Dear People of Christ Church,
I’m writing late this week as I get everything ready to leave for vacation. Clergy in the Episcopal Church are blessed with good long chunks of vacation—no three day weekends, but four weeks a year to take whenever I want is pretty great. Time for conferences, retreats, and education, like Wild Goose Festival where I traveled a few weeks ago, is separate. It’s great for me, but it’s also great for you—Revs Anne and Norm, who are each taking two weeks in my absence, are totally different preachers and thinkers than I, and after ten years of me rattling around in that stone building it’s important to get me out of my enclosure once in a while. My family and I will be backpacking and camping the National Parks of Utah and Arizona, so if any pastoral emergencies come up the very faithful and capable clergy of Redeemer Lexington, Revs Kate and Andrew, will be on call. I’ve got one more Sunday, though, until I’m away, so I’m looking forward to being with you this week. The Gospel is a blockbuster—in John’s version of the Feeding of the 5,000, Jesus walks on water right afterwards. One miracle isn’t enough.
Meanwhile, vestry and I have been having some great conversations about what we’d like to work on for 2015-16. I’ve been working on my own goals as well—I’d like to focus more on structuring my work time for better preaching preparation, and I want to try having regular open office hours at Café on the Common. As I get drawn up into ideas for activities and programs, though, I keep pulling back and remembering what the actual mission here is—the mission is not the program or the attendance at whatever Tuesday event is happening. The mission is the reconciliation of all people with God. If Tuesday night programs help out with that, terrific, but if they’re not, then we should do something else.
So then the question is:
What do you want to do next year?
From the beach or the mountains or Moody Street, wherever you find yourself this summer, take a few minutes to imagine with each other over time and space. I’ve created this google doc to be a big whiteboard—anybody can write on it (no google ID necessary). Throw out all your ideas, sign your name or not, just use your imagination. In the Gospel passage we read last Sunday, Jesus taught the people who gathered “many things.” What does he want to teach us now? What does he want us to teach each other?
Blessings!
Sara+
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Coming Toward Democracy
Dear People of Christ Church,
I’ve written several versions of this post trying to get to the bottom of what, exactly, I was doing for my time at Wild Goose Festival last week. Part of the standard clergy employment agreement is to have two weeks of “continuing education” time. I’ve gone to Wild Goose Festival now three times as part of that, and also used the time for retreats and conferences. So there is a sense of accountability around it—our parishes generously provide for this (and offer some funding!) in addition to vacation, so I want to try to share this with you.
I’m glad to include links of everything I saw—a lot of the presentations were things the presenters have offered before, so information is easy to convey. I will be glad to send you links. But the experience isn’t about data. What it is about is the amazing sense of how God was working in the lives of the people I met and listened to. Almost every person I heard had a deep sense of Scripture. I did the math and I’ve preached at least 400 sermons. I know some things about the Bible. But the way that Mark Charles, a Navajo activist and educator, talked about how white settlers in the Americas lacked a “land covenant” with God to guide our relationship, or the way Bree Newsome talked about how Jesus worked for peace, not order, or how Tony Campolo talked about the love of Jesus moved in his heart to advocate for GLBT persons in the evangelical movement—literally, OMG.
I have heretical moments, but by and large I think my theology about Jesus is pretty sound. But that’s my theology. My passion for Jesus is more in sacrament and symbol and church and service. It’s more intellection and less clear than “Ok, Lord, I’ll climb that pole.” I’d be afraid to climb a flag pole just for the sake of the height, much less risking arrest and the legitimate possibility of being shot. But Bree Newsome pointed out that Jesus was mostly just in the Temple when he was knocking things over. He was out in the world doing his ministry where God called him to be.
So that’s my real invitation from Wild Goose Festival. Where am I muting the invitation of the Holy Spirit because of fear? Where am I unfree from a disordered attachment to comfort? In church, in my family, in my prayer? How often am I willing to do the hard work for genuine, holy, peace? To learn from marginalized voices, not because it’s my “duty,” but because Jesus is there. It’s very comfortable to say that “education” is the key to success and social mobility, and that’s often true. But where we need to lean harder on education is for people like me who don’t get arrested for failing to use a turn signal, to learn what we don’t know. As a person of privilege in this country I can be like a fish in water and not have to understand what water is. But that is not the way of Jesus.
A white anti-racist response has to come from humility. This country was founded on the theft of land and came to economic dominance through slavery. It is coming toward democracy, and is founded on some amazing ideals of freedom and equality that are coming toward being for all people. But those ideals aren’t a reality for all of its people. The inspiring part, though, is that if the truth really will set us free—and I think we have to believe it does—is that we are all on our way to the vineyard. Some will be on time, some will be late, and some will be really, really late. But as Episcopal priest Paul Fromberg said in his talk on “An apocalyptic of peace:” I don’t believe in progress. I believe in salvation.”
As a Christian I, too, believe in salvation.
Blessings,
Sara+
I’ve written several versions of this post trying to get to the bottom of what, exactly, I was doing for my time at Wild Goose Festival last week. Part of the standard clergy employment agreement is to have two weeks of “continuing education” time. I’ve gone to Wild Goose Festival now three times as part of that, and also used the time for retreats and conferences. So there is a sense of accountability around it—our parishes generously provide for this (and offer some funding!) in addition to vacation, so I want to try to share this with you.
I’m glad to include links of everything I saw—a lot of the presentations were things the presenters have offered before, so information is easy to convey. I will be glad to send you links. But the experience isn’t about data. What it is about is the amazing sense of how God was working in the lives of the people I met and listened to. Almost every person I heard had a deep sense of Scripture. I did the math and I’ve preached at least 400 sermons. I know some things about the Bible. But the way that Mark Charles, a Navajo activist and educator, talked about how white settlers in the Americas lacked a “land covenant” with God to guide our relationship, or the way Bree Newsome talked about how Jesus worked for peace, not order, or how Tony Campolo talked about the love of Jesus moved in his heart to advocate for GLBT persons in the evangelical movement—literally, OMG.
I have heretical moments, but by and large I think my theology about Jesus is pretty sound. But that’s my theology. My passion for Jesus is more in sacrament and symbol and church and service. It’s more intellection and less clear than “Ok, Lord, I’ll climb that pole.” I’d be afraid to climb a flag pole just for the sake of the height, much less risking arrest and the legitimate possibility of being shot. But Bree Newsome pointed out that Jesus was mostly just in the Temple when he was knocking things over. He was out in the world doing his ministry where God called him to be.
So that’s my real invitation from Wild Goose Festival. Where am I muting the invitation of the Holy Spirit because of fear? Where am I unfree from a disordered attachment to comfort? In church, in my family, in my prayer? How often am I willing to do the hard work for genuine, holy, peace? To learn from marginalized voices, not because it’s my “duty,” but because Jesus is there. It’s very comfortable to say that “education” is the key to success and social mobility, and that’s often true. But where we need to lean harder on education is for people like me who don’t get arrested for failing to use a turn signal, to learn what we don’t know. As a person of privilege in this country I can be like a fish in water and not have to understand what water is. But that is not the way of Jesus.
A white anti-racist response has to come from humility. This country was founded on the theft of land and came to economic dominance through slavery. It is coming toward democracy, and is founded on some amazing ideals of freedom and equality that are coming toward being for all people. But those ideals aren’t a reality for all of its people. The inspiring part, though, is that if the truth really will set us free—and I think we have to believe it does—is that we are all on our way to the vineyard. Some will be on time, some will be late, and some will be really, really late. But as Episcopal priest Paul Fromberg said in his talk on “An apocalyptic of peace:” I don’t believe in progress. I believe in salvation.”
As a Christian I, too, believe in salvation.
Blessings,
Sara+
Friday, July 10, 2015
Receiving Grace
Dear People of Christ Church,
As you read this I’ll be almost finished with my 900 mile drive south to Hot Springs, North Carolina, home of the Wild Goose Festival, a Thursday through Sunday extravaganza of God, peace, art, music, and muddy Christians. Hot Springs is in an area in Western North Carolina that is basically a rain forest, and with mostly tent campers, you get very comfortable with dirt. 2 years ago my family had a bit of an extra adventure when our elderly camping trailer and our not-quite-up-to-the-task Subaru were no match for the mountains. Four of us in the front of a tow truck driving 45 minutes into the mountains to retrieve our camper was an exploit we hope not to repeat, so this year we are staying in a much more portable tent.
The first time we were at Wild Goose we heard civil rights veteran Vincent Harding speak—all the more powerful now, since he died in 2014. I remember hearing him talk about the United States as an “emerging” democracy—we just aren’t all there yet, as a nation, but God is leading us on. Observing July 4 this past week in the wake of the Supreme Court’s equal marriage decision felt like our country emerged a little further, though there is still a distance to go. Fundamentally, though, our faith is about joy, not sorrow. The Gospel calls us to mourn and weep (I’ve forgotten how many of the psalms are laments, but it’s a lot), but also tell us joy comes in the morning and that we are already reconciled to God. Already.
The most incredible gift, the one that’s somewhat peculiarly difficult to receive, is the grace of Jesus—the already-forgiven places we are invited to live in. Over the last few weeks I’ve sung Amazing Grace more times than usual, mostly as a go-to hymn a lot of people just know. We sang it at the service for Charleston, we sang it because the hymn number was printed incorrectly in church two Sundays ago, and we sang it this past week at Church in the Garden when we were competing with ambulances and traffic. My favorite verse is the last one:
When we’ve been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise
Than when we’d first begun.
I love this image beyond time and space, as though we could begin singing and giving thanks for God now, but there’s no way we’ll ever finish. Even after ten thousand years, still the grace of God will catch us in joy, nudging us like a four year old who just needs their back scratched a little longer at bedtime. Just a little longer. Ten thousand years isn’t enough.
Where is grace finding you these summer days?
Blessings,
Sara+
PS: please come to church this Sunday as we continue summer worship at 9:30—the incomparable Rev. Anne Minton joins us!…
Stop by and say hi between 10-12 this Saturday, too, for Waltham History Day at Christ Church!
As you read this I’ll be almost finished with my 900 mile drive south to Hot Springs, North Carolina, home of the Wild Goose Festival, a Thursday through Sunday extravaganza of God, peace, art, music, and muddy Christians. Hot Springs is in an area in Western North Carolina that is basically a rain forest, and with mostly tent campers, you get very comfortable with dirt. 2 years ago my family had a bit of an extra adventure when our elderly camping trailer and our not-quite-up-to-the-task Subaru were no match for the mountains. Four of us in the front of a tow truck driving 45 minutes into the mountains to retrieve our camper was an exploit we hope not to repeat, so this year we are staying in a much more portable tent.
The first time we were at Wild Goose we heard civil rights veteran Vincent Harding speak—all the more powerful now, since he died in 2014. I remember hearing him talk about the United States as an “emerging” democracy—we just aren’t all there yet, as a nation, but God is leading us on. Observing July 4 this past week in the wake of the Supreme Court’s equal marriage decision felt like our country emerged a little further, though there is still a distance to go. Fundamentally, though, our faith is about joy, not sorrow. The Gospel calls us to mourn and weep (I’ve forgotten how many of the psalms are laments, but it’s a lot), but also tell us joy comes in the morning and that we are already reconciled to God. Already.
The most incredible gift, the one that’s somewhat peculiarly difficult to receive, is the grace of Jesus—the already-forgiven places we are invited to live in. Over the last few weeks I’ve sung Amazing Grace more times than usual, mostly as a go-to hymn a lot of people just know. We sang it at the service for Charleston, we sang it because the hymn number was printed incorrectly in church two Sundays ago, and we sang it this past week at Church in the Garden when we were competing with ambulances and traffic. My favorite verse is the last one:
When we’ve been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise
Than when we’d first begun.
I love this image beyond time and space, as though we could begin singing and giving thanks for God now, but there’s no way we’ll ever finish. Even after ten thousand years, still the grace of God will catch us in joy, nudging us like a four year old who just needs their back scratched a little longer at bedtime. Just a little longer. Ten thousand years isn’t enough.
Where is grace finding you these summer days?
Blessings,
Sara+
PS: please come to church this Sunday as we continue summer worship at 9:30—the incomparable Rev. Anne Minton joins us!…
Stop by and say hi between 10-12 this Saturday, too, for Waltham History Day at Christ Church!
Thursday, July 2, 2015
"Get Up, Girl!"
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week I’ve continued to watch the events coming out of General Convention in Salt Lake City with a bit more focus. One of the highlights was seeing (now outgoing) Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori’s sermon on Sunday’s Gospel text, in which a girl, a daughter of a leader of the synagogue, is healed of her illness. Even after her father’s friends tell him to stop bothering Jesus, that she’s dead and he has to just deal with it, even when those friends laugh at Jesus when he tells them that she’s sleeping, not dead, this girl’s father keeps his faith and gets his daughter back.
Talitha cum, the phrase Jesus says to the girl, is rendered by Bishop Katharine as “get up, girl!” and what a word for our church. Institutionally, the Episcopal church nationwide is in quite a lot of hot water. Membership declines, money declines, buildings decline. Jesus comes and says, “Get up, girl!” As we celebrate marriage equality coming to every state, Jesus says, “Get up, girl!” As we weep over the nine murdered at Emanuel AME Charleston and rage against Southern churches burned in white supremacist attacks Jesus says, “Get up, girl!”
Get up to celebrate, get up to mourn, get up to speak out. Don’t die before you’re dead. Jesus speaks a word to us all to be the church as fully as we can. Not the church-as-institution, as building, as provider-of-“intangible spiritual gifts” (as our donor acknowledgement letter states). But Church as people-of-God, as disciples-of-Jesus, as body-of-Christ.
This week in Salt Lake City we elected our first African American Presiding Bishop. Just as having a black president didn’t end racism in the US, having a black presiding bishop doesn’t end racism in the church. The House of Bishops passed a resolution to remove references to gender in our marriage canons, so that full marriage equality will be the rule, not the exception in all Episcopal dioceses (currently it’s case-by-case, permitted in our diocese for some time now). And just as marriage equality has become the law in our country and our church, it doesn’t end violence and prejudice against our LGBT siblings. But as Presiding Bishop-elect Curry said: we have a God, there is a Jesus, and we are part of the Jesus movement. And nothing can stop the movement of God’s love in this world. Thanks be to God!
Some links to check out:
Coverage of the bishops’ led march against gun violence in Salt Lake City
Christ Church Cathedral in St Louis gets up: Rebuild Black Churches Fund
Michael Curry’s remarks (the standing ovation stops at about minute 9)
More on the nuts and bolts on the legislation on marriage
For updates from the Diocese of Massachusetts folks at Convention, check out their website here
And last but not least, the video about John Obergefell and his husband I preached about on Sunday, click here. Have tissues available.
Blessings,
Sara +
This week I’ve continued to watch the events coming out of General Convention in Salt Lake City with a bit more focus. One of the highlights was seeing (now outgoing) Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori’s sermon on Sunday’s Gospel text, in which a girl, a daughter of a leader of the synagogue, is healed of her illness. Even after her father’s friends tell him to stop bothering Jesus, that she’s dead and he has to just deal with it, even when those friends laugh at Jesus when he tells them that she’s sleeping, not dead, this girl’s father keeps his faith and gets his daughter back.
Talitha cum, the phrase Jesus says to the girl, is rendered by Bishop Katharine as “get up, girl!” and what a word for our church. Institutionally, the Episcopal church nationwide is in quite a lot of hot water. Membership declines, money declines, buildings decline. Jesus comes and says, “Get up, girl!” As we celebrate marriage equality coming to every state, Jesus says, “Get up, girl!” As we weep over the nine murdered at Emanuel AME Charleston and rage against Southern churches burned in white supremacist attacks Jesus says, “Get up, girl!”
Get up to celebrate, get up to mourn, get up to speak out. Don’t die before you’re dead. Jesus speaks a word to us all to be the church as fully as we can. Not the church-as-institution, as building, as provider-of-“intangible spiritual gifts” (as our donor acknowledgement letter states). But Church as people-of-God, as disciples-of-Jesus, as body-of-Christ.
This week in Salt Lake City we elected our first African American Presiding Bishop. Just as having a black president didn’t end racism in the US, having a black presiding bishop doesn’t end racism in the church. The House of Bishops passed a resolution to remove references to gender in our marriage canons, so that full marriage equality will be the rule, not the exception in all Episcopal dioceses (currently it’s case-by-case, permitted in our diocese for some time now). And just as marriage equality has become the law in our country and our church, it doesn’t end violence and prejudice against our LGBT siblings. But as Presiding Bishop-elect Curry said: we have a God, there is a Jesus, and we are part of the Jesus movement. And nothing can stop the movement of God’s love in this world. Thanks be to God!
Some links to check out:
Coverage of the bishops’ led march against gun violence in Salt Lake City
Christ Church Cathedral in St Louis gets up: Rebuild Black Churches Fund
Michael Curry’s remarks (the standing ovation stops at about minute 9)
More on the nuts and bolts on the legislation on marriage
For updates from the Diocese of Massachusetts folks at Convention, check out their website here
And last but not least, the video about John Obergefell and his husband I preached about on Sunday, click here. Have tissues available.
Blessings,
Sara +
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