuing to lead our younger kids’ programs (as well as being a parent leader in the older kids’ organizing!). We would not have had a fraction of the growth we have seen over the last number of years without her steadiness and spirit. Meanwhile, I continue to be so thankful for the continual and kind presence of those who have kept things going all along, Sally and Cathy and all of the longtime members who “remember when.”
In 2015 I also began some new projects in my work as a priest in the wider world. I’ve now spent a whole year on the Commission on Ministry, the diocesan group tasked with working with those who are applying for and preparing for ordination. I’ve written pieces for the Waltham News Tribune on a more regular basis for holidays. I continue to serve on the Parmenter Housing board, which runs two affordable housing complexes for older women, and help here and there for the diocesan Life Together intern program.
I was sad to say goodbye to David Collins, but grateful for all the new things Cheryl is teaching us. And to say that I’m pleased to have Jaime Bonney in the office doesn’t come close to articulating how much I appreciate her! And, of course, I couldn’t close the report by mentioning my sadness at losing Jim Hewitt and Tom Shaw this year. In very different ways these two men shaped my priesthood and leadership, and I know that they dwell in light eternal with all the saints.
This week I’m passing along my annual report—please come to the annual meeting on Sunday! We look forward to voting in some excellent leaders (Chris Leonardo and Anna Jones to vestry, Mike Hughes to treasurer) and will hopefully have some fruitful conversation about our calling to ministry in the new year. This will be the first order of business, so even if you can’t stay for the whole meeting, please come for the conversation. Plans for a children’s activity are underway. Also remember it’s one service, at 9:30! Please also join me in offering prayers of gratitude for the service of Louise Wilkes, Andrea Shirley, and Chris Jensen, whose elected terms come to a close but whose ministries certainly continue.
…
Sitting down to write this report for you for the tenth time (the anniversary of our ten years of work together will be September 15), I’m always so grateful for all the ways in which you are so generous with each other and with this parish. Writing this year I am thrilled and excited that we have met our astonishingly ambitious 2015 pledge goal. St Francis of Assisi talked about being a fool for Christ. If any of us in 2012 had said we’d increase our stewardship giving by more than thirty percent in the space of two years, they would have been told in no uncertain terms they were just a fool. But here we are, and wow.
There were a lot of “wow” moments this year. Of course, the narthex, which literally brought tears to my eyes. We had the biggest ever participation in our Lenten small group educational series on the The Restoration Project. We listened to the movement of God in each others’ lives in those conversations, and came nearer to each other as well.
The vestry had its first ever “retreat retreat” for our annual time together, spending the day at Bethany House of Prayer, allowing us to reflect on how the Spirit had been weaving Her way through our conversations. A pivotal time I think for all of us on vestry was our conversations about the possibility of hiring a part time director of religious education. Though the search overall wasn’t successful, it was a grace-filled time of listening to each other, both in the vestry and in the team that did interviews and imagined together what the person might bring. I’m hopeful that the time might be right in 2015. Our Spring Arts Night was so much fun, and a great way to see God’s gifts in the lives of the performers. Kira Cohn’s pogo stick rendition of Happy was definitely a highlight of the year.
I’m grateful that our building has continued to offer home to so many different ministries and (ad)ventures. January of 2014 did begin on a sad note for our friends at St Peter’s, who experienced a split in their congregation, leading to half or so forming a new community in Belmont. I am grateful to the Diocese of Massachusetts for providing grant funds to enable St Peter’s to continue to meet the bulk of their financial responsibility to Christ Church. I was also glad that many members of St Peter’s joined us when we welcomed Bishop Shaw on his last visitation to the parish in March, and that many continue to join us for our Holy week Services.
I am so grateful for Victoria Sundgren and Sasha Killewald, wardens extraordinaire who keep me focused and attentive to so much. Our lay led compline series has been a great example of the vocation of the whole church to prayer, and the musical gifts of Jerome Fung are a constantly unfolding gift to the church. I’m also thrilled to have Christine Dutt working with our expanded older kids offerings and partnership with Good Shepherd Watertown and Erin Jensen continuing to lead our younger kids’ programs (as well as being a parent leader in the older kids’ organizing!). We would not have had a fraction of the growth we have seen over the last number of years without her steadiness and spirit. Meanwhile, I continue to be so thankful for the continual and kind presence of those who have kept things going all along, Sally and Cathy and all of the longtime members who “remember when.”
In 2015 I also began some new projects in my work as a priest in the wider world. I’ve now spent a whole year on the Commission on Ministry, the diocesan group tasked with working with those who are applying for and preparing for ordination. I’ve written pieces for the Waltham News Tribune on a more regular basis for holidays. I continue to serve on the Parmenter Housing board, which runs two affordable housing complexes for older women, and help here and there for the diocesan Life Together intern program.
I was sad to say goodbye to David Collins, but grateful for all the new things Cheryl is teaching us. And to say that I’m pleased to have Jaime Bonney in the office doesn’t come close to articulating how much I appreciate her! And, of course, I couldn’t close the report by mentioning my sadness at losing Jim Hewitt and Tom Shaw this year. In very different ways these two men shaped my priesthood and leadership, and I know that they dwell in light eternal with all the saints.
Being Beloved, Being Changed
Dear People of Christ Church,
Sunday, my sermon was all about the love of God—God’s all the time, unconditional, unchanging love. It doesn’t matter how much better we could be through self-improvement—more exercise, more prayer, more attentiveness, more simplicity—still, no matter what, God loves us now and won’t love us more even if we could become “better” somehow.
This week, I’m feeling vividly the paradox of that profound truth—God literally could not love us more—at the same time as I feel the truth of God’s pull toward being, yes, better. Some of it is the New Year; writing all of our annual reports, I’m excited about what else we can do having seen how far we’ve come. Some of it is Martin Luther King, Jr Day—thinking of the “more” to which the Civil Rights Movement called our country and thinking of just how far there still is to go.
The love of God invites our total and profound surrender to God’s will. The love of God invites our perfect rest in God’s sufficiency and care for us. The love of God is a raging fire, that burns in your heart until you’ve shared it with others. The love of God is the knowledge that you are valued beyond measure and—and—for that very reason—for the very reason of your soft cuddly love of God feeling—you are also made brave beyond measure to go out into the world to make God’s dream real.
I don’t know the answer of how, exactly, to do this. I’m starting small—in how I teach my children, in how I spend my money, in how I do my job. Jesus said something about being a neighbor, loving with action and word those who are closest, allowing the sphere of our affection to broaden. Not turning away from suffering. Last week, like many were, I was swept away in the “Big Ideas” about the shootings in France while as many as 2,000 people were murdered in Nigeria with hardly a media ripple.
So I’ll soak in all of God’s love and acceptance that I know is mine in Christ. I will pray not to allow myself to feel God’s love as an insulating cocoon away from the world, but as a fire behind me that allows me to go out into the world. I will pray to be willing to face suffering and pain, knowing that God’s love will always be enough.
Blessings,
Sara+
Sunday, my sermon was all about the love of God—God’s all the time, unconditional, unchanging love. It doesn’t matter how much better we could be through self-improvement—more exercise, more prayer, more attentiveness, more simplicity—still, no matter what, God loves us now and won’t love us more even if we could become “better” somehow.
This week, I’m feeling vividly the paradox of that profound truth—God literally could not love us more—at the same time as I feel the truth of God’s pull toward being, yes, better. Some of it is the New Year; writing all of our annual reports, I’m excited about what else we can do having seen how far we’ve come. Some of it is Martin Luther King, Jr Day—thinking of the “more” to which the Civil Rights Movement called our country and thinking of just how far there still is to go.
The love of God invites our total and profound surrender to God’s will. The love of God invites our perfect rest in God’s sufficiency and care for us. The love of God is a raging fire, that burns in your heart until you’ve shared it with others. The love of God is the knowledge that you are valued beyond measure and—and—for that very reason—for the very reason of your soft cuddly love of God feeling—you are also made brave beyond measure to go out into the world to make God’s dream real.
I don’t know the answer of how, exactly, to do this. I’m starting small—in how I teach my children, in how I spend my money, in how I do my job. Jesus said something about being a neighbor, loving with action and word those who are closest, allowing the sphere of our affection to broaden. Not turning away from suffering. Last week, like many were, I was swept away in the “Big Ideas” about the shootings in France while as many as 2,000 people were murdered in Nigeria with hardly a media ripple.
So I’ll soak in all of God’s love and acceptance that I know is mine in Christ. I will pray not to allow myself to feel God’s love as an insulating cocoon away from the world, but as a fire behind me that allows me to go out into the world. I will pray to be willing to face suffering and pain, knowing that God’s love will always be enough.
Blessings,
Sara+
Friday, January 9, 2015
On (Not) Getting Our Stories Straight
Dear People of Christ Church,
Blessings on this week of Epiphany!
This year through both Advent and Christmas I’ve continually felt drawn toward the multiplicity of our narratives—from Matthew to Mark to Luke to John, the church has long told many stories to explain our faith. To be religious is to be bound by a certain set of questions and symbols, but at the same time to hold a radical openness to truth—to stand at the doorway of Scripture and see shepherds at the manger on our left and Magi at the house with Jesus on the right and be able to extend our arms wide and say to both, “yes,” “thank you,” “Amen.” The shepherds teach me that God’s truth is revealed in some unlikely corners of society; the Magi teach me that the revelation of truth sometimes comes from far away.
There is much in the media this week over the attacks against the satirical French newspaper Charlie Hebdo, in which twelve staff members were shot this week in an attack apparently by Islamic fundamentalists. Is religion the problem? One of my favorite authors, Salman Rushdie, says it is, and calls it “a medieval form of unreason,” and says religion deserves our “fearless disrespect.” Certainly I have little sympathy for homicidal fundamentalists, but it seems unuseful to lump every impulse toward transcendence and mystery in the same category. Religious violence has endured through millennia. The Egyptians oppressed the Hebrews and the Spanish Inquisition oppressed non-Catholics. Christian fundamentalists have bombed abortion clinics and now Islamic fundamentalists attack cartoonists and school girls. The thing those all have in common is contempt and violence, not religion. Charlie Hebdo was contemptuous (and from what I’ve seen, probably racist, too)—but not violent, and not deserving of murder. It’s cruel irony that one of the police officers murdered in the attack was Muslim, risking his life to protect those on the magazine who pilloried his prophet.
So what to do? As thousands in France held up their pens in support of the writers and artists who were killed on Tuesday, as a religious person I hold out two open hands. I hold out open hands for mystery, for attentiveness and for curiosity. Open hands to say that I don’t come to Scripture—or even my own life!— with certainty, but with faith. I’ll imagine the magi in the stable and give thanks for the holy strangeness of kings in a barn. I’ll imagine the shepherds at the house and hope that their lambs don’t wander into the kitchen. I’ll get out of bed every day to meet my own chaotic life of distraction and wonder—parenting and preaching and learning and falling and getting up again—through all of it so grateful for a faith big enough to hold the pieces together.
At Epiphany, we remember the magi following a star and listening to the invitation in their dream to go home by another way. What new path are you on today? What’s the power of your faith against violence? Where do you need the stars to illuminate your road?
Blessings,
Sara+
Blessings on this week of Epiphany!
This year through both Advent and Christmas I’ve continually felt drawn toward the multiplicity of our narratives—from Matthew to Mark to Luke to John, the church has long told many stories to explain our faith. To be religious is to be bound by a certain set of questions and symbols, but at the same time to hold a radical openness to truth—to stand at the doorway of Scripture and see shepherds at the manger on our left and Magi at the house with Jesus on the right and be able to extend our arms wide and say to both, “yes,” “thank you,” “Amen.” The shepherds teach me that God’s truth is revealed in some unlikely corners of society; the Magi teach me that the revelation of truth sometimes comes from far away.
There is much in the media this week over the attacks against the satirical French newspaper Charlie Hebdo, in which twelve staff members were shot this week in an attack apparently by Islamic fundamentalists. Is religion the problem? One of my favorite authors, Salman Rushdie, says it is, and calls it “a medieval form of unreason,” and says religion deserves our “fearless disrespect.” Certainly I have little sympathy for homicidal fundamentalists, but it seems unuseful to lump every impulse toward transcendence and mystery in the same category. Religious violence has endured through millennia. The Egyptians oppressed the Hebrews and the Spanish Inquisition oppressed non-Catholics. Christian fundamentalists have bombed abortion clinics and now Islamic fundamentalists attack cartoonists and school girls. The thing those all have in common is contempt and violence, not religion. Charlie Hebdo was contemptuous (and from what I’ve seen, probably racist, too)—but not violent, and not deserving of murder. It’s cruel irony that one of the police officers murdered in the attack was Muslim, risking his life to protect those on the magazine who pilloried his prophet.
So what to do? As thousands in France held up their pens in support of the writers and artists who were killed on Tuesday, as a religious person I hold out two open hands. I hold out open hands for mystery, for attentiveness and for curiosity. Open hands to say that I don’t come to Scripture—or even my own life!— with certainty, but with faith. I’ll imagine the magi in the stable and give thanks for the holy strangeness of kings in a barn. I’ll imagine the shepherds at the house and hope that their lambs don’t wander into the kitchen. I’ll get out of bed every day to meet my own chaotic life of distraction and wonder—parenting and preaching and learning and falling and getting up again—through all of it so grateful for a faith big enough to hold the pieces together.
At Epiphany, we remember the magi following a star and listening to the invitation in their dream to go home by another way. What new path are you on today? What’s the power of your faith against violence? Where do you need the stars to illuminate your road?
Blessings,
Sara+
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