Dear People of Christ Church,
St Francis Day Sunday is this week!
St Francis Day Sunday is one of the (perhaps too few) days in the church year we do just for the simple hilarity and joy of it, of blessing our pets. Whether furry or feathered (or in a photograph), we say prayers for gratitude and praise to God for the ways our animals and God’s creation bless our lives. I wrote this space last year about the woodchucks that live in our garden, and now have my own furry dog friend, North (aka Sir Snuggles aka Streudel), and offer thanks even more.
It seems to me that there is something profoundly countercultural about the way we nurture our relationships with creation and with the animals in our lives. Not just “real” animals, either; there is a yellow stuffed teddy in our household who I am sure I would leap through a flames to rescue. Both our “lemon bear” and our actual dog represent love, only love. It is unlikely that your guinea pig will ever earn its keep. It won’t pull itself up by its bootstraps and get organized. It do anything useful or inspirational or brave. It will just be there to look at you and love you, and then love you some more. Maybe then chew the carpet, but afterwards return to love. It won’t ever buy anything or sell anything or need anything other than food, water, and your company.
An animal in itself is an invitation to patience and acceptance, too. This is something we are working on a lot on in our house. Like people, animals can experience trauma—our dog wandered in the woods possibly for weeks before coming to us as a stray into our campsite in a national forest this summer. We have no idea what kind of situation he might have been in before he ended up there; his list of intolerances is long. He can’t deal with loud noises. He can’t deal with the postal service. He is afraid of the waffle maker. Until we started feeding him on a tray, he wouldn’t even eat food out of a bowl (claustrophobia?). That’s just what he’s like. We’ll do what we can to address whatever is underneath it and hope he calms down a bit, but he just might not. We have to accept him for who he is. I mean, God sent this dog to us, right? He’s not trying to change us so we can imagine offering the same grace to him.
So that’s what we do for St Francis Day. St Francis, who preached to the birds and would rather strip naked in the town square than follow wealth the way his family expected him to. Francis who gave everything he had to follow Jesus and “Lady Poverty,” and found joy and peace beyond measure beyond measure beyond measure.
I’ll close with part of Francis’ “Canticle of the Sun,” which we sing on Sunday.
Dear mother earth, who day by day
Unfoldest blessings on our way,
O praise God! Alleluia!
The flowers and fruits that in thee grow,
Let them God’s glory also show.
O praise God! O praise God! Alleluia!! Alleluia!!
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, September 29, 2016
Thursday, September 22, 2016
Forgive Us Our Debts
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week my friends’ and my plot to get ourselves out of our offices—”two priests and a rabbi drinking coffee” resulted in another great conversation. Angel and David and I sat with one person who grew up Catholic and later converted to Judaism, one Christian new to Waltham in search of a church home, and one repeat customer who might call himself “spiritual but not religious.” Our word for the day: Hell.
Not usually one of my go-to spiritual concepts, but it was on my mind since it comes up in our Gospel for Sunday in the parable of Lazarus and the rich man. In the story, Lazarus (not to be confused with the guy who was raised from the dead) rests on Abraham’s breast, finally at peace after a lifetime sitting outside the gate of a rich man’s home begging. That rich man has also died, but he has been sent to the lake of fire in Hades. A great chasm is fixed between the two; Lazarus couldn’t help even if he wanted to.
The chasm is not, however, new: it ruptured while the two were alive, when the rich man chose not to see Lazarus. God didn’t create it as punishment: it simply was. “Hades” in the story is a nod to Greek mythology, not Jesus talking about God’s plans for us in the afterlife. But it comes with a hard question: the rich man didn’t see Lazarus. What are we not seeing? Then, as now, what does it mean to be part of a world where it’s so easy not to see?
This parable follows the parable of the dishonest manager, which we heard last week. In that one, we sit across the table from the manager who asks us: how much do you owe?
How much do I owe? Good grief, how much. A lot. Nobody is comparing me to a poisonous candy. Nobody is going to shoot me if my car breaks down (no matter where my hands are, and especially not if they are up in the air).
Why think of this as a debt? Many others do not have this thing that I have. And I certainly did not earn my citizenship or my pale skin or my access to education. My debt is to God, through those who suffer in this world. My debt is to them, through God. Easy to forget those lines in the Lord’s Prayer that really in the original language are more correctly translated as “debts.” Forgive us our debts, God, as we forgive our debtors. We say “trespasses,” which makes it a lot harder to say that as a confession.
Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.
Forgive us, God, all the things we don’t see, and give the grace and courage to open our eyes and hearts to your call.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week my friends’ and my plot to get ourselves out of our offices—”two priests and a rabbi drinking coffee” resulted in another great conversation. Angel and David and I sat with one person who grew up Catholic and later converted to Judaism, one Christian new to Waltham in search of a church home, and one repeat customer who might call himself “spiritual but not religious.” Our word for the day: Hell.
Not usually one of my go-to spiritual concepts, but it was on my mind since it comes up in our Gospel for Sunday in the parable of Lazarus and the rich man. In the story, Lazarus (not to be confused with the guy who was raised from the dead) rests on Abraham’s breast, finally at peace after a lifetime sitting outside the gate of a rich man’s home begging. That rich man has also died, but he has been sent to the lake of fire in Hades. A great chasm is fixed between the two; Lazarus couldn’t help even if he wanted to.
The chasm is not, however, new: it ruptured while the two were alive, when the rich man chose not to see Lazarus. God didn’t create it as punishment: it simply was. “Hades” in the story is a nod to Greek mythology, not Jesus talking about God’s plans for us in the afterlife. But it comes with a hard question: the rich man didn’t see Lazarus. What are we not seeing? Then, as now, what does it mean to be part of a world where it’s so easy not to see?
This parable follows the parable of the dishonest manager, which we heard last week. In that one, we sit across the table from the manager who asks us: how much do you owe?
How much do I owe? Good grief, how much. A lot. Nobody is comparing me to a poisonous candy. Nobody is going to shoot me if my car breaks down (no matter where my hands are, and especially not if they are up in the air).
Why think of this as a debt? Many others do not have this thing that I have. And I certainly did not earn my citizenship or my pale skin or my access to education. My debt is to God, through those who suffer in this world. My debt is to them, through God. Easy to forget those lines in the Lord’s Prayer that really in the original language are more correctly translated as “debts.” Forgive us our debts, God, as we forgive our debtors. We say “trespasses,” which makes it a lot harder to say that as a confession.
Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.
Forgive us, God, all the things we don’t see, and give the grace and courage to open our eyes and hearts to your call.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, September 15, 2016
Two Priests and a Rabbi
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week I’m excited to share the news that our first “Two Priests and a Rabbi Drinking Coffee” open office hours at Café on the Common last week was a success. It sounds like a bad joke. That’s the point. The rabbi David Finkelstein of Temple Beth Israel (the temple behind Hannaford). The other priest is the Rev. Angel Marrero, the pastor of a new Spanish speaking Lutheran Congregation, Santuario, which meets at First Lutheran on Eddy Street. Angel and David and I have worked together on several different projects over the last few years since they’ve each ministered in Waltham. The idea is that we just have an open space to sit and talk together with whoever walks by about whatever comes up. Yes, it’s that technical. We’re going to start by having a word of the day as a conversation starter, but I expect that the topics will range widely.
David and Angel and I all lead radically different spiritual communities—we’re not out to convert anyone to “our” brand of religious experience. But we also have a lot in common. We’re all under 40—in Angel’s case, way under 40, unlike David and me!). Angel’s husband is in seminary and both David and I are married to other clergy. We’re all politically progressive, but our religious expression rooted in ancient tradition. Last week our conversation veered toward worship: what is it? Why does that word elicit such strong responses, both positively and negatively? We all have something we worship, whether or not we put that label on it. You can worship at the altar of looking good or being successful and it occupies just as big a place in your mind as, perhaps, one might wish God would.
Why are we doing this again?
In a world where many people have deep questions and profound wonderings about God and faith but fewer and fewer people are part of religious communities, I want to be part of creating a space where people can begin to have those conversations in a different kind of context. The best of religious community–exists not just for the aid or inspiration of its members, but for the surrounding community. Sure, we have a mission is to make Christians. But that’s not done by banging people over the head. Most broadly, our mission is to make a certain kind of world where God can be known and God’s people can be whole. I love the Episcopal church, but we don’t have an exclusive lock on the presence of the holy. Neither does David’s congregation. Or Angel’s. There will be some people who don’t find God in ANY of our communities. And we want to hold space for them, too. And I need to get out of my office! Faith doesn’t just happen between our four walls. We are called further afield.
So far on our list we have the following for our words of the day:
Television
Food
Bad neighbors
Community
Fear
Belonging
Anger
The City
We meet next on Wednesday, September 21, at 2:00 at Café on the Common and hope to continue weekly. Come, and check out our facebook page!
Blessings,
Sara+
This week I’m excited to share the news that our first “Two Priests and a Rabbi Drinking Coffee” open office hours at Café on the Common last week was a success. It sounds like a bad joke. That’s the point. The rabbi David Finkelstein of Temple Beth Israel (the temple behind Hannaford). The other priest is the Rev. Angel Marrero, the pastor of a new Spanish speaking Lutheran Congregation, Santuario, which meets at First Lutheran on Eddy Street. Angel and David and I have worked together on several different projects over the last few years since they’ve each ministered in Waltham. The idea is that we just have an open space to sit and talk together with whoever walks by about whatever comes up. Yes, it’s that technical. We’re going to start by having a word of the day as a conversation starter, but I expect that the topics will range widely.
David and Angel and I all lead radically different spiritual communities—we’re not out to convert anyone to “our” brand of religious experience. But we also have a lot in common. We’re all under 40—in Angel’s case, way under 40, unlike David and me!). Angel’s husband is in seminary and both David and I are married to other clergy. We’re all politically progressive, but our religious expression rooted in ancient tradition. Last week our conversation veered toward worship: what is it? Why does that word elicit such strong responses, both positively and negatively? We all have something we worship, whether or not we put that label on it. You can worship at the altar of looking good or being successful and it occupies just as big a place in your mind as, perhaps, one might wish God would.
Why are we doing this again?
In a world where many people have deep questions and profound wonderings about God and faith but fewer and fewer people are part of religious communities, I want to be part of creating a space where people can begin to have those conversations in a different kind of context. The best of religious community–exists not just for the aid or inspiration of its members, but for the surrounding community. Sure, we have a mission is to make Christians. But that’s not done by banging people over the head. Most broadly, our mission is to make a certain kind of world where God can be known and God’s people can be whole. I love the Episcopal church, but we don’t have an exclusive lock on the presence of the holy. Neither does David’s congregation. Or Angel’s. There will be some people who don’t find God in ANY of our communities. And we want to hold space for them, too. And I need to get out of my office! Faith doesn’t just happen between our four walls. We are called further afield.
So far on our list we have the following for our words of the day:
Television
Food
Bad neighbors
Community
Fear
Belonging
Anger
The City
We meet next on Wednesday, September 21, at 2:00 at Café on the Common and hope to continue weekly. Come, and check out our facebook page!
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, September 8, 2016
God the Potter
Dear People of Christ Church,
In the children’s sermon this past Sunday, we played with clay—our text was the passage from Jeremiah where the prophet talks about God as a potter, forming us. The scripture text gets a little dark—God tells Jeremiah the pot can be crushed, if the potter desires. It seems to come with a threat: God will “shape evil” against the people if God desires.
God might, but God doesn’t.
The Bible is a record of God’s doings in history, but it’s also a record of the people of God trying to understand their experience and God’s action in the world. Again and again, we might think that God will give up on us, or send calamity or trial or tempest. We feel like unsteady pieces of clay sometimes, going around and around the potter’s wheel. Will we be strong and perfect? Will we be weak and wobbly? Will we go astray and get flung off the wheel and into the corner? Will the potter just give up and get something better?
Here’s where the similarity to the potter ends.
I took a class once in pottery, learning the painstaking way a potter has to have just the right balance of gentle pressure. Too little support for the thin walls of a pot on a potter’s wheel, and the clay tears and falls down. Building the wall of the pot too thick doesn’t work, either—then you end up with a door stopper instead. Too little water on the pot as it spins will make it impossible to shape. Too much water will do the same. It’s a marvel any potter can make anything at all without throwing it all in the corner.
Again and again, though, God doesn’t throw the whole thing in the corner. As a not-even-second-rate potter, I gave up all the time and threw the clay back in the bin or, worse, in the trash. But God never does. This week we’ll hear the parable of the lost coin and the lost sheep. Leaving 99, the shepherd goes after the one who’s gone astray. Losing one coin, the woman turns her house upside down until she finds it—and then she throws a party! These are not the actions of a potter who’s going to give up on the clay.
This is the time of year of new beginnings. Even though it’s now been 13 years since I started a new academic year as a student, I still feel a sense of promise as the air begins to cool in the fall. This is the year, I tell myself, I’m really going to get organized. Whether I do or not, though, by now I’m beginning to learn: it doesn’t matter. I’ll do my best, imperfectly tending the garden of my life. Either way, fall will give into winter. Either way, winter will give into spring. Either way, God’s love will encircle us.
Blessings,
Sara+
In the children’s sermon this past Sunday, we played with clay—our text was the passage from Jeremiah where the prophet talks about God as a potter, forming us. The scripture text gets a little dark—God tells Jeremiah the pot can be crushed, if the potter desires. It seems to come with a threat: God will “shape evil” against the people if God desires.
God might, but God doesn’t.
The Bible is a record of God’s doings in history, but it’s also a record of the people of God trying to understand their experience and God’s action in the world. Again and again, we might think that God will give up on us, or send calamity or trial or tempest. We feel like unsteady pieces of clay sometimes, going around and around the potter’s wheel. Will we be strong and perfect? Will we be weak and wobbly? Will we go astray and get flung off the wheel and into the corner? Will the potter just give up and get something better?
Here’s where the similarity to the potter ends.
I took a class once in pottery, learning the painstaking way a potter has to have just the right balance of gentle pressure. Too little support for the thin walls of a pot on a potter’s wheel, and the clay tears and falls down. Building the wall of the pot too thick doesn’t work, either—then you end up with a door stopper instead. Too little water on the pot as it spins will make it impossible to shape. Too much water will do the same. It’s a marvel any potter can make anything at all without throwing it all in the corner.
Again and again, though, God doesn’t throw the whole thing in the corner. As a not-even-second-rate potter, I gave up all the time and threw the clay back in the bin or, worse, in the trash. But God never does. This week we’ll hear the parable of the lost coin and the lost sheep. Leaving 99, the shepherd goes after the one who’s gone astray. Losing one coin, the woman turns her house upside down until she finds it—and then she throws a party! These are not the actions of a potter who’s going to give up on the clay.
This is the time of year of new beginnings. Even though it’s now been 13 years since I started a new academic year as a student, I still feel a sense of promise as the air begins to cool in the fall. This is the year, I tell myself, I’m really going to get organized. Whether I do or not, though, by now I’m beginning to learn: it doesn’t matter. I’ll do my best, imperfectly tending the garden of my life. Either way, fall will give into winter. Either way, winter will give into spring. Either way, God’s love will encircle us.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, August 25, 2016
Looking Forward to Our New Year
Dear People of Christ Church,
Whenever I’m back from vacation I always start out this message by saying that it’s nice to be back, but that has a different resonance now that I feel more solidly back, knowing that my family won’t be moving to Central New York! I’m excited for Dio CNY and for Rev. DeDe, who will be consecrated as their bishop in December. I’m also really, really looking so forward to our new year. There are great things happening at Christ Church:
+ Our new combined outreach space will launch both Diaper Depot and Grandma’s Pantry into a cozier, brighter, and bigger space. These ministries are crucial to what God is doing at Christ Church. Victoria Sundgren has led Diaper Depot so ably and steadily for the last several years and will hand over the reins to Erin (and Chloe!) Jensen. Sally Lobo, Christ Churcher since birth, continues to lead Grandma’s Pantry with unparalleled dedication to this church and the city of Waltham. If you see them, say thank you—better yet, consider volunteering. Grandma’s Pantry is on Fridays from 9-11am, and diapers are distributed the third Saturday of the month from 10-12. To help prepare for distribution by packaging diapers, you can help out on your schedule.
+ Our children’s education is thriving, with exciting new curricula for our grades 4-5 and 6-8 classes. Grades 4-5 will cover the big stories, like the flood and Exodus, with more complex reasoning than GP storytelling is conducive to, and grades 6-8 focus on big questions like “Why does the Bible contradict itself” and “Can it be proven that God exists?” Special congratulations to last year’s big class of third graders who move out of Godly Play and will begin learning in new ways. It’s also exciting times for our rising ninth graders, Chloe Jensen, Alicia Duce, and Jennifer Coates. High school formation will pick up where last year’s middle school work left off with small group conversation and participant-focused instruction.
+In other formation news, please let me know if you would be interested in an “Intro to the Episcopal Church” class that would run after church on Sundays from September 11-October 9. This is for anyone who would like preparation for reception or confirmation as an Episcopalian or who just wants to learn more about our liturgy, history, and theology. It would be similar to the class that just concluded in June. Confirmation comes right up on October 15, held at Redeemer Lexington. Hopefully Christ Church will have a decent-sized group this year!
+ Our now year-long Stations of the Cross project is coming to a close. The remaining broken Stations are out for restoration thanks to several generous donors, and we look forward to getting them back for hanging this fall.
+On September 4, Labor Day Weekend, we’ll bless all the books and bags and laptops and smartphones we use to make our work go as part of the children’s sermon.
In my wider work in the church, I continue to serve as dean for the Alewife Deanery (our local cluster of 13 Episcopal Churches) and on the Commission on Ministry. I’m excited to see how our partnership with Chaplains on the Way will unfold, and glad for our continued conversation with St Peter’s as they discern their place in our wider diocese under our new bishop’s staff.
Finally, I’m excited because I got a dog! When we were camping a sweet furry friend wandered into our site in the Jefferson National Forest two weeks ago. After ten days in his “stray hold” waiting to see if anyone came forward to claim him, North, (named for North Creek, where he turned up) will occasionally make his way into the office here on Main St. He looks like a cross between a black lab and a terrier and, of course, I think he’s the sweetest thing ever.
Blessings,
Sara+
Whenever I’m back from vacation I always start out this message by saying that it’s nice to be back, but that has a different resonance now that I feel more solidly back, knowing that my family won’t be moving to Central New York! I’m excited for Dio CNY and for Rev. DeDe, who will be consecrated as their bishop in December. I’m also really, really looking so forward to our new year. There are great things happening at Christ Church:
+ Our new combined outreach space will launch both Diaper Depot and Grandma’s Pantry into a cozier, brighter, and bigger space. These ministries are crucial to what God is doing at Christ Church. Victoria Sundgren has led Diaper Depot so ably and steadily for the last several years and will hand over the reins to Erin (and Chloe!) Jensen. Sally Lobo, Christ Churcher since birth, continues to lead Grandma’s Pantry with unparalleled dedication to this church and the city of Waltham. If you see them, say thank you—better yet, consider volunteering. Grandma’s Pantry is on Fridays from 9-11am, and diapers are distributed the third Saturday of the month from 10-12. To help prepare for distribution by packaging diapers, you can help out on your schedule.
+ Our children’s education is thriving, with exciting new curricula for our grades 4-5 and 6-8 classes. Grades 4-5 will cover the big stories, like the flood and Exodus, with more complex reasoning than GP storytelling is conducive to, and grades 6-8 focus on big questions like “Why does the Bible contradict itself” and “Can it be proven that God exists?” Special congratulations to last year’s big class of third graders who move out of Godly Play and will begin learning in new ways. It’s also exciting times for our rising ninth graders, Chloe Jensen, Alicia Duce, and Jennifer Coates. High school formation will pick up where last year’s middle school work left off with small group conversation and participant-focused instruction.
+In other formation news, please let me know if you would be interested in an “Intro to the Episcopal Church” class that would run after church on Sundays from September 11-October 9. This is for anyone who would like preparation for reception or confirmation as an Episcopalian or who just wants to learn more about our liturgy, history, and theology. It would be similar to the class that just concluded in June. Confirmation comes right up on October 15, held at Redeemer Lexington. Hopefully Christ Church will have a decent-sized group this year!
+ Our now year-long Stations of the Cross project is coming to a close. The remaining broken Stations are out for restoration thanks to several generous donors, and we look forward to getting them back for hanging this fall.
+On September 4, Labor Day Weekend, we’ll bless all the books and bags and laptops and smartphones we use to make our work go as part of the children’s sermon.
In my wider work in the church, I continue to serve as dean for the Alewife Deanery (our local cluster of 13 Episcopal Churches) and on the Commission on Ministry. I’m excited to see how our partnership with Chaplains on the Way will unfold, and glad for our continued conversation with St Peter’s as they discern their place in our wider diocese under our new bishop’s staff.
Finally, I’m excited because I got a dog! When we were camping a sweet furry friend wandered into our site in the Jefferson National Forest two weeks ago. After ten days in his “stray hold” waiting to see if anyone came forward to claim him, North, (named for North Creek, where he turned up) will occasionally make his way into the office here on Main St. He looks like a cross between a black lab and a terrier and, of course, I think he’s the sweetest thing ever.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, July 28, 2016
Follow the Path of Love
Dear People of Christ Church,
I’m back in the office now for two weeks between last week’s trip to Central New York to meet people in advance of the Episcopal election there and my family vacation, which we’re taking the second and third weeks of August. I heard good things about your time with the Rev. Thea Keith-Lucas, Episcopal Chaplain at MIT, who will be back again for one Sunday in August. (Norm is taking the other.)
As you may know, my husband Noah is a candidate for bishop in the Episcopal Diocese of Central NY. Last week they had the “Walkabout” Meetings where the candidates answered questions from the diocese and we all visited ministries of the diocese. The transition and discernment committees’ hospitality was wonderful, even in the midst of long days. From Wednesday – Saturday, we all got on the bus around 10AM each day and got back to our hotel at 10PM. The diocese spans south to the Pennsylvania border, east to the Adirondacks, West to Ithaca and Elmira, and then north to Lake Ontario and the city of Watertown.
I have said many times that there is blessing on all sides—blessings if Noah is elected and new communities and ministries come into our life—and blessings if we stay in Massachusetts with our communities at Grace Medford and Christ Church. All along in this process it has been an exercise in “yes” to invitations—yes to the invitation for Noah to be nominated, yes to the discernment committee’s retreat, and then yes to joining the slate. Now that journey has come to an end, and it’s up to the people of Central NY. (Quick primer on bishop elections in the Episcopal Church: Each parish has lay voting delegates. Every canonically resident clergy person also votes. The final decision is made when a candidate has been elected in both the lay and clergy orders. They begin voting in the morning, and vote until there’s a clear decision. Church wide, there are 7 other couples of a bishop married to a priest; yes, I could still do parish ministry!)
It’s one thing, though, to believe that either outcome is a blessing (which they both would be) and another thing to stay centered in the midst of the not-knowing. The slate was first released on May 1 (after a months-long process of interviews and retreats for the candidates). Ten days now until the election, it’s even harder to know what either outcome would feel like.
Last week’s Gospel told us to pray: “God in heaven, your will be done.” But then what?
In June I quoted in this space a piece from Carlo Carretto, an Italian desert monastic (1910-1988) who wrote the book Letters from the Desert. Stay or go, be active or contemplative, city or country—the only decision there is to make is to follow the path of love. Reading Carretto in this time of my own uncertainty reminds me of an image of one of the speakers I heard at Wild Goose Festival earlier in July. Gabrielle Stoner talked about how we get attached to stories about ourselves— “I always ___” or “I could never ___”. Rather than be convinced of this insistence on narrow identity, in our spiritual lives we are invited to “widen the aperture”: to look wider than just the current moment or current question to a more transcendent consciousness. Spending time with Carretto’s invitation to focus on love rather than endless obsession on personal circumstance and clever understanding takes me out of the current roller coaster of wondering what will happen on August 6.
Here’s more about what Carretto says about prayer:
“As long as we pray only when and how we want to, our life of prayer is bound to be unreal. It will run in fits and starts. The slightest upset—even a toothache—will be enough to destroy the whole edifice of our prayer-life. ‘You must strip your prayers,’ the novice master told me. You must simplify, deintellectualize. Put yourself in front of Jesus as poor—not with any big ideas, but with living faith. Remain motionless in an act of love…don’t try to reach God with your understanding; that is impossible. Reach [God] in love; that is possible. (13)
Reach God in love. That is possible.
Blessings,
Sara+
Miss the sermon Sunday 7/24? It’s here!
I’m back in the office now for two weeks between last week’s trip to Central New York to meet people in advance of the Episcopal election there and my family vacation, which we’re taking the second and third weeks of August. I heard good things about your time with the Rev. Thea Keith-Lucas, Episcopal Chaplain at MIT, who will be back again for one Sunday in August. (Norm is taking the other.)
As you may know, my husband Noah is a candidate for bishop in the Episcopal Diocese of Central NY. Last week they had the “Walkabout” Meetings where the candidates answered questions from the diocese and we all visited ministries of the diocese. The transition and discernment committees’ hospitality was wonderful, even in the midst of long days. From Wednesday – Saturday, we all got on the bus around 10AM each day and got back to our hotel at 10PM. The diocese spans south to the Pennsylvania border, east to the Adirondacks, West to Ithaca and Elmira, and then north to Lake Ontario and the city of Watertown.
I have said many times that there is blessing on all sides—blessings if Noah is elected and new communities and ministries come into our life—and blessings if we stay in Massachusetts with our communities at Grace Medford and Christ Church. All along in this process it has been an exercise in “yes” to invitations—yes to the invitation for Noah to be nominated, yes to the discernment committee’s retreat, and then yes to joining the slate. Now that journey has come to an end, and it’s up to the people of Central NY. (Quick primer on bishop elections in the Episcopal Church: Each parish has lay voting delegates. Every canonically resident clergy person also votes. The final decision is made when a candidate has been elected in both the lay and clergy orders. They begin voting in the morning, and vote until there’s a clear decision. Church wide, there are 7 other couples of a bishop married to a priest; yes, I could still do parish ministry!)
It’s one thing, though, to believe that either outcome is a blessing (which they both would be) and another thing to stay centered in the midst of the not-knowing. The slate was first released on May 1 (after a months-long process of interviews and retreats for the candidates). Ten days now until the election, it’s even harder to know what either outcome would feel like.
Last week’s Gospel told us to pray: “God in heaven, your will be done.” But then what?
In June I quoted in this space a piece from Carlo Carretto, an Italian desert monastic (1910-1988) who wrote the book Letters from the Desert. Stay or go, be active or contemplative, city or country—the only decision there is to make is to follow the path of love. Reading Carretto in this time of my own uncertainty reminds me of an image of one of the speakers I heard at Wild Goose Festival earlier in July. Gabrielle Stoner talked about how we get attached to stories about ourselves— “I always ___” or “I could never ___”. Rather than be convinced of this insistence on narrow identity, in our spiritual lives we are invited to “widen the aperture”: to look wider than just the current moment or current question to a more transcendent consciousness. Spending time with Carretto’s invitation to focus on love rather than endless obsession on personal circumstance and clever understanding takes me out of the current roller coaster of wondering what will happen on August 6.
Here’s more about what Carretto says about prayer:
“As long as we pray only when and how we want to, our life of prayer is bound to be unreal. It will run in fits and starts. The slightest upset—even a toothache—will be enough to destroy the whole edifice of our prayer-life. ‘You must strip your prayers,’ the novice master told me. You must simplify, deintellectualize. Put yourself in front of Jesus as poor—not with any big ideas, but with living faith. Remain motionless in an act of love…don’t try to reach God with your understanding; that is impossible. Reach [God] in love; that is possible. (13)
Reach God in love. That is possible.
Blessings,
Sara+
Miss the sermon Sunday 7/24? It’s here!
Thursday, July 14, 2016
Praying for Salvation, Working for Justice
Dear People of Christ Church,
Last week I was out of the office to attend the Wild Goose Festival, a gathering in the mountains of North Carolina my family and I have attended for the last four years. My shorthand description of it is “Progressive Christians in the mud”—speakers come from all over the map from self-titled “recovering evangelicals” to pacifist Roman Catholics to anti-racist suburban mom bloggers. And folk music rock stars Dar Williams and the Indigo Girls!
The workshops I attended were all over the map—I went to one talk by a lay friend of a silent order of Cistercian monks about meditation, one about pilgrimage and laying down your metaphorical and literal baggage, and several talks by the womanist ethicist scholar Emilie Townes (womanism is a politics centered in the experiences of black women). Jim Wallis, founder of the social justice group Sojourners and author of a whole slew of books about American society and Christian faith and politics, was there this year, speaking again about Racism as America’s Original Sin (also his latest book). What I love about Wild Goose is the sense of community that emerges—I can tell our kids to disappear for an hour and they’ll come back jubilant and covered in dirt, along with a new best friend and an invitation for lunch at someone’s campsite. That doesn’t work in metro Boston.
Backgrounded in all of the beauty, of course, was pain—at this moment the pain of racism in this country and the pain that it is a system that we are all enmeshed in, like a spider web that clings to our bodies and won’t let us free. If everybody believed that black lives matter, we wouldn’t have to say it. The “All lives” of contemporary America does not, when the rubber hits the road, actually include “all.” The Black Lives Matter movement is about changing that.
It is a lifelong task to be aware of how racism works in America and how those of us who are white benefit from that system. We are never finished. We will never have done enough. But it’s not about guilt or innocence, not about being paralyzed by shame or longing for exoneration. It’s a journey. Step by step, thought by thought, day after day paying attention. The way we interact with the racism of contemporary America is a moral and political question. That sounds very “exterior,” but it’s also a spiritual journey. We are called to pay attention to white privilege and racial discrimination because where discrimination happens Jesus is present. Jesus is always present where there is suffering. And white people—we are not suffering in contemporary America in the same way that people of color are suffering. We are not. Jesus is on the other side of that. Always. With Philando Castile and Alton Sterling AND with the Dallas police officers who were murdered. In the same way that the assassin at the Pulse Nightclub in Orlando didn’t represent Islam, the shooter in Dallas didn’t represent the Black Lives Matter movement.
Writing about our trip to Wild Goose Festival last year I shared a quote from a talk I attended that year with Paul Fromberg, a priest in San Francisco. He said “I don’t believe in progress. I believe in salvation.” I don’t know if I am making much progress in my own journey around race. Am I doing the best I can? Most of the time. I will pray for salvation, too.
Blessings,
Sara+
PS—Please keep my husband, Noah, and me in your prayers as we travel to Central New York next week for the series of meetings leading up to the bishop election on August 6. I’ll be out of the office from July 19-24. Thanks to the Rev. Thea Keith-Lucas, Episcopal Chaplain at MIT, who will be guest celebrant and preacher on July 24. In case of a pastoral emergency, the clergy from Redeemer Lexington will be on call.
Last week I was out of the office to attend the Wild Goose Festival, a gathering in the mountains of North Carolina my family and I have attended for the last four years. My shorthand description of it is “Progressive Christians in the mud”—speakers come from all over the map from self-titled “recovering evangelicals” to pacifist Roman Catholics to anti-racist suburban mom bloggers. And folk music rock stars Dar Williams and the Indigo Girls!
The workshops I attended were all over the map—I went to one talk by a lay friend of a silent order of Cistercian monks about meditation, one about pilgrimage and laying down your metaphorical and literal baggage, and several talks by the womanist ethicist scholar Emilie Townes (womanism is a politics centered in the experiences of black women). Jim Wallis, founder of the social justice group Sojourners and author of a whole slew of books about American society and Christian faith and politics, was there this year, speaking again about Racism as America’s Original Sin (also his latest book). What I love about Wild Goose is the sense of community that emerges—I can tell our kids to disappear for an hour and they’ll come back jubilant and covered in dirt, along with a new best friend and an invitation for lunch at someone’s campsite. That doesn’t work in metro Boston.
Backgrounded in all of the beauty, of course, was pain—at this moment the pain of racism in this country and the pain that it is a system that we are all enmeshed in, like a spider web that clings to our bodies and won’t let us free. If everybody believed that black lives matter, we wouldn’t have to say it. The “All lives” of contemporary America does not, when the rubber hits the road, actually include “all.” The Black Lives Matter movement is about changing that.
It is a lifelong task to be aware of how racism works in America and how those of us who are white benefit from that system. We are never finished. We will never have done enough. But it’s not about guilt or innocence, not about being paralyzed by shame or longing for exoneration. It’s a journey. Step by step, thought by thought, day after day paying attention. The way we interact with the racism of contemporary America is a moral and political question. That sounds very “exterior,” but it’s also a spiritual journey. We are called to pay attention to white privilege and racial discrimination because where discrimination happens Jesus is present. Jesus is always present where there is suffering. And white people—we are not suffering in contemporary America in the same way that people of color are suffering. We are not. Jesus is on the other side of that. Always. With Philando Castile and Alton Sterling AND with the Dallas police officers who were murdered. In the same way that the assassin at the Pulse Nightclub in Orlando didn’t represent Islam, the shooter in Dallas didn’t represent the Black Lives Matter movement.
Writing about our trip to Wild Goose Festival last year I shared a quote from a talk I attended that year with Paul Fromberg, a priest in San Francisco. He said “I don’t believe in progress. I believe in salvation.” I don’t know if I am making much progress in my own journey around race. Am I doing the best I can? Most of the time. I will pray for salvation, too.
Blessings,
Sara+
PS—Please keep my husband, Noah, and me in your prayers as we travel to Central New York next week for the series of meetings leading up to the bishop election on August 6. I’ll be out of the office from July 19-24. Thanks to the Rev. Thea Keith-Lucas, Episcopal Chaplain at MIT, who will be guest celebrant and preacher on July 24. In case of a pastoral emergency, the clergy from Redeemer Lexington will be on call.
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