Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I've been marinating on what, exactly, is going on across the country with the "Occupy" movement. It started with "Occupy Wall Street" and has now spread all over-Alabama to Washington state. And, of course, Boston. My family went down on Monday night but were advised a few minutes into our visit that the police planned to come at nightfall (it was around 6:30 when we got there) and that it wouldn't be the best place for kids. There has been a decent response from the faith community; a group called the Protest Chaplains is blogging and visiting, and there is a sacred space tent. Bishop Shaw went yesterday for an ecumenical service of support. A UU minister who lives in my neighborhood lead vespers last Sunday night.
As a softie bleeding heart, I'm inclined to be sympathetic; after our wedding in 2003 (in New York), my husband and I cut the reception short so everyone could go downtown to the anti Iraq war protest. I love a good protest. The difficult thing about what's going on now is that the method has little do to with the problem. The financial crisis was not caused by local branches of Bank of America. It was a result of a financial system that relied more and more on abstract amounts of abstract money moving from spread sheet to spread sheet and a government that stopped regulating much of anything assuming the market would fix it all. It didn't, and here we are. Still, you could just as well occupy "the internet" as Dewey Square; there's no "there" there.
The problem is meeting an abstract problem with a concrete complaint; there is truly no way that the message can be transmitted in a "rational" way, because it is not a "rational" problem. Corporate incomes have no relationship to the production of real goods and services. CEO pay increases into the tens of millions as regular workers are laid off. The United States is closest to Russia and Iran when it comes to income inequality. The "Occupy" movement is using the most basic means of communication possible: putting a (tent) stake in the ground, putting their bodies where they will be seen.
What does this have to do with the kingdom of God?
Something about how we are in the world but not of it, how we put others' needs ahead of our own, how "the least of these" are to be cared for first, the shepherd going after the one lost sheep. That there is enough -there really is. It's not tea party vs occupiers, it's not even 1 percent vs 99 percent. It's all of us. Jesus went to the cross for everyone, not just the morally pure, not just the vegetarians, not just the poor. He didn't go just for the successful, intelligent, and brave, either. That means that each of us has a responsibility to the others. We are all just as much in need of that grace. We are all in just as much need for food and shelter and love and forgiveness.
This does not mean everyone has to go out and quit their jobs and become organic farmers who make their own clothes. I want there to be a bank and a banker when I need a mortgage. I want a small business to be able to open because someone invested their money in it. I want all of us to have well-paying jobs so we can finish our capital campaign with handicap accessible bathrooms! But I also want us to be critical enough to ask how, and why, our economy works the way it does, and to do what we can to make it a just one.
Is this not the fast that I choose; to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rearguard. (Isaiah 58: 6-8)
Thanks be to God!
Sara+
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Dear People of Christ Church,
On Sunday, we shared the news of our parish capital campaign, which has so far had wonderful success with the wise leadership of our co-chairs, Mike Balulescu and Cathy Hughes. Since late August, we've been meeting with folks in the very early stages of the campaign, and on Sunday we reported that of our goal of $260,000, we have so far received pledges for over 200,000! We are already so wonderfully close to our goal, but we will only reach it (and go beyond) with everyone's participation.
Giving to a capital campaign is kind of a funny thing. Year after year, I look at our budget and lament at how much of our expenses go to our building. The building. The deferred maintenance. The drafty windows. The bunching carpet. The building just doesn't seem very exciting. Heat, electricity, snow plowing-they don't exactly add up to a rousing story of changed lives. It's the people inside the building-and the people who will come-who are the story of the Holy Spirit moving in this place, not the bricks and mortar. And let me tell you about mortar--I've been learning a lot about it lately.
At the same time, when I think about the capital campaign and all the things we're talking about doing with the building, I actually get a little excited. What if the narthex (a fancy church word for vestibule) were as welcoming and bright as the people who stand there and serve as greeters each Sunday? What if you weren't embarrassed to tell someone where the bathroom is, knowing they're just going to see that peeling plaster or, worse, not be able to go inside at all because they use a wheelchair? This stuff actually matters. Contributing to the green grants programs, the intern program, B Safe, and so many other great ministries across Eastern Massachusetts, our impact along with the diocesan campaign is significant.
Our campaign pledges will be over five years; no one is asking you to break the bank and write a check today for the full pledge amount. As a pastor, it has been an incredible blessing for me to witness to the gifts that are given. In each of these conversations we've had, everyone is doing the best they can; your gift is your gift. It's just that-a gift. And we are thankful for every single gift, no matter the size. From $5,000 to $50,000-your faith and love have been remarkable. The gift of $5.00 can be remarkable. These is not an everyday event, and these are not everyday gifts. There's a reason this hasn't been done since 1953.
And, so, here we are. Given that there are a lot of details to what we're doing and how, you'll get a call in the next few weeks from one of our visiting team, who will ask to talk personally with you about the campaign. I'm going to close with what Mike said on Sunday, whose intro to the campaign you can read here (it's really worth a read, if you weren't in church-it blew my sermon right out of the water!).
So when someone asks you if you would like to talk more about this campaign, I hope you'll say "yes." If someone asks you if you would like to assist with the campaign, I hope you'll say "yes." And when your heart implores you to dream about what we can accomplish together, in one breath, in one collective, shared sacrifice, I hope your response will be "yes." Thank you.
Blessings,
Sara+
On Sunday, we shared the news of our parish capital campaign, which has so far had wonderful success with the wise leadership of our co-chairs, Mike Balulescu and Cathy Hughes. Since late August, we've been meeting with folks in the very early stages of the campaign, and on Sunday we reported that of our goal of $260,000, we have so far received pledges for over 200,000! We are already so wonderfully close to our goal, but we will only reach it (and go beyond) with everyone's participation.
Giving to a capital campaign is kind of a funny thing. Year after year, I look at our budget and lament at how much of our expenses go to our building. The building. The deferred maintenance. The drafty windows. The bunching carpet. The building just doesn't seem very exciting. Heat, electricity, snow plowing-they don't exactly add up to a rousing story of changed lives. It's the people inside the building-and the people who will come-who are the story of the Holy Spirit moving in this place, not the bricks and mortar. And let me tell you about mortar--I've been learning a lot about it lately.
At the same time, when I think about the capital campaign and all the things we're talking about doing with the building, I actually get a little excited. What if the narthex (a fancy church word for vestibule) were as welcoming and bright as the people who stand there and serve as greeters each Sunday? What if you weren't embarrassed to tell someone where the bathroom is, knowing they're just going to see that peeling plaster or, worse, not be able to go inside at all because they use a wheelchair? This stuff actually matters. Contributing to the green grants programs, the intern program, B Safe, and so many other great ministries across Eastern Massachusetts, our impact along with the diocesan campaign is significant.
Our campaign pledges will be over five years; no one is asking you to break the bank and write a check today for the full pledge amount. As a pastor, it has been an incredible blessing for me to witness to the gifts that are given. In each of these conversations we've had, everyone is doing the best they can; your gift is your gift. It's just that-a gift. And we are thankful for every single gift, no matter the size. From $5,000 to $50,000-your faith and love have been remarkable. The gift of $5.00 can be remarkable. These is not an everyday event, and these are not everyday gifts. There's a reason this hasn't been done since 1953.
And, so, here we are. Given that there are a lot of details to what we're doing and how, you'll get a call in the next few weeks from one of our visiting team, who will ask to talk personally with you about the campaign. I'm going to close with what Mike said on Sunday, whose intro to the campaign you can read here (it's really worth a read, if you weren't in church-it blew my sermon right out of the water!).
So when someone asks you if you would like to talk more about this campaign, I hope you'll say "yes." If someone asks you if you would like to assist with the campaign, I hope you'll say "yes." And when your heart implores you to dream about what we can accomplish together, in one breath, in one collective, shared sacrifice, I hope your response will be "yes." Thank you.
Blessings,
Sara+
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I'm looking forward to our special Sunday kick off for our capital campaign. I'm not going to spill all the beans here, so I encourage you to come and learn more. This Sunday, Mike will talk a little about his experience of the campaign's beginning days, and we'll share news of how much we've raised so far. At coffee hour, we'll have some slides projected in Upper Fales that presents some of the hopes for the campaign for people to look at as we share our coffee. (it'll be more in the background than a formal presentaion; most of the information will be conveyed one on one as people talk with each other) Campaign co-chairs Cathy Hughes and Mike Balulescu and I will be glad to answer questions about what is to come. We are so excited about the good work that is happening. It is a profound honor to witness the generosity, grace, and love that people have for this parish.
In other news, lots of other events are coming up as well; the fall is always a busy time. Driving by, you may have noticed we've put up our "Climate Change is a Moral Issue" banner, as we do every fall in cooperation with other Waltham congregations. This Saturday, Christ Church will host the Waltham Event for the international (yes-international!) Moving Planet Day to move beyond fossil fuels. There are rallies all over the world, encouraging people to travel by foot, bike, or public transportation to raise their voices for solutions to the climate crisis. Our neighbors in Lexington, Arlington, Somerville, and Medford will all host similar events to plan to caravan together to the New England-wide event in Boston on the waterfront at Columbus park (near the Aquarium T). Worldwide, more than 160 countries will have events. In Boston, Steve Curwood from the NPR show Living on Earth will emcee the event, and Episcopal Priest Margaret Bullitt-Jonas will be part of the opening, along with other speakers and action.
"Climate Change is a Moral Issue"-it's a bumper sticker slogan, and if all we do with it is once a year to haul a banner out of the closet to feel good about our dedication, we might as well not bother. As our climate warms, the suffering inflicted by the change is born so disproportionately by those who are already less fortunate. This is a fact: in political debates, you hear again and again how it's a theory that human action is the cause of global warming and that not all scientists agree. I heard one commentator say recently (I wish I could remember who) that deciding not to do something about our carbon emissions for that reason is like sitting in your basement smelling smoke from the kitchen and insisting that there is no way your house can be on fire because you don't actually see the flames.
My cynical voice says that acting on behalf of the environment is naively idealistic: how noble to do something for generations to come! You could put it on a hallmark card. My other cynical voice says that it is almost willfully foolish to think that just one person's actions matter. My screw-shaped light bulbs will not change the world. If I were alone, it would be pointless. But I am not alone, and climate change is not just an issue for Isaiah and Adah to contend with--it will change life in our time, not just theirs. Maybe climate change isn't a moral issue after all; maybe it's a clear-cut case of self-interest. Now that's cynical.
Jesus didn't talk about the environment--the single thing he talked most about was money, actually--not sex, marriage, or even prayer. But he did teach a lot about how we are to understand ourselves, about a church-wide--no, creation-wide!--family that crashes down the boundaries between self and other. He asked what profit it was to gain the material world but lose our souls. Where will we be when Bangladesh is submerged in water? Each of us driving our cars and eating strawberries in January shipped from Chile? I know in my own life, I have so, so far to go, as I have written many times in this space (the ecrier blogspot has five pieces tagged "environment," and I know not everything is up there). But I will keep writing, maybe keep repeating myself, hoping that someday I get the message. In the meantime, I'll see you Saturday.
But ask the animals, and they will teach you;
the birds of the air, and they will tell you;
...and the fish of hte sea will declare to you.
In God's hand is the life of every living thing.
Job 12: 7, 8b, 10a
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, I'm looking forward to our special Sunday kick off for our capital campaign. I'm not going to spill all the beans here, so I encourage you to come and learn more. This Sunday, Mike will talk a little about his experience of the campaign's beginning days, and we'll share news of how much we've raised so far. At coffee hour, we'll have some slides projected in Upper Fales that presents some of the hopes for the campaign for people to look at as we share our coffee. (it'll be more in the background than a formal presentaion; most of the information will be conveyed one on one as people talk with each other) Campaign co-chairs Cathy Hughes and Mike Balulescu and I will be glad to answer questions about what is to come. We are so excited about the good work that is happening. It is a profound honor to witness the generosity, grace, and love that people have for this parish.
In other news, lots of other events are coming up as well; the fall is always a busy time. Driving by, you may have noticed we've put up our "Climate Change is a Moral Issue" banner, as we do every fall in cooperation with other Waltham congregations. This Saturday, Christ Church will host the Waltham Event for the international (yes-international!) Moving Planet Day to move beyond fossil fuels. There are rallies all over the world, encouraging people to travel by foot, bike, or public transportation to raise their voices for solutions to the climate crisis. Our neighbors in Lexington, Arlington, Somerville, and Medford will all host similar events to plan to caravan together to the New England-wide event in Boston on the waterfront at Columbus park (near the Aquarium T). Worldwide, more than 160 countries will have events. In Boston, Steve Curwood from the NPR show Living on Earth will emcee the event, and Episcopal Priest Margaret Bullitt-Jonas will be part of the opening, along with other speakers and action.
"Climate Change is a Moral Issue"-it's a bumper sticker slogan, and if all we do with it is once a year to haul a banner out of the closet to feel good about our dedication, we might as well not bother. As our climate warms, the suffering inflicted by the change is born so disproportionately by those who are already less fortunate. This is a fact: in political debates, you hear again and again how it's a theory that human action is the cause of global warming and that not all scientists agree. I heard one commentator say recently (I wish I could remember who) that deciding not to do something about our carbon emissions for that reason is like sitting in your basement smelling smoke from the kitchen and insisting that there is no way your house can be on fire because you don't actually see the flames.
My cynical voice says that acting on behalf of the environment is naively idealistic: how noble to do something for generations to come! You could put it on a hallmark card. My other cynical voice says that it is almost willfully foolish to think that just one person's actions matter. My screw-shaped light bulbs will not change the world. If I were alone, it would be pointless. But I am not alone, and climate change is not just an issue for Isaiah and Adah to contend with--it will change life in our time, not just theirs. Maybe climate change isn't a moral issue after all; maybe it's a clear-cut case of self-interest. Now that's cynical.
Jesus didn't talk about the environment--the single thing he talked most about was money, actually--not sex, marriage, or even prayer. But he did teach a lot about how we are to understand ourselves, about a church-wide--no, creation-wide!--family that crashes down the boundaries between self and other. He asked what profit it was to gain the material world but lose our souls. Where will we be when Bangladesh is submerged in water? Each of us driving our cars and eating strawberries in January shipped from Chile? I know in my own life, I have so, so far to go, as I have written many times in this space (the ecrier blogspot has five pieces tagged "environment," and I know not everything is up there). But I will keep writing, maybe keep repeating myself, hoping that someday I get the message. In the meantime, I'll see you Saturday.
But ask the animals, and they will teach you;
the birds of the air, and they will tell you;
...and the fish of hte sea will declare to you.
In God's hand is the life of every living thing.
Job 12: 7, 8b, 10a
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
September 11, 10 years later
This week, I've been reflecting on the meaning of this upcoming anniversary on Sunday of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. In preparation for writing this article, I looked back and found my reflection for this space from five years ago, on the fifth anniversary. There is, maybe unsurprisingly, not a lot more to say; I still remember what it was like that day, I still feel similarly sad about what has happened in our country, the encroaches on civil liberties and rampant racial profiling and targeting of those who are (or "appear to be," whatever that means!) Muslim. Constant war, 10 years later. Deep political polarization (a problem of many ages, to be sure).
At the same time, I was struck with an article in the Globe last week about closure; how, psychologically, it's a pretty nonsensical topic. We don't ever just get over stuff; it feels different over time, but there's no end. Now, I grieve the outcomes of this global "war on terror" as much I do those events of that day. The thousands and thousands killed in the wars of the last ten years are as grievable as the 3,000 on that Tuesday morning 10 years ago. No one is expendable.
10 years later, we meditate on the day that "the world changed." Did it change? Because the US realized that we were not invincible? In the nervous days after September 11, 2001, my new seminary classmates and I joked with each other about how we had to go for drinks/buy an ipod/eat cake/etc, or else the terrorists would have won. Now, you can't leave your suitcase at your seat in the airport to go to the bathroom. Is that the same? As we become more and more suspicious of each other, the simple calculus of "winning" and "losing" doesn't stand up. We're all losing somehow, but it is also true that another 9/11 didn't happen; a lot of hard work has made sure of it, and it would be foolish not to be grateful.
This is what I wrote in this space five years ago:
;The tricky part, of course, is that we are all called to take up that same cross [of Jesus] and embody that same love and peace. All of us, and all the time. We are all called to love and forgive our enemies-always. The hard truth of the cross is that all things are reconciled to God in Jesus Christ-all things and all people. It's not up to you or to me to decide what or who is in or out. At a time of escalating violence-in Iraq, in our cities, in the Sudan, seemingly everywhere-Christ's call to peacemaking is even more important. Today, on this September 12, remember that it's true-we do live in a different world. But it's not a world made different just because of the violence of terrorists, it's a world made different because of Christ's love.
So wherever your political sympathies lie, pray for peace today. Pray for peace that God will show us the path of a third way. Not violence or acquiescence to evil, but the hard and creative and healing path of peace and dignity for all. Pray, too, that God helps each of us to find how we can follow that path.
What is there to add five years later? Hopes, maybe, that I won't write the same thing in another five years. Hope that we won't still be at war in Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya. Hope we won't have invaded Iran or Syria. Hope that there is peace between Israel and Palestine. Hope that we'll each find our own ways to be, not just pray for, the peace of Christ.
Blessings,
Sara+
At the same time, I was struck with an article in the Globe last week about closure; how, psychologically, it's a pretty nonsensical topic. We don't ever just get over stuff; it feels different over time, but there's no end. Now, I grieve the outcomes of this global "war on terror" as much I do those events of that day. The thousands and thousands killed in the wars of the last ten years are as grievable as the 3,000 on that Tuesday morning 10 years ago. No one is expendable.
10 years later, we meditate on the day that "the world changed." Did it change? Because the US realized that we were not invincible? In the nervous days after September 11, 2001, my new seminary classmates and I joked with each other about how we had to go for drinks/buy an ipod/eat cake/etc, or else the terrorists would have won. Now, you can't leave your suitcase at your seat in the airport to go to the bathroom. Is that the same? As we become more and more suspicious of each other, the simple calculus of "winning" and "losing" doesn't stand up. We're all losing somehow, but it is also true that another 9/11 didn't happen; a lot of hard work has made sure of it, and it would be foolish not to be grateful.
This is what I wrote in this space five years ago:
;The tricky part, of course, is that we are all called to take up that same cross [of Jesus] and embody that same love and peace. All of us, and all the time. We are all called to love and forgive our enemies-always. The hard truth of the cross is that all things are reconciled to God in Jesus Christ-all things and all people. It's not up to you or to me to decide what or who is in or out. At a time of escalating violence-in Iraq, in our cities, in the Sudan, seemingly everywhere-Christ's call to peacemaking is even more important. Today, on this September 12, remember that it's true-we do live in a different world. But it's not a world made different just because of the violence of terrorists, it's a world made different because of Christ's love.
So wherever your political sympathies lie, pray for peace today. Pray for peace that God will show us the path of a third way. Not violence or acquiescence to evil, but the hard and creative and healing path of peace and dignity for all. Pray, too, that God helps each of us to find how we can follow that path.
What is there to add five years later? Hopes, maybe, that I won't write the same thing in another five years. Hope that we won't still be at war in Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya. Hope we won't have invaded Iran or Syria. Hope that there is peace between Israel and Palestine. Hope that we'll each find our own ways to be, not just pray for, the peace of Christ.
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Vengeance is not the Gospel
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I've been staying up late reading the Millenium series, the Stieg Larsson trilogy that begins with The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. They are awfully violent, and there is a lot of sex in them, so as your pastor I would hesitate to recommend that you read them. But they are engrossing! It's hard to argue with a smart crime novel. I read the first two on vacation and got the third when I got home, and I'm almost finished with it. At the same time, I happened upon a book by Larsson's lifetime partner, Eva Gabrielsson. They lived together for 30 years, but since they never married legally she was shut out of inheriting his literary-and financial-legacy. There Are Things I Want You To Know About Stieg Larsson and Me is in part a love letter to a dead spouse, in part a righteously angry story of betrayal, and (the interesting part) a biography of Larsson himself, about his political work as a journalist and his ethical motivations behind writing the books.
Before he was a novelist, Larsson was an activist and journalist; his anti-racist and feminist work was the cause of his life, Gabrielsson says. They met as teenagers at a peace meeting. Leftist politics was his life, and the Millenium stories are not just stories; they are moral tales of revenge and justice-seeking. The original Swedish title of the first book is Men Who Hate Women-and the title is accurate. The crimes that happen in the book are all taken from real-world events of women being treated in ways I will not describe here. What's fascinating, though, is the way vengeance, "getting even" is celebrated. The rapist is raped, the killer killed, a vigilante style of justice that picks up when the protagonist, Lisbeth Salander, has lost complete faith in traditional channels of justice because she has been so injured by them (the whole back story doesn't come out until book 2, and it is, indeed, awful). She wouldn't answer a yes or no question to anyone in authority; she's certainly not going to report a crime to the police. For Larsson, telling her story is about revealing that horror, and telling a new truth about self-sufficiency and making your own choices. In that way, I suppose it is a rather American story.
So what is so compelling about these people? Do we like them? Should we? What is, really, the moral tale to be told? The tireless journalist exposing child labor violations and political crimes against children is to be admired. Larsson's own political work, fighting against hatred in all its forms, is a fine example to follow. But it's not the Gospel.
The reason the Millenium series is such a self-indulgent read isn't just for all the free love and fast paced plot-it's because of the simple arithmetic of vengeance. Some part of our reptile brain feels good when people get even, when the 100 pound heroine shoots the 250 lb bully. We have that story in the Bible, too, but the Bible goes beyond it.
And vengeance will not free us. As a perpetrator of another crime, the one who retaliates still lives in the shadow of the aggressor; her actions are still determined by the one who hurt her. Our Gospel reading for this week is part of a teaching on forgiveness that includes Peter's visit to Jesus: "Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?" Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times." (Matthew 18:21-22) The challenging generosity of the kingdom of God is beyond what we can imagine-not one, but one hundred. Not an afternoon of giving, but a lifetime.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, I've been staying up late reading the Millenium series, the Stieg Larsson trilogy that begins with The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. They are awfully violent, and there is a lot of sex in them, so as your pastor I would hesitate to recommend that you read them. But they are engrossing! It's hard to argue with a smart crime novel. I read the first two on vacation and got the third when I got home, and I'm almost finished with it. At the same time, I happened upon a book by Larsson's lifetime partner, Eva Gabrielsson. They lived together for 30 years, but since they never married legally she was shut out of inheriting his literary-and financial-legacy. There Are Things I Want You To Know About Stieg Larsson and Me is in part a love letter to a dead spouse, in part a righteously angry story of betrayal, and (the interesting part) a biography of Larsson himself, about his political work as a journalist and his ethical motivations behind writing the books.
Before he was a novelist, Larsson was an activist and journalist; his anti-racist and feminist work was the cause of his life, Gabrielsson says. They met as teenagers at a peace meeting. Leftist politics was his life, and the Millenium stories are not just stories; they are moral tales of revenge and justice-seeking. The original Swedish title of the first book is Men Who Hate Women-and the title is accurate. The crimes that happen in the book are all taken from real-world events of women being treated in ways I will not describe here. What's fascinating, though, is the way vengeance, "getting even" is celebrated. The rapist is raped, the killer killed, a vigilante style of justice that picks up when the protagonist, Lisbeth Salander, has lost complete faith in traditional channels of justice because she has been so injured by them (the whole back story doesn't come out until book 2, and it is, indeed, awful). She wouldn't answer a yes or no question to anyone in authority; she's certainly not going to report a crime to the police. For Larsson, telling her story is about revealing that horror, and telling a new truth about self-sufficiency and making your own choices. In that way, I suppose it is a rather American story.
So what is so compelling about these people? Do we like them? Should we? What is, really, the moral tale to be told? The tireless journalist exposing child labor violations and political crimes against children is to be admired. Larsson's own political work, fighting against hatred in all its forms, is a fine example to follow. But it's not the Gospel.
The reason the Millenium series is such a self-indulgent read isn't just for all the free love and fast paced plot-it's because of the simple arithmetic of vengeance. Some part of our reptile brain feels good when people get even, when the 100 pound heroine shoots the 250 lb bully. We have that story in the Bible, too, but the Bible goes beyond it.
And vengeance will not free us. As a perpetrator of another crime, the one who retaliates still lives in the shadow of the aggressor; her actions are still determined by the one who hurt her. Our Gospel reading for this week is part of a teaching on forgiveness that includes Peter's visit to Jesus: "Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?" Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times." (Matthew 18:21-22) The challenging generosity of the kingdom of God is beyond what we can imagine-not one, but one hundred. Not an afternoon of giving, but a lifetime.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Dear People of Christ Church:
What is your prayer for our parish?
It's not a rhetorical question. For our upcoming Quarterly on prayer, our hope is to assemble a collection of people's prayers-prayers of request, prayers of thanksgiving, prayers of ..? what? We hope to take each one of our petitions and put them together in one psalm, our many voices becoming one voice.
What is my prayer? I've had many different prayers over the years that I've been at Christ Church. When I first arrived in 2005, I prayed to know what to do; I was 26, and had been ordained for just a little more than a year. Now, I pray not to get too comfortable; my large desk and comfortable habits have a nice way of lulling me into complacence that I know what I'm doing and what comes next.
In the past year, I've noticed that one recurring prayer is a prayer of thanksgiving for belief. Somehow since Holy Week this year, I've found myself witnessing the story of our faith in a different way; I could always explain in the abstract what it meant and why, and how I believed or didn't. This year, I find myself thankful both for the substance of the belief- God's creation of the world, Christ's ministry, death, and resurrection-but also the experience of belief in the first place. To believe-credo-to give one's heart to something-is an amazing gift.
The apostle Paul wrote to the Church in Rome, "The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words (Romans 8:26). God came to us before we came to God, and at the same time God prays in us with God's own voice. At the same time, on a psychological level, we are awfully prone to get in God's way. The philosopher William James (1984-1910) gave a lecture called "The Will to Believe," in which, basically, he says it's worse to be so afraid of being duped that we are unable to believe anything than it is to be wrong. Not deciding, in effect, is deciding. "It is like a general informing his soldiers that it is better to keep out of battle forever than to risk a single wound. . . Our errors are surely not such awfully solemn things." (The Will to Believe, Section VII).
Belief is something of a dance; part us, part God, part mystery. Belief is a gift, but that not everyone believes is hardly a sign that God has withheld this from them. What I find helpful about James' insight is that it helps us to see belief as a mutual process. We choose, but we are also chosen. (How that happens is the part where mystery comes in). What is life-giving for one must not be life-giving for all. But the One who gives life gives it freely.
So this year, I've been feeling particularly thankful for my faith, and so my prayer for Christ Church is something like this:
For belief, O Christ, for belief in you and celebration of your gifts. That we all may know your love and share it with others, within these walls and without.
Blessings,
Sara+
What is your prayer for our parish?
It's not a rhetorical question. For our upcoming Quarterly on prayer, our hope is to assemble a collection of people's prayers-prayers of request, prayers of thanksgiving, prayers of ..? what? We hope to take each one of our petitions and put them together in one psalm, our many voices becoming one voice.
What is my prayer? I've had many different prayers over the years that I've been at Christ Church. When I first arrived in 2005, I prayed to know what to do; I was 26, and had been ordained for just a little more than a year. Now, I pray not to get too comfortable; my large desk and comfortable habits have a nice way of lulling me into complacence that I know what I'm doing and what comes next.
In the past year, I've noticed that one recurring prayer is a prayer of thanksgiving for belief. Somehow since Holy Week this year, I've found myself witnessing the story of our faith in a different way; I could always explain in the abstract what it meant and why, and how I believed or didn't. This year, I find myself thankful both for the substance of the belief- God's creation of the world, Christ's ministry, death, and resurrection-but also the experience of belief in the first place. To believe-credo-to give one's heart to something-is an amazing gift.
The apostle Paul wrote to the Church in Rome, "The Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words (Romans 8:26). God came to us before we came to God, and at the same time God prays in us with God's own voice. At the same time, on a psychological level, we are awfully prone to get in God's way. The philosopher William James (1984-1910) gave a lecture called "The Will to Believe," in which, basically, he says it's worse to be so afraid of being duped that we are unable to believe anything than it is to be wrong. Not deciding, in effect, is deciding. "It is like a general informing his soldiers that it is better to keep out of battle forever than to risk a single wound. . . Our errors are surely not such awfully solemn things." (The Will to Believe, Section VII).
Belief is something of a dance; part us, part God, part mystery. Belief is a gift, but that not everyone believes is hardly a sign that God has withheld this from them. What I find helpful about James' insight is that it helps us to see belief as a mutual process. We choose, but we are also chosen. (How that happens is the part where mystery comes in). What is life-giving for one must not be life-giving for all. But the One who gives life gives it freely.
So this year, I've been feeling particularly thankful for my faith, and so my prayer for Christ Church is something like this:
For belief, O Christ, for belief in you and celebration of your gifts. That we all may know your love and share it with others, within these walls and without.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Fish for People
Dear People of Christ Church,
I look forward to being back with you this Sunday for our service at 9am; I've been to church a few times over vacation, but there is nothing like your home altar.
Two weeks ago, my family had the opportunity to worship at the Holy Trinity Anglican Church on Grosse Ile, part of the Magdalen Islands of Canada. The Magdalen Islands are accessible by a five hour ferry ride north of Prince Edward Island (which is, in turn, a 12 hour drive from here)-in short, they are far away! The Magdalens are part of Quebec, but there is a tiny English speaking community on the islands. There are three English speaking churches on the islands, and we went to the big one-there were about 15 people in addition to my family.
The service was nice enough, but I was most struck by the stained glass window at the front. The windows portray Jesus calling Simon Peter and Andrew-walking by the Sea of Galilee, he sees them throwing in their net, doing their work. He said to them, "Follow me, and I will make you fish for people." And immediately they left their nets and followed him."
I've always liked the story because it portrays Jesus doing what God still does-going to people right where they are. In the window, though, it's not some airy tunic-clad wispy Jesus; it's Jesus as an actual fisherman, wearing a thick sweater and big boots (The window was created in 1986). A girl standing near him has jeans on, and the hills of the East Cape of the Magdalens are visible in the background. Another is holding a thick rope, with overalls and a knit cap.
What would this window look like if it were made in Waltham? We have one answer, our own great West window. It's not as explicitly time-bending, but it's full of local imagery and speaks to the central focus of our city at the time. Rivets, cars, gears, factory equipment-it's dedicated to the power and meaning of work. God working, as the creator, Noah building the ark, Ruth gleaning the fields-this is one generation's answer to God reaching people where they are.
What is your image for this? Is it Jesus in a committee meeting, a sales call, a performance evaluation? Jesus with you adjusting a patient's medicine, or sharing a secret smile as a coworker talks about something? Jesus with you, leading a small child back to bed after his fifth trip to the bathroom of the night? Is it hard to imagine Jesus in a business suit, or scrubs, or coveralls?
This is the power of the Christian hope and resurrection: that Christ, the risen Lord, is risen right here and now, working in our lives and with our own hands and feet. Crashing through all the boundaries of time, space, location, gender, language, convention. When was the last time you saw him? When did she show you God's grace?
Blessings,
Sara+
I look forward to being back with you this Sunday for our service at 9am; I've been to church a few times over vacation, but there is nothing like your home altar.
Two weeks ago, my family had the opportunity to worship at the Holy Trinity Anglican Church on Grosse Ile, part of the Magdalen Islands of Canada. The Magdalen Islands are accessible by a five hour ferry ride north of Prince Edward Island (which is, in turn, a 12 hour drive from here)-in short, they are far away! The Magdalens are part of Quebec, but there is a tiny English speaking community on the islands. There are three English speaking churches on the islands, and we went to the big one-there were about 15 people in addition to my family.
The service was nice enough, but I was most struck by the stained glass window at the front. The windows portray Jesus calling Simon Peter and Andrew-walking by the Sea of Galilee, he sees them throwing in their net, doing their work. He said to them, "Follow me, and I will make you fish for people." And immediately they left their nets and followed him."
I've always liked the story because it portrays Jesus doing what God still does-going to people right where they are. In the window, though, it's not some airy tunic-clad wispy Jesus; it's Jesus as an actual fisherman, wearing a thick sweater and big boots (The window was created in 1986). A girl standing near him has jeans on, and the hills of the East Cape of the Magdalens are visible in the background. Another is holding a thick rope, with overalls and a knit cap.
What would this window look like if it were made in Waltham? We have one answer, our own great West window. It's not as explicitly time-bending, but it's full of local imagery and speaks to the central focus of our city at the time. Rivets, cars, gears, factory equipment-it's dedicated to the power and meaning of work. God working, as the creator, Noah building the ark, Ruth gleaning the fields-this is one generation's answer to God reaching people where they are.
What is your image for this? Is it Jesus in a committee meeting, a sales call, a performance evaluation? Jesus with you adjusting a patient's medicine, or sharing a secret smile as a coworker talks about something? Jesus with you, leading a small child back to bed after his fifth trip to the bathroom of the night? Is it hard to imagine Jesus in a business suit, or scrubs, or coveralls?
This is the power of the Christian hope and resurrection: that Christ, the risen Lord, is risen right here and now, working in our lives and with our own hands and feet. Crashing through all the boundaries of time, space, location, gender, language, convention. When was the last time you saw him? When did she show you God's grace?
Blessings,
Sara+
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