This week, I'm still working out a bit for myself what it is to enter Lent. I mentioned at our Tuesday supper and Bible study that I find myself looking for a discipline, but that everything seems so trivial; I am saving water with 4 or 5 minute showers, but it feels short of transformative. I could try to eat less or skip dessert more, but then I'd just be focused on losing my pregnancy weight, not the fasting of Christ in the desert. So I am still trying. In general, I'm trying to pay attention more, to move a little more slowly, in spirit if not in practice. And praying.
But how to pray? A while ago I was listening to the radio program Speaking of Faith (http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/), where they interviewed one of my favorite writers, Roberta Bondi. Her books bring together contemporary life and theology with the early monastic desert fathers and mothers. She says,
We often have a kind of notion as part of this highfalutin, noble picture of ourselves as pray-ers that when we pray we need to be completely attentive and we need to be fully engaged and we need to be concentrating and we need to be focused. But the fact is, if prayer is our end of a relationship with God, that's not the way we are with the people we love a large portion of the time. We simply are in their presence. We're going about our lives at the same time in each other's presence, aware and sustained by each other, but not much more than that.
She went on to tell the story of how exhausted and lifeless she felt when she began teaching (she's now retired from Emory University). She said she came home from work and felt totally useless to her family. She was already so tired, and would then be overwhelmed by all the things they needed her for--the washing machine had overflowed, or there was too much homework, or whatever. And she'd just want to run away. What she also knew, though, was that the important thing was that she was there--that part of being a family was showing up for meals. She continued, "However we are, however we think we ought to be in prayer, the fact is we just need to show up and do the best we can do. It's like being in a family."
I certainly know my prayer is like that--I have joked about how the dog's crate in my office had replaced my meditation cushion, but that since the dog died, the meditation cushion is back. For a year, most of my prayer time went to walking in the woods with him. Now, I'm back trying to sit down there in the corner--both examples of a certain kind of holy "showing up"--not always so regular, not always so focused, but doing the best I can.
Here is a line from TS Eliot (I found myself quoting him in my Transfiguration sermon, too).
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
Amen.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
The invitation of Lent
A blessed Ash Wednesday to you. I'm in between our services now--we have one more coming, at 7 pm. We had a nice turnout at noon--about half from St Peter's Ugandan congregation--so it was nice to celebrate together. Well, I guess Ash Wednesday isn't celebratory, exactly-but maybe it should be. Lent isn't so much about renunciation and leanness as it is about making room for God's love to come at Easter. We get tangled up in wanting to punish ourselves for being bad, while that can sometimes just turn us more deeply self-ward, rather than God-ward. A friend of a friend on facebook, also a priest, commented on "that great English tradition of thinking ourselves virtuous when, in point of fact, we're merely uncomfortable." Ouch.
As we've been planning, we don't have cut flowers on the altar or in the baptistry this year. Several years ago, Sheila Gillen donated several crown of thorns plants for the Lenten altar. For a while they were in my office, but when one of them died it seemed like the sacristy might be a better place (there's more light--and also I am not great with plants), so it has really grown well. Maybe too well--almost like nature joking with us in our solemnity, last week it also sprung two tiny flowers. You can only see them up close, but it's almost as if we are being told that there will be some tiny sign of new life, even in this dark winter.
What will really bring you new life in Lent this year? What will clear open the space to meet the joy of Easter? One theme that I always come back to again and again is forgiveness--forgiving myself, as much (if not more than) forgiving others. This Sunday, we'll meet upstairs in to watch "The Power of Forgiveness," a documentary on forgiveness in its many shapes, with stories from Northern Ireland, Post 9/11/01 New York City, the Middle East, and more.
I'd like to share a poem (of sorts) that I mailed out last year as well--I'm not sure where it comes from. A friend sent it to me and I thought it captured well the invitation of Lent.
This Lent...
Fast from suspicion and feast on trust
Fast from complaining and feast on appreciation
Fast from judging others and feast on Christ within others
Fast from idle gossip and feast on purposeful silence.
Fast from bitter anger and feast on forgiveness.
Fast from discouragement and feast on hope
Fast from worry and feast on trusting God
Fast from unrelenting pressures and feast on prayer that sustains.
Fast from lethargy and feast on enthusiasm.
Fast from emphasizing the differences and feast on the unity of life.
Fast from thoughts of illness and feast on the healing power of God.
Fast from discontent; feast on gratitude.
Fast from hostility; feast on nonviolence.
Fast from self-absorption; feast on compassion.
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Call to joy
Despite the fact that Ash Wednesday is in a week, I'm suppressing the desire to write about Lent; it isn't here yet, and there is still quite a bit of celebrating to do between now and then--one baptism and one pancake supper (and, of course, one vestry meeting--but it's possible that that isn't as much an occasion for fireworks). One of the most wonderful things about observing a liturgical year is also one of the most challenging--how in the world do we stay where we are? How can we not look forward, or look back? How to stay gazing out from the mountain top (this Sunday's Gospel) without descending into the valley of the desert (the first Sunday of Lent)?
This past Sunday, we had a children's sermon and a wonderful group of kids come up and sit together. Our Gospel was the story of Jesus calling Simon Peter and James and John. Jesus is teaching by the lake, and climbs into Peter's boat so the people can hear him better. Discouraged by not having caught anything all night, Peter lets him in and listens to him teach. Jesus tells him to let down the nets, and all are astounded at the enormous catch--so many fish it nearly sank the boat. Peter and his friends then leave everything to follow Jesus, who tells them that they'll fish for people from now on.
This story is powerful for me because it reminds me that wherever I go, and whatever I do, God is with me. God gives us our gifts to be used in the service of God. Everyone has some skill that gives glory to the One who created us. For our kids' sermon I invited the kids to write their gifts on their own fish, and the answers were as varied as our kids (though "annoying my sister" did come up twice...). Whether dancing, reading, smiling, canoeing, writing, drawing, playing piano or soccer, or just playing, our kids give glory to God, and they know it. Ella Hobin is fond of castles. So is my son Isaiah.
But we forget. We know that God takes pleasure in them just as we do, but we forget that God takes pleasure in us, too. As Brother Roger of Taizé reminds us, Christ's call is to joy, not gloom.
It's a good time to remember that call, and soak up as much as we can. It might seem paradoxical to feel a call to joy so close to Lent, but I think it's a good time for it. Brother Roger's counterpoint is instructive. The opposite of joy isn't sadness--there is plenty of that in life, and even in the life of faith there is space for it. But gloom is something else--gloom is when we are turned inward and see only our own anxiety and our own worries. It's essentially self-ish; centered on the self, it takes ME and MINE as the most important category.
So for now, there is celebration--leave the mourning to Lent, but remember that even then there is space for joy, the joyful freedom of life centered on Christ's self-giving love for us. But for today, look for both the joy and celebration that meet us and love us where we are.
Blessings,
Sara+
This past Sunday, we had a children's sermon and a wonderful group of kids come up and sit together. Our Gospel was the story of Jesus calling Simon Peter and James and John. Jesus is teaching by the lake, and climbs into Peter's boat so the people can hear him better. Discouraged by not having caught anything all night, Peter lets him in and listens to him teach. Jesus tells him to let down the nets, and all are astounded at the enormous catch--so many fish it nearly sank the boat. Peter and his friends then leave everything to follow Jesus, who tells them that they'll fish for people from now on.
This story is powerful for me because it reminds me that wherever I go, and whatever I do, God is with me. God gives us our gifts to be used in the service of God. Everyone has some skill that gives glory to the One who created us. For our kids' sermon I invited the kids to write their gifts on their own fish, and the answers were as varied as our kids (though "annoying my sister" did come up twice...). Whether dancing, reading, smiling, canoeing, writing, drawing, playing piano or soccer, or just playing, our kids give glory to God, and they know it. Ella Hobin is fond of castles. So is my son Isaiah.
But we forget. We know that God takes pleasure in them just as we do, but we forget that God takes pleasure in us, too. As Brother Roger of Taizé reminds us, Christ's call is to joy, not gloom.
It's a good time to remember that call, and soak up as much as we can. It might seem paradoxical to feel a call to joy so close to Lent, but I think it's a good time for it. Brother Roger's counterpoint is instructive. The opposite of joy isn't sadness--there is plenty of that in life, and even in the life of faith there is space for it. But gloom is something else--gloom is when we are turned inward and see only our own anxiety and our own worries. It's essentially self-ish; centered on the self, it takes ME and MINE as the most important category.
So for now, there is celebration--leave the mourning to Lent, but remember that even then there is space for joy, the joyful freedom of life centered on Christ's self-giving love for us. But for today, look for both the joy and celebration that meet us and love us where we are.
Blessings,
Sara+
From Feb. 5: Transformation and potential
After having just completed our Bishop's Visitation and Annual meeting on two consecutive Sundays, we have been very busy! We didn't get an issue of the Fieldstone Crier out this January, and so it has been some time since I wrote to you in this space--I'm glad to be back here, and back to work. I came back in the midst of all the movement of Christmas, and new leadership, and new members--and I am so excited about what this year will bring.
There's quite a bit happening this month, too. On the 14th, we'll baptize Alana Shirley, whose parents Michael and Michelle have been coming for several months. That Sunday is the Feast of the Transfiguration--the last Sunday before Lent. I think every year I've been here we've done baptisms on that day, and it is a good one for it. In our Gospel for that Sunday, we meet Jesus on the mountain top, transfigured in white in a cloud, along with Moses and Elijah. God speaks from the cloud: "This is my son, my Chosen (The Gospels of Matthew and Mark say "beloved") listen to him." When we celebrate a baptism the Sunday before Lent begins, we're following Jesus' pattern, in a way; the Scriptures tell of him being driven into the wilderness after his own baptism. He goes out in the wilderness with a deep sureness of his nature as a beloved child of God, and his power comes directly from that beloved nature.
If we observe Lent to remind ourselves of Jesus' ministry and mission and his time in the desert, we should do so with the same awareness of God's presence and love as he did. The season of Lent is about stripping down and focusing. We don't observe Lent and focus on our sin to think about how bad we are, we observe Lent to remember how good we can be.
Whenever we celebrate a baptism, we reaffirm the promises of our own baptismal covenants. We don't do baptisms privately because we need the support of the community to make, and keep, those promises.
When Adah and Vanessa were baptized a few weeks ago, each of you promised to do "all in your power to support these persons in their lives in Christ" --partly because they need it, but also because you need it! We need each other to practice our faith and to know God.
This Lent, I invite you to pray about how you are a member of this community; how does it sustain you? How do you help to sustain it? How is your life of faith intertwined with others in this place? What do you need for the life of your Spirit this Lent, and how can you invite this community into that life?
Blessings,
Sara+
There's quite a bit happening this month, too. On the 14th, we'll baptize Alana Shirley, whose parents Michael and Michelle have been coming for several months. That Sunday is the Feast of the Transfiguration--the last Sunday before Lent. I think every year I've been here we've done baptisms on that day, and it is a good one for it. In our Gospel for that Sunday, we meet Jesus on the mountain top, transfigured in white in a cloud, along with Moses and Elijah. God speaks from the cloud: "This is my son, my Chosen (The Gospels of Matthew and Mark say "beloved") listen to him." When we celebrate a baptism the Sunday before Lent begins, we're following Jesus' pattern, in a way; the Scriptures tell of him being driven into the wilderness after his own baptism. He goes out in the wilderness with a deep sureness of his nature as a beloved child of God, and his power comes directly from that beloved nature.
If we observe Lent to remind ourselves of Jesus' ministry and mission and his time in the desert, we should do so with the same awareness of God's presence and love as he did. The season of Lent is about stripping down and focusing. We don't observe Lent and focus on our sin to think about how bad we are, we observe Lent to remember how good we can be.
Whenever we celebrate a baptism, we reaffirm the promises of our own baptismal covenants. We don't do baptisms privately because we need the support of the community to make, and keep, those promises.
When Adah and Vanessa were baptized a few weeks ago, each of you promised to do "all in your power to support these persons in their lives in Christ" --partly because they need it, but also because you need it! We need each other to practice our faith and to know God.
This Lent, I invite you to pray about how you are a member of this community; how does it sustain you? How do you help to sustain it? How is your life of faith intertwined with others in this place? What do you need for the life of your Spirit this Lent, and how can you invite this community into that life?
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Perspective and prayers of thanks
Thanks to each of you who came on Sunday to welcome Bishop Shaw, and especially to Cathy Hughes and all those who made our delicious lunch. As you know, our annual meeting is this Sunday, so we will be having ONE worship service at 9 AM. At the annual meeting, I'll invite new members (to be an "official" member, you pledge for the year and come to church-pretty simple) to sign our membership book. It has signatures going back to the nineteenth century.
It gives a certain perspective; we are just taking care of this place for now, and others will come later. Stretching both back in time and forward in time, we are one church, one Body of Christ-however long we've been here or however long we'll stay. Below, I'm pasting my report to the annual meeting. If you didn't pick up a copy in church last Sunday, please go to our website to download a copy so you can read it before the meeting, or let me know you need one and I can email it to you.
...
Report of the Rector, 2010
I think it is the writer Annie Lamott who has said that she only really knows two prayers: "please, please" and "thank you, thank you." I think the work of a report like this falls into the second category--it is a prayer of thanks.
Thanks to more people than I could name--but I will try.
Our wardens, Jonathan and Marcia, have been such a good team this year, and Suzanne Hughes and Shawn Russell have rounded out a wise executive committee that has led us far. Suzanne stepped into her role in 2008 after it had not been occupied by a "full time" treasurer for a number of years, and has done truly heroic work in getting us organized. That, coupled with her work as youth group leader during most of that time has often made me wonder if she sleeps! I also want to give deep thanks to Cathy Hughes for her work on fellowship. In looking for someone to take over, it is nearly impossible to cover all the things Cathy has done in her leadership on this front. Thanks, also, to Sheila Gillen, who is stepping down as wedding coordinator, having shepherded countless couple at Christ Church through that planning process. Having arrived as a relatively "green" priest (and not in the ecological sense") in 2005, she has certainly taught me a lot about the ins and outs of getting down the aisle. This year also marks the end of Alice Mula's leadership of the White Elephant room--a ministry that has equipped many kitchens (not to mention raised many dollars), over the years. Thanks to Alice and helper Marie Palmiotto. Shawn Russell is also moving on to a new ministry as treasurer, after having been clerk for 2 years. Finally, there are probably not enough words in the world to thank Marcia Luce for her support, honesty humor, and kindness since I arrived at Christ Church. She was senior warden when I arrived and then came back for another term after a short break. She has really been alongside me the whole time I've been here and I truly could not have done anything without her.
Happily, this year we also welcomed some new people into leadership who will continue to lead us into the future: the toddler room couldn't have gotten off the ground without Chris Jensen, and our Godly Play program got a great shot of energy when Erin Jensen came on board. Cindy Hutchison did a fantastic job on running the stewardship campaign when I was on leave, and I am thrilled she'll be our junior warden. Also in the "not enough words to thank" category is Jonathan Duce, who did a wonderful job when I was on maternity leave and led the parish through the rector discernment process. I write with deep gratitude to all of Christ Church as a parish for calling me as rector, and especially to him and Marcia.
There is a prayer in the rector installation liturgy which says "May God who has given you the will to do these things give you the grace and power to perform them." That is certainly where I find my own prayer these days--that's in the "please please" category. It is such a joy and occasion of grace to be able to minister with you. Especially when I was away I was so aware of how much my work as your priest is woven through my own life. I truly feel it is my vocation; it is part of the way that I "am" in this world--and I am grateful that my being the rector is also part of how Christ Church "is," too, at this time.
Going through our reports at the end of the year is always a combination of inspiring and daunting: inspiring, since it reminds me of how much we've accomplished, and a little daunting, as I think about how we will do that, and more, in the coming year! The Epistle reading for the 4th Sunday after Epiphany is the famous "love" passage from Paul's first letter to the Corinthians. It concludes, "For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love." When I arrived here at Christ Church a little over four years ago, that was what struck me most; the love that each of you hold for this place. In the last four years, we have grown by leaps and bounds--in our outreach, in our education, and in welcoming new friends. But that core of the love of Christ that I met when I first arrived is what all of those other accomplishments have been building on. The generations of Hewitts, and Hughes, and Lobos (and Larades and Coates), and our longtime leaders like those I mentioned above, have done more than just keep the doors open--they've also kept their hearts open, and that is the grace of God. Thank you, and thanks to everyone who has joined our parish and will travel with us into the future.
Blessings,
Sara+
It gives a certain perspective; we are just taking care of this place for now, and others will come later. Stretching both back in time and forward in time, we are one church, one Body of Christ-however long we've been here or however long we'll stay. Below, I'm pasting my report to the annual meeting. If you didn't pick up a copy in church last Sunday, please go to our website to download a copy so you can read it before the meeting, or let me know you need one and I can email it to you.
...
Report of the Rector, 2010
I think it is the writer Annie Lamott who has said that she only really knows two prayers: "please, please" and "thank you, thank you." I think the work of a report like this falls into the second category--it is a prayer of thanks.
Thanks to more people than I could name--but I will try.
Our wardens, Jonathan and Marcia, have been such a good team this year, and Suzanne Hughes and Shawn Russell have rounded out a wise executive committee that has led us far. Suzanne stepped into her role in 2008 after it had not been occupied by a "full time" treasurer for a number of years, and has done truly heroic work in getting us organized. That, coupled with her work as youth group leader during most of that time has often made me wonder if she sleeps! I also want to give deep thanks to Cathy Hughes for her work on fellowship. In looking for someone to take over, it is nearly impossible to cover all the things Cathy has done in her leadership on this front. Thanks, also, to Sheila Gillen, who is stepping down as wedding coordinator, having shepherded countless couple at Christ Church through that planning process. Having arrived as a relatively "green" priest (and not in the ecological sense") in 2005, she has certainly taught me a lot about the ins and outs of getting down the aisle. This year also marks the end of Alice Mula's leadership of the White Elephant room--a ministry that has equipped many kitchens (not to mention raised many dollars), over the years. Thanks to Alice and helper Marie Palmiotto. Shawn Russell is also moving on to a new ministry as treasurer, after having been clerk for 2 years. Finally, there are probably not enough words in the world to thank Marcia Luce for her support, honesty humor, and kindness since I arrived at Christ Church. She was senior warden when I arrived and then came back for another term after a short break. She has really been alongside me the whole time I've been here and I truly could not have done anything without her.
Happily, this year we also welcomed some new people into leadership who will continue to lead us into the future: the toddler room couldn't have gotten off the ground without Chris Jensen, and our Godly Play program got a great shot of energy when Erin Jensen came on board. Cindy Hutchison did a fantastic job on running the stewardship campaign when I was on leave, and I am thrilled she'll be our junior warden. Also in the "not enough words to thank" category is Jonathan Duce, who did a wonderful job when I was on maternity leave and led the parish through the rector discernment process. I write with deep gratitude to all of Christ Church as a parish for calling me as rector, and especially to him and Marcia.
There is a prayer in the rector installation liturgy which says "May God who has given you the will to do these things give you the grace and power to perform them." That is certainly where I find my own prayer these days--that's in the "please please" category. It is such a joy and occasion of grace to be able to minister with you. Especially when I was away I was so aware of how much my work as your priest is woven through my own life. I truly feel it is my vocation; it is part of the way that I "am" in this world--and I am grateful that my being the rector is also part of how Christ Church "is," too, at this time.
Going through our reports at the end of the year is always a combination of inspiring and daunting: inspiring, since it reminds me of how much we've accomplished, and a little daunting, as I think about how we will do that, and more, in the coming year! The Epistle reading for the 4th Sunday after Epiphany is the famous "love" passage from Paul's first letter to the Corinthians. It concludes, "For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love." When I arrived here at Christ Church a little over four years ago, that was what struck me most; the love that each of you hold for this place. In the last four years, we have grown by leaps and bounds--in our outreach, in our education, and in welcoming new friends. But that core of the love of Christ that I met when I first arrived is what all of those other accomplishments have been building on. The generations of Hewitts, and Hughes, and Lobos (and Larades and Coates), and our longtime leaders like those I mentioned above, have done more than just keep the doors open--they've also kept their hearts open, and that is the grace of God. Thank you, and thanks to everyone who has joined our parish and will travel with us into the future.
Blessings,
Sara+
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Grappling with Ideas
On Tuesday, I was with the Sisters of Saint Anne in Arlington, where I celebrate Mass regularly. The service was a celebration of the Confession of St Peter; Jesus, asking the disciples who others think he is, finally corners Peter, in an almost aggressive way: but who do you say that I am? For once, the disciple who seems so frequently to not quite understand things, nails it right on the head: "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God" (Matthew 16: 13-19).
It's an important passage for all of us, but it becomes especially relevant at the turning points in our lives. Our confirmation class has been meeting since last fall with Michele Driscoll, and I've been able to sit in with them several times since I got back from leave. It's so exciting to see someone really grapple with ideas and meaning, to see a light go on.
One of the most stimulating conversations we've had since I've been back was last Sunday, when we had a member of a local Zen community speak with us about his practice. We were all impressed by how clearly and practically he framed his spiritual practice--not just the doing of it (meditation) but also the reasons behind it. What was even more exciting was that as he spoke, I found myself checking off similarities with our Christian belief. We come to similar conclusions, but from a very different place. Mike sat down and said that he was a little nervous, but was telling himself one of the core beliefs of Zen Buddhism--that he was already perfect-- that each one of us is perfect.
In Zen, that idea grounds the practitioner in the idea that however much he or she works in their spiritual practice, s/he simultaneously still has a ways to go, and is already "there." The basic belief is one of acceptance--we spend a lot of energy trying to convince ourselves that things are a certain way (generally, we are trying to convince ourselves that we are right!), but frequently who is right or wrong is beside the point. We can undertake different actions to shape our future, but if the sky is blue, there is nothing I can do to make it pink, except wait for the sunset.
Thinking about our "perfection"--Buddha nature--brings me to the Christian belief in the imago dei, the notion that we are created in the image of God. Our baptism brings us into communion with Christ, and we become his body here on earth. We are joined to the love that brought him to the cross and through the resurrection: a love stronger than death. In the words of one friend of mine, rather than thinking of our "original sin," we should remember our "original blessedness" (this will sound familiar to those of you who participated in the "Connect" course we did a few years ago). We are created in God's image--beautifully, perfectly, whole--though we so frequently behave in ways that betray that essential blessing.
Comparing religious beliefs in this way will only get you so far; after all, even if I can come up with analogies between Buddhism and Christianity, at the end of the day I still find "the way, the truth, and the life" in Jesus Christ, not in Buddha. But insofar as encounters with other faiths cast light on our beliefs in a new way, it's a powerful way to remind ourselves of the truths we believe in as well-and to reconnect with Christian practices we've lost. We always associate meditation with Buddhism, but there is a powerful strain of that kind of practice in Christian history as well. Of course, we call it contemplative prayer--but that's a story for another day.
Blessings,
Sara+
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Disaster in Haiti
Today, pray for Haiti.
Already the poorest nation in the western hemisphere, the recent earthquake has created devastation we cannot now even imagine. The diocese of Haiti is one of the largest dioceses (they're part of the American Episcopal Church), serving more than 100,000 members. A friend of mine worked at the Cathedral there some years ago, and they have already heard that the daughter of one of Haiti's deputies to General Convention was killed. Lisa Mbele-Mbong was a human rights worker for the UN and did not survive the collapse of the human-rights section of the building that housed the United Nations Stabilization Mission in Haiti.
In addition to its 168 congregations, the diocese of Haiti's ministry includes 254 schools, medical clinics, and other development projects like micro-financing and reforestation programs. We have heard so far that the cathedral and the bishop's home have been destroyed-reports are still coming in at what other ministries have been damaged. The bishop and his family are safe, as is a Massachusetts member of the Episcopal Young Adult Service Corps who is teaching at the seminary there. Another young adult volunteer, Mallory Holding, is also fine, but the convent of the Sisters of Saint Margaret (who also have a convent in Boston) has been destroyed. Unconfirmed reports indicate the sisters are safe (there is a link to the Sisters' Haiti page below).
Our own Episcopal Relief and Development (er-d.org) is already contributing to the relief effort. Since the diocese of Haiti is so strong, they have been doing disaster preparedness work for some time. With the biggest earthquake in 200 years, though, this is not something you can really prepare for--and it certainly doesn't feel as though we here can do very much.
In his statement on the disaster, Bishop Shaw wrote,
Please know how much our prayers are needed. An unfathomable catastrophe like this in a place that has already known so much hardship really does have us questioning God at the deepest levels of our faith. Yet we must know that God is more present to suffering than any of us could ever possibly be, and that as we are willing to take on the suffering of others, whether through our prayer, our donations or our service, we join God in God's compassionate presence.
Give prayers, and, even if it's just a small amount, give money. On a gut level, I am inclined to ransack my cupboards for spare blankets, but at this point material goods are less needed than the freedom for relief organizations to buy the supplies they need. We'll have bulletin inserts from Episcopal Relief and Development on Sunday, or you can make out a check to Christ Church with "Haiti Donation" in the memo line and we can send them as a group.
Blessings,
Sara+
Episcopal Relief and Development: www.er-d.org
Mallory Holding's blog: www.holdinghaiti.blogspot.com
The Sisters of Saint Margaret: www.ssmbos.com
More on the response from parishes in our diocese: www.diomass.org
Already the poorest nation in the western hemisphere, the recent earthquake has created devastation we cannot now even imagine. The diocese of Haiti is one of the largest dioceses (they're part of the American Episcopal Church), serving more than 100,000 members. A friend of mine worked at the Cathedral there some years ago, and they have already heard that the daughter of one of Haiti's deputies to General Convention was killed. Lisa Mbele-Mbong was a human rights worker for the UN and did not survive the collapse of the human-rights section of the building that housed the United Nations Stabilization Mission in Haiti.
In addition to its 168 congregations, the diocese of Haiti's ministry includes 254 schools, medical clinics, and other development projects like micro-financing and reforestation programs. We have heard so far that the cathedral and the bishop's home have been destroyed-reports are still coming in at what other ministries have been damaged. The bishop and his family are safe, as is a Massachusetts member of the Episcopal Young Adult Service Corps who is teaching at the seminary there. Another young adult volunteer, Mallory Holding, is also fine, but the convent of the Sisters of Saint Margaret (who also have a convent in Boston) has been destroyed. Unconfirmed reports indicate the sisters are safe (there is a link to the Sisters' Haiti page below).
Our own Episcopal Relief and Development (er-d.org) is already contributing to the relief effort. Since the diocese of Haiti is so strong, they have been doing disaster preparedness work for some time. With the biggest earthquake in 200 years, though, this is not something you can really prepare for--and it certainly doesn't feel as though we here can do very much.
In his statement on the disaster, Bishop Shaw wrote,
Please know how much our prayers are needed. An unfathomable catastrophe like this in a place that has already known so much hardship really does have us questioning God at the deepest levels of our faith. Yet we must know that God is more present to suffering than any of us could ever possibly be, and that as we are willing to take on the suffering of others, whether through our prayer, our donations or our service, we join God in God's compassionate presence.
Give prayers, and, even if it's just a small amount, give money. On a gut level, I am inclined to ransack my cupboards for spare blankets, but at this point material goods are less needed than the freedom for relief organizations to buy the supplies they need. We'll have bulletin inserts from Episcopal Relief and Development on Sunday, or you can make out a check to Christ Church with "Haiti Donation" in the memo line and we can send them as a group.
Blessings,
Sara+
Episcopal Relief and Development: www.er-d.org
Mallory Holding's blog: www.holdinghaiti.blogspot.com
The Sisters of Saint Margaret: www.ssmbos.com
More on the response from parishes in our diocese: www.diomass.org
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