Dear People of Christ Church,
As I write, I’m sitting at Café on the Common: my second office. It’s lively, bright, and sunny, with the whole spectrum of our city sitting and drinking their coffee. Fat/thin, young/old, black/white, business-serious and summer-casual: everybody’s here. I wonder if this is what it felt like on that day of Pentecost, 2000 years ago—the disciples just hanging around, doing what they had to do, and then, boom! Tongues of fire and a riot of languages, everyone met by the Holy Spirit exactly where they were, finding them each in their own languages, but also uniting them in a common experience. This Sunday, we’ll have our own linguistic Pentecost moment, with Spanish, German, Italian, Swedish, Hebrew, and even Welsh portions of readings (all of it will also be printed, as usual, in English so you can follow along).
The Pentecost experience of unity in diversity was something we experienced last Sunday at the Mother’s Day walk for peace, too. Thousands of people had gathered in Dorchester from all around—we had our Christ Church sign, just as there were banners from Episcopal Churches in Walpole and Sudbury, Unitarians from Lexington and Chelmsford, and individuals from all over with T shirts or buttons memorializing those they had lost. The day was pervaded by a deep sense of mourning, as well as a deep sense of possibility. Terrible things have happened. But newness and grace are possible.
First, we can start asking some different questions; the usual narrative we tell around tragic violence puts the focus on the victim. We talk about how someone was “in the wrong place at the wrong time,” with the subtext that it could perhaps have happened to anyone. This is a natural response; it is, strictly speaking, true: Jorge Fuentes was walking down his own street, and had someone else been walking down that street at the same time his killer pulled out a gun, that person could have been shot instead. There was nothing about Jorge that would have made someone single him out. Yes, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But it didn’t “just” happen. It’s more complicated than that.
While we think we are preserving the innocence of the dead, we’re still putting all the focus on the victim, not the perpetrator. Tina Chery, the founder of the Louis Brown Peace Institute, said on Sunday that we should instead ask: “Where did they get the gun?” These crimes are perpetrated by individuals who are, themselves, part of a wider context. There is a whole web of poverty and violence and poor education that brings them to that point. And a whole other system of criminality and commerce that brings the gun that they pick up.
The police have not arrested the person who killed Jorge, but what about the other 6,000 youth nationwide who have been killed by gun violence since he was in September? That’s 12,000 parents whose children have died. What about those guns? What about those communities where 1% of the population terrorize the rest? What if there were the same level of outcry whenever any person, anywhere, were killed? What if, as a culture, we really and truly valued the life of every person? What would have to change? How would each of us have to change?
I don’t have all the answers—not even close. There was something so holy, though, about all of us pouring through the streets of Dorchester, just for a morning, to stand with Tina, and Jorge’s mom, and Scarlett, whose six year old son was killed in Newtown, CT who also walked that day. As Rev. Tim Crellin, priest at St Stephen’s, Boston, said, “These are the first of many steps.”
Last night, at our Alewife Deanery meeting, we talked about how to move forward in this work for peace in our cities. All of our contexts are different; Waltham and Burlington won’t need the same thing, and neither will Bedford and Cambridge. Below, you’ll see an announcement about a community meeting that’s happening in Newton that our own Heather Leonardo heatherleonardo@gmail.com plans to attend. So please be in touch with her if you want to be part of that. Finally, mark your calendars for September 28, when the annual diocesan resource day will host workshops on nonviolence organizing. And feel free to give money--we’ve so far raised $200 for the Louis D Brown institute, and will collect donations for one more Sunday; write B Peace on your check.
And pray! This Sunday the disciples were gathered in one place praying, when they were surprised by the Spirit. It can happen to us, too.
Peace,
Sara+
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Thursday, May 16, 2013
From May 9: Dialogue on Faith
Dear People of Christ Church,
Last Friday, I had the wonderful opportunity of joining friends from the Massachusetts Council of Churches at Friday Prayers at the Islamic Society of Boston Cultural Center. The director of MCC, Laura Everett, has long been a friend, and she invited colleagues to join in an ecumenical witness of support for the Muslim community in the aftermath of the Boston bombings and recent Islamophobia. Hands down, it was one of the best sermons I've heard; at least with preaching, I tend to regard brevity in highest regard, but Imam Suhaib spoke for 45 minutes and I was more focused on taking notes than clock watching. From the moment we walked in the door, too, the welcome was incredibly warm, and we were invited to stay after for lunch. When there was an extra chicken curry, Loay, their director of development, sent that home with me for dinner, too!
The theme of the sermon was American Islam-which both is and isn't "a thing." How we relate to our culture is something we all grapple with-as we were mulling over in our recent Christ Church Quarterly, as Christians we've sort of forgotten how important it is to stand apart from culture. As Muslims, Imam Suhaib said, maybe they've emphasized that separation too much. As for American Islam? On the one hand, "Imam Will" shes/(who actually grew up Baptist in Oklahoma City and was a DJ before converting to Islam) said that it's wrong to talk about American Islam. God made everyone-every society. The universality of Islam is to care for everyone. At the same time, he said, we recognize that there are many cultures, and many different ways to honor God and share faith. American Muslims live differently from those who live in Bangladesh, and will express their faith differently as well. The most important thingis to challenge ourselves to be relevant to the world as it is now; don't talk about medieval conflicts, talk about contemporary narcissism. Don't define yourself by a disagreement that happened 1000 years ago, apply the reasoning that helped people of faith live through it to contemporary problems. Fundamentalism, Imam Suhaib said, is a modern problem-it comes from a modern desire to see everything in an absolutist way. The premodern view was much more flexible. This is true for Christians, too-the early church was much more committed to Scripture in terms of metaphor and allegory than those who claim the label "orthodox" do today.
The contemporary world can be a hard place to be a person of faith; so much about the world now is about instantaneous answers and incontrovertible truth. Faith, though, takes time; it takes time to nurture a relationship with God. It takes time to be in that relationship with God. It takes energy-it takes all of what you have and all of who you are. We are converted by experience, Suhaib said, not by cognition. That's pretty counter cultural, and something we all need to spend some time with. What is converting you right now? Where are you being transformed in your life, right now? Jesus said, "Come and see," not "Decide right now or else."
I left the mosque feeling not just like I'd listened in on some really good thinking, but also profoundly grateful for the diversity of so many experiences of holiness. Of course, there are some serious bedrock differences between Christianity and Islam, but (and I know it sounds trite), there really is so much that unites us in terms of how we live in the world. Being in dialogue makes us better at being who we are. And being supportive of brothers and sisters in faith-no matter what faith-makes us better, period.
Blesings,
Sara+
Last Friday, I had the wonderful opportunity of joining friends from the Massachusetts Council of Churches at Friday Prayers at the Islamic Society of Boston Cultural Center. The director of MCC, Laura Everett, has long been a friend, and she invited colleagues to join in an ecumenical witness of support for the Muslim community in the aftermath of the Boston bombings and recent Islamophobia. Hands down, it was one of the best sermons I've heard; at least with preaching, I tend to regard brevity in highest regard, but Imam Suhaib spoke for 45 minutes and I was more focused on taking notes than clock watching. From the moment we walked in the door, too, the welcome was incredibly warm, and we were invited to stay after for lunch. When there was an extra chicken curry, Loay, their director of development, sent that home with me for dinner, too!
The theme of the sermon was American Islam-which both is and isn't "a thing." How we relate to our culture is something we all grapple with-as we were mulling over in our recent Christ Church Quarterly, as Christians we've sort of forgotten how important it is to stand apart from culture. As Muslims, Imam Suhaib said, maybe they've emphasized that separation too much. As for American Islam? On the one hand, "Imam Will" shes/(who actually grew up Baptist in Oklahoma City and was a DJ before converting to Islam) said that it's wrong to talk about American Islam. God made everyone-every society. The universality of Islam is to care for everyone. At the same time, he said, we recognize that there are many cultures, and many different ways to honor God and share faith. American Muslims live differently from those who live in Bangladesh, and will express their faith differently as well. The most important thingis to challenge ourselves to be relevant to the world as it is now; don't talk about medieval conflicts, talk about contemporary narcissism. Don't define yourself by a disagreement that happened 1000 years ago, apply the reasoning that helped people of faith live through it to contemporary problems. Fundamentalism, Imam Suhaib said, is a modern problem-it comes from a modern desire to see everything in an absolutist way. The premodern view was much more flexible. This is true for Christians, too-the early church was much more committed to Scripture in terms of metaphor and allegory than those who claim the label "orthodox" do today.
The contemporary world can be a hard place to be a person of faith; so much about the world now is about instantaneous answers and incontrovertible truth. Faith, though, takes time; it takes time to nurture a relationship with God. It takes time to be in that relationship with God. It takes energy-it takes all of what you have and all of who you are. We are converted by experience, Suhaib said, not by cognition. That's pretty counter cultural, and something we all need to spend some time with. What is converting you right now? Where are you being transformed in your life, right now? Jesus said, "Come and see," not "Decide right now or else."
I left the mosque feeling not just like I'd listened in on some really good thinking, but also profoundly grateful for the diversity of so many experiences of holiness. Of course, there are some serious bedrock differences between Christianity and Islam, but (and I know it sounds trite), there really is so much that unites us in terms of how we live in the world. Being in dialogue makes us better at being who we are. And being supportive of brothers and sisters in faith-no matter what faith-makes us better, period.
Blesings,
Sara+
Thursday, May 9, 2013
From May 2: Writing as a Sacramental Gift
Dear People of Christ Church,
This Sunday, we welcome Bishop Gayle Harris, so we'll have just one service at 10am to greet her. After the service, she'll stay for a short congregational meeting, so please bring your questions. Finally, before departing for her next visit (at Good Shepherd, Watertown), she'll meet with the vestry. Bishop Gayle has visited several times over the near-eight years I've been at Christ Church, notably at the blessing of our front altar, installed in 2006 in memory of Robert Hughes, Sr.
Later this Sunday afternoon (at 3), I hope you'll join me at Bethany House of Prayer in Arlington for a poetry reading. Alex at Back Pages Books here in Waltham helped me publish the work I did on sabbatical (with our own Kristin Harvey's cover design), and I'm part of Bethany's "Spring Celebration of Poetry and Art." I will read with another poet, Sandy Stott, who works with the Thoreau Farm and chairs the English Department at Concord Academy. Art by Rev. Judith Clark will also be on view.
I'm excited, and nervous-I picked up my books from the printer this morning (Ashes/What Remains will be for sale for $10.00, first at the opening and later at Back Pages and online). Seeing everything out in black and white makes it seem so real. I know I wrote the poems-I stared down blank pages and an empty computer screen all fall. But something about poetry more than prose, seems so vulnerable-it's all me on the page, my joy and my anxiety, my sense of blessing and my sense of lack. I can't take it back. "Ordinary" writing feels much safer; one wrong word out of 500 is less risky than one wrong choice out of 40. And, of course, poetry isn't for everyone. It's ok not to "get it"-just slow down long enough to see if you can get something. The title, "Ashes/What remains" is an allusion to the idea that the life of faith involves a certain stripping away, trying to get at what's most important. Sabbatical time is Sabbath time: abstaining from traditional work, you can't hide from yourself anymore with all of those crucial tasks. Staring down into not-doing can feel awfully close to staring down into not-being, which is terrifying, and certainly the reason so many of us are so busy all the time.
What came up for me at the center are my deeper vocations-of being a priest and a parent. I recently got my kids' names tattooed in a half-sleeve of my upper right arm (along with some birds and flowers, as children are wont to do it took up more space than I'd planned), which I jokingly called my "mommy tattoo"-some of these are definitely mommy poems. And they are all priest poems. Writing as a sacramental gift; when we celebrate the Eucharist, we take very ordinary things and ask God to come into them, to make Christ alive and to feed us with his body. In my poems, I feel something similar; I'm taking very ordinary things-a sibling squabble, a bird staring at a pond-and asking them to translate God's presence in the world. I see the heron; she lets me recognize my instability, inviting me to be quiet and still. I see my kids complaining at each other; they show me all the traps of self-absorption and scapegoating we never seem to grow out of. A fair number of "first world problems" are catalogued in there, too. Packing school lunches is a drag, but it beats no lunch at all.
So come! And buy the book...though a few of the poems are already on my blog, and you can see them there for free.
Blessings,
Sara+
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
From: April 25: Journey towards Peace
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I find that I'm finally ready for some perspective.
I wrote last Thursday in this space about how I wasn't; all I wanted to do was sit in my sadness for a moment. Everything was so unsettled then, obsessively clicking "refresh" on bogus CNN stories about how a suspect had (not, it turned out) been arrested. My soul got a little healing preaching psalm 23 last Sunday and celebrating Carlos and Elena's baptisms, so it feels a little safer to come up for air. Now that I'm not just feeling hurt, I can take a look around me and see what's there.
So-what's there?
Hurt, yes, still. But also more sad than angry. Learning more about the Tsarnaev brothers, it seems that they have more in common with Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris, the Columbine shooters, than they do with some international or domestic terror network. I spent the first three days of this week at our annual clergy conference for the diocesan (our is the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts, which includes east of Route 495 and the Cape)-most of the priests and some of the deacons, gathered for some learning and working time together. It was striking to hear the reactions of the clergy from the Cambridge churches-kids at their parishes attend Cambridge Rindge and Latin, and knew the suspects, or at least the environment they grew up in; they knew how normal life seemed, until it wasn't. There's always a tendency to "other" those who experience violence; we hastily explain to ourselves how it simply couldn't have happened to us. When random violence strikes, we're forced to realize that it could.
Part of yesterday's presentation was also a more in depth conversation about the B Peace for Jorge endeavor we've been invited into. Next Tuesday we wrap up our conversation on The Rich and the Rest of Us, and then on May 12 there is the Mother's Day walk, which feels like it has all the more resonance. Jorge Fuentes was killed while standing on a porch across the street from his house. His mother heard the shots while she was cooking dinner. Jorge was the only one hurt; he had just pushed someone out of the way. We saw a segment from Fox 25's "Unsolved" murder segment about him (you can see it here)
where we meet his mother showing off his ROTC uniform; he wanted to join the Marines.
From Jorge's death on September 10, 2012, to the death of Martin Richard on April 15, whatever appears to motivate violence, it's still that-violence. We can disagree on all the details about how to respond on a political level. Some will want to outlaw handguns (me-don't get me started on Congress last week), others will want to be sure that every man and woman has one concealed in their jacket. I will grieve the use of torture by our government in the aftermath of 9/11, others will declare that that is the only reason another massive-scale attack didn't happen. In Christian community, we bring our whole selves to the table, and we don't always agree as we meet one another there. Still, wherever we place ourselves around the table, the call to the compassion of Christ pursues us all. Violence wins a second time if we allow our opinions about it to drive us away from one another. If God can raise a crucified Christ, surely God can handle us.
Blessings to all of you, wherever you find yourself on this journey,
Sara+
PS There is more going on with the B Peace effort! Let Rev. Sara know if you'd like to be part of deanery efforts at responding to violence in our community.
This week, I find that I'm finally ready for some perspective.
I wrote last Thursday in this space about how I wasn't; all I wanted to do was sit in my sadness for a moment. Everything was so unsettled then, obsessively clicking "refresh" on bogus CNN stories about how a suspect had (not, it turned out) been arrested. My soul got a little healing preaching psalm 23 last Sunday and celebrating Carlos and Elena's baptisms, so it feels a little safer to come up for air. Now that I'm not just feeling hurt, I can take a look around me and see what's there.
So-what's there?
Hurt, yes, still. But also more sad than angry. Learning more about the Tsarnaev brothers, it seems that they have more in common with Dylan Klebold and Eric Harris, the Columbine shooters, than they do with some international or domestic terror network. I spent the first three days of this week at our annual clergy conference for the diocesan (our is the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts, which includes east of Route 495 and the Cape)-most of the priests and some of the deacons, gathered for some learning and working time together. It was striking to hear the reactions of the clergy from the Cambridge churches-kids at their parishes attend Cambridge Rindge and Latin, and knew the suspects, or at least the environment they grew up in; they knew how normal life seemed, until it wasn't. There's always a tendency to "other" those who experience violence; we hastily explain to ourselves how it simply couldn't have happened to us. When random violence strikes, we're forced to realize that it could.
Part of yesterday's presentation was also a more in depth conversation about the B Peace for Jorge endeavor we've been invited into. Next Tuesday we wrap up our conversation on The Rich and the Rest of Us, and then on May 12 there is the Mother's Day walk, which feels like it has all the more resonance. Jorge Fuentes was killed while standing on a porch across the street from his house. His mother heard the shots while she was cooking dinner. Jorge was the only one hurt; he had just pushed someone out of the way. We saw a segment from Fox 25's "Unsolved" murder segment about him (you can see it here)
where we meet his mother showing off his ROTC uniform; he wanted to join the Marines.
From Jorge's death on September 10, 2012, to the death of Martin Richard on April 15, whatever appears to motivate violence, it's still that-violence. We can disagree on all the details about how to respond on a political level. Some will want to outlaw handguns (me-don't get me started on Congress last week), others will want to be sure that every man and woman has one concealed in their jacket. I will grieve the use of torture by our government in the aftermath of 9/11, others will declare that that is the only reason another massive-scale attack didn't happen. In Christian community, we bring our whole selves to the table, and we don't always agree as we meet one another there. Still, wherever we place ourselves around the table, the call to the compassion of Christ pursues us all. Violence wins a second time if we allow our opinions about it to drive us away from one another. If God can raise a crucified Christ, surely God can handle us.
Blessings to all of you, wherever you find yourself on this journey,
Sara+
PS There is more going on with the B Peace effort! Let Rev. Sara know if you'd like to be part of deanery efforts at responding to violence in our community.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
From April 18: Praying for Boston, Praying for Peace
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, of course, I've been praying for Boston. About 15 parishioners and community members gathered for worship on Tuesday night to offer prayers for the victims of the bombings and for peace. See the Waltham Patch piece hereI was just writing in this space last week about the Mother's Day Walk for Peace we've been invited to participate in, and now again, I'm writing about violence.
The hardest thing to understand about Monday is, of course, WHY? Not so much why God "allows" such things to happen, but the more basic question of why someone would want to hurt completely innocent strangers on a public sidewalk. I've struggled with the question of innocence; we keep describing the people there as innocent, which certainly they were. The problem is that that then carries with it the assumption that others who might be victims of violence are guilty, and that's more problematic. All of us are created in God's image, and we all have the right to live in peace, whether we are innocent or not. Just because we are. We may do terrible things, we may deserve to live behind prison walls, but we still deserve our lives.
At the same time, I don't want to skip out on my feelings, which are very real, and very hurt. The same day of the Boston bombings several friends posted on facebook about how many Afghans had been accidentally killed by the US military that same day: thirty. Thirty is more than three, but those three were our three, and it does not honor those thirty to forget our own. That fact did not offer me any "perspective," important as it is to realize that our hands also are not clean. Our prayers on Tuesday night included a plea to avoid rushing to judgment, too: I pray as well for Muslims who are now praying that it was not a Muslim who carried out the bombings, that there won't be more racist backlash and more hatred.
So what do we do?
We do what we do. On Tuesday night we gathered in such raw emotion; the thing we had to offer that day was our grief. Everything we have comes from God, and while we can't offer much back, we can offer what we have, and what we had that day was pain. Being willing to sit in pain, there at the cross, even that is a blessing: we know that God has been there in Christ. We know that God was with the people who ran toward the carnage, we know that God was with those marathoners who had just run 26 miles and then just kept on running to donate blood. We know that God is with each of us, in all the different ways we feel, even when we react differently from one another, even when I'm annoyed at my friends' Facebook pages.
We do what we do: this Sunday we baptize Carlos and Elena, and gather with their father, Byron, their mother, Margaret, godparents Anna, Harvey, and Isaura, and promise that we'll do all in our power to support their lives in Christ. We'll plant flowers, mow the lawn (we're going to need volunteers soon enough, as well as someone to organize our overall landscape and gardening plans), and look toward the new birth and new promise God always surprises us with. We'll sing Alleluia, since it's still Easter, since Christ is still raised, along with Martin, along with Krystle, along with Lingzi Lu and in all of our lives.
Peace,
Sara+
This week, of course, I've been praying for Boston. About 15 parishioners and community members gathered for worship on Tuesday night to offer prayers for the victims of the bombings and for peace. See the Waltham Patch piece hereI was just writing in this space last week about the Mother's Day Walk for Peace we've been invited to participate in, and now again, I'm writing about violence.
The hardest thing to understand about Monday is, of course, WHY? Not so much why God "allows" such things to happen, but the more basic question of why someone would want to hurt completely innocent strangers on a public sidewalk. I've struggled with the question of innocence; we keep describing the people there as innocent, which certainly they were. The problem is that that then carries with it the assumption that others who might be victims of violence are guilty, and that's more problematic. All of us are created in God's image, and we all have the right to live in peace, whether we are innocent or not. Just because we are. We may do terrible things, we may deserve to live behind prison walls, but we still deserve our lives.
At the same time, I don't want to skip out on my feelings, which are very real, and very hurt. The same day of the Boston bombings several friends posted on facebook about how many Afghans had been accidentally killed by the US military that same day: thirty. Thirty is more than three, but those three were our three, and it does not honor those thirty to forget our own. That fact did not offer me any "perspective," important as it is to realize that our hands also are not clean. Our prayers on Tuesday night included a plea to avoid rushing to judgment, too: I pray as well for Muslims who are now praying that it was not a Muslim who carried out the bombings, that there won't be more racist backlash and more hatred.
So what do we do?
We do what we do. On Tuesday night we gathered in such raw emotion; the thing we had to offer that day was our grief. Everything we have comes from God, and while we can't offer much back, we can offer what we have, and what we had that day was pain. Being willing to sit in pain, there at the cross, even that is a blessing: we know that God has been there in Christ. We know that God was with the people who ran toward the carnage, we know that God was with those marathoners who had just run 26 miles and then just kept on running to donate blood. We know that God is with each of us, in all the different ways we feel, even when we react differently from one another, even when I'm annoyed at my friends' Facebook pages.
We do what we do: this Sunday we baptize Carlos and Elena, and gather with their father, Byron, their mother, Margaret, godparents Anna, Harvey, and Isaura, and promise that we'll do all in our power to support their lives in Christ. We'll plant flowers, mow the lawn (we're going to need volunteers soon enough, as well as someone to organize our overall landscape and gardening plans), and look toward the new birth and new promise God always surprises us with. We'll sing Alleluia, since it's still Easter, since Christ is still raised, along with Martin, along with Krystle, along with Lingzi Lu and in all of our lives.
Peace,
Sara+
Thursday, April 11, 2013
From April 11: Mothers Walk for Peace
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I'm writing to ask you to mark your calendars for May 12, Mother's Day. Of course it may already be on your calendar, but this year we've been invited to participate in a new way, to accompany our bishop and other friends from the diocese and Boston on the Mother's Day Walk for Peace.
Bishop Shaw called me up this week and started with "Hi, Sara, It's Tom. And I have a big favor to ask of you." Naturally disposed as I am to do what the bishop tells me to do, when he asked me to skip church at my own parish and come and concelebrate with him at the Boston service (i.e., stand at the altar with him and a contingent of other parish clergy), my first thought was not "of course!" It was "ummmm, okay." But then I remembered my first mother's day.
I was on maternity leave with newborn Isaiah. We participated in the peace walk as a new family with members of St Anne's, Lincoln, where Noah was the assistant rector at that time. I think Isaiah must have been about six weeks old, strapped snugly onto my chest, and I could not imagine what a nightmare it would be if harm ever came to him. The Louis D Brown Peace Institute, which is are organizing the walk, was started by Tina Chery in memory of her son, Louis, who died at age 15, struck by a stray bullet in a gunfight while walking down the street (to a "youth against guns" gathering, at that!). The institute offers resources for survivors of homicide; grief counseling, groups for children to process the loss of a sibling, and other help for parents and community members. They've also created a nationally recognized "Peace Zone" curriculum to be used in schools on violence prevention. Their seven core principles are love, unity, faith, hope, courage, justice, and forgiveness.
It's easy to sit back and wonder, "Well, what does this have to do with us?" and I think it's exactly because we have the luxury to ask that question that we have to go out of our way to make it our concern. My son's asthma is made worse by pollen, not city smog. I don't worry that my daughter could get shot while learning to ride her bicycle. But if I can go and walk together, to witness, as a Christian, for peace-if I can do just that one small thing, how can I not?
There are a whole variety of opinions about what to do about guns. I know I raised a few eyebrows a couple of weeks ago when I mentioned gun control in a sermon. And yes, I do believe that the second amendment does not protect the right to own an assault weapon. But this isn't about that (there is an event in Lexington coming up-see announcements below). Teaching peace works. Youth employment programs work. Helping the sibling of a murdered teenager deal with those feelings will make it a lot less likely that they'll pick up a gun and try to kill somebody else. This is one thing that pretty much everyone can get on board with.
And it's Mother's Day! In 1870, Julia Ward Howe, who also wrote the Battle Hymn of the Republic, wrote the "Mother's Day Proclamation," declaring, "Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy, and patience. We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs." The walk is not long-it's 3 ½ miles. The opening remarks are at 8am, and it wraps up at 10, and we'll celebrate the Eucharist with Bishop Shaw and other friends right at the end of the route. The goal is to have 15 people from each parish, but I would hope we could get more than that!
You'll be home for lunch. Please sign up on the bulletin board and I'll give your name to the bishop's secretary so she can register our group. No donations are required, but of course they are welcome.
blessings,
Sara+
For more information:
A diocesan registration page will be set up shortly.
http://www.ldbpeaceinstitute.org
http://mothersdaywalk4peace.org/
This week, I'm writing to ask you to mark your calendars for May 12, Mother's Day. Of course it may already be on your calendar, but this year we've been invited to participate in a new way, to accompany our bishop and other friends from the diocese and Boston on the Mother's Day Walk for Peace.
Bishop Shaw called me up this week and started with "Hi, Sara, It's Tom. And I have a big favor to ask of you." Naturally disposed as I am to do what the bishop tells me to do, when he asked me to skip church at my own parish and come and concelebrate with him at the Boston service (i.e., stand at the altar with him and a contingent of other parish clergy), my first thought was not "of course!" It was "ummmm, okay." But then I remembered my first mother's day.
I was on maternity leave with newborn Isaiah. We participated in the peace walk as a new family with members of St Anne's, Lincoln, where Noah was the assistant rector at that time. I think Isaiah must have been about six weeks old, strapped snugly onto my chest, and I could not imagine what a nightmare it would be if harm ever came to him. The Louis D Brown Peace Institute, which is are organizing the walk, was started by Tina Chery in memory of her son, Louis, who died at age 15, struck by a stray bullet in a gunfight while walking down the street (to a "youth against guns" gathering, at that!). The institute offers resources for survivors of homicide; grief counseling, groups for children to process the loss of a sibling, and other help for parents and community members. They've also created a nationally recognized "Peace Zone" curriculum to be used in schools on violence prevention. Their seven core principles are love, unity, faith, hope, courage, justice, and forgiveness.
It's easy to sit back and wonder, "Well, what does this have to do with us?" and I think it's exactly because we have the luxury to ask that question that we have to go out of our way to make it our concern. My son's asthma is made worse by pollen, not city smog. I don't worry that my daughter could get shot while learning to ride her bicycle. But if I can go and walk together, to witness, as a Christian, for peace-if I can do just that one small thing, how can I not?
There are a whole variety of opinions about what to do about guns. I know I raised a few eyebrows a couple of weeks ago when I mentioned gun control in a sermon. And yes, I do believe that the second amendment does not protect the right to own an assault weapon. But this isn't about that (there is an event in Lexington coming up-see announcements below). Teaching peace works. Youth employment programs work. Helping the sibling of a murdered teenager deal with those feelings will make it a lot less likely that they'll pick up a gun and try to kill somebody else. This is one thing that pretty much everyone can get on board with.
And it's Mother's Day! In 1870, Julia Ward Howe, who also wrote the Battle Hymn of the Republic, wrote the "Mother's Day Proclamation," declaring, "Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy, and patience. We, the women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs." The walk is not long-it's 3 ½ miles. The opening remarks are at 8am, and it wraps up at 10, and we'll celebrate the Eucharist with Bishop Shaw and other friends right at the end of the route. The goal is to have 15 people from each parish, but I would hope we could get more than that!
You'll be home for lunch. Please sign up on the bulletin board and I'll give your name to the bishop's secretary so she can register our group. No donations are required, but of course they are welcome.
blessings,
Sara+
For more information:
A diocesan registration page will be set up shortly.
http://www.ldbpeaceinstitute.org
http://mothersdaywalk4peace.org/
Thursday, April 4, 2013
From April 4: Love & The Resurrection
This is article was printed in the Waltham News Tribune on March 29, 2013.
When this piece is printed, it will be Good Friday-the day Christians observe the crucifixion of Jesus. The cross is the central symbol of Christianity; it seems to be everywhere. The cross is a reminder of Jesus' refusal to respond violently to those he could have fought, and a sign of his forgiveness of those who caused his suffering. The cross is a powerful image for Christians. At the same time, the crucifixion is not the central event of the Christian faith. That's Easter, the resurrection of Jesus. Our faith is about life, not death. Life in the face of death, life that means that love will not be defeated.
We begin preparing for Easter on Ash Wednesday, the day that begins the season of Lent. At my church on that day, we hear words from the Prophet Joel: "Even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart. Gather all the people, the aged, the children, even the infants at the breast." Everybody is welcome. Everybody counts. We are created by God for love, and even when we fall short of God's desire for us we are still forgiven. The prophet Joel teaches that there is no one left outside, and it is never too late to come home.
The message of Easter is that simple: the love of the One who created us is bigger than our fear, bigger than our hatred, bigger than our violence. The love of God brings wholeness out of fragmentation, hope out of despair, and peace out of war. The women who followed Jesus went to the tomb to look for Jesus' body that day and the tomb was empty. "Why do you look for the living among the dead?" Their teacher was raised. Love will not be defeated.
Was a dead man resuscitated? Was his body stolen? What "really" happened? We don't know, and there are as many ways to believe as there are those who practice the faith. The most important thing is that we can be part of that love: love manifest in the way Jesus chose the margins over the center, the outcast over the respectable folks. God in Christ was, and is, alive. The love of God is alive to rich and poor, left and right, gay, straight, and transgender (as we hope the Supreme Court will affirm in response to the arguments of this week!); alive to the joyful and the sorrowing. And every time we choose love, we participate in that grand drama of life and love that is the resurrection. Every time our hearts are opened to another, every time someone stands up for peace and justice, every time we forgive, every time we share what we have with those who have less.
This Easter at my church, we'll celebrate baptisms and Eucharist, we'll sing joyful songs and shout Alleluia. God, I believe, will be present in water, wine, and bread. But God is also present today, and tomorrow, and in every dark corner of suffering and pain. God is present, in love that will not be defeated. Happy Easter!
When this piece is printed, it will be Good Friday-the day Christians observe the crucifixion of Jesus. The cross is the central symbol of Christianity; it seems to be everywhere. The cross is a reminder of Jesus' refusal to respond violently to those he could have fought, and a sign of his forgiveness of those who caused his suffering. The cross is a powerful image for Christians. At the same time, the crucifixion is not the central event of the Christian faith. That's Easter, the resurrection of Jesus. Our faith is about life, not death. Life in the face of death, life that means that love will not be defeated.
We begin preparing for Easter on Ash Wednesday, the day that begins the season of Lent. At my church on that day, we hear words from the Prophet Joel: "Even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart. Gather all the people, the aged, the children, even the infants at the breast." Everybody is welcome. Everybody counts. We are created by God for love, and even when we fall short of God's desire for us we are still forgiven. The prophet Joel teaches that there is no one left outside, and it is never too late to come home.
The message of Easter is that simple: the love of the One who created us is bigger than our fear, bigger than our hatred, bigger than our violence. The love of God brings wholeness out of fragmentation, hope out of despair, and peace out of war. The women who followed Jesus went to the tomb to look for Jesus' body that day and the tomb was empty. "Why do you look for the living among the dead?" Their teacher was raised. Love will not be defeated.
Was a dead man resuscitated? Was his body stolen? What "really" happened? We don't know, and there are as many ways to believe as there are those who practice the faith. The most important thing is that we can be part of that love: love manifest in the way Jesus chose the margins over the center, the outcast over the respectable folks. God in Christ was, and is, alive. The love of God is alive to rich and poor, left and right, gay, straight, and transgender (as we hope the Supreme Court will affirm in response to the arguments of this week!); alive to the joyful and the sorrowing. And every time we choose love, we participate in that grand drama of life and love that is the resurrection. Every time our hearts are opened to another, every time someone stands up for peace and justice, every time we forgive, every time we share what we have with those who have less.
This Easter at my church, we'll celebrate baptisms and Eucharist, we'll sing joyful songs and shout Alleluia. God, I believe, will be present in water, wine, and bread. But God is also present today, and tomorrow, and in every dark corner of suffering and pain. God is present, in love that will not be defeated. Happy Easter!
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