Vocations of Gladness: Ten Years In

Dear People of Christ Church,

This week, I've been thinking about vocation, defined in such a lovely way by Frederick Buechner as "the meeting place between your deep gladness and the world's deep need." Over the weekend, I attended our diocese's ordination for the diaconate. I serve on the diocesan Commission on Ministry, the group that works with the bishop when candidates apply for ordination, so two of my advisees were getting ordained, along with Rachael Pettengill, who has worked as an intern at Grace Church, where my husband serves, and as the Protestant Chaplain at Tufts.   Even Isaiah wanted to go, since Rachael has taught his Godly Play Class at Grace. 

It was a big service-the church has 9 new deacons, who in January will all be ordained priest. What was especially neat was that the ordinations for our diocese were at Emmanuel Church, Boston, where I served for a year as an assistant before coming to Christ Church.  So a lot of vocations came together for me that morning, as a member of the diocese as well as mother and priest, all leading up to my ten year anniversary of my ordination (today, as a matter of fact).

Processing in to the church, I remembered the feeling of being so new to the work of the church. Ten years ago, I'd just moved to Boston, had only been married for less than two years, and had no children. Though I loved the way living in New York City had made me feel like I was part of something bigger, I didn't miss the low level of stress that came with Manhattan's constant buzz or the way my very traditional seminary made me feel like such a misfit. Now, I came into that space having launched into a wonderful and strong ministry with you at Christ Church. I walked with my son, whom I couldn't have imagined at that time. I've recovered from seminary-pretty much!-and I have been blessed beyond imagining in this work.  

Emmanuel Church is cavernous-you practically need binoculars to see the altar from the back. Entering in, you're engulfed by a sense of sacred space-on Saturday, with two bishops and 20 other priests and 9 ordinands, it was big. Entering in while your 7 year old walks at your side and you remember how it felt the first time you entered a church as a clergyperson, sacred space doesn't just engulf you, it slaps you in the face and punches you in the stomach at the same time, leaving you reeling and out of breath. (For another piece I wrote about priesting and mothering, in the context of church hospitality, see my blog post.)

Most often, of course, the sacred nature of our lives doesn't come quite so forcefully. The usual life of a Christian is more Road to Emmaus ("...So, I guess that was Jesus") than it is Road to Damascus ("Holy @#$,  it's Jesus!"). While we sometimes get knocked off our horses, more often you have to do the work of attentiveness and patience, watching and waiting. Sometimes you have to squint so hard to see God you close your eyes and pretend you're somewhere else. At those times, it's totally fair game to complain-the psalms are a great resource for complaint (at least 40% are legitimately categorized as lament, in which the petitioner prays for God's deliverance in anger, sadness, despair).

What is always true, though, is that vocation is in the context of the world as we know it. Your vocation is not to be found later, it's to be found where you are right now. Your vocation at this time might be preparing for something else-going to school, for example-but that doesn't make it any less than what you are called to do right now. 

How do you understand your vocation? Do you feel like you chose it, or did it choose you? Caring for a sick parent or spouse is a vocation born out of the depths of love, not always gladness. Caring for children is a vocation, but for every time you gaze lovingly on a sleeping child, there might be three nights they refuse to be still long enough to let you get any sleep at all. Just because God wants you to do it and your deepest gladness is part of the story doesn't mean that you will always feel glad  about it. 

Leaning into summer, where is God calling you? Where does your gladness meet God's love and longing for the world?

Blessings,
Sara+  

Holy In-Between

Dear People of Christ Church,

This week, our place in the holy in-between time after Ascension continues. I spent the better part of last week's piece in this space outing myself as a potential heretic, and I suspect there will be more of that today. I felt really challenged on Sunday in our kids' sermon in trying to figure out how to teach about the Ascension; it can be 100% true even if it didn't happen exactly that way. Mostly I settled on talking with the kids about their experiences of having been left behind-we've all had times when we felt unmoored, left without our bearings and familiar supports. That's certainly how the disciples felt.  Our feelings of being left behind are not the whole story-even when the disciples felt that Jesus had abandoned them-again!-they still knew that he loved them. We have their example of being faithful even in the midst of grief. We have their example that it's not faithless to grieve in the first place.

At the same time, what came next was probably not what the disciples had in mind. Pentecost is a riot of fire and language; all the disciples hear each other speaking in different languages, and a crowd comes to hear them "speaking of God's deeds of power." The crowd is not free of dissent, however-others "sneered," and accused them of being drunk. It always makes me laugh that Paul defends them from this accusation by pointing out that it's 9:00 in the morning. No, he says, it's what the Prophet Joel said would happen-the Spirit would be poured out on everyone, and everyone who calls on the Lord will be saved.

This Sunday, we're going all the way with the Holy Spirit; with, if not literal tongues of fire, some extra celebration and some extra languages to hear. Rev. Christine from our Ugandan partner church will read the Gospel in Luganda after I read it in English, and different parishioners will lend their linguistic skills from Aramaic to Haitian Creole. We'll have Steve Taddeo and friends bring the jazz and have some extra smoke from incense AND we're baptizing new baby Raven Fintzel, who's just started coming with mom Kat and dad Andrew. It's a good month for baptisms-Noah Hobin will go on the fifteenth.

As Jesus ascends it's his entry into transcendence, holy "no" to being defined by the might-makes-right-world. Death no longer has power because Jesus has confronted death and come through the tomb on the power of love.  Jesus sends the Holy Spirit to be with us, to continue his work and givce us power to share in it. I read parts of Maya Angelou's Poem, Still I Rise, at the 8:30 service last week to bring us, just for a moment, into that sense of determination and wonder. No matter what comes, whether torture or scorn, fury or abandonment, insult or injury, in Christ we are defined by the power of God's holy love. This Sunday, the power comes crashing down on our heads, thanks be to God, and alleluia! 

Blessings,
Sara+  

The Ascension: Belief with Head and Heart

Dear People of Christ Church,
   
Today is Ascension Day, which you will be forgiven for not realizing as the Thursday 40 days after Easter. It's one of the odder days of observance in the Christian tradition-we'll hear that Scripture from the book of Acts that describes Jesus being lifted up and disappearing into the clouds. It's an important one-for brothers and sisters in Roman Catholic side of the Christian family, it's a holy day of obligation (which in some places can be moved to Sunday, but not, apparently, in Boston. 

We affirm the Ascension in the Nicene Creed-quite clearly, we declare that Jesus "ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father."   We say this every Sunday.  There's something about the literalism of the image-Jesus either did or did not levitate into the sky-that I find particularly difficult.  As a doctrine, it solves some intractable issues-how, for example, would Jesus have been buried, and what would we make of his divinity alongside his holy but also mortal and dead body-but in our children's sermon this Sunday I will graciously sidestep whether it actually happened that way.Ascension Day is one of those times that, as I believe God will be gentle with me, I also will be gentle with our tradition.   The truth is, I don't know. It seems implausible, but, then again, the whole marvelous story is implausible. 
  
As contemporary believers, we just can't go back to a spatially three tiered universe of heaven, hell, and us in between. We can haz science.  Why did Jesus go into the sky? Well, if you think that heaven is "up there," then that makes perfect sense.  But the Ascension is much more about Jesus coming "in here."
The resurrection appearances of Jesus were a marvel, but they were also quite localized to a particular band of followers; individually Simon and Peter and James and John might have wanted to keep that exclusive connection to themselves, but Jesus is pretty clear that their relationship with him is not only a personal affair. The ascension is about the transcendence of the risen Christ, about how humanity and divinity are joined in a universal and no longer only particular way.  St Gregory of Nazianzus (around 390) said that Christ's ascension is our ascension. Our humanity rose with Christ.  That doesn't depend on whether or not Jesus levitated.  It doesn't depend on how loudly I say the Creed or whether I am, occasionally, just too doubtful. That depends on so much more that I can't even wrap my brain around it, which, frankly, is a pretty good place for a person of faith to stand. More mystery, less judgment.  
Thanks be to God (and the long legacy of Anglicanism)  for that.
   
Blessings,
Sara+  

Called to Rejoice: Equal Marriage, Step by Step

Dear People of Christ Church,

This week, I'm all aflutter about the decision in my home state of Pennsylvania to allow same sex marriage. Of course, it's been the law in my chosen state for ten years (we moved here in 2004, too, the same year it came through), but this feels different. Pennsylvania is such a big state-the part I'm from is basically Ohio-and while it's may not be such a paradigm shift for Philadelphia, for Erie, this changes a lot.   Admittedly there was something Onion-satire-like about the headline on the Erie Times-News: "Another same sex couple applies for marriage license."

In Massachusetts, this is old news.  Still, there's something about the place where I'm from recognizing the right to marriage for all people that feels healing. My right to marry my spouse was never questioned because my beloved happens to be male, but that is not the case for one of my high school best friends, who had three weddings with her wife-one commitment ceremony, one legal NH civil union (presided over by yours truly), and one party when that civil union became a legal marriage on January 1 2011. Phew. They had to buy a lot of champagne.

Marriage is a sacrament, a gift, and a blessing. There's an old image of the church that imagines us as "the bride of Christ"-this is not an image that I feel particularly drawn toward, but it reminds us that the covenant of marriage is holy-and the failure of the church or the state to extend equal benefits to all is just an injustice.  Of course I believe in separation of church and state, but I also want a wedding I officiate in church to be legal in the eyes of the state. I haven't been to Pennsylvania in years, but I still feel so grateful for this. Judge John Jones, in the PA case wrote, "In the sixty years since Brown was decided, 'separate' has thankfully faded into history, and only 'equal' remains. Similarly, in future generations, the label 'same-sex marriage' will be abandoned, to be replaced simply by 'marriage.' We are a better people than what these laws represent, and it is time to discard them into the ash heap of history"   

This is the country we are becoming; we're not there yet, but slowly, slowly.  This is what we say we'll do in our baptismal covenant: to strive for justice and peace and respect the dignity of every human being.   With each state where marriage for all becomes a reality, we get just a little closer to making that possible.  Oregon went this week, too. Now, reader, I've been sending this newsletter every week for almost nine years, and perhaps you've read this before. But it's like that parable Jesus tells in Luke 15:

Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbors, saying to them, "Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.

Every time, every time there is a victory for peace and justice, we are called to rejoice. So today, I'm rejoicing for those two couples in my hometown who've gotten their marriage licenses.  Easter continues!

Blessings,
Sara+  

The wide and wonderful Anglican "maybe"

Dear People of Christ Church,

This week in our Episcopal Church class I was reminded, as always when I pay attention, how very grateful I am to be part of the Anglican Tradition.  Every church has something wonderful about it-the Lutherans have their focus on the grace of God, the evangelicals have their intimacy with Jesus, the Catholics have their long history and diversity, the Presbyterians their commitment to democratic governance...but it's our theological breadth and flexibility where I really find myself at home.

The number of times someone has asked a simple yes/no question and I've answered "maybe" reminds me of just committed we are to this diversity of belief.  "Do I have to cross myself?"  You can, but you don't have to. "Isn't the difference between the Roman Catholic and Episcopal belief about communion that one believes in transubstantiation and one doesn't?" Some actually believe in Jesus as really, bodily present, but for others it's more symbolic. But we do teach that it has a reality independent of our own experience.  Do you believe in the Bible literally? That's actually a pretty clear no. 

Sometimes all this ambiguity feels like maybe it's because we're not sure-we sometimes get accused of being a mushy middle, not committed to anything. It's not mushy at all, though-it's incredibly centered-centered on the freedom of your conscience, and also centered on our liturgical practice. One of my favorite Anglican quotes is (said to be) from Queen Elizabeth, who, during all the Catholic/Protestant controversies imperially declared "I do not desire windows into my subjects' souls." At the same time, in consolidating the practice of the church with worship in the English Language and independence from the Pope, an undeniable center still holds us together and links us to each other and across time.

A unified community coalesces around prayer, even if we differ on the particulars of that prayer.  This humility around doctrine, I think, also leads us into a constructive humility around our place in the world.  We don't have all the answers. This means that part of our work as Christians is the work of interpretation, of contemplating new learnings from science and psychology and philosophy and theology and how our tradition can be in conversation with them. From evolution to climate science to the plasticity of the human brain, we are always learning about this good creation God has given us, and there's always more exploration and curiosity to be had. I'll leave you with the prayer we say for the newly baptized, which I think captures this nicely:

Heavenly Father, we thank you that by water and the Holy Spirit you have bestowed upon these your servants the forgiveness of sin, and have raised them to the new life of grace. Sustain them, O Lord, in your Holy Spirit. Give them an inquiring and discerning heart, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love you, and the gift of joy and wonder in all your works.

Amen!

Blessings,

Sara+

Life and death questions

Dear People of Christ Church,

I hope to see a lot of you this week-tomorrow, the art show, Saturday, the release of our own Gene Burkart's posthumous work of collected essays (see below), and Sunday at the Mother's Day Walk. Our walking is part of the diocesan-wide Season of Celebration and Service in honor of Bishop Shaw. It has been such a gift for me to be formed as a priest in his witness for justice and peace. Please join me in honoring Tom and in walking in the path of peace with those whose loved ones have been killed, whose deaths are not mourned with public grief and huge ceremony, whose killers are often not found.

In other topics of life and death, on May 18 we'll have a conversation about end of life issues with our own Rob Atwood, who works as a hospice social worker while not helping out with Sunday readings.  On Tuesday Christ Church hosted a day-long workshop for clergy and other caregivers about "Caring for Each Other in Life and Death" (see the tweets at #endlifecare) put on by the Massachusetts Council of Churches-it's a conversation whose time has come. 

Medical technology can do almost anything-life can be extended longer than ever before, and that's a blessing.  I don't want to go back to a time before measles vaccines and chemotherapy. But our dedication to technology has also obscured the way that death is also part of life.  Our bodies are gifts from God, wonderful gifts.   In caring for ourselves we give glory to God, in using  our skills and honoring our relationships and running and sleeping and loving. But we are also invited into a certain humility about our bodies-they are a gift, but they are also on loan.

As always, Anglican theology is pretty nuanced on the question.  In our Church's teaching about the end of life, we differentiate between "passive" and "active" ways in which death may be hastened. The passive withholding of treatment is an ethical choice; if there is no prognosis for recovery, the question becomes whether the patient's dying process is being prolonged, as opposed to whether their actual life is being extended.  When the ballot question on (depending on your position) physician assisted suicide/death with dignity came across, there were Episcopalians of good faith on both sides of the issue.  I do think we need to be cautious about our judgments about what life is "meaningful"-one of the reasons I voted against the 2012 ballot initiative was that I worried about legitimating the notion that some lives are not worth living.    From a disability rights perspective, that's just not a precedent I want to be part of, even as I would be in favor of some of the outcomes of the adoption of such a law.

And there are a lot of legal issues-I learned this week that your next of kin may be the person the hospital calls first, but if there is a conflict with other family members about your care, only an authorized health care proxy has the right to make the final call.   So please join us on the 17^th-we'll talk about some of the medical decisions that are made at the end of life, about Massachusetts law concerning decision making authorization, and also (and this part is kind of fun) planning your own funeral. There's only one way to be sure that one hymn that you hate doesn't get played...  If you can't make it check out the booklet we put together last year here or make an appointment to see me!

Blessings,

Sara+

God’s Vision, our vision

Dear People of Christ Church,

Blessings on your continued celebration of Easter! We had a wonderful celebration of Holy Week and Easter at Christ Church-our attendance for our Holy Week services keep growing, and this Palm Sunday was one of the biggest yet.  I was also very grateful for the time off last week to reacquaint myself with my own children after the marathon of work that goes into preparing for and leading those services!

Earlier this week, I spent time with our bishops and other priests of the diocese at our annual Clergy Conference, where we meet all together for several days on the Cape. We had a chance to tell stories and say goodbye to Bishop Shaw.  As I mentioned in my Easter season, his vulnerability in his illness and upcoming departure have been an amazing example of Easter-Christ is raised even in illness and infirmity in how we are honest with each other, how we share our lives even in our suffering.

As you heard in the letter that was read in churches across the diocese on Sunday, Tom is so grateful for his time as bishop-and grateful to each of you for your part in making our diocese what it is (the text is available here).  In talking with us at clergy conference Tom said that he didn't really think he'd like being bishop; he thought he'd maybe stay for 10 years or so.  Twenty years later, it's been so much better than he'd expected. God's vision for his life and ministry, he said, has been 100 times greater than his own, 100 times more generous and positive and daring.  

We at Christ Church are also seeking to live into God's 100 times bigger vision-this week, vestry voted to fund the creation of a quarter-time director of children's religious education, who will be responsible for working with me and our lay leaders to develop a comprehensive program for education as well as facilitate day to day operations and special events. While money is tight-it always is-we are moving forward in faith and on the strength of our increased stewardship giving for 2014. We imagined "More," and now we're making it happen!  We hope that this staff expansion will help our programs to serve our families better and to nurture our children in faith.  

   

Witnessing the spiritual life of children is a great gift-at church with Adah this past Sunday it was a treat to actually be with her on a Sunday. Seeing her drive her car up and down the pew, watching her open hands receive the body of Christ-for her, there's a given-ness to God's nourishment and safety. She takes it for granted that church is her place-sometimes it's boring, sometimes it's too loud, sometimes it's too quiet-but she doesn't question whether the life of Jesus in the church is hers. And that is a wonder. Thanks to each one of you who are making it possible for us to better serve our kids, and to learn from the grace of their presence.

Blessings,

Sara+