Each Could Understand the Other

Dear People of Christ Church,
Lots going on in the coming weeks, with this Sunday being back to our usual first Sunday of the month children’s sermon, May 8 the Mother’s Day Walk for Peace, and May 15, Pentecost Sunday! This year at Pentecost we’ll have our parish jazz ensemble (let Daniel know if you want to play), and the baptisms of the O’Toole family, and even, if the altar guild sets it up, a rare Sunday morning appearance of incense! We also read the Pentecost story in all our various languages, so please let me know if you want to contribute to the reading.

We were talking about all of the varieties of Christian denominations in the Episcopal Church class last week. We are not a “Pentecostal” church, with speaking in tongues and dramatic worship, but we do celebrate in the light of Pentecost. On that first Pentecost, told in the book of Acts, the diversity of human community was all in one place. We think Waltham is diverse! Jerusalem had more cultures, more languages, more beliefs than we could imagine, all in one place. Even more people than usual were in Jerusalem for Pentecost on that day 2000 years ago—50 days after Passover, they gathered to give thanks to God for Mt Sinai, when God called the people of Israel into covenant. So it wasn’t only the ordinary diversity of Jerusalem, it was every last breed of traveler and pilgrim, on top of all the year round inhabitants of Jerusalem, pagan, Jewish, Christian, all there to give thanks.

All there, and all very seriously divided by substantial issues—the question of circumcision, of women, of dietary laws—all of these topics were incredibly contentious. We argue over different issues today, but they are no less—and probably no more—fervently debated. Last week’s story of Peter being told that no one should call profane what God has called clean is a prologue to all of the astonishing unity given in Christ. The lives of all God’s people are treasured. No one is “unclean,” a fact our brothers and sisters would do well to remember in conversations about gender and bathroom usage!

Even in the midst of Jerusalem’s diversity, a glorious outpouring of the Spirit gave birth to the church. Pentecost teaches us that Church is more of a verb than anything else. Church happens when each of those different people heard what the other was saying, even though they spoke different languages, even though they came from different places, and probably believed pretty different things. Pentecost teaches us that church isn’t a club. It’s not about like minded people coming together to improve themselves, or even coming together to improve the world. Pentecost is about a new reality, a reversal of those old divisions and desires for ownership and control that came to be at the tower of Babel, that ancient precursor of division. Pentecost is about our souls and bodies being a home for Jesus Christ.

On Pentecost, each could understand the other; but each understood in his or her own language. The languages—the differences—were preserved. The Gospel is about unity, not homogeneity. We are unified in our love of God, in the grace of the Holy Spirit that we have each received at baptism. But the song of that love is sung with different words in all of our lives.

One of my favorite prayers in the prayer book shows up in some different places—
—at the Easter Vigil, but also Good Friday, and the liturgy for ordinations. Our church is a “wonderful and sacred mystery.” We don’t quite know how it really works, or why. How some relationships begin, how others end. So much comes down to mystery—an invitation to us for humility, I think, to remember we don’t have it all figured out. How is it that we in the Anglican Communion can share a faith and be so different? What would it be like, really, to truly trust in God?

O God of unchangeable power and eternal light: Look favorably on your whole Church, that wonderful and sacred mystery; by the effectual working of your providence, carry out in tranquility the plan of salvation; let the whole world see and know that things which were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection by the One through whom all things were made, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

Blessings,
Sara+

The Holy Ordinary

Dear People of Christ Church,

This Sunday, we continue our long sojourn in what the church year calls "ordinary time." Get used to the color green-you'll be seeing a lot of it. We don't call it ordinary time in the bulletin-instead we count Sundays after Pentecost (also: "ordinary"=counted after Pentecost, not just plain). Sunday, after Sunday, after Sunday, all the way to Advent. We mix it up in our liturgy somewhat-we switch the service music (the fixed parts we sing every Sunday, like the opening hymn of praise, the Sanctus, Holy, Holy, Holy, and the short piece of music we sing at the breaking of bread at communion) in the fall, for a bit of variety-but otherwise what you see this Sunday is what you'll get. 

For the last two baptism Sundays, I've made the same comment about how all major Christian holidays, from Christmas to Pentecost, are a story of God coming close to us. The church year starts with Advent, with our preparing for the birth of Christ. We continue with Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Holy Week, Easter, and Pentecost. In each of these, there is an aspect of God's overture to come near; to be born with us, to be in the desert with us, to die with us, to overcome death with us.  The Sundays of Pentecost don't quite have that magic. If the actual feast of Pentecost-that rush of wind and riot of language-is the romantic union of a soul with its maker, then these days of Pentecost are the next day, when the cat pees on your meditation cushion and you forgot to get vegetables for dinner.  You know in your mind that God is no less present at those times, but wouldn't it be nice to have a little of that Easter magic again. You might even settle for Epiphany.

Last week I went to an interfaith Buddhist celebration and was reminded, again, of how I become a better Christian when I engage with those of other faiths.   I spent half my senior year of college in India and spent a little time at a Hindu ashram when I was there, and remembered the amazing discipline of Eastern monasticism.  Just the visual image of the monastic robe and bowl raises the question-how am I being faithful, day after long day, Sunday after green Sunday? It's easy to believe in God in the magic of Christmas. It's even pretty easy, (if not always pleasant) to believe during Lent, when we confess our sins and try to amend our lives. Easter?  Piece of cake! But in July?  In mid-October?  Have you every wished someone a happy nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost? 

This is not a scolding go-to-church-over-the-summer message.  The Gospel is sweet and joyful news, not sour and condemning. We heard on Sunday how God created us and all of creation and named it good, and God rested. We need to rest, too. But what I wonder about the invitation that the Buddhists I met last week seem to honor so well is that there's an ease in the discipline of their faith. That doesn't mean it's easy, but that there's some sweet spot of vocation where who they are meets what they're doing.  I wrote about vocation in this space last week-and I think something there is the invitation of these neverending green Sundays. God doesn't always have to meet us in flashy explosive moments, and we don't have to try so very, very hard all the time either.

Instead of inviting you, readers, into some big new adventure or challenge, for a change, this week my question for you is this: what's easy right now? What does that joy tell you about God's desire for your life and where you're headed? 
  
Blessings,
Sara+  

Holy In-Between

Dear People of Christ Church,

This week, our place in the holy in-between time after Ascension continues. I spent the better part of last week's piece in this space outing myself as a potential heretic, and I suspect there will be more of that today. I felt really challenged on Sunday in our kids' sermon in trying to figure out how to teach about the Ascension; it can be 100% true even if it didn't happen exactly that way. Mostly I settled on talking with the kids about their experiences of having been left behind-we've all had times when we felt unmoored, left without our bearings and familiar supports. That's certainly how the disciples felt.  Our feelings of being left behind are not the whole story-even when the disciples felt that Jesus had abandoned them-again!-they still knew that he loved them. We have their example of being faithful even in the midst of grief. We have their example that it's not faithless to grieve in the first place.

At the same time, what came next was probably not what the disciples had in mind. Pentecost is a riot of fire and language; all the disciples hear each other speaking in different languages, and a crowd comes to hear them "speaking of God's deeds of power." The crowd is not free of dissent, however-others "sneered," and accused them of being drunk. It always makes me laugh that Paul defends them from this accusation by pointing out that it's 9:00 in the morning. No, he says, it's what the Prophet Joel said would happen-the Spirit would be poured out on everyone, and everyone who calls on the Lord will be saved.

This Sunday, we're going all the way with the Holy Spirit; with, if not literal tongues of fire, some extra celebration and some extra languages to hear. Rev. Christine from our Ugandan partner church will read the Gospel in Luganda after I read it in English, and different parishioners will lend their linguistic skills from Aramaic to Haitian Creole. We'll have Steve Taddeo and friends bring the jazz and have some extra smoke from incense AND we're baptizing new baby Raven Fintzel, who's just started coming with mom Kat and dad Andrew. It's a good month for baptisms-Noah Hobin will go on the fifteenth.

As Jesus ascends it's his entry into transcendence, holy "no" to being defined by the might-makes-right-world. Death no longer has power because Jesus has confronted death and come through the tomb on the power of love.  Jesus sends the Holy Spirit to be with us, to continue his work and givce us power to share in it. I read parts of Maya Angelou's Poem, Still I Rise, at the 8:30 service last week to bring us, just for a moment, into that sense of determination and wonder. No matter what comes, whether torture or scorn, fury or abandonment, insult or injury, in Christ we are defined by the power of God's holy love. This Sunday, the power comes crashing down on our heads, thanks be to God, and alleluia! 

Blessings,
Sara+  

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

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.

Peace,
Sara+

 

PS:

Curious about Brene Brown, whose work on vulnerability I mentioned in the sermon last week? Watch her 20 minute “TED” talk here.

 

 

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+

This week, I'm doing something unusual, in that I'm also contributing to the email newsletter for St Peter's, our partner congregation who worship with Anglican liturgy at 12:30 in Luganda, one of the languages of Uganda. I wanted to write to thank them for our joint Pentecost service and the work we've shared this year with Paul Hartge, our Micah Intern, and also to think together for a moment on the meaning of Pentecost itself. Paul's last Sunday will be July 17, and we hope to welcome a new intern in September.

We are not "Pentecostal" churches, but we do celebrate in the light of Pentecost. On that first Pentecost, the diversity of human community was all in one place. We think Waltham is diverse! Jerusalem had more cultures, more languages, more beliefs than we could imagine, all in one place. Even more people than usual were in Jerusalem for Pentecost on that day 2000 years ago-50 days after Passover, they gathered to give thanks to God for Mt Sinai, when God called the people of Israel into covenant. So it wasn't only the ordinary diversity of Jerusalem, it was every last breed of traveler and pilgrim, on top of all the year round-inhabitants of Jerusalem, pagan, Jewish, Christian, all there to give thanks.

All there, and all very seriously divided by substantial issues-the question of circumcision, of women, of dietary laws-all of these topics were incredibly contentious. We argue over different issues today, but they are no less-and probably no more-fervently debated.

But even in the midst of that, such a glorious outpouring of the Spirit gave birth to the church. Pentecost teaches us that Church is more of a verb than anything else. Church happens when each of those different people heard what the other was saying, even though they spoke different languages, even though they came from different places, and probably believed pretty different things. Pentecost teaches us that church isn't a club. It's not about like minded people coming together to improve themselves, or even coming together to improve the world. Pentecost is about a new reality, a reversal of those old divisions and desires for ownership and control that came to be at the tower of Babel, that ancient pre-cursor of division. Pentecost is about our souls and bodies being a home for Jesus Christ.

On Pentecost, each could understand the other; but each understood in his or her own language. The languages-the differences-were preserved. The Gospel is about unity, not homogeneity. We are unified in our love of God, in the grace of the Holy Spirit that we have each received at baptism. But the song of that love is sung with different words in all of our lives. We may hear and embody different songs, but we are all sustained by one God. We here at 750 Main Street in Waltham are particularly blessed that we have evidence of God's riotous diversity right here, right now. With the politics of the Anglican Communion swirling around us, we pray for that unity, but if it is not to be, it is not to be.

One of my favorite prayers in the prayer book shows up in some different places--at the Easter Vigil, but also Good Friday, and the liturgy for ordinations. Our church is a "wonderful and sacred mystery." We don't quite know how it really works, or why. How some relationships begin, how others end. So much comes down to mystery-an invitation to us for humility, I think, to remember we don't have it all figured out. How is it that we in the Anglican Communion can share a space and be so different? What will it be like if the differences prove to be too contentious? What would it be like, really, to truly trust in God?

O God of unchangeable power and eternal light: Look favorably on your whole Church, that wonderful and sacred mystery; by the effectual working of your providence, carry out in tranquillity the plan of salvation; let the whole world see and know that things which were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection by him through whom all things were made, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

Blessings,

Sara+