From March 12: Lent

The word "lent" comes from the Old English world "lencten," for the lengthening of days. With daylight savings time having started last Sunday and the last few snow storms finally passing, I'm starting to actually believe that spring-and Easter-are coming. After a long winter like this, though, I've had a hard time believing that spring will actually come. Whenever we talk about the weather Marcia always reminds me about the snowstorm that came one June, and we're not out of the woods yet.

Of course, in the church, Easter always follows Lent-in the Gospels Jesus never talks about his suffering and death without talking about his resurrection. That can be harder for us to remember, though, in the midst of our darkest times, when even the ordinary days of Pentecost seem an impossibility, much less the joy of Easter. As he called from the cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" I think that was probably Jesus' experience as well. He knows what it feels like.

Where are you in your Lent?
Is it feeling like Lent to you, or like Advent, or just like an ordinary time? The church year brings our attention to certain aspects of human life, but our own spirits aren't necessarily always there. Noah's and my honeymoon ended up being in Lent, and I assure you that it was not what I would call penitential. But this year I am feeling like Lent. It seems like everyone in my house has been sick since Christmas. It's cold. Even the dog is pitiful, since he was neutered this week and isn't allowed to run around. As I pray my Lenten discipline of being mindful of my time, I'm all too aware of how little time it seems that there is. It is definitely Lent.

But Easter is coming. We get glimpses of it here and there. At our book group on Tuesday, we had a wonderful discussion about belief, and mystery, and what Helen Keller, who wrote about how faith is a state of mind, might say to Penn Jillette, whose essay was about how there is no God. In the liturgy on Sundays we receive the Body of Christ-we are reminded that we are the Body of Christ. We are nourished, though, not just for ourselves, but for what it enables us to do. One of my favorite lines in all the prayer book comes from the Eucharistic prayer we're using now--Deliver us from the presumption of coming to this Table for solace only, and not for strength; for pardon only, and not for renewal. The grace of God isn't given us just to make us feel better; coming to church on Sunday isn't just a spiritual "pick-me-up." We are forgiven to empower us to live freer, more generous lives; we are fed to enable us to feed others.
Blessings,
Sara+

In the Wider Community
Hearts Alive! Gulf Coast Benefit Art Show
Artist Lori Gordon: March 27-28 Trinity Church, Boston: Proceeds support St Anna's Episcopal Church's Medical Van in New Orleans. Click Here.

Spaghetti Dinner and Raffle
Saturday, March 28, 5:30 - 7:30 p.m., Fundraiser for Community Day Center of Waltham, a day shelter supporting homeless and low-income adults. Hosted by First Evangelical Lutheran Church, 6 Eddy St., Waltham. Adults $7, children $5 in advance or at door. email director@communitydaycenter.org

From March 4: Our Broken Parts

We met Tuesday night for our first Lenten adult ed series, on the essay collection "This I Believe." I admit I chose the book a little impulsively-I'd enjoyed the essays they broadcast on the radio, and thought it would be a nice break from the slightly heavier stuff we did last fall with the "Commit" series. Yesterday we listened to an essay from a college student, Colin Bates, who works as a health aide for his "bosses," two developmentally disabled men. He talked about how our society values us for what we can do, not who we are. He writes,

Most of the people I know are embarrassed by what they can't do. They see it as a sign of weakness and consequently walk around with burdened hearts. For my generation the notion that success equals fulfillment has been pounded into our brains as if it was the truth. My generation is being told that if you can't do something alone, if you're not smart enough or capable enough, then you've failed. So far, the turning points in my life have not been the times I succeeded at something, but the times I've whispered, "I'm lost," or, "Help me," or, "I need a friend." In becoming helpless, I've allowed myself to be shaped and supported by those who love me-which makes helplessness a gift. And I have my bosses to thank for it. We've discovered the joy of helping and being helped. I believe sometimes our vulnerability is our strength.

Lent invites us to examine our more broken parts-the faces we don't always show the world. We're asked to be honest about the things in life that are hard-not just the ways we don't "measure up" to our own expectations, but the ways we're unfaithful to God. The thing is, we aren't just called to be faithful to God as if God were "out there" someplace-we are called to be faithful to the image of God in which we ourselves were created. One of the tasks of the Christian life is finding out who we really are-not just what we can do or where we live or who our parents are, but who we, genuinely and in our souls, are created to be. Not what we can do, but who we are.

When it comes to Lent our vulnerability really is our strength, because when we ask God for God's help always receive it. Thanks be to God!

From Feb. 26: The Invitation of Lent

I'd like to share a poem (of sorts) that I mailed out last year as well--I'm not sure where it comes from. A friend sent it to me and I thought it captured well the invitation of Lent. You'll be receiving the Fieldstone Crier soon, with more news from Christ Church and thoughts about the season.

This Lent...
Fast from suspicion and feast on trust
Fast from complaining and feast on appreciation
Fast from judging others and feast on Christ within others
Fast from idle gossip and feast on purposeful silence.
Fast from bitter anger and feast on forgiveness.
Fast from discouragement and feast on hope
Fast from worry and feast on trusting God
Fast from unrelenting pressures and feast on prayer that sustains.
Fast from lethargy and feast on enthusiasm.
Fast from emphasizing the differences and feast on the unity of life.
Fast from thoughts of illness and feast on the healing power of God.
Fast from discontent; feast on gratitude.
Fast from hostility; feast on nonviolence.
Fast from self-absorption; feast on compassion.

Blessings, Sara+

From Feb. 11: Mortality

With our new administrator, we've been looking through the files and cleaning up some of the old. I was just going through one cabinet and found the living will of someone who had probably died more than ten years ago-strangely poignant, to lean through time and hear about her desires for care. Mortality is much on my mind, preparing for Ash Wednesday on the 25th-and we buried George Wilkes this morning, too. The words from our burial service, "Even at the grave we make our song, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia" echo in my mind. The prayer book has some of the best poetry I know in it, and the rite for burial must be the best of it.

George was not terribly old-he was 71-and died gently in his sleep at home. He'd suffered from dementia for some time, and so his wife, Louise, who has long been part of this community, arranged for caretakers to come when she was at work or doing errands. This didn't leave for much time to come to church, so I'd bring her communion once in a while. Whenever I arrived, George was always sitting in the easy chair in the living room. He'd show me his joke calendar and tell me the joke for the day, and then Louise and I would go into the kitchen and talk.

It's really hard to take care of someone who is sick-I don't think Louise will feel singled out for me mentioning her in this email, because it's an experience that a lot of us have had. Toward the end of her life, my grandmother stayed with us for a while, and it was hard-a strain for the whole family, certainly, but I'm not sure how it could have been any other way at that time. Families take care of each other; it's what we do.

"It's what we do"-it's what we do, but it's still hard. I've been listening to a CD of the teachings of the Tibetan Buddhist writer Pema Chodron, and she talks about how the difficulty of our life is just more food for our spiritual growth. Buddhism teaches that through accepting suffering and "making friends" with it, we are able to grow and change.

Acceptance is certainly important (the alternative, after all, is not very productive), but the Christian take on things is pretty different. We pray to meet everything as an opportunity to serve Christ-"when you did it to the least of these, you did it to me" (Matthew 25:40). That entails acceptance, but also something deeper. One of the most beautiful eulogies I've ever heard was at the funeral for Jasmine Noel Corliss (her grandmother is a member here), who died last fall. She was just 2 years old, and had severe disabilities throughout her life. The person who spoke talked about how much life and love she had called out of her siblings and parents and family members-how they had grown because of her. Though her death was tragic, the mystery of life is such that God is with us even in the most difficult times. God is able to bring us near in those times. Not just to "get through it" but to serve Christ. And so the care-taker and the cared-for both give glory to God in their own way.

Compassionate God, support and strengthen all those who reach out in love, concern, and prayer for the sick and distressed. In their acts of compassion, may they know that they are your instruments. In their concerns and fears may they know your peace. In their prayer may they know your steadfast love. May they not grow weary or faint-hearted, for your mercy's sake. Amen.

Donations in George Wilkes' memory may be made to Grandma's Pantry here at Christ Church or to the Alzheimer's Foundation in Watertown.

Next week, I'll be on retreat with the Sisters of Saint Anne in Arlington. Since Monday is a holiday, I'll be off the computer (and out of the office) starting this Sunday afternoon (the 15th). I'll be back to it by the 22nd, so I won't be missing a Sunday. Of course if there is a serious emergency, I can be contacted at home. Our new parish administrator, Kristina DeFrancesco, will be holding down the fort during our regular hours, from 10 to 2 Tues-Friday.

The Feeding of the Five Thousand

I’ve been thinking lately about the feeding of the five thousand.

Every three or four weeks, I meet with a monk, a Jesuit, with whom I talk about my prayer and spiritual life. About a month ago, I mentioned to him that I wanted a more personal relationship with God. Sensations of God’s vastness and transcendence come pretty easily to me, but it’s harder for me to feel the particularity of God’s presence in my own personal daily life—washing the dishes, responding to email, listening to others. That day, I was longing to feel taken care of. Being a good, Scripturally minded monk and priest, he asked me what Bible stories came to mind when I think of Jesus being especially caring. The first that came to mind was the scene in the feeding of the five thousand—not just the feeding part, but the part when Jesus tells everyone to sit down. 

Since then, I’ve been spending a lot of time with that passage (not just the sitting part, either). It’s a scene that is repeated in all four Gospels—the details are a little different in each, but in all four, the people have followed Jesus out into the middle of nowhere. They are hungry, and it’s late, and the disciples are worried.   In the Gospel of John, there’s just one little boy who has some food with him.  And Jesus makes them all sit down, and the food is distributed, “and all ate and were filled.”

The people sit down—they stop milling around, stop shouting for their kids, stop looking around for something to eat. They sit. And all are filled, and there are twelve baskets left over.  A second miracle, one which isn’t named in the Gospels, is that all the people ate together—in a society so governed  by ritual purity, the chances that those 5000 would consent to eat together in any other circumstance was pretty much zero. The miracle was that they were together—not just that they were fed (we talked about that in our “Connect” class last year—thanks to Dylan Brewer for the point).

We’ve been talking a lot in vestry about how to manage the constant use of our building—four congregations worship here on Sundays, and we are about as different as they come.  Our church walls hear French, Spanish, Luganda, English, the “thee’s” of Rite One and the “You’s” of Rite Two.  It’s a lot. As I mentioned in my annual report, some of our building use is motivated by the need for income, but a lot of it is for the sake of hospitality. We share a special relationship with St Peter’s because we share the heritage of the Anglican Church, and it’s with us that the Diocese of Massachusetts connects to St Peter’s.  But how do we balance being welcoming to others and being faithful to the needs of our own ministries? How do we help each congregation respect the other? It’s not as simple as writing down some times of day on a calendar.   

And all ate and were filled. God has a dream of abundance that is far greater than anything we can imagine, but it can be so hard to see it. Whenever I pray that story I am always amazed at the sheer quantity of human bodies that must have been present.  There were five thousand people!  The Gospel of Luke says they sat down in groups of fifties. That’s as many as we had in church last Sunday--multiply that by one hundred.

The story begins—Jesus had compassion on them. Jesus has compassion for us—even when you are one out of a crowd of five thousand people, that compassion and feeding is there, enough for everyone—enough not just for “everyone,” a crowd of faceless people, but enough for you and me, too.  Put yourself in the story—what is it like when you sit down at Jesus’ invitation? Who are you sitting with? Is it cloudy or warm? What is it like to be filled? Let’s pray for the grace to eat that bread of compassion and to drink the wine of kindness.  

Parallel Texts of the Feeding of the Five Thousand

Matthew 14:13-21

 Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, ‘This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.’ Jesus said to them, ‘They need not go away; you give them something to eat.’ They replied, ‘We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.’ And he said, ‘Bring them here to me.’ Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

 

Mark 6:30-44

 The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, ‘Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.’ For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things. When it grew late, his disciples came to him and said, ‘This is a deserted place, and the hour is now very late; send them away so that they may go into the surrounding country and villages and buy something for themselves to eat.’ But he answered them, ‘You give them something to eat.’ They said to him, ‘Are we to go and buy two hundred denarii worth of bread, and give it to them to eat?’ And he said to them, ‘How many loaves have you? Go and see.’ When they had found out, they said, ‘Five, and two fish.’ Then he ordered them to get all the people to sit down in groups on the green grass. So they sat down in groups of hundreds and of fifties. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to his disciples to set before the people; and he divided the two fish among them all. And all ate and were filled; and they took up twelve baskets full of broken pieces and of the fish. Those who had eaten the loaves numbered five thousand men.

 

Luke 9:10-17

 On their return the apostles told Jesus all they had done. He took them with him and withdrew privately to a city called Bethsaida. When the crowds found out about it, they followed him; and he welcomed them, and spoke to them about the kingdom of God, and healed those who needed to be cured.

 The day was drawing to a close, and the twelve came to him and said, ‘Send the crowd away, so that they may go into the surrounding villages and countryside, to lodge and get provisions; for we are here in a deserted place.’ But he said to them, ‘You give them something to eat.’ They said, ‘We have no more than five loaves and two fish—unless we are to go and buy food for all these people.’ For there were about five thousand men. And he said to his disciples, ‘Make them sit down in groups of about fifty each.’ They did so and made them all sit down. And taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke them, and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd. And all ate and were filled. What was left over was gathered up, twelve baskets of broken pieces.

 

John 6:1-14

After this Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberias.  A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick. Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples. Now the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near. When he looked up and saw a large crowd coming towards him, Jesus said to Philip, ‘Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?’ He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do. Philip answered him, ‘Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.’ One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, ‘There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?’ Jesus said, ‘Make the people sit down.’ Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they sat down, about five thousand in all. Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted. When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, ‘Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.’ So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets. When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, ‘This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.’

 [New Revised Standard Version, Copyright 1989, 1995 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. 

From January 28: Prayers for the President

I hope you had a good snow day and didn't have to drive too far in this weather. Thanks to everyone who attended the annual meeting and brought delicious dishes for lunch last Sunday. Our earlier joint service was very successful, and gave us plenty of time to talk and eat.

Today I'd like to share with you the prayer offered by Bishop Robinson of New Hampshire last week at the opening inaugural event at the Lincoln Memorial. They're good words for the president, and good words for us, too.  You can find a link to the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire below.
...
Welcome to Washington!  The fun is about to begin, but first, please join me in pausing for a moment, to ask God's blessing upon our nation and our next president.

O God of our many understandings, we pray that you will. . .
Bless us with tears - for a world in which over a billion people exist on less than a dollar a day, where young women from many lands are beaten and raped for wanting an education, and thousands die daily from malnutrition, malaria, and AIDS.

Bless us with anger - at discrimination, at home and abroad, against refugees and immigrants, women, people of color, gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people.

Bless us with discomfort - at the easy, simplistic "answers" we've preferred to hear from our politicians, instead of the truth, about ourselves and the world, which we need to face if we are going to rise to the challenges of the future.

Bless us with patience - and the knowledge that none of what ails us will be "fixed" anytime soon, and the understanding that our new president is a human being, not a messiah.

Bless us with humility - open to understanding that our own needs must always be balanced with those of the world.

Bless us with freedom from mere tolerance - replacing it with a genuine respect and  warm embrace of our differences, and an understanding that in our diversity, we are stronger.

Bless us with compassion and generosity - remembering that every religion's God judges us by the way we care for the most vulnerable in the human community, whether across town or across the world

And God, we give you thanks for your child Barack, as he assumes the office of President of the United States.

Give him wisdom beyond his years, and inspire him with Lincoln's reconciling leadership style, President Kennedy's ability to enlist our best efforts, and Dr. King's dream of a nation for ALL the people.

Give him a quiet heart, for our Ship of State needs a steady, calm captain in these times.

Give him stirring words, for we will need to be inspired and motivated to make the personal and common sacrifices necessary to facing the challenges ahead.

Make him color-blind, reminding him of his own words that under his leadership, there will be neither red nor blue states, but the United States.
 
Help him remember his own oppression as a minority, drawing on that experience of discrimination, that he might seek to change the lives of those who are still its victims.

Give him the strength to find family time and privacy, and help him remember that even though he is president, a father only gets one shot at his daughters' childhoods.

And please, God, keep him safe.  We know we ask too much of our presidents, and we're asking FAR too much of this one.  We know the risk he and his wife are taking for all of us, and we implore you, O good and great God, to keep him safe.  Hold him in the palm of your hand - that he might do the work we have called him to do, that he might find joy in this impossible calling, and that in the end, he might lead us as a nation to a place of integrity, prosperity and peace.
AMEN.