Dear People of Christ Church,
A blessed last few days of Advent to you!
So many thanks to our Pageant Stars (pictured right) and Director Erin Jensen. Our kids did a wonderful job of bringing the Christmas story to light this past Sunday, with a potentially record-setting number of 27 participants!
It has, though, felt like a short season of preparation, when both the calendar and our own hectic lives conspire to make Christmas seem early. Christingle Party and Pageant on the same day? Never again, please! Christmas is, of course, not sooner; it is the twenty-fifth of December, same as always. And, same as always, there is something ELSE that seems more pressing that sitting down to do the real work of contemplation and preparation, of "making room" in our hearts for the birth of Christ. I recently read someone refer to Christmas as "the feast of Nicene Dogma"-Nicea being the ecumenical council when Jesus' nature as both fully human and fully divine was officially adopted by the church, in 325-and while it doesn't sound very romantic, it's not a bad characterization of the holiday.
Christmas is the day-the day when we celebrate that God became human in the person of Jesus Christ. Two natures, fully human and fully divine. Amidst all the presents and the food and the preparation, God becomes one of us. This is a big deal, because it says a lot about God-a God willing to be one of us, to be powerless as a baby, to have to learn as a little child, to be rebellious as an adolescent (remember that time he ran away from his parents in the Temple?), to be tested as a young man, and to suffer as we all, invariably, will. It says a lot about God, but it also says a lot about us.
The God of our salvation, coming to be with us in THIS sometimes joyful and sometimes sorry state of affairs. What that says about God is that God is infinitely willing to bridge hardship and suffering to be with us in our suffering. It means that nothing we could ever undergo is alien to the heart of God. It also means, most powerfully, this: when God became human, we got a chance to be closer to God. Athanasius of Alexandria put it this way in the fourth Century:
The Word of God indeed assumed humanity that we might become God...so many are the Savior's achievements that follow from his Incarnation that to try to number them is like gazing at the open sea and trying to count the waves.
Each one of us is a wave of reconciled humanity, changed toward grace and liberated from our sin, that is, liberated from our separation from God. No more retaliation, no more defensiveness, no more revenge or "eye for an eye." Just love and peace. Love and peace for each of us-every last one of us, no matter what. That's the gift we're given at Christmas.
Thanks be to God!
Christmas Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
On the Ending of the Iraq War
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I find myself puzzling over-if I can use that light a word for something so big-the end of the Iraq war. I have probably told the story in this space before of how my husband and I got married in New York City in 2003, about six weeks before it started. February 15 was a world-wide day of action against George W Bush's plan to invade Iraq, and it also happened to be our wedding day. The BBC says that between 6 and 10 million people in up to 60 countries participated in protests that weekend-organizers put the figure at closer to 30 million. Even the Guinness Book of World Records agreed that 3 million turned out in Rome-the biggest anti war protest in history. Our wedding date was chosen because of the bishop's schedule, not our own, but when we knew about the protests planned for the day, we encouraged our guests to go uptown after the reception to march. Archbishop Desmond Tutu spoke: "President Bush, listen to the voice of the people, for many times the voice of the people is the voice of God. Listen to the voice of the people saying, 'Give peace a chance.'"
Not long after, on March 20, we were in a roadside café in Rhodes, Greece, and saw the news-the war had started. Now, almost eight years later-a big 8 years for me, it's seen me get ordained to the priesthood, get called rector of Christ Church, and give birth to two children-it's done, with President Obama speaking to troops at Fort Bragg and saying, simply, "Welcome Home." This week Time Magazine also announced that their Person of the Year is "The Protestor." I'm not an avid reader of the magazine, but I appreciated their question:
Is there a global tipping point for frustration? Everywhere, it seems, people said they'd had enough. They dissented; they demanded; they did not despair, even when the answers came back in a cloud of tear gas or a hail of bullets. They literally embodied the idea that individual action can bring collective, colossal change (Rick Stengel, Time Magazine).
It's the literal embodiment of protest that's moving; putting your body where your heart is. In my sermon on Sunday I talked about a book I read recently, by Leymah Gbowee, one of the three women awarded the Nobel Peace Prize this year. Gbowee was one of the architects of a women's peace movement that ended the brutal regime of dictator Charles Taylor. Coming to grips with their own fear and pain, they showed up day after day in the public square and organized across their own differences. Muslims and Christians, women of all tribes, working together. They even held a sex strike! But it took 14 years.
I don't know what impact those global protests had 8 years ago. I am certainly thankful for Waltham's faithful witnesses for peace who have stood on the common in Vigil on Saturdays since then, and who will still be there in witness for Afghanistan. For my own part in 2003, sending a few wedding guests on the subway is not much of a contribution (I confess that we took a cab in the opposite direction and went to a fancy hotel before coming back to Church History class on Monday). After so much of my own anger about this war-undertaken, after all, ostensibly on my behalf as an American (and a New York City resident on 9/11/01)-I long for a deeper sense of resolution or satisfaction. Instead, it's vague sadness and resignation. It is also true that a large part of the complete pull out at this time is due to the fact that the military would not tolerate losing immunity to prosecution by Iraqi law. That doesn't sound like much to celebrate.
Still, we are in the third week of Advent-the pink candle week-when we hear St Paul write to the Thessalonians in his first letter:
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you (5:16-18).
The will of God in Christ for us is to rejoice; to hold fast to even the smallest shred of good that we can find, not to be blinded by so much evil. And the end of a war is surely more than a shred of goodness. Theologically, too, there is in the Christian faith the strong tradition of lament; lament for the more than 100,000 Iraqis killed, and prayers for the one million widows and two million orphans that will have to rebuild their country. Maybe penance is appropriate, too-hopefully a chastened America will move more deliberately. I also take comfort in a Christian faith in which I don't have to have the answer; two months ago, I wrote in this space about Muammar Qadaffi's death: there are as many prayers to say as questions to ask. The important thing is to engage.
Here's what the Book of Common Prayer gives us-appropriate for Christmas, too-the coming of the Dream of God, the birth of Christ, in our midst. May our own hands and feet work for this dream in this season of hope.
Eternal God, in whose perfect kingdom no sword is drawn but the sword of righteousness, no strength known but the strength of love: So mightily spread abroad your Spirit, that all peoples may be gathered under the banner of the Prince of Peace, as children of one Father; to whom be dominion and glory, now and for ever. Amen.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, I find myself puzzling over-if I can use that light a word for something so big-the end of the Iraq war. I have probably told the story in this space before of how my husband and I got married in New York City in 2003, about six weeks before it started. February 15 was a world-wide day of action against George W Bush's plan to invade Iraq, and it also happened to be our wedding day. The BBC says that between 6 and 10 million people in up to 60 countries participated in protests that weekend-organizers put the figure at closer to 30 million. Even the Guinness Book of World Records agreed that 3 million turned out in Rome-the biggest anti war protest in history. Our wedding date was chosen because of the bishop's schedule, not our own, but when we knew about the protests planned for the day, we encouraged our guests to go uptown after the reception to march. Archbishop Desmond Tutu spoke: "President Bush, listen to the voice of the people, for many times the voice of the people is the voice of God. Listen to the voice of the people saying, 'Give peace a chance.'"
Not long after, on March 20, we were in a roadside café in Rhodes, Greece, and saw the news-the war had started. Now, almost eight years later-a big 8 years for me, it's seen me get ordained to the priesthood, get called rector of Christ Church, and give birth to two children-it's done, with President Obama speaking to troops at Fort Bragg and saying, simply, "Welcome Home." This week Time Magazine also announced that their Person of the Year is "The Protestor." I'm not an avid reader of the magazine, but I appreciated their question:
Is there a global tipping point for frustration? Everywhere, it seems, people said they'd had enough. They dissented; they demanded; they did not despair, even when the answers came back in a cloud of tear gas or a hail of bullets. They literally embodied the idea that individual action can bring collective, colossal change (Rick Stengel, Time Magazine).
It's the literal embodiment of protest that's moving; putting your body where your heart is. In my sermon on Sunday I talked about a book I read recently, by Leymah Gbowee, one of the three women awarded the Nobel Peace Prize this year. Gbowee was one of the architects of a women's peace movement that ended the brutal regime of dictator Charles Taylor. Coming to grips with their own fear and pain, they showed up day after day in the public square and organized across their own differences. Muslims and Christians, women of all tribes, working together. They even held a sex strike! But it took 14 years.
I don't know what impact those global protests had 8 years ago. I am certainly thankful for Waltham's faithful witnesses for peace who have stood on the common in Vigil on Saturdays since then, and who will still be there in witness for Afghanistan. For my own part in 2003, sending a few wedding guests on the subway is not much of a contribution (I confess that we took a cab in the opposite direction and went to a fancy hotel before coming back to Church History class on Monday). After so much of my own anger about this war-undertaken, after all, ostensibly on my behalf as an American (and a New York City resident on 9/11/01)-I long for a deeper sense of resolution or satisfaction. Instead, it's vague sadness and resignation. It is also true that a large part of the complete pull out at this time is due to the fact that the military would not tolerate losing immunity to prosecution by Iraqi law. That doesn't sound like much to celebrate.
Still, we are in the third week of Advent-the pink candle week-when we hear St Paul write to the Thessalonians in his first letter:
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you (5:16-18).
The will of God in Christ for us is to rejoice; to hold fast to even the smallest shred of good that we can find, not to be blinded by so much evil. And the end of a war is surely more than a shred of goodness. Theologically, too, there is in the Christian faith the strong tradition of lament; lament for the more than 100,000 Iraqis killed, and prayers for the one million widows and two million orphans that will have to rebuild their country. Maybe penance is appropriate, too-hopefully a chastened America will move more deliberately. I also take comfort in a Christian faith in which I don't have to have the answer; two months ago, I wrote in this space about Muammar Qadaffi's death: there are as many prayers to say as questions to ask. The important thing is to engage.
Here's what the Book of Common Prayer gives us-appropriate for Christmas, too-the coming of the Dream of God, the birth of Christ, in our midst. May our own hands and feet work for this dream in this season of hope.
Eternal God, in whose perfect kingdom no sword is drawn but the sword of righteousness, no strength known but the strength of love: So mightily spread abroad your Spirit, that all peoples may be gathered under the banner of the Prince of Peace, as children of one Father; to whom be dominion and glory, now and for ever. Amen.
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Dear people of Christ Church,
Today, December 1, is world AIDS day, commemorating thirty years since the virus was first identified. In the last thirty years, thirty million people have died of AIDS. Thirty. Million. There was not much cause for hope in the early days of AIDS. Thirty years ago, our government did not want to know about it. Polite citizens did not talk about it. It was expected that those who had the disease would best disappear and die silently. So many did. So many lives taken unnecessarily, by apathy, by hatred, by willful blindness. Now, though, there is much, much cause for hope. Last spring, in our observation of Lazarus Sunday, lead by our then-Micah Project intern Paul Hartge, we learned about how the "Lazarus effect"--the return to life--that is possible when people receive appropriate care. In preparing for my sermon then, I learned about some of the stories of those whose lives have been changed.
Princess Zulu Kasune is a modern day Lazarus. 14 years ago, she was given just six months to live. From a small town in Zambia, her doctor believed it was over for her. Her parents had already died from the illness-then, undiagnosed and mysterious-and she was at that time responsible for raising her siblings as well as her own family and two young children. Through global health relief, she was given the anti-retroviral drugs that make her illness treatable and keep her alive. The young woman who was given a death sentence at age 20 has now been to the White House to tell her story. She says,
Jesus resurrected Lazarus from the dead, Jesus set us a model we have to imitate. He asks us to explore whether there is anything that can be restored, can we help deliver hope, hope for the children, the grandparents, he asks us to restore community. He asks us to be compassionate - to come alongside, to mourn and to sympathize, just as he did.
Kasune asks, Do we have the right to judge which life is worth saving?
It sounds, of course, obvious: of course we don't have the right to ask that question.
How could we? How could we place ourselves in the role of God, giving life or taking it away?
The fact is, we are in that place. Making policy about AIDS testing being free and available-that gives life. Blocking diagnosis takes it away. Advocating for drugs being available to those who need it-that gives life. Apathy takes it away. Policies that partner with rather than stigmatize at-risk groups of people--that gives life. Judgment takes life away. Silence here, as it was in the eighties when AIDS was first discovered, is deadly.
Our actions matter.
More than 5 million have begun to receive anti retroviral drugs since 2002. That's 5 million people brought back from the brink of death. There is still a lot to do. There is still a lot wrong with global AIDS initiatives. But there is a lot of success staring us in the face, too--success like Lazarus, walking out of that tomb.
Jesus wept when Lazarus died. He calls us to weep, too--at the graves of our friends and at the graves of all who die just because they live in the wrong place at the wrong time. To weep, but also to keep walking down the road toward the places of death and suffering and pain, to see what can be done.
We are now on the brink, in Secretary of State Hilary Clinton's words, of raising the first AIDS free generation. As our Presiding Bishop, Katharine Jefferts Schori wrote in in a joint letter with the Presiding Bishop of the Lutheran church:
As Christians, we have just embarked upon the season of Advent, in which we prepare our hearts and minds to receive the One who comes that we "may have life, and have it abundantly." In this season, on this World AIDS Day, may the healing offered by our Incarnate, Crucified, and Resurrected Lord inspire us to cross from 30 years of death and loss to a future of abundant life for all.
Amen, Alleluia.
For the entirety of Bishop Schori and Bishop Hansen's letter:
http://ecusa.anglican.org/newsline_130612_ENG_HTM.htm
For Episcopal AIDS ministries and links to take action on legislative issues:
http://neac.org/
Today, December 1, is world AIDS day, commemorating thirty years since the virus was first identified. In the last thirty years, thirty million people have died of AIDS. Thirty. Million. There was not much cause for hope in the early days of AIDS. Thirty years ago, our government did not want to know about it. Polite citizens did not talk about it. It was expected that those who had the disease would best disappear and die silently. So many did. So many lives taken unnecessarily, by apathy, by hatred, by willful blindness. Now, though, there is much, much cause for hope. Last spring, in our observation of Lazarus Sunday, lead by our then-Micah Project intern Paul Hartge, we learned about how the "Lazarus effect"--the return to life--that is possible when people receive appropriate care. In preparing for my sermon then, I learned about some of the stories of those whose lives have been changed.
Princess Zulu Kasune is a modern day Lazarus. 14 years ago, she was given just six months to live. From a small town in Zambia, her doctor believed it was over for her. Her parents had already died from the illness-then, undiagnosed and mysterious-and she was at that time responsible for raising her siblings as well as her own family and two young children. Through global health relief, she was given the anti-retroviral drugs that make her illness treatable and keep her alive. The young woman who was given a death sentence at age 20 has now been to the White House to tell her story. She says,
Jesus resurrected Lazarus from the dead, Jesus set us a model we have to imitate. He asks us to explore whether there is anything that can be restored, can we help deliver hope, hope for the children, the grandparents, he asks us to restore community. He asks us to be compassionate - to come alongside, to mourn and to sympathize, just as he did.
Kasune asks, Do we have the right to judge which life is worth saving?
It sounds, of course, obvious: of course we don't have the right to ask that question.
How could we? How could we place ourselves in the role of God, giving life or taking it away?
The fact is, we are in that place. Making policy about AIDS testing being free and available-that gives life. Blocking diagnosis takes it away. Advocating for drugs being available to those who need it-that gives life. Apathy takes it away. Policies that partner with rather than stigmatize at-risk groups of people--that gives life. Judgment takes life away. Silence here, as it was in the eighties when AIDS was first discovered, is deadly.
Our actions matter.
More than 5 million have begun to receive anti retroviral drugs since 2002. That's 5 million people brought back from the brink of death. There is still a lot to do. There is still a lot wrong with global AIDS initiatives. But there is a lot of success staring us in the face, too--success like Lazarus, walking out of that tomb.
Jesus wept when Lazarus died. He calls us to weep, too--at the graves of our friends and at the graves of all who die just because they live in the wrong place at the wrong time. To weep, but also to keep walking down the road toward the places of death and suffering and pain, to see what can be done.
We are now on the brink, in Secretary of State Hilary Clinton's words, of raising the first AIDS free generation. As our Presiding Bishop, Katharine Jefferts Schori wrote in in a joint letter with the Presiding Bishop of the Lutheran church:
As Christians, we have just embarked upon the season of Advent, in which we prepare our hearts and minds to receive the One who comes that we "may have life, and have it abundantly." In this season, on this World AIDS Day, may the healing offered by our Incarnate, Crucified, and Resurrected Lord inspire us to cross from 30 years of death and loss to a future of abundant life for all.
Amen, Alleluia.
For the entirety of Bishop Schori and Bishop Hansen's letter:
http://ecusa.anglican.org/newsline_130612_ENG_HTM.htm
For Episcopal AIDS ministries and links to take action on legislative issues:
http://neac.org/
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Happy Thanksgiving!
This week, I'd like to share a bit more about what we're doing for Advent adult education. Each year during Advent and Lent, a small group gathers in the choir room at 6:30 for a simple Eucharist, and eats dinner over discussion in the rector's office (beginning at 7:15). This year, we'll meet to talk about economics and faith. Having worked on our capital campaign all fall, I've been much in the mindset of giving-the results of that campaign and our stewardship for 2012 show that you have been as well! And with the recent Occupy protests shining a light on the tremendous wealth inequality in the US, the moment seemed right to spend some more time thinking about inequality and faith. What are our responsibilities? What needs to be done, and how? How bad is it, really? Our conversations will be based on the work of radio journalist Krista Tippett, whose show, On Being is on each Sunday morning. We'll listen to short excerpts of her conversations with thinkers and activists in a variety of fields and discuss ways to integrate their ideas into our own lives. Below, I'm sharing a prayer-poem written by Jenifer Gamber, an Episcopal educator in Bethlehem, PA, which is one of the opening prayers for the third week in Advent.
Please, please join us-and let me know if you want to cook dinner!
Blessings,
Sara+
People Like Us
by Jenifer Gamber
Someone put his children to bed hungry tonight. Again.
Fill his emptiness. With hope. His soul. With strength to face the morning.
Fill our hearts with generosity. To share your bounty.
Someone like me today could not go to school to learn.
Grant her wisdom and perseverance. To seek justice. For herself and others. Teach us to spread the light of knowledge to all people.
Someone like me cannot read a book to his children today. Protect him. From hatred that would subdue the spirit. Lift our voices. Grant us strength. To advocate for parity.
Someone like me watched a four-year-old son today. Die of measles. Comfort her. Gather her son in your arms. Empower us to witness to your dream: a world where all children receive medical care.
Someone like me died today of AIDS. Five children orphaned. Receive him into your kingdom. Strengthen the minds, bodies and spirits of his children. Knit us together as one family. With determination to serve those affected by AIDS.
Someone like me died today. Giving birth to her daughter. Let her pain turn into a song. Of homecoming. Help us provide skilled health workers. For women during childbirth.
Someone like me today. His lips parched by thirst. Quench his thirst for water. His desire for justice. Save us from whatever hinders our stewardship of creation. And threatens clean water.
Someone like me needs a sewing machine today. To build a business. Sustain the spirit of enterprise. Her dream of providing for her family. Help us offer partnership with all people. As we work toward economic independence.
By Jenifer Gamber, modified by Krista Tippett.
From Lifting Women's Voices: Prayers to Change the World
This week, I'd like to share a bit more about what we're doing for Advent adult education. Each year during Advent and Lent, a small group gathers in the choir room at 6:30 for a simple Eucharist, and eats dinner over discussion in the rector's office (beginning at 7:15). This year, we'll meet to talk about economics and faith. Having worked on our capital campaign all fall, I've been much in the mindset of giving-the results of that campaign and our stewardship for 2012 show that you have been as well! And with the recent Occupy protests shining a light on the tremendous wealth inequality in the US, the moment seemed right to spend some more time thinking about inequality and faith. What are our responsibilities? What needs to be done, and how? How bad is it, really? Our conversations will be based on the work of radio journalist Krista Tippett, whose show, On Being is on each Sunday morning. We'll listen to short excerpts of her conversations with thinkers and activists in a variety of fields and discuss ways to integrate their ideas into our own lives. Below, I'm sharing a prayer-poem written by Jenifer Gamber, an Episcopal educator in Bethlehem, PA, which is one of the opening prayers for the third week in Advent.
Please, please join us-and let me know if you want to cook dinner!
Blessings,
Sara+
People Like Us
by Jenifer Gamber
Someone put his children to bed hungry tonight. Again.
Fill his emptiness. With hope. His soul. With strength to face the morning.
Fill our hearts with generosity. To share your bounty.
Someone like me today could not go to school to learn.
Grant her wisdom and perseverance. To seek justice. For herself and others. Teach us to spread the light of knowledge to all people.
Someone like me cannot read a book to his children today. Protect him. From hatred that would subdue the spirit. Lift our voices. Grant us strength. To advocate for parity.
Someone like me watched a four-year-old son today. Die of measles. Comfort her. Gather her son in your arms. Empower us to witness to your dream: a world where all children receive medical care.
Someone like me died today of AIDS. Five children orphaned. Receive him into your kingdom. Strengthen the minds, bodies and spirits of his children. Knit us together as one family. With determination to serve those affected by AIDS.
Someone like me died today. Giving birth to her daughter. Let her pain turn into a song. Of homecoming. Help us provide skilled health workers. For women during childbirth.
Someone like me today. His lips parched by thirst. Quench his thirst for water. His desire for justice. Save us from whatever hinders our stewardship of creation. And threatens clean water.
Someone like me needs a sewing machine today. To build a business. Sustain the spirit of enterprise. Her dream of providing for her family. Help us offer partnership with all people. As we work toward economic independence.
By Jenifer Gamber, modified by Krista Tippett.
From Lifting Women's Voices: Prayers to Change the World
Monday, November 21, 2011
Dear Friends:
It's been nice to be back in the office after my retreat, which was quite restorative. As we wrote in last week's email, longtime parishioner Otho Kerr died on Monday, and I spent the week with his upcoming burial in the back of my mind. Even with a few text messages sent back and forth with one of his sons, it was still a good time away. It was also a time to reconsider whether my family (and beloved parish!) could handle me being actually on retreat for real, say, in another state, for actual nights away--I think the answer is yes. But the funeral on Saturday was quite frankly one of the most moving I've ever participated in, and certainly I never would have missed it. Of course every time we gather to celebrate someone's life and mourn their death is special, but there was something about the reflections offered by sons, the beautiful rendition of the Lord's Prayer that Gregory Kerr sang, the readings, the Gospel-it was really the best of our tradition all together. Otho and his wife, Julia, had been married for 61 years, and I know we will all keep her in our prayers as well. Otho Kerr III, in his remembrance, talked about how he had run the New York City Marathon the day before his father died, and how Otho had been sharing his son's stats with the nurses at Spaulding Rehab. What a gift for both of them.
Otherwise, things move along-and quickly!-this weekend is the final "Commitment Sunday" for our capital campaign and our concluding week of stewardship speakers and events. Thanks to Victoria and Michelle who have shared their stories so far--Jose will talk a bit this Sunday about his journey in giving. As always, your generosity has been breathtaking, and I am so thankful for all of you who are still considering how you are able to support our capital campaign (gifts and pledges so far total over $276,000). This building work will be so important to our hospitality and welcome to people of all generations for years to come. What's also exciting is that, in our partnership with the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts, once we reach our goal, as we have, the sharing formula shifts-so now every pledge will have 85% stay at Christ Church and 15% goes to wider mission. Stewardship also winds up this week, and it's exciting to see those pledge cards roll in as well. The gifts you give to keep the heat on, the parking lot plowed, and salaries paid is so vital to our witness. We celebrate the Eucharist more than one hundred times each year, not to mention the sacraments brought to those who are sick. There are a lot of worthy "causes" to give to, no shortage of people and endeavors that need your support. But the work of the church is the one that is, hopefully, the center of your spiritual life. When I consider my own faith, I think I need to give as much as the church needs to receive.
Meanwhile, enjoy these last days of fall before the cold descends. Take a few extra deep breaths, a few more minutes at your morning coffee. Park at the edge of the lot so you can have a little more time to breathe fresh air and move your body. Give thanks if you are fortunate enough to move your body, to engage God's creation with all your senses.
Blessings,
Sara+
It's been nice to be back in the office after my retreat, which was quite restorative. As we wrote in last week's email, longtime parishioner Otho Kerr died on Monday, and I spent the week with his upcoming burial in the back of my mind. Even with a few text messages sent back and forth with one of his sons, it was still a good time away. It was also a time to reconsider whether my family (and beloved parish!) could handle me being actually on retreat for real, say, in another state, for actual nights away--I think the answer is yes. But the funeral on Saturday was quite frankly one of the most moving I've ever participated in, and certainly I never would have missed it. Of course every time we gather to celebrate someone's life and mourn their death is special, but there was something about the reflections offered by sons, the beautiful rendition of the Lord's Prayer that Gregory Kerr sang, the readings, the Gospel-it was really the best of our tradition all together. Otho and his wife, Julia, had been married for 61 years, and I know we will all keep her in our prayers as well. Otho Kerr III, in his remembrance, talked about how he had run the New York City Marathon the day before his father died, and how Otho had been sharing his son's stats with the nurses at Spaulding Rehab. What a gift for both of them.
Otherwise, things move along-and quickly!-this weekend is the final "Commitment Sunday" for our capital campaign and our concluding week of stewardship speakers and events. Thanks to Victoria and Michelle who have shared their stories so far--Jose will talk a bit this Sunday about his journey in giving. As always, your generosity has been breathtaking, and I am so thankful for all of you who are still considering how you are able to support our capital campaign (gifts and pledges so far total over $276,000). This building work will be so important to our hospitality and welcome to people of all generations for years to come. What's also exciting is that, in our partnership with the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts, once we reach our goal, as we have, the sharing formula shifts-so now every pledge will have 85% stay at Christ Church and 15% goes to wider mission. Stewardship also winds up this week, and it's exciting to see those pledge cards roll in as well. The gifts you give to keep the heat on, the parking lot plowed, and salaries paid is so vital to our witness. We celebrate the Eucharist more than one hundred times each year, not to mention the sacraments brought to those who are sick. There are a lot of worthy "causes" to give to, no shortage of people and endeavors that need your support. But the work of the church is the one that is, hopefully, the center of your spiritual life. When I consider my own faith, I think I need to give as much as the church needs to receive.
Meanwhile, enjoy these last days of fall before the cold descends. Take a few extra deep breaths, a few more minutes at your morning coffee. Park at the edge of the lot so you can have a little more time to breathe fresh air and move your body. Give thanks if you are fortunate enough to move your body, to engage God's creation with all your senses.
Blessings,
Sara+
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I actually am writing to you on Sunday in advance of mailing this out later in the week, sharing news of our diocesan convention. This week I'm on retreat, spending days at the Campion Center in Weston, a Jesuit retreat center. Rev. Norm Faramelli, our longtime friend, is filling in on Sunday the 13th. (He is a faithful 8:30 attendee and his wife, Lucie, started Grandma's Pantry almost 20 years ago). Norm is also on the board of Refugee Immigration Ministries and we'll be distributing "mite boxes" to save our pennies to help their important work with asylum seekers and immigrants. Thank you, Norm!
The Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts comprises our state east of Route 495 and the Cape and Islands and around 180 parishes. This year there weren't any big-issue resolutions, though there was some conversation on a proposal to create committees and research on ministry to seniors in the diocese. An amended version passed to uphold and celebrate ministries with the aging, but not to require any reporting or mandated action.
The big thing of convention this year was the closing Eucharist, Bishop Cederholm's last as he is retiring. Bishop Bud was (officially, the Right Reverend Roy F. Cederholm) elected 11 years ago as the suffragan bishop (a fancy word for assisting), and has been a wonderful and grounded presence over the years. The decision has been made not to elect a replacement, so Bishop Tom Shaw remains the diocesan bishop and Bishop Gayle Harris will be the only Bishop Suffragan. Canon Libby Berman will help with some of the congregational work that Bud did, and he'll be back a few days a week as a "consultant." As he says, [My wife] Ruthann wants more of me, but not all of me!" First he'll have a few months sabbatical rest, though, to fully retire before coming back. On Friday night Bud the diocese had a party celebrating his ministry, complete with hot dogs and tours and his face lit up on the screen (see below). At the closing Eucharist he preached and closed the service by returning his crozier (Bishop's staff) to the church. It was quite moving and doubtful that there was a dry eye in the house.
The other major component of Diocesan Convention was the roll out of the Comprehensive Campaign, which donors to our own Capital Campaign are well aware of. last weekend was the official announcement of the project and invitation to parishes to give and participate in collaborative campaigns of their own (as we are now). They also showed a film, which had a few split-second screens of Christ Church at worship, as their videographer was at Christ Church a few weeks ago. Jonathan Duce and Mike Balulescu are our delegates--each parish gets two--thanks to them for their service.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, I actually am writing to you on Sunday in advance of mailing this out later in the week, sharing news of our diocesan convention. This week I'm on retreat, spending days at the Campion Center in Weston, a Jesuit retreat center. Rev. Norm Faramelli, our longtime friend, is filling in on Sunday the 13th. (He is a faithful 8:30 attendee and his wife, Lucie, started Grandma's Pantry almost 20 years ago). Norm is also on the board of Refugee Immigration Ministries and we'll be distributing "mite boxes" to save our pennies to help their important work with asylum seekers and immigrants. Thank you, Norm!
The Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts comprises our state east of Route 495 and the Cape and Islands and around 180 parishes. This year there weren't any big-issue resolutions, though there was some conversation on a proposal to create committees and research on ministry to seniors in the diocese. An amended version passed to uphold and celebrate ministries with the aging, but not to require any reporting or mandated action.
The big thing of convention this year was the closing Eucharist, Bishop Cederholm's last as he is retiring. Bishop Bud was (officially, the Right Reverend Roy F. Cederholm) elected 11 years ago as the suffragan bishop (a fancy word for assisting), and has been a wonderful and grounded presence over the years. The decision has been made not to elect a replacement, so Bishop Tom Shaw remains the diocesan bishop and Bishop Gayle Harris will be the only Bishop Suffragan. Canon Libby Berman will help with some of the congregational work that Bud did, and he'll be back a few days a week as a "consultant." As he says, [My wife] Ruthann wants more of me, but not all of me!" First he'll have a few months sabbatical rest, though, to fully retire before coming back. On Friday night Bud the diocese had a party celebrating his ministry, complete with hot dogs and tours and his face lit up on the screen (see below). At the closing Eucharist he preached and closed the service by returning his crozier (Bishop's staff) to the church. It was quite moving and doubtful that there was a dry eye in the house.
The other major component of Diocesan Convention was the roll out of the Comprehensive Campaign, which donors to our own Capital Campaign are well aware of. last weekend was the official announcement of the project and invitation to parishes to give and participate in collaborative campaigns of their own (as we are now). They also showed a film, which had a few split-second screens of Christ Church at worship, as their videographer was at Christ Church a few weeks ago. Jonathan Duce and Mike Balulescu are our delegates--each parish gets two--thanks to them for their service.
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Dear People of Christ Church,
Lee, our parish administrator, and I have been folding and stuffing envelopes with materials for stewardship all day (somehow those things always come under the wire, no matter how much we try to prepare for them!)...so this week I'm sharing a poem with you I found in my files. It's by the medieval Persian poet Hāfez, also known as
Khwāja Shamsu d-Dīn Muhammad Hāfez-e Shīrāzī. Hāfez is a pen name, which is also a word that means that someone has committed the Qu'ran to memory, which he is said to have done as a child. He died around 1389. It seems fitting to the theme of stewardship-if we only really realized how much God has given us, how easy would it be to return to God a portion of our riches?
Blessings,
Sara+
So Many Gifts
Hāfez
Trans. Daniel Ladinsky
There are so many gifts
Still unopened from your birthday,
There are so many hand-crafted presents
That have been sent to you by God.
The Beloved does not mind repeating,
"Everything I have is also yours."
Please forgive Hafiz and the Friend
If we break into a sweet laughter
When your heart complains of being thirsty
When ages ago
Every cell in your soul
Capsized forever
Into this infinite golden sea.
Indeed,
A lover's pain is like holding one's breath
Too long
In the middle of a vital performance,
In the middle of one of Creation's favorite
Songs.
Indeed, a lover's pain is this sleeping,
This sleeping,
When God just rolled over and gave you
Such a big good-morning kiss!
There are so many gifts, my dear,
Still unopened from your birthday.
O, there are so many hand-crafted presents
That have been sent to your life
From God.
Lee, our parish administrator, and I have been folding and stuffing envelopes with materials for stewardship all day (somehow those things always come under the wire, no matter how much we try to prepare for them!)...so this week I'm sharing a poem with you I found in my files. It's by the medieval Persian poet Hāfez, also known as
Khwāja Shamsu d-Dīn Muhammad Hāfez-e Shīrāzī. Hāfez is a pen name, which is also a word that means that someone has committed the Qu'ran to memory, which he is said to have done as a child. He died around 1389. It seems fitting to the theme of stewardship-if we only really realized how much God has given us, how easy would it be to return to God a portion of our riches?
Blessings,
Sara+
So Many Gifts
Hāfez
Trans. Daniel Ladinsky
There are so many gifts
Still unopened from your birthday,
There are so many hand-crafted presents
That have been sent to you by God.
The Beloved does not mind repeating,
"Everything I have is also yours."
Please forgive Hafiz and the Friend
If we break into a sweet laughter
When your heart complains of being thirsty
When ages ago
Every cell in your soul
Capsized forever
Into this infinite golden sea.
Indeed,
A lover's pain is like holding one's breath
Too long
In the middle of a vital performance,
In the middle of one of Creation's favorite
Songs.
Indeed, a lover's pain is this sleeping,
This sleeping,
When God just rolled over and gave you
Such a big good-morning kiss!
There are so many gifts, my dear,
Still unopened from your birthday.
O, there are so many hand-crafted presents
That have been sent to your life
From God.
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