I'm passing on an article I read online by our Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori. Before becoming ordained, she was an oceanographer, and was elected the head of the Episcopal Church, in 2006. --Sara+
A Lesson from the Gulf Oil Spill: We Are All Connected
By The Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori
The original peoples of the North American continent understand that we are all connected, and that harm to one part of the sacred circle of life harms the whole. Scientists, both the ecological and physical sorts, know the same reality, expressed in different terms. The Abrahamic traditions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) also charge human beings with care for the whole of creation, because it is God's good gift to humanity. Another way of saying this is that we are all connected and there is no escape; our common future depends on how we care for the rest of the natural world, not just the square feet of soil we may call "our own." We breathe the same air, our food comes from the same ground and seas, and the water we have to share cycles through the same airshed, watershed, and terra firma.
The still-unfolding disaster in the Gulf of Mexico is good evidence of the interconnectedness of the whole. It has its origins in this nation's addiction to oil, uninhibited growth, and consumerism, as well as old-fashioned greed and what my tradition calls hubris and idolatry. Our collective sins are being visited on those who have had little or no part in them: birds, marine mammals, the tiny plants and animals that constitute the base of the vast food chain in the Gulf, and on which a major part of the seafood production of the United States depends. Our sins are being visited on the fishers of southern Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida, who seek to feed their families with the proceeds of what they catch each day. Our sins will expose New Orleans and other coastal cities to the increased likelihood of devastating floods, as the marshes that constitute the shrinking margin of storm protection continue to disappear, fouled and killed by oil.
The oil that continues to vent from the sea floor has spread through hundreds of cubic miles of ocean, poisoning creatures of all sizes and forms, from birds, turtles, and whales to the shrimp, fish, oysters, and crabs that human beings so value, and the plankton, whose life supports the whole biological system -- the very kind of creatures whose dead and decomposed tissues began the process of producing that oil so many millions of years ago. . .
The reality is that this disaster just may show us as a nation how interconnected we really are. The waste of this oil -- both its unusability and the mess it is making -- will be visited on all of us, for years and even generations to come. The hydrocarbons in those coastal marshes and at the base of the food chain leading to marketable seafood resources will taint us all, eventually. That oil is already frightening away vacationers who form the economic base for countless coastal communities, whose livelihoods have something to do with the economic health of this nation. The workers in those communities, even when they have employment, are some of the poorest among us. That oil will move beyond the immediate environs of a broken wellhead, spreading around the coasts of Florida and northward along the east coast of the U.S. That oil will foul the coastal marshes that also constitute a major nursery for coastal fauna, again a vital part of the food chain. That oil will further stress and poison the coral reefs of Florida, already much endangered from warming and ocean acidification. Those reefs have historically provided significant storm protection to the coastal communities behind them. . .
There is no place to go "away" from these consequences; there is no ultimate escape on this planet. The effects at a distance may seem minor or tolerable, but the cumulative effect is not. We are all connected, we will all suffer the consequences of this tragic disaster in the Gulf, and we must wake up and put a stop to the kind of robber baron behavior we supposedly regulated out of existence a hundred years ago. Our lives, and the liveliness of the entire planet, depend on it.
To see the entire text on Huffington Post, click here.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Thursday, May 20, 2010
"One who is sent"
Yesterday was the feast of Junia and Andronicus. Paul describes them as "my relatives and prison companions; they are notable Apostles, and they were in Christ before me." (Romans 16:7). Through some tricky translation, earlier Bibles have rendered "Junia" (a common female name of the time) as "Junius" (an invented name, but with a masculine ending). Even though early church writers like John Chrysostom and St Jerome assumed her to be a woman, later translators thought a female apostle was too scandalous, and so changed the ending of the name. Yesterday I was with the Sisters of St Anne in Arlington where I say the Mass for them regularly, and we celebrated their day. Otherwise, I have to admit, the significance of May 18 may not have occurred to me.
Thinking about Junia, an apostle--literally, "one who is sent"--feels fitting as we prepare for Martha's service tomorrow. Martha shared her voice with us at Christ Church after a lifetime of professional singing, notably for 25 years at Old North in Boston--including one service attended by Queen Elizabeth! Martha was a faithful "apostle," using her gifts to bring others to the Gospel.
In the Anglican tradition, our theology goes that everyone is a saint; all Christians are saints. We still honor those in whose lives Christ has been known in a particularly powerful way--the traditional "saints"--we have feast days for John the Baptist, and Mary, and St Paul--but we also have feast days for Enmagahbowh, the first Native American priest (June 12, the anniversary of my ordination) and for Jonathan Daniels, an Episcopal seminarian and civil rights activist murdered in Alabama when he stepped in front of a bullet intended for a teenager who was part of the group he was with. The writer CS Lewis has a day, too. Thursday, when we celebrate her life, we'll remember Martha.
In our conception of sainthood, we're one family of saints, in community from now back to Abraham--or maybe Eve--all of us praying together in community together. At death, life is changed, not ended--we are all still alive in the presence of God. Being an apostle is being sent--we are all called, but it's true that we don't all heed that call. Our prayer for Junia and Andronicus invites us to ask for the grace to answer, as they did.
Almighty God, whose Son the Risen Christ sent forth your Apostles Andronicus and Junia to proclaim the Gospel and extend your reign; send us forth in your Holy Spirit that like them we, both men and women, may co-operate as faithful witnesses to the Gospel of Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit in perfect unity, one God, now and forever. Amen.
Junia and Andronicus witnessed to the events of Christ's ministry and life "in the flesh"--we witness to Christ's ministry and life "in the Spirit." But knowing Christ in each other also brings that reality into the present and into the real. We knew Christ in Martha, and by her grace and love she knew Christ in us, too. Thanks be to God.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thinking about Junia, an apostle--literally, "one who is sent"--feels fitting as we prepare for Martha's service tomorrow. Martha shared her voice with us at Christ Church after a lifetime of professional singing, notably for 25 years at Old North in Boston--including one service attended by Queen Elizabeth! Martha was a faithful "apostle," using her gifts to bring others to the Gospel.
In the Anglican tradition, our theology goes that everyone is a saint; all Christians are saints. We still honor those in whose lives Christ has been known in a particularly powerful way--the traditional "saints"--we have feast days for John the Baptist, and Mary, and St Paul--but we also have feast days for Enmagahbowh, the first Native American priest (June 12, the anniversary of my ordination) and for Jonathan Daniels, an Episcopal seminarian and civil rights activist murdered in Alabama when he stepped in front of a bullet intended for a teenager who was part of the group he was with. The writer CS Lewis has a day, too. Thursday, when we celebrate her life, we'll remember Martha.
In our conception of sainthood, we're one family of saints, in community from now back to Abraham--or maybe Eve--all of us praying together in community together. At death, life is changed, not ended--we are all still alive in the presence of God. Being an apostle is being sent--we are all called, but it's true that we don't all heed that call. Our prayer for Junia and Andronicus invites us to ask for the grace to answer, as they did.
Almighty God, whose Son the Risen Christ sent forth your Apostles Andronicus and Junia to proclaim the Gospel and extend your reign; send us forth in your Holy Spirit that like them we, both men and women, may co-operate as faithful witnesses to the Gospel of Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit in perfect unity, one God, now and forever. Amen.
Junia and Andronicus witnessed to the events of Christ's ministry and life "in the flesh"--we witness to Christ's ministry and life "in the Spirit." But knowing Christ in each other also brings that reality into the present and into the real. We knew Christ in Martha, and by her grace and love she knew Christ in us, too. Thanks be to God.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Personal prayer
This week, we met for our last class in our Episcopal Church intro. We talked about Anglican/Episcopal resources for personal prayer. There are as many ways to pray as there are people to pray them, but one of the most characteristically Anglican ones is the Daily Office. (for E Crier Meditations on the daily office, look at the ecrier blog page--I've posted a few reflections up there that I did before I started archiving there). Today, our office gave us a text from Leviticus, which made me think of the national debate on Arizona's new immigration law:
When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God. (Lev. 19: 33-34)
Yesterday, I was talking with an acquaintance and mentioned we were going to Arizona to visit my in-laws. Arizona? Is it safe there? It's been all over the news!" Perplexed, I said, "Safe?" "Yes," the person responded, as if assuming I must live in a cave, "All the illegal immigrants. That's what's been all over the news." "Oh," I said. "Actually, my in laws have been active in trying to get rid of that law. But it's perfectly safe." And then I made a googly eye face at Adah, and was relieved the conversation had ended.
I was troubled by it for a while; immigration is such a complicated issue and there's no way I could do it justice here, but immigrants as a group are not dangerous! For the most part, they are people, like anyone, trying to make a life for themselves and their families. Whether they have legal documents or not, everyone pays taxes. One statistic I saw says that illegal immigrants pay 7 billion--with a "B"--dollars in social security taxes and 2.5 billion in Medicare taxes. They will never receive any benefit from either system. Immigration is a complicated issue, and I don't have an easy fix---but a law that makes it a crime to buy groceries without a passport is not part of the solution.
We could talk all day about evidence about what immigration does for our country. Biblically, though, it doesn't matter at all whether people are "good" and hardworking or "bad" and just sitting around the house all day. We are all equally created in the image of God and we are all equally loved and treasured by our creator. In the Baptismal Covenant we promise to respect the dignity of every human being--and there aren't any loopholes to that.
The Leviticus line quoted above is one line in a series of laws that we often skip over in our readings in church. The holiness code also has rules about kindness to the poor--a few verses before the one above, it also says "You shall not reap to the very edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest...you shall leave them for the poor and the alien." It explicitly says NOT to collect everything that is yours--it expects the "poor and alien" to make their way through your field and take what they find--they aren't supposed to have to ask.
Admittedly, there's a lot in Leviticus that we don't believe in (like the prohibition against tattooing a few lines earlier, or the rules about cloth made of more than one kind of fiber)--but this is solid, "love thy neighbor" kind of stuff. What's interesting to me, too, is that it's in the context of prohibitions against idolatry. You aren't just supposed to be generous to the outsider because it's the kind thing to do; it's because being generous to the outsider is part of what it is to be human in relation to God. It's God's job to be the judge and Creator; it's our job to be created--to be creatures, and part of being a created being is to recognize your rightful place beside other created beings, which means loving and caring for them and not regarding yourself as more worthy or above them. (I could spin this out theologically about the oil spill in the Gulf, too, but I've already gone on for some time.)
So where does this leave us on the other side of the country? Advocating, certainly, but also praying. Pray for the immigrants, pray for the police, and pray for those who suffer--on all sides of the border. Those who are victimized by crime, and those who perpetrate it. Pray for Arizona Governor Jan Brewer, too, and for all our legislators who are trying to find creative--and humane--solutions.
Blessings,
Sara+
To join in saying the Daily Office with Christians all across the globe--all of them reading Leviticus right now :) --you can get out your prayer book, or visit the Missionstclare.com
When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God. (Lev. 19: 33-34)
Yesterday, I was talking with an acquaintance and mentioned we were going to Arizona to visit my in-laws. Arizona? Is it safe there? It's been all over the news!" Perplexed, I said, "Safe?" "Yes," the person responded, as if assuming I must live in a cave, "All the illegal immigrants. That's what's been all over the news." "Oh," I said. "Actually, my in laws have been active in trying to get rid of that law. But it's perfectly safe." And then I made a googly eye face at Adah, and was relieved the conversation had ended.
I was troubled by it for a while; immigration is such a complicated issue and there's no way I could do it justice here, but immigrants as a group are not dangerous! For the most part, they are people, like anyone, trying to make a life for themselves and their families. Whether they have legal documents or not, everyone pays taxes. One statistic I saw says that illegal immigrants pay 7 billion--with a "B"--dollars in social security taxes and 2.5 billion in Medicare taxes. They will never receive any benefit from either system. Immigration is a complicated issue, and I don't have an easy fix---but a law that makes it a crime to buy groceries without a passport is not part of the solution.
We could talk all day about evidence about what immigration does for our country. Biblically, though, it doesn't matter at all whether people are "good" and hardworking or "bad" and just sitting around the house all day. We are all equally created in the image of God and we are all equally loved and treasured by our creator. In the Baptismal Covenant we promise to respect the dignity of every human being--and there aren't any loopholes to that.
The Leviticus line quoted above is one line in a series of laws that we often skip over in our readings in church. The holiness code also has rules about kindness to the poor--a few verses before the one above, it also says "You shall not reap to the very edges of your field, or gather the gleanings of your harvest...you shall leave them for the poor and the alien." It explicitly says NOT to collect everything that is yours--it expects the "poor and alien" to make their way through your field and take what they find--they aren't supposed to have to ask.
Admittedly, there's a lot in Leviticus that we don't believe in (like the prohibition against tattooing a few lines earlier, or the rules about cloth made of more than one kind of fiber)--but this is solid, "love thy neighbor" kind of stuff. What's interesting to me, too, is that it's in the context of prohibitions against idolatry. You aren't just supposed to be generous to the outsider because it's the kind thing to do; it's because being generous to the outsider is part of what it is to be human in relation to God. It's God's job to be the judge and Creator; it's our job to be created--to be creatures, and part of being a created being is to recognize your rightful place beside other created beings, which means loving and caring for them and not regarding yourself as more worthy or above them. (I could spin this out theologically about the oil spill in the Gulf, too, but I've already gone on for some time.)
So where does this leave us on the other side of the country? Advocating, certainly, but also praying. Pray for the immigrants, pray for the police, and pray for those who suffer--on all sides of the border. Those who are victimized by crime, and those who perpetrate it. Pray for Arizona Governor Jan Brewer, too, and for all our legislators who are trying to find creative--and humane--solutions.
Blessings,
Sara+
To join in saying the Daily Office with Christians all across the globe--all of them reading Leviticus right now :) --you can get out your prayer book, or visit the Missionstclare.com
Thursday, May 6, 2010
From December 14, 2006: On Praying the Daily Office in Community
I am so pleased to be back with you, and home in Waltham. Last week was terrific, but it’s good to be back, too. One of the wonderful things about my retreat last week was the experience of regular prayer in community. I spent about half an hour in silent prayer alone each day, but the rhythm of the chanting of psalms, reading of Scripture, and singing of hymns for prayer morning, noon and night (plus Eucharist—-usually I went to four services a day) was a profound experience of God in community. I didn’t know anything about the other people I was praying with—-didn’t know why the monks had chosen to become monks (it’s a community of about 12 men), didn’t know who the other retreatants were (there were 15 of us staying at the monastery, all of us in silence for the week), or why they came. The structure of the daily office prayer services is such that personal preference or experience has nothing to do with it. It is a structure that the church has followed for a millennium—-psalms, canticles, reading from Scripture, hymns. There is no preaching, no editorializing. It is what it is.
If it sounds impersonal, it is—-but in the best possible way. Tapping into that same experience that Christians have had for centuries, I knew myself to be one in a line of believers, all of whom have struggled with the same issues. I am not the first person to be nervous about parenthood. I am not the first priest who has wondered how best to serve her congregation. I am not the first person just to get tired sometimes, and to wonder where God is in all of it. I am not the first person to feel exquisite joy and gratitude in meeting Christ in the sacraments.
Fastened as we each inevitably are in our own perceptions, prejudices, preferences and experiences, it is a gift to know that our lives do not rely on our own skills or success or on the esteem others have of us. We are not so special, after all, and what a relief it is! Our lives, when it comes down to it, are not just ours. We rely on God, and on each other, on those other fifteen people whom I was in silence with and didn’t know; on each of you and the church we are; on our families, friends, and neighbors. In America we are so accustomed to our individuality; certainly this is a positive thing. I heard on the radio this morning that today is the anniversary of the adoption of the Bill of Rights—-ours is the first country to so enshrine this idea of the individual in the foundation of our society. I am thankful for my freedom—-thankful for democracy, and personal property, and all of those good things we enjoy and those who made them possible with real sacrifice. I’m thankful for those who fought for women’s rights, who are the reason that I can have a ministry both with my family and as an ordained, full-time priest. I’m thankful for all of these things that make me “me”—-but after last week, I’m also thankful for a break from all the “me-ness.” Thankful to be one in a line of millions of Christians, no more and no less beloved by our creator.
Blessings,
Sara+
If it sounds impersonal, it is—-but in the best possible way. Tapping into that same experience that Christians have had for centuries, I knew myself to be one in a line of believers, all of whom have struggled with the same issues. I am not the first person to be nervous about parenthood. I am not the first priest who has wondered how best to serve her congregation. I am not the first person just to get tired sometimes, and to wonder where God is in all of it. I am not the first person to feel exquisite joy and gratitude in meeting Christ in the sacraments.
Fastened as we each inevitably are in our own perceptions, prejudices, preferences and experiences, it is a gift to know that our lives do not rely on our own skills or success or on the esteem others have of us. We are not so special, after all, and what a relief it is! Our lives, when it comes down to it, are not just ours. We rely on God, and on each other, on those other fifteen people whom I was in silence with and didn’t know; on each of you and the church we are; on our families, friends, and neighbors. In America we are so accustomed to our individuality; certainly this is a positive thing. I heard on the radio this morning that today is the anniversary of the adoption of the Bill of Rights—-ours is the first country to so enshrine this idea of the individual in the foundation of our society. I am thankful for my freedom—-thankful for democracy, and personal property, and all of those good things we enjoy and those who made them possible with real sacrifice. I’m thankful for those who fought for women’s rights, who are the reason that I can have a ministry both with my family and as an ordained, full-time priest. I’m thankful for all of these things that make me “me”—-but after last week, I’m also thankful for a break from all the “me-ness.” Thankful to be one in a line of millions of Christians, no more and no less beloved by our creator.
Blessings,
Sara+
From September 20, 2007: On the Daily Office
This week, I’ve really been enjoying the prayer of the Daily Office. The prayer of the Daily Office is a way of marking time through prayer. You might have heard of the medieval “Book of Hours”—-that’s the daily office, in a different form. Our own prayer book contains rites of Morning and Evening prayer, and has a separate lectionary that assigns readings for each time of day, on a 2 year cycle. Some of the dietary laws in Leviticus might get left out, but in two years you make it through pretty much all of the Bible. Each day has a reading from the New Testament, the Old Testament, the Gospels, and the psalms. The readings are interspersed with canticles (songs of praise), and are read in a fixed form that includes the recitation of the Confession, the Apostles’ Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, the General Thanksgiving, and other prayers for the day. As you know, last week we did Morning Prayer as it would have been celebrated when this parish opened—-this is the same service, but now it’s practiced more as personal or monastic prayer than for congregations on Sunday morning. Some congregations do it during the week, too—-maybe this parish has done that at one time or another.
The idea of the Daily Office is that, by marking the beginning and the end of the day, your time is consecrated to God. The BCP also offers prayers for noonday and bedtime (called compline), which are also very helpful. I’ve practiced it off and on (mostly on) for about five years now. I wrote in this space when I got back from a monastic retreat last year about the daily office, about what a comfort it is to practice a method of prayer that depends not one iota on my own skill or creativity.
This year, I’ve found myself comforted by the office in a different way. I’ve been struck by how each day begins entirely new, as a clean slate. As I pray the Confession and Absolution of sins, I encounter a new sense of my own forgiveness. As I read the Apostles’ Creed, I have a new sense of myself coming to believe in our faith, and feeling comforted in the tradition of belief it articulates. Each day begins with Scripture, of stories of other people who tried to get things right, like I do, and failed, and tried again, just as I do. Each day begins with the Gospel, of a new piece of “good news” (since that’s what the word “gospel” means). Another neat thing about the daily office is that, pretty much without fail, whenever you’re praying it, there’s a good chance that someone else is doing it, too. A Roman Catholic monk or an Episcopal nun or a Lutheran pastor—-in Africa, or Indiana, or even Waltham—-someone, somewhere, is praying with you. And you can do it absolutely anywhere—-on the train, in your cubicle, or in your kitchen.
You can also pray the daily office online; there are a number of sites that compile the service for you, with no shuffling of books. One such site is at http://www.missionstclare.com/, which offers it in English or Spanish.
Blessings,
Sara+
The idea of the Daily Office is that, by marking the beginning and the end of the day, your time is consecrated to God. The BCP also offers prayers for noonday and bedtime (called compline), which are also very helpful. I’ve practiced it off and on (mostly on) for about five years now. I wrote in this space when I got back from a monastic retreat last year about the daily office, about what a comfort it is to practice a method of prayer that depends not one iota on my own skill or creativity.
This year, I’ve found myself comforted by the office in a different way. I’ve been struck by how each day begins entirely new, as a clean slate. As I pray the Confession and Absolution of sins, I encounter a new sense of my own forgiveness. As I read the Apostles’ Creed, I have a new sense of myself coming to believe in our faith, and feeling comforted in the tradition of belief it articulates. Each day begins with Scripture, of stories of other people who tried to get things right, like I do, and failed, and tried again, just as I do. Each day begins with the Gospel, of a new piece of “good news” (since that’s what the word “gospel” means). Another neat thing about the daily office is that, pretty much without fail, whenever you’re praying it, there’s a good chance that someone else is doing it, too. A Roman Catholic monk or an Episcopal nun or a Lutheran pastor—-in Africa, or Indiana, or even Waltham—-someone, somewhere, is praying with you. And you can do it absolutely anywhere—-on the train, in your cubicle, or in your kitchen.
You can also pray the daily office online; there are a number of sites that compile the service for you, with no shuffling of books. One such site is at http://www.missionstclare.com/, which offers it in English or Spanish.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Baptism
This past Sunday, I had the pleasure of attending the baptism of our close friends' baby (Gavin is exactly 24 hours older than my daughter Adah). It was a joint service between Christ Church Somerville (where his mom is senior warden) and St Luke's and St Margaret's, Brighton (where his dad is the vicar). I don't often get the chance just to attend church, and it was a treat to be at a baptism where I didn't have to do anything! In the sermon, the preacher (Chris Fike, from CC Somerville) talked about how baptism is the very best gift anyone can give a baby. We don't baptize babies because they're sinful, he said, and we don't baptize babies to keep them from going to hell. We baptize them to welcome them into the "household of God," as the prayer says, to invite them to take their place in the councils of the church and our work together. Gavin's ministry so far is mostly one of love--he loves and is loved--and in the eyes of God, that is enough.
Baptism is a gift: it is a gift to raise a child in a Christian community where they know that no matter what, they will always be loved. Church isn't just an activity to be squeezed in next to all the other activities in our lives; church is an identity, a way of being in the world (all seven days--not just on Sundays). It's an event, not a location. In the words of William Stringfellow (thanks to Gene Burkart for passing this on)--"God's people are called now, not now and then." We are called to love and be loved. And no matter what we do, however diligent or half hearted we are, baptism can never be revoked. You can't lose it, and you can't give it back.
But we are forgetful people--every baptism we celebrate is a reminder of our own baptisms; we say the baptismal covenant together to support the newly baptized and their families and to recommit ourselves. We need to do it, need to make those promises again and again--to respect the dignity of every human being, to seek and serve Christ in all persons, to love our neighbors as ourselves.
This Sunday at our 10 AM service, we'll gather at the font with Claire Mailman and Henry Nolte (his older brother, Griffin, was baptized at Christ Church a few years ago). As part of our regular children's service, all the kids will gather around the font and remember the gift that they were each given. They might not know exactly what it means, or quite grasp all the intricacies of the Trinity and the sacraments. That's not important right now--they know enough: baptism is a party! When else do we get to throw water around inside? The whole season of Easter is one big celebration of the resurrection, and every baptism connects us to that incredible event. In baptism, we join with Christ in his baptism, and we are raised with him to a new life of peace, justice, and love. And with every drop of holy water on every person's head, the gifts multiply and the joy extends. Thanks be to God.
Blessings,
Sara+
Baptism is a gift: it is a gift to raise a child in a Christian community where they know that no matter what, they will always be loved. Church isn't just an activity to be squeezed in next to all the other activities in our lives; church is an identity, a way of being in the world (all seven days--not just on Sundays). It's an event, not a location. In the words of William Stringfellow (thanks to Gene Burkart for passing this on)--"God's people are called now, not now and then." We are called to love and be loved. And no matter what we do, however diligent or half hearted we are, baptism can never be revoked. You can't lose it, and you can't give it back.
But we are forgetful people--every baptism we celebrate is a reminder of our own baptisms; we say the baptismal covenant together to support the newly baptized and their families and to recommit ourselves. We need to do it, need to make those promises again and again--to respect the dignity of every human being, to seek and serve Christ in all persons, to love our neighbors as ourselves.
This Sunday at our 10 AM service, we'll gather at the font with Claire Mailman and Henry Nolte (his older brother, Griffin, was baptized at Christ Church a few years ago). As part of our regular children's service, all the kids will gather around the font and remember the gift that they were each given. They might not know exactly what it means, or quite grasp all the intricacies of the Trinity and the sacraments. That's not important right now--they know enough: baptism is a party! When else do we get to throw water around inside? The whole season of Easter is one big celebration of the resurrection, and every baptism connects us to that incredible event. In baptism, we join with Christ in his baptism, and we are raised with him to a new life of peace, justice, and love. And with every drop of holy water on every person's head, the gifts multiply and the joy extends. Thanks be to God.
Blessings,
Sara+
April 20: Episcopal Priest Barbie
Last week, I received an invitation to go on the Callie Crossley show. Crossley hosts an hourlong interview show on WGBH (89.7, weekdays at 1:00), and I'll be going on tomorrow (Wednesday, April 21) with the Rev. Julie Blake Fisher, creator of the facebook group "Friends of Episcopal Church Barbie" and rector of Christ Church Kent, Ohio. I had noticed "Rev. Barbie" online before, but hadn't really looked at it until I got the call from the radio show.
Barbie, rector of St Barbara's By the Sea (in Malibu, of course) has been getting quite a bit of press-both from those who think it's cute and funny, and those who think it's mocking and ridiculous. Of course, Barbie herself is kind of a freighted question; she's reinforcement for all the unhealthy body image stuff that girls and women experience in our culture, but she's also such an iconic image of American childhood. I had Barbies, and my son always looks at the dolls in the store. (The other day, we noticed that astronaut Barbie, first introduced in 1965, is back) Blake Fisher has put together a full sacristy of vestments and equipment, right down to the thurible. She put it together as a hobby and an ordination gift for a friend of hers; it's not quite available at your local big box store.
I find it fascinating that this is getting so much press; if I'm a priest, and I'm a woman, why shouldn't Barbie get to be one, too? Instead, I've read comments about how ordination just "doesn't stick to a woman"--it slips off, like Teflon. Or, they call her a "priestess," and talk about how it's debasing the church. I forget that there is such vitriol in some corners of the world for who I am and what I do. I grew up in a church that had a woman priest when I was in high school, and I never thought the ministry was closed to me for that reason. I had all kinds of other critiques and questions for the church when I was growing up, but my own gender (as far as ordination went) wasn't one. I came to Christ Church almost five years ago and wondered what it would be like to be in a place where there had never been women clergy before. Once I was here, though, I became your pastor, not just the person behind the altar, and we do pretty well together! There is plenty of sexism in the world and I think my eyes are pretty open to it, but this is one place where I just haven't really felt it once we got to know each other. As a female leader in the church, I'm glad to be able to give to girls the same gift given to me-the sense that this is normal, that there is no part of God's work here on earth that is not open to us.
So hopefully Rev. Barbie is an entryway into a broader conversation about women in ministry. Even with a female presiding bishop, we still have a long way to go in the church. There is still a stained glass ceiling! Women still tend to get called to more marginal churches, and are still more often in part time work. I was so excited when Trinity Boston, called Anne Bonnyman to be their rector; they're one of the largest in the country, and that is surely a good sign. With the consecration of Mary Glasspool as bishop suffragan of the Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles coming up, it's notable that not only is there no comment that she's a woman, the amount of comment that she's a lesbian is less than we would have thought as well.
So here we are, getting on with our work together, men and women, young and old. This Sunday, our "GPS" (God's People Serving) Ministry Discernment Group will host a session for the congregation to do an Appreciative Inquiry conversation. You might remember in 2009 when we did this as part of the rector search process. This time, it will be an effort to help us craft a mission statement for the church and chart some strategic goals for the next several years. What is it that makes Christ Church special to you? Please stay for a while longer on Sunday to be part of this. Contact Jonathan Duce or Marcia Luce if you would like to give your input but won't be here this week.
Blessings,
Sara+
The Callie Crossley Show on WGBH
Religion news online
Barbie, rector of St Barbara's By the Sea (in Malibu, of course) has been getting quite a bit of press-both from those who think it's cute and funny, and those who think it's mocking and ridiculous. Of course, Barbie herself is kind of a freighted question; she's reinforcement for all the unhealthy body image stuff that girls and women experience in our culture, but she's also such an iconic image of American childhood. I had Barbies, and my son always looks at the dolls in the store. (The other day, we noticed that astronaut Barbie, first introduced in 1965, is back) Blake Fisher has put together a full sacristy of vestments and equipment, right down to the thurible. She put it together as a hobby and an ordination gift for a friend of hers; it's not quite available at your local big box store.
I find it fascinating that this is getting so much press; if I'm a priest, and I'm a woman, why shouldn't Barbie get to be one, too? Instead, I've read comments about how ordination just "doesn't stick to a woman"--it slips off, like Teflon. Or, they call her a "priestess," and talk about how it's debasing the church. I forget that there is such vitriol in some corners of the world for who I am and what I do. I grew up in a church that had a woman priest when I was in high school, and I never thought the ministry was closed to me for that reason. I had all kinds of other critiques and questions for the church when I was growing up, but my own gender (as far as ordination went) wasn't one. I came to Christ Church almost five years ago and wondered what it would be like to be in a place where there had never been women clergy before. Once I was here, though, I became your pastor, not just the person behind the altar, and we do pretty well together! There is plenty of sexism in the world and I think my eyes are pretty open to it, but this is one place where I just haven't really felt it once we got to know each other. As a female leader in the church, I'm glad to be able to give to girls the same gift given to me-the sense that this is normal, that there is no part of God's work here on earth that is not open to us.
So hopefully Rev. Barbie is an entryway into a broader conversation about women in ministry. Even with a female presiding bishop, we still have a long way to go in the church. There is still a stained glass ceiling! Women still tend to get called to more marginal churches, and are still more often in part time work. I was so excited when Trinity Boston, called Anne Bonnyman to be their rector; they're one of the largest in the country, and that is surely a good sign. With the consecration of Mary Glasspool as bishop suffragan of the Episcopal Diocese of Los Angeles coming up, it's notable that not only is there no comment that she's a woman, the amount of comment that she's a lesbian is less than we would have thought as well.
So here we are, getting on with our work together, men and women, young and old. This Sunday, our "GPS" (God's People Serving) Ministry Discernment Group will host a session for the congregation to do an Appreciative Inquiry conversation. You might remember in 2009 when we did this as part of the rector search process. This time, it will be an effort to help us craft a mission statement for the church and chart some strategic goals for the next several years. What is it that makes Christ Church special to you? Please stay for a while longer on Sunday to be part of this. Contact Jonathan Duce or Marcia Luce if you would like to give your input but won't be here this week.
Blessings,
Sara+
The Callie Crossley Show on WGBH
Religion news online
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