Dear People of Christ Church,
Next week in this space, you'll hear from our youth, two of whom will travel to Costa Rica over February vacation on pilgrimage with other teens from the Alewife Deanery. Hearing it called a "pilgrimage" instead of a mission trip got me thinking. The usual understanding of being a "missionary" and going abroad to convert people isn't really something the Episcopal Church does much more, but often you still hear that expression; I went on a "Misison trip" to Belize as the assistant rector of Emmanuel Church in 2005, where we traveled to a school and helped build and equip a computer lab. We had a mission, for sure, but we were not exactly missionaries, a la serious young men with dark ties. Happy as we are to share our faith, trying to convert the masses isn't exactly the Episcopal style these days. I definitely appreciate the shift in language.
That word-pilgrimage-is an evocative one.
One of my favorite spiritual images is that of the labyrinth: a way of taking a spiritual voyage, if not a physical one. In our fall education series lead by Matt Dooley, we did walking meditation in the church-occupying the body gives the mind a certain freedom. While the sites of Jesus' passion and birth are certainly venerated in the Christian tradition, we don't have the same commandment to go on pilgrimage as, say, Muslims have to visit Mecca. There is a sense in the walking of silent communion: we are somehow all headed in the same direction. Not long ago I happened to watch a video someone of walking the labyrinth-you can see her shadow filming, but all it shows is ankle, foot, ground. At the time, I was imprisoned in my daughter's room waiting for her to go to sleep. Every time I moved to get up, I heard her lovely/tyrannous little toddler voice call out, "Stay!" Watching those feet on my little iPhone screen brought such a deep sense of accompaniment: feeling that Jan (the walker, whose blog I read but have never met) and I were united in faith, mystically accompanied by God. Feeling rather trapped and frustrated, the image of movement and grace brought me strangely to tears. I was not walking alone and my parental frustration did not have the last word.
Another definition I have always liked is from the Nepalese movie Himalaya. A group of villagers travel down their mountain with their yak to trade salt for grain. Being passed by another traveler, a child asks his father: Who is that? A pilgrim. What's a pilgrim? A religious person who walks.
So... Living. My favorite collect after the prayers of the people talks about our "earthly pilgrimage," and the phrase is in the burial service as well. Walking. Movement. Emma and Julia, going to Costa Rica to help out in churches there and learn a bit about what the diocese is like. Each of us praying for them and supporting them in whatever way we can. I invite you also to consider what pilgrimage means to you: have you ever been on one? Is there a place you want to go? What is revealed to you in the gentle slog of GOING-up a mountain or across a river or shepherding a child to sleep. To Elvis Presley's Graceland, Thoreau's Walden, to Bethlehem, Jerusalem. How are our values confirmed by those experiences? How are they challenged?
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I'm sending along my report for the annual report; a .pdf of the whole document will be available online later today, linked here, and at our website, so please review it as you are able. We will have printed copies available on Sunday, but we find the meeting works a bit better if participants have read the reports in advance.
S+
Report of the Rector, 2011
This year, as I sat down to write my report, without thinking, I began to type "Dear People of Christ Church..." as I begin each week with my email newsletter. I find myself so often in a kind of internal conversation with this parish. My vocation as a priest and my job as your priest come together in ways I am so grateful for. Truly, we share ministry in this place-and I especially couldn't do it without our stellar vestry and wardens!
2011 saw so much come to fruition. We had the first full year of the Christ Church Quarterly, our beautiful newsletter edited by Kristin Harvey, with issues on music, humankind, prayer, and the Sabbath. We had three all-encompassing children's services, where we were lead by our younger members. It was also the year we finally received the CPA grant which we began applying for back in 2010, and undertook an amazing adventure of generosity and faith in our capital campaign. See Mike's report for details- I sincerely could not have imagined what a grace-filled experience we would have in those visits and in your generosity. We had a 10 percent increase in Sunday attendance and a 10 percent increase in number of pledges from 2010. We had the biggest Sunday service in the six years I've been here on Easter, with 180 people gathering to celebrate the holiday.
It also felt like a new year of openness to the gifts of the city around us; for the first time, we reached out to local businesses for donations to Diaper Depot, and received $750.00 from Watertown Savings Bank. The American Legion Band offered a concert to support DD, and our Waltham History Day took on a new significance with our approved CPA grant as a way of opening our doors to the city. The work of Bill Fowler in bringing all of this to fruition cannot be overstated, and I am deeply grateful to him for his hard work and creativity.
In the Gospel of Mark, which we hear on the third Sunday after Epiphany, Jesus goes to Simon and Andrew and calls them from their nets; follow me, he says, and I will make you fish for people. He goes to them right where they are: God finds us and gives us our ministries without too much prompting from us, often when we are engaged in quite unrelated activities! But we do have to keep our eyes, ears, and hearts open. Looking into 2012, I am so excited to see where Christ will find us, how the Holy Spirit will transform us, how God our Creator will continue to nourish us with fruits both physical (thank you, Christ Church gardeners!) and metaphorical.
Christ will find us in embarking on new leadership challenges, Christ will find us in being wise stewards of this building and of each other, Christ will find us at coffee and at the altar rail, playing games and listening, in our conflict as well as our comforts, in our digging deep and drinking in. Thanks be to God!
This week, I'm sending along my report for the annual report; a .pdf of the whole document will be available online later today, linked here, and at our website, so please review it as you are able. We will have printed copies available on Sunday, but we find the meeting works a bit better if participants have read the reports in advance.
S+
Report of the Rector, 2011
This year, as I sat down to write my report, without thinking, I began to type "Dear People of Christ Church..." as I begin each week with my email newsletter. I find myself so often in a kind of internal conversation with this parish. My vocation as a priest and my job as your priest come together in ways I am so grateful for. Truly, we share ministry in this place-and I especially couldn't do it without our stellar vestry and wardens!
2011 saw so much come to fruition. We had the first full year of the Christ Church Quarterly, our beautiful newsletter edited by Kristin Harvey, with issues on music, humankind, prayer, and the Sabbath. We had three all-encompassing children's services, where we were lead by our younger members. It was also the year we finally received the CPA grant which we began applying for back in 2010, and undertook an amazing adventure of generosity and faith in our capital campaign. See Mike's report for details- I sincerely could not have imagined what a grace-filled experience we would have in those visits and in your generosity. We had a 10 percent increase in Sunday attendance and a 10 percent increase in number of pledges from 2010. We had the biggest Sunday service in the six years I've been here on Easter, with 180 people gathering to celebrate the holiday.
It also felt like a new year of openness to the gifts of the city around us; for the first time, we reached out to local businesses for donations to Diaper Depot, and received $750.00 from Watertown Savings Bank. The American Legion Band offered a concert to support DD, and our Waltham History Day took on a new significance with our approved CPA grant as a way of opening our doors to the city. The work of Bill Fowler in bringing all of this to fruition cannot be overstated, and I am deeply grateful to him for his hard work and creativity.
In the Gospel of Mark, which we hear on the third Sunday after Epiphany, Jesus goes to Simon and Andrew and calls them from their nets; follow me, he says, and I will make you fish for people. He goes to them right where they are: God finds us and gives us our ministries without too much prompting from us, often when we are engaged in quite unrelated activities! But we do have to keep our eyes, ears, and hearts open. Looking into 2012, I am so excited to see where Christ will find us, how the Holy Spirit will transform us, how God our Creator will continue to nourish us with fruits both physical (thank you, Christ Church gardeners!) and metaphorical.
Christ will find us in embarking on new leadership challenges, Christ will find us in being wise stewards of this building and of each other, Christ will find us at coffee and at the altar rail, playing games and listening, in our conflict as well as our comforts, in our digging deep and drinking in. Thanks be to God!
Friday, January 13, 2012
Dear People of Christ Church,
This Sunday we celebrate the baptisms of Abram Leonardo and Abigail Sobosik. Abigail is the granddaughter of longtime Christ Churchers Jeanne and Jim McDonald, and joins siblings Ava and Petey-all of whom were also baptized here. Their family lives near Worcester, now, but it's good to welcome them home to Waltham where their parents, Pete and Belinda, were also married. Abram most recently graced our sanctuary in playing baby Jesus in the Pageant, so he will surely take being dunked with water in stride.
This past Sunday we threw water around, too. For our children's sermon we talked about Jesus' baptism-I believe it was Donovan who painted the vivid picture for us of John "shoving him under the water" in the river Jordan. We talked about the symbolism of water, and how the water blessing weaves imagery from all the way through the Christian story. From the beginning of creation when the Holy Spirit moved over it, to the Israelites walking through the red sea, to Jesus being baptized-water has always been a dynamic gift, both physical (we are, after all made of it) and spiritual. After we prayed over it, the kids got to do the asperges (the sprinkling of holy water on the people)-a blessing in so many ways. Putting our wet hands to our heads, we said, "I belong to Christ."
I have written in this space before about how kids in worship help us all-sometimes we get so serious and solemn about things, and they just help us to lighten up. Respect is certainly appropriate, and we need to remember and to connect with the majesty and grandeur of our faith. But there is also so much about life on earth that is just intended for our joy. There is a line in the Eucharistic prayer that says "you made us for yourself"-God's action in creation isn't some kind of distant, impersonal speech-it's celebration and song and delight. We are God's-in English the possessive is expressed kind of weakly with that little --'s--but in Greek there is a whole different verb conjugation for it. The possession is located not in the owner, but in the action itself; somehow it seems even more powerful to me that way. It's not just me that is God's, it's also the belonging itself.
So, this Sunday, be there--and come expecting to get wet!
Blessings,
Sara+
This Sunday we celebrate the baptisms of Abram Leonardo and Abigail Sobosik. Abigail is the granddaughter of longtime Christ Churchers Jeanne and Jim McDonald, and joins siblings Ava and Petey-all of whom were also baptized here. Their family lives near Worcester, now, but it's good to welcome them home to Waltham where their parents, Pete and Belinda, were also married. Abram most recently graced our sanctuary in playing baby Jesus in the Pageant, so he will surely take being dunked with water in stride.
This past Sunday we threw water around, too. For our children's sermon we talked about Jesus' baptism-I believe it was Donovan who painted the vivid picture for us of John "shoving him under the water" in the river Jordan. We talked about the symbolism of water, and how the water blessing weaves imagery from all the way through the Christian story. From the beginning of creation when the Holy Spirit moved over it, to the Israelites walking through the red sea, to Jesus being baptized-water has always been a dynamic gift, both physical (we are, after all made of it) and spiritual. After we prayed over it, the kids got to do the asperges (the sprinkling of holy water on the people)-a blessing in so many ways. Putting our wet hands to our heads, we said, "I belong to Christ."
I have written in this space before about how kids in worship help us all-sometimes we get so serious and solemn about things, and they just help us to lighten up. Respect is certainly appropriate, and we need to remember and to connect with the majesty and grandeur of our faith. But there is also so much about life on earth that is just intended for our joy. There is a line in the Eucharistic prayer that says "you made us for yourself"-God's action in creation isn't some kind of distant, impersonal speech-it's celebration and song and delight. We are God's-in English the possessive is expressed kind of weakly with that little --'s--but in Greek there is a whole different verb conjugation for it. The possession is located not in the owner, but in the action itself; somehow it seems even more powerful to me that way. It's not just me that is God's, it's also the belonging itself.
So, this Sunday, be there--and come expecting to get wet!
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Dear People of Christ Church,
A blessed last few days of Advent to you!
So many thanks to our Pageant Stars (pictured right) and Director Erin Jensen. Our kids did a wonderful job of bringing the Christmas story to light this past Sunday, with a potentially record-setting number of 27 participants!
It has, though, felt like a short season of preparation, when both the calendar and our own hectic lives conspire to make Christmas seem early. Christingle Party and Pageant on the same day? Never again, please! Christmas is, of course, not sooner; it is the twenty-fifth of December, same as always. And, same as always, there is something ELSE that seems more pressing that sitting down to do the real work of contemplation and preparation, of "making room" in our hearts for the birth of Christ. I recently read someone refer to Christmas as "the feast of Nicene Dogma"-Nicea being the ecumenical council when Jesus' nature as both fully human and fully divine was officially adopted by the church, in 325-and while it doesn't sound very romantic, it's not a bad characterization of the holiday.
Christmas is the day-the day when we celebrate that God became human in the person of Jesus Christ. Two natures, fully human and fully divine. Amidst all the presents and the food and the preparation, God becomes one of us. This is a big deal, because it says a lot about God-a God willing to be one of us, to be powerless as a baby, to have to learn as a little child, to be rebellious as an adolescent (remember that time he ran away from his parents in the Temple?), to be tested as a young man, and to suffer as we all, invariably, will. It says a lot about God, but it also says a lot about us.
The God of our salvation, coming to be with us in THIS sometimes joyful and sometimes sorry state of affairs. What that says about God is that God is infinitely willing to bridge hardship and suffering to be with us in our suffering. It means that nothing we could ever undergo is alien to the heart of God. It also means, most powerfully, this: when God became human, we got a chance to be closer to God. Athanasius of Alexandria put it this way in the fourth Century:
The Word of God indeed assumed humanity that we might become God...so many are the Savior's achievements that follow from his Incarnation that to try to number them is like gazing at the open sea and trying to count the waves.
Each one of us is a wave of reconciled humanity, changed toward grace and liberated from our sin, that is, liberated from our separation from God. No more retaliation, no more defensiveness, no more revenge or "eye for an eye." Just love and peace. Love and peace for each of us-every last one of us, no matter what. That's the gift we're given at Christmas.
Thanks be to God!
Christmas Blessings,
Sara+
A blessed last few days of Advent to you!
So many thanks to our Pageant Stars (pictured right) and Director Erin Jensen. Our kids did a wonderful job of bringing the Christmas story to light this past Sunday, with a potentially record-setting number of 27 participants!
It has, though, felt like a short season of preparation, when both the calendar and our own hectic lives conspire to make Christmas seem early. Christingle Party and Pageant on the same day? Never again, please! Christmas is, of course, not sooner; it is the twenty-fifth of December, same as always. And, same as always, there is something ELSE that seems more pressing that sitting down to do the real work of contemplation and preparation, of "making room" in our hearts for the birth of Christ. I recently read someone refer to Christmas as "the feast of Nicene Dogma"-Nicea being the ecumenical council when Jesus' nature as both fully human and fully divine was officially adopted by the church, in 325-and while it doesn't sound very romantic, it's not a bad characterization of the holiday.
Christmas is the day-the day when we celebrate that God became human in the person of Jesus Christ. Two natures, fully human and fully divine. Amidst all the presents and the food and the preparation, God becomes one of us. This is a big deal, because it says a lot about God-a God willing to be one of us, to be powerless as a baby, to have to learn as a little child, to be rebellious as an adolescent (remember that time he ran away from his parents in the Temple?), to be tested as a young man, and to suffer as we all, invariably, will. It says a lot about God, but it also says a lot about us.
The God of our salvation, coming to be with us in THIS sometimes joyful and sometimes sorry state of affairs. What that says about God is that God is infinitely willing to bridge hardship and suffering to be with us in our suffering. It means that nothing we could ever undergo is alien to the heart of God. It also means, most powerfully, this: when God became human, we got a chance to be closer to God. Athanasius of Alexandria put it this way in the fourth Century:
The Word of God indeed assumed humanity that we might become God...so many are the Savior's achievements that follow from his Incarnation that to try to number them is like gazing at the open sea and trying to count the waves.
Each one of us is a wave of reconciled humanity, changed toward grace and liberated from our sin, that is, liberated from our separation from God. No more retaliation, no more defensiveness, no more revenge or "eye for an eye." Just love and peace. Love and peace for each of us-every last one of us, no matter what. That's the gift we're given at Christmas.
Thanks be to God!
Christmas Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
On the Ending of the Iraq War
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I find myself puzzling over-if I can use that light a word for something so big-the end of the Iraq war. I have probably told the story in this space before of how my husband and I got married in New York City in 2003, about six weeks before it started. February 15 was a world-wide day of action against George W Bush's plan to invade Iraq, and it also happened to be our wedding day. The BBC says that between 6 and 10 million people in up to 60 countries participated in protests that weekend-organizers put the figure at closer to 30 million. Even the Guinness Book of World Records agreed that 3 million turned out in Rome-the biggest anti war protest in history. Our wedding date was chosen because of the bishop's schedule, not our own, but when we knew about the protests planned for the day, we encouraged our guests to go uptown after the reception to march. Archbishop Desmond Tutu spoke: "President Bush, listen to the voice of the people, for many times the voice of the people is the voice of God. Listen to the voice of the people saying, 'Give peace a chance.'"
Not long after, on March 20, we were in a roadside café in Rhodes, Greece, and saw the news-the war had started. Now, almost eight years later-a big 8 years for me, it's seen me get ordained to the priesthood, get called rector of Christ Church, and give birth to two children-it's done, with President Obama speaking to troops at Fort Bragg and saying, simply, "Welcome Home." This week Time Magazine also announced that their Person of the Year is "The Protestor." I'm not an avid reader of the magazine, but I appreciated their question:
Is there a global tipping point for frustration? Everywhere, it seems, people said they'd had enough. They dissented; they demanded; they did not despair, even when the answers came back in a cloud of tear gas or a hail of bullets. They literally embodied the idea that individual action can bring collective, colossal change (Rick Stengel, Time Magazine).
It's the literal embodiment of protest that's moving; putting your body where your heart is. In my sermon on Sunday I talked about a book I read recently, by Leymah Gbowee, one of the three women awarded the Nobel Peace Prize this year. Gbowee was one of the architects of a women's peace movement that ended the brutal regime of dictator Charles Taylor. Coming to grips with their own fear and pain, they showed up day after day in the public square and organized across their own differences. Muslims and Christians, women of all tribes, working together. They even held a sex strike! But it took 14 years.
I don't know what impact those global protests had 8 years ago. I am certainly thankful for Waltham's faithful witnesses for peace who have stood on the common in Vigil on Saturdays since then, and who will still be there in witness for Afghanistan. For my own part in 2003, sending a few wedding guests on the subway is not much of a contribution (I confess that we took a cab in the opposite direction and went to a fancy hotel before coming back to Church History class on Monday). After so much of my own anger about this war-undertaken, after all, ostensibly on my behalf as an American (and a New York City resident on 9/11/01)-I long for a deeper sense of resolution or satisfaction. Instead, it's vague sadness and resignation. It is also true that a large part of the complete pull out at this time is due to the fact that the military would not tolerate losing immunity to prosecution by Iraqi law. That doesn't sound like much to celebrate.
Still, we are in the third week of Advent-the pink candle week-when we hear St Paul write to the Thessalonians in his first letter:
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you (5:16-18).
The will of God in Christ for us is to rejoice; to hold fast to even the smallest shred of good that we can find, not to be blinded by so much evil. And the end of a war is surely more than a shred of goodness. Theologically, too, there is in the Christian faith the strong tradition of lament; lament for the more than 100,000 Iraqis killed, and prayers for the one million widows and two million orphans that will have to rebuild their country. Maybe penance is appropriate, too-hopefully a chastened America will move more deliberately. I also take comfort in a Christian faith in which I don't have to have the answer; two months ago, I wrote in this space about Muammar Qadaffi's death: there are as many prayers to say as questions to ask. The important thing is to engage.
Here's what the Book of Common Prayer gives us-appropriate for Christmas, too-the coming of the Dream of God, the birth of Christ, in our midst. May our own hands and feet work for this dream in this season of hope.
Eternal God, in whose perfect kingdom no sword is drawn but the sword of righteousness, no strength known but the strength of love: So mightily spread abroad your Spirit, that all peoples may be gathered under the banner of the Prince of Peace, as children of one Father; to whom be dominion and glory, now and for ever. Amen.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, I find myself puzzling over-if I can use that light a word for something so big-the end of the Iraq war. I have probably told the story in this space before of how my husband and I got married in New York City in 2003, about six weeks before it started. February 15 was a world-wide day of action against George W Bush's plan to invade Iraq, and it also happened to be our wedding day. The BBC says that between 6 and 10 million people in up to 60 countries participated in protests that weekend-organizers put the figure at closer to 30 million. Even the Guinness Book of World Records agreed that 3 million turned out in Rome-the biggest anti war protest in history. Our wedding date was chosen because of the bishop's schedule, not our own, but when we knew about the protests planned for the day, we encouraged our guests to go uptown after the reception to march. Archbishop Desmond Tutu spoke: "President Bush, listen to the voice of the people, for many times the voice of the people is the voice of God. Listen to the voice of the people saying, 'Give peace a chance.'"
Not long after, on March 20, we were in a roadside café in Rhodes, Greece, and saw the news-the war had started. Now, almost eight years later-a big 8 years for me, it's seen me get ordained to the priesthood, get called rector of Christ Church, and give birth to two children-it's done, with President Obama speaking to troops at Fort Bragg and saying, simply, "Welcome Home." This week Time Magazine also announced that their Person of the Year is "The Protestor." I'm not an avid reader of the magazine, but I appreciated their question:
Is there a global tipping point for frustration? Everywhere, it seems, people said they'd had enough. They dissented; they demanded; they did not despair, even when the answers came back in a cloud of tear gas or a hail of bullets. They literally embodied the idea that individual action can bring collective, colossal change (Rick Stengel, Time Magazine).
It's the literal embodiment of protest that's moving; putting your body where your heart is. In my sermon on Sunday I talked about a book I read recently, by Leymah Gbowee, one of the three women awarded the Nobel Peace Prize this year. Gbowee was one of the architects of a women's peace movement that ended the brutal regime of dictator Charles Taylor. Coming to grips with their own fear and pain, they showed up day after day in the public square and organized across their own differences. Muslims and Christians, women of all tribes, working together. They even held a sex strike! But it took 14 years.
I don't know what impact those global protests had 8 years ago. I am certainly thankful for Waltham's faithful witnesses for peace who have stood on the common in Vigil on Saturdays since then, and who will still be there in witness for Afghanistan. For my own part in 2003, sending a few wedding guests on the subway is not much of a contribution (I confess that we took a cab in the opposite direction and went to a fancy hotel before coming back to Church History class on Monday). After so much of my own anger about this war-undertaken, after all, ostensibly on my behalf as an American (and a New York City resident on 9/11/01)-I long for a deeper sense of resolution or satisfaction. Instead, it's vague sadness and resignation. It is also true that a large part of the complete pull out at this time is due to the fact that the military would not tolerate losing immunity to prosecution by Iraqi law. That doesn't sound like much to celebrate.
Still, we are in the third week of Advent-the pink candle week-when we hear St Paul write to the Thessalonians in his first letter:
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you (5:16-18).
The will of God in Christ for us is to rejoice; to hold fast to even the smallest shred of good that we can find, not to be blinded by so much evil. And the end of a war is surely more than a shred of goodness. Theologically, too, there is in the Christian faith the strong tradition of lament; lament for the more than 100,000 Iraqis killed, and prayers for the one million widows and two million orphans that will have to rebuild their country. Maybe penance is appropriate, too-hopefully a chastened America will move more deliberately. I also take comfort in a Christian faith in which I don't have to have the answer; two months ago, I wrote in this space about Muammar Qadaffi's death: there are as many prayers to say as questions to ask. The important thing is to engage.
Here's what the Book of Common Prayer gives us-appropriate for Christmas, too-the coming of the Dream of God, the birth of Christ, in our midst. May our own hands and feet work for this dream in this season of hope.
Eternal God, in whose perfect kingdom no sword is drawn but the sword of righteousness, no strength known but the strength of love: So mightily spread abroad your Spirit, that all peoples may be gathered under the banner of the Prince of Peace, as children of one Father; to whom be dominion and glory, now and for ever. Amen.
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Dear people of Christ Church,
Today, December 1, is world AIDS day, commemorating thirty years since the virus was first identified. In the last thirty years, thirty million people have died of AIDS. Thirty. Million. There was not much cause for hope in the early days of AIDS. Thirty years ago, our government did not want to know about it. Polite citizens did not talk about it. It was expected that those who had the disease would best disappear and die silently. So many did. So many lives taken unnecessarily, by apathy, by hatred, by willful blindness. Now, though, there is much, much cause for hope. Last spring, in our observation of Lazarus Sunday, lead by our then-Micah Project intern Paul Hartge, we learned about how the "Lazarus effect"--the return to life--that is possible when people receive appropriate care. In preparing for my sermon then, I learned about some of the stories of those whose lives have been changed.
Princess Zulu Kasune is a modern day Lazarus. 14 years ago, she was given just six months to live. From a small town in Zambia, her doctor believed it was over for her. Her parents had already died from the illness-then, undiagnosed and mysterious-and she was at that time responsible for raising her siblings as well as her own family and two young children. Through global health relief, she was given the anti-retroviral drugs that make her illness treatable and keep her alive. The young woman who was given a death sentence at age 20 has now been to the White House to tell her story. She says,
Jesus resurrected Lazarus from the dead, Jesus set us a model we have to imitate. He asks us to explore whether there is anything that can be restored, can we help deliver hope, hope for the children, the grandparents, he asks us to restore community. He asks us to be compassionate - to come alongside, to mourn and to sympathize, just as he did.
Kasune asks, Do we have the right to judge which life is worth saving?
It sounds, of course, obvious: of course we don't have the right to ask that question.
How could we? How could we place ourselves in the role of God, giving life or taking it away?
The fact is, we are in that place. Making policy about AIDS testing being free and available-that gives life. Blocking diagnosis takes it away. Advocating for drugs being available to those who need it-that gives life. Apathy takes it away. Policies that partner with rather than stigmatize at-risk groups of people--that gives life. Judgment takes life away. Silence here, as it was in the eighties when AIDS was first discovered, is deadly.
Our actions matter.
More than 5 million have begun to receive anti retroviral drugs since 2002. That's 5 million people brought back from the brink of death. There is still a lot to do. There is still a lot wrong with global AIDS initiatives. But there is a lot of success staring us in the face, too--success like Lazarus, walking out of that tomb.
Jesus wept when Lazarus died. He calls us to weep, too--at the graves of our friends and at the graves of all who die just because they live in the wrong place at the wrong time. To weep, but also to keep walking down the road toward the places of death and suffering and pain, to see what can be done.
We are now on the brink, in Secretary of State Hilary Clinton's words, of raising the first AIDS free generation. As our Presiding Bishop, Katharine Jefferts Schori wrote in in a joint letter with the Presiding Bishop of the Lutheran church:
As Christians, we have just embarked upon the season of Advent, in which we prepare our hearts and minds to receive the One who comes that we "may have life, and have it abundantly." In this season, on this World AIDS Day, may the healing offered by our Incarnate, Crucified, and Resurrected Lord inspire us to cross from 30 years of death and loss to a future of abundant life for all.
Amen, Alleluia.
For the entirety of Bishop Schori and Bishop Hansen's letter:
http://ecusa.anglican.org/newsline_130612_ENG_HTM.htm
For Episcopal AIDS ministries and links to take action on legislative issues:
http://neac.org/
Today, December 1, is world AIDS day, commemorating thirty years since the virus was first identified. In the last thirty years, thirty million people have died of AIDS. Thirty. Million. There was not much cause for hope in the early days of AIDS. Thirty years ago, our government did not want to know about it. Polite citizens did not talk about it. It was expected that those who had the disease would best disappear and die silently. So many did. So many lives taken unnecessarily, by apathy, by hatred, by willful blindness. Now, though, there is much, much cause for hope. Last spring, in our observation of Lazarus Sunday, lead by our then-Micah Project intern Paul Hartge, we learned about how the "Lazarus effect"--the return to life--that is possible when people receive appropriate care. In preparing for my sermon then, I learned about some of the stories of those whose lives have been changed.
Princess Zulu Kasune is a modern day Lazarus. 14 years ago, she was given just six months to live. From a small town in Zambia, her doctor believed it was over for her. Her parents had already died from the illness-then, undiagnosed and mysterious-and she was at that time responsible for raising her siblings as well as her own family and two young children. Through global health relief, she was given the anti-retroviral drugs that make her illness treatable and keep her alive. The young woman who was given a death sentence at age 20 has now been to the White House to tell her story. She says,
Jesus resurrected Lazarus from the dead, Jesus set us a model we have to imitate. He asks us to explore whether there is anything that can be restored, can we help deliver hope, hope for the children, the grandparents, he asks us to restore community. He asks us to be compassionate - to come alongside, to mourn and to sympathize, just as he did.
Kasune asks, Do we have the right to judge which life is worth saving?
It sounds, of course, obvious: of course we don't have the right to ask that question.
How could we? How could we place ourselves in the role of God, giving life or taking it away?
The fact is, we are in that place. Making policy about AIDS testing being free and available-that gives life. Blocking diagnosis takes it away. Advocating for drugs being available to those who need it-that gives life. Apathy takes it away. Policies that partner with rather than stigmatize at-risk groups of people--that gives life. Judgment takes life away. Silence here, as it was in the eighties when AIDS was first discovered, is deadly.
Our actions matter.
More than 5 million have begun to receive anti retroviral drugs since 2002. That's 5 million people brought back from the brink of death. There is still a lot to do. There is still a lot wrong with global AIDS initiatives. But there is a lot of success staring us in the face, too--success like Lazarus, walking out of that tomb.
Jesus wept when Lazarus died. He calls us to weep, too--at the graves of our friends and at the graves of all who die just because they live in the wrong place at the wrong time. To weep, but also to keep walking down the road toward the places of death and suffering and pain, to see what can be done.
We are now on the brink, in Secretary of State Hilary Clinton's words, of raising the first AIDS free generation. As our Presiding Bishop, Katharine Jefferts Schori wrote in in a joint letter with the Presiding Bishop of the Lutheran church:
As Christians, we have just embarked upon the season of Advent, in which we prepare our hearts and minds to receive the One who comes that we "may have life, and have it abundantly." In this season, on this World AIDS Day, may the healing offered by our Incarnate, Crucified, and Resurrected Lord inspire us to cross from 30 years of death and loss to a future of abundant life for all.
Amen, Alleluia.
For the entirety of Bishop Schori and Bishop Hansen's letter:
http://ecusa.anglican.org/newsline_130612_ENG_HTM.htm
For Episcopal AIDS ministries and links to take action on legislative issues:
http://neac.org/
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Happy Thanksgiving!
This week, I'd like to share a bit more about what we're doing for Advent adult education. Each year during Advent and Lent, a small group gathers in the choir room at 6:30 for a simple Eucharist, and eats dinner over discussion in the rector's office (beginning at 7:15). This year, we'll meet to talk about economics and faith. Having worked on our capital campaign all fall, I've been much in the mindset of giving-the results of that campaign and our stewardship for 2012 show that you have been as well! And with the recent Occupy protests shining a light on the tremendous wealth inequality in the US, the moment seemed right to spend some more time thinking about inequality and faith. What are our responsibilities? What needs to be done, and how? How bad is it, really? Our conversations will be based on the work of radio journalist Krista Tippett, whose show, On Being is on each Sunday morning. We'll listen to short excerpts of her conversations with thinkers and activists in a variety of fields and discuss ways to integrate their ideas into our own lives. Below, I'm sharing a prayer-poem written by Jenifer Gamber, an Episcopal educator in Bethlehem, PA, which is one of the opening prayers for the third week in Advent.
Please, please join us-and let me know if you want to cook dinner!
Blessings,
Sara+
People Like Us
by Jenifer Gamber
Someone put his children to bed hungry tonight. Again.
Fill his emptiness. With hope. His soul. With strength to face the morning.
Fill our hearts with generosity. To share your bounty.
Someone like me today could not go to school to learn.
Grant her wisdom and perseverance. To seek justice. For herself and others. Teach us to spread the light of knowledge to all people.
Someone like me cannot read a book to his children today. Protect him. From hatred that would subdue the spirit. Lift our voices. Grant us strength. To advocate for parity.
Someone like me watched a four-year-old son today. Die of measles. Comfort her. Gather her son in your arms. Empower us to witness to your dream: a world where all children receive medical care.
Someone like me died today of AIDS. Five children orphaned. Receive him into your kingdom. Strengthen the minds, bodies and spirits of his children. Knit us together as one family. With determination to serve those affected by AIDS.
Someone like me died today. Giving birth to her daughter. Let her pain turn into a song. Of homecoming. Help us provide skilled health workers. For women during childbirth.
Someone like me today. His lips parched by thirst. Quench his thirst for water. His desire for justice. Save us from whatever hinders our stewardship of creation. And threatens clean water.
Someone like me needs a sewing machine today. To build a business. Sustain the spirit of enterprise. Her dream of providing for her family. Help us offer partnership with all people. As we work toward economic independence.
By Jenifer Gamber, modified by Krista Tippett.
From Lifting Women's Voices: Prayers to Change the World
This week, I'd like to share a bit more about what we're doing for Advent adult education. Each year during Advent and Lent, a small group gathers in the choir room at 6:30 for a simple Eucharist, and eats dinner over discussion in the rector's office (beginning at 7:15). This year, we'll meet to talk about economics and faith. Having worked on our capital campaign all fall, I've been much in the mindset of giving-the results of that campaign and our stewardship for 2012 show that you have been as well! And with the recent Occupy protests shining a light on the tremendous wealth inequality in the US, the moment seemed right to spend some more time thinking about inequality and faith. What are our responsibilities? What needs to be done, and how? How bad is it, really? Our conversations will be based on the work of radio journalist Krista Tippett, whose show, On Being is on each Sunday morning. We'll listen to short excerpts of her conversations with thinkers and activists in a variety of fields and discuss ways to integrate their ideas into our own lives. Below, I'm sharing a prayer-poem written by Jenifer Gamber, an Episcopal educator in Bethlehem, PA, which is one of the opening prayers for the third week in Advent.
Please, please join us-and let me know if you want to cook dinner!
Blessings,
Sara+
People Like Us
by Jenifer Gamber
Someone put his children to bed hungry tonight. Again.
Fill his emptiness. With hope. His soul. With strength to face the morning.
Fill our hearts with generosity. To share your bounty.
Someone like me today could not go to school to learn.
Grant her wisdom and perseverance. To seek justice. For herself and others. Teach us to spread the light of knowledge to all people.
Someone like me cannot read a book to his children today. Protect him. From hatred that would subdue the spirit. Lift our voices. Grant us strength. To advocate for parity.
Someone like me watched a four-year-old son today. Die of measles. Comfort her. Gather her son in your arms. Empower us to witness to your dream: a world where all children receive medical care.
Someone like me died today of AIDS. Five children orphaned. Receive him into your kingdom. Strengthen the minds, bodies and spirits of his children. Knit us together as one family. With determination to serve those affected by AIDS.
Someone like me died today. Giving birth to her daughter. Let her pain turn into a song. Of homecoming. Help us provide skilled health workers. For women during childbirth.
Someone like me today. His lips parched by thirst. Quench his thirst for water. His desire for justice. Save us from whatever hinders our stewardship of creation. And threatens clean water.
Someone like me needs a sewing machine today. To build a business. Sustain the spirit of enterprise. Her dream of providing for her family. Help us offer partnership with all people. As we work toward economic independence.
By Jenifer Gamber, modified by Krista Tippett.
From Lifting Women's Voices: Prayers to Change the World
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