Dear People of Christ Church,
This week we had our second “Lent Tuesdays for All” and it was delightful. It does make my kids’ bedtime a bit later, and the morning a bit harder, but the time together is a blessing. This week the kids decorated gift bags for Easter for Grandma’s Pantry clients. The theme for adults was Alexander Schmemann’s phrase “Bright Sadness”—Let has a certain atmosphere of sorrow for sin, but also joy for redemption. There is much to repent, but there is more to celebrate. We looked at the prayer of Ephraim the Syrian, a fourth century monk whose prayer is done multiple times in Lenten liturgy in the Orthodox church, as well as many times in private prayer:
O Lord and Master of my life!
Take from me the spirit of sloth, faint-heartedness, lust of power, and idle talk.
But give rather the spirit of chastity, humility, patience, and love to Thy servant.
Yea, O Lord and King!
Grant me to see my own errors and not to judge my brother;
For Thou art blessed unto ages of ages. Amen
The first time I read it, it didn’t do a lot for me. I spend a lot of spiritual energy moving away from “master” language—it just doesn’t feel nourishing to envision God as a faraway ruler. But Schmemann, the Orthodox priest whose text I’m reading this year, says that it comprises the whole of the spiritual struggle. All of it. So I gave it another chance, and as he explains the prayer, I agree that it does cover a lot.
Sin begins with sloth, more poetically rendered in Latin as acedia: that feeling that we may as well not even try to pray. [Evelyn Waugh said its malice “lies not merely in the neglect of duty (though that can be a symptom of it) but the refusal of joy. [Sloth] is allied to despair.] Faint hearts filling with darkness, we lose the desire for God’s light. Not following God, we follow ourselves—fleeting desires and flashing satisfactions. Desiring our own way, we become the center of our own worlds, selfishly seeing others as the means of our own self-satisfaction. We hunt for power. Whether it expresses its desire in the urge to control others or in indifference and contempt, my spiritual universe shrinks in on itself.
Ephraim’s reference to “idle talk” struck me as a bit beside the point at first; surely there are worse things. Schmemann, though, puts our speech in theological context. “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us…” Word and words are not unrelated. If God is revealed as Word, then, he says, our speech is the “seal” of the Divine Image in us. But as we abuse our power, the supreme gift becomes the supreme danger. Our speech reinforces our sin and we use the gift of expression to slander, to lie, to judge.
Four “negatives” give way to four “positives:”
Chastity: Not only sexual control, more like whole-mindedness. A counterpart of sloth—if sloth is dissipation and brokenness, the splintered vision that cannot perceive the whole, then its opposite is the ability to see toward God, not only our own urges and alienation. We pray for humility: truth wins. We are able to see God’s goodness in everything, understanding ourselves in right relationship to our creator. We are created, not our own masters. Patience is a fruit of coming near God—in sin, we measure everything by ourselves, wanting everything here and now. But nearer to God, “the more patient we grow and the more we reflect that infinite respect for all beings which is the proper quality of God who sees the depth of all that exists.” Infinite respect for all beings leads us to love—the ultimate purpose and fruit of all spiritual practice and preparation, which can be given by God alone.
Finally, positive and negative brought together by the last line: to see my own errors and not to judge my brother. Even knowing our own sins can be turned to pride, as we compliment ourselves for being so self-aware. Only when we do not judge are wholeness, humility, patience, and love made one in us.
So there you have it…which is your favorite temptation, your stumbling block? Where is Light looking for you? Where will you be found, and what good gifts will you receive?
Thursday, March 8, 2012
From March 1: Wild Beasts and Old Habits
Blessings on this grey, wintry day! However disorienting I have found this snowless winter to be, going outside in the flurries has made me appreciate the relative warmth of the last few months. I love the cycle of the seasons, but I cannot say I also love having numb toes.
Our winter-free winter has, in any event, made me pay attention more closely. One of the blogs I read regularly in preparing my sermons is written by a Methodist minister in Florida, Jan Richardson. I was recently struck by an observation she made about the wilderness text from the Gospel of Mark. The text says, quite straightforwardly, “Jesus was in the wilderness with the wild beasts.” (Mark 1:13). Richardson points out that there is no threat, no menace implied: they are just there. She wonders whether they might be companions, witnesses, protectors of solace and silence.
Lent, this year, is for me all about questioning my habits: those things I do and think without even realizing it. Living a fairly routinized life, it’s easy to stop paying attention to the unconscious choices I make. But what happens when I don’t fill my commute with radio noise? What happens when I don’t march my children to bedtime like a general, trying to get rid of them into their rooms as quickly as possible? What happens at dinner without that glass of wine, washing the dishes without that piece of secret chocolate? I’m not giving anything up explicitly (except the radio in the car—that one I’m trying really hard on)—so much as really observing what nourishes me. Sometimes it IS a glass of wine or a piece of chocolate—but oftentimes I find I’m fine going without, and those resources can go somewhere else.
Being with the wild beasts: not controlling or panicking, but coexisting, recognizing real threat where it is. Also vital to Christian practice is faith in God’s transforming grace: love is always more powerful than death. In the Daily Office lectionary we’re making our way through Genesis, currently spending time with Joseph (of the fabulous coat) and his brothers. They sell him into slavery in Egypt but he ends up working for Pharaoh, ultimately saving them from famine. As Joseph forgives his brothers, he says, “Though you intended to harm me, God intended it for good.” (Gen 50:20). In the same way as the Trinity’s 1+1+1=3 makes us have to forget how to count, the redemptive power of God makes us have to forget how follow sequence.
The life of faith is not linear. It was a terrible thing that Joseph’s brothers kidnapped him and sold him. It was a terrible thing that God surely would not have planned. At the same time, would Joseph have been able to save his family from the famine that gripped his homeland had he not been sold into slavery in the first place? They all would have died. This is the power of redemption that comes from the cross: not a suffering God had planned or intended, but still an opening of wonder and grace. So, too, with the wild beasts; how often do I perceive something as a threat that actually invites me closer to God? How often do I see something as an exciting option, when actually it distracts me from my path?
Our winter-free winter has, in any event, made me pay attention more closely. One of the blogs I read regularly in preparing my sermons is written by a Methodist minister in Florida, Jan Richardson. I was recently struck by an observation she made about the wilderness text from the Gospel of Mark. The text says, quite straightforwardly, “Jesus was in the wilderness with the wild beasts.” (Mark 1:13). Richardson points out that there is no threat, no menace implied: they are just there. She wonders whether they might be companions, witnesses, protectors of solace and silence.
Lent, this year, is for me all about questioning my habits: those things I do and think without even realizing it. Living a fairly routinized life, it’s easy to stop paying attention to the unconscious choices I make. But what happens when I don’t fill my commute with radio noise? What happens when I don’t march my children to bedtime like a general, trying to get rid of them into their rooms as quickly as possible? What happens at dinner without that glass of wine, washing the dishes without that piece of secret chocolate? I’m not giving anything up explicitly (except the radio in the car—that one I’m trying really hard on)—so much as really observing what nourishes me. Sometimes it IS a glass of wine or a piece of chocolate—but oftentimes I find I’m fine going without, and those resources can go somewhere else.
Being with the wild beasts: not controlling or panicking, but coexisting, recognizing real threat where it is. Also vital to Christian practice is faith in God’s transforming grace: love is always more powerful than death. In the Daily Office lectionary we’re making our way through Genesis, currently spending time with Joseph (of the fabulous coat) and his brothers. They sell him into slavery in Egypt but he ends up working for Pharaoh, ultimately saving them from famine. As Joseph forgives his brothers, he says, “Though you intended to harm me, God intended it for good.” (Gen 50:20). In the same way as the Trinity’s 1+1+1=3 makes us have to forget how to count, the redemptive power of God makes us have to forget how follow sequence.
The life of faith is not linear. It was a terrible thing that Joseph’s brothers kidnapped him and sold him. It was a terrible thing that God surely would not have planned. At the same time, would Joseph have been able to save his family from the famine that gripped his homeland had he not been sold into slavery in the first place? They all would have died. This is the power of redemption that comes from the cross: not a suffering God had planned or intended, but still an opening of wonder and grace. So, too, with the wild beasts; how often do I perceive something as a threat that actually invites me closer to God? How often do I see something as an exciting option, when actually it distracts me from my path?
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Dear People of Christ Church,
This Sunday is the last Sunday of Epiphany Season, the Feast of the Transfiguration, the story of Jesus taking his friends up to the mountain top and being greeted by Elijah and Moses (needless to say, those friends were pretty alarmed). It has become a custom here at Christ Church (whether by the convenience of the liturgical calendar or intentional theology) that we have had baptisms every Transfiguration Sunday for as long as I've been here, I think. This Sunday, we baptize Lila Nolte, little sister to Griffin (almost 5) and Henry (2) whom we baptized when they were babies.
We hear the story of Jesus' baptism on the first Sunday after Epiphany, the kickoff for this season of illumination and healing. For Jesus, though, his baptism immediately preceded his time in the wilderness; for forty days, he struggled and was tempted, always to be sustained by his beloved Abba God and kept safe. It's a gift for us to celebrate for Lila and remember our own baptism right before our own Lenten season, our version of Jesus' forty days in the wilderness.
It's a gift because our baptism is so easy to forget. That we were made for more than what we just see with our eyes, but that there is so much power and promise and healing in the life we share with Christ. Jesus went into the wilderness with the fact of God's love for him firmly planted in his heart; at his baptism, God thundered, "This is my Son, the beloved." You, too, are God's beloved; the sustenance that Jesus felt, hungering after stones, is granted you as well.
Our Lenten class, "The Lenten Journey," is based around themes from the Orthodox theologian Alexander Schmemann. He talks about Lent as a "bright sadness;" he says the purpose of Lent is to "soften our hearts" to open them to the Spirit. In Lent, we are called to be quiet: "it is as if we were reaching a place to which the noises and the fuss of life, of the street, of all that which usually fills our days and even nights, have no access-a place where they have no power" (32).
The water of baptism soaks down to that quiet place-Schmemann wrote in 1969, and how much noisier life is now! (not that I was alive in 1969, but I'm guessing...) Life is full of such wonderful, good gifts-rich food and wine and leisure and joy-but sometimes it's good to put those down, to take some time apart. But we aren't sent off without a party-Sunday, of course, but also Tuesday, when we celebrate our Shrove Tuesday pancake supper. The tradition for eating pancakes on that day is that it's a time to use up all the indulgent stuff in the cabinet-eggs and sugar and cream-before the leaner days of Lent. The word "shrove" is a relative of "to be shriven," to receive penance and absolution. RSVP to office@christchurchwaltham.org or to the office (781 891 6012).
As you begin to pray your Lent, ask yourself what will bring you to Christ; what can soften you to reach that silent place within? Is it something to take on, something to give up? How will you bask in the deep love of your Creator, in coming near to God in the wilderness?
Blessings,
Sara+
This Sunday is the last Sunday of Epiphany Season, the Feast of the Transfiguration, the story of Jesus taking his friends up to the mountain top and being greeted by Elijah and Moses (needless to say, those friends were pretty alarmed). It has become a custom here at Christ Church (whether by the convenience of the liturgical calendar or intentional theology) that we have had baptisms every Transfiguration Sunday for as long as I've been here, I think. This Sunday, we baptize Lila Nolte, little sister to Griffin (almost 5) and Henry (2) whom we baptized when they were babies.
We hear the story of Jesus' baptism on the first Sunday after Epiphany, the kickoff for this season of illumination and healing. For Jesus, though, his baptism immediately preceded his time in the wilderness; for forty days, he struggled and was tempted, always to be sustained by his beloved Abba God and kept safe. It's a gift for us to celebrate for Lila and remember our own baptism right before our own Lenten season, our version of Jesus' forty days in the wilderness.
It's a gift because our baptism is so easy to forget. That we were made for more than what we just see with our eyes, but that there is so much power and promise and healing in the life we share with Christ. Jesus went into the wilderness with the fact of God's love for him firmly planted in his heart; at his baptism, God thundered, "This is my Son, the beloved." You, too, are God's beloved; the sustenance that Jesus felt, hungering after stones, is granted you as well.
Our Lenten class, "The Lenten Journey," is based around themes from the Orthodox theologian Alexander Schmemann. He talks about Lent as a "bright sadness;" he says the purpose of Lent is to "soften our hearts" to open them to the Spirit. In Lent, we are called to be quiet: "it is as if we were reaching a place to which the noises and the fuss of life, of the street, of all that which usually fills our days and even nights, have no access-a place where they have no power" (32).
The water of baptism soaks down to that quiet place-Schmemann wrote in 1969, and how much noisier life is now! (not that I was alive in 1969, but I'm guessing...) Life is full of such wonderful, good gifts-rich food and wine and leisure and joy-but sometimes it's good to put those down, to take some time apart. But we aren't sent off without a party-Sunday, of course, but also Tuesday, when we celebrate our Shrove Tuesday pancake supper. The tradition for eating pancakes on that day is that it's a time to use up all the indulgent stuff in the cabinet-eggs and sugar and cream-before the leaner days of Lent. The word "shrove" is a relative of "to be shriven," to receive penance and absolution. RSVP to office@christchurchwaltham.org or to the office (781 891 6012).
As you begin to pray your Lent, ask yourself what will bring you to Christ; what can soften you to reach that silent place within? Is it something to take on, something to give up? How will you bask in the deep love of your Creator, in coming near to God in the wilderness?
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Dear People of Christ Church,
Next Monday, I hope you'll join me in welcoming the Rev. George Walters-Sleyon, founder and director of the Center for Church and Prison. He is a mentee of our friend Norm Faramelli, and Sue Burkart became acquainted with him through her work with the organization Children of Incarcerated Parents. He will be speaking particularly on the "Three Strikes" law currently making its way through the legislature. It's in committee now, with members of the House and Senate ironing out differences between their versions before going to both for the final vote. The law came about in response to the murder of Woburn police officer John Maguire in 2010 in a shootout in the middle of a robbery. He was shot by Dominic Cinelli, paroled after serving 22 years of three concurrent life sentences. Cinelli had had a history of violent crime but was released on parole (though had the DA been notified as they should have been, his parole likely would not have gone through). Cinelli also died that day
So how does a Christian respond? It's hard to say on any issue that there is one Christian response. I oppose it, and Walters-Sleyon will speak about his opposition as well. But it's an issue in a wider context. This is not just a simple question of one law, or putting people in prison for longer. This issue is a knot of social issues; racism, poverty, and economics all come together in a particularly American stew. Prisons are big moneymakers, particularly those operated by private firms, a practice that is more and more common. The more we build the more prisoners are incarcerated, curiously despite the fact the crime is actually decreasing (no, it's not because all the criminals are in jail). The Corrections Corporation of America, a builder of private prisons, chillingly cautioned investors in their 2005 annual report that profits would go down if drug or immigration laws were changed. Naturally, their lobbyists are busy making sure that doesn't happen.
There are six million people under "correctional control," either in prison or on parole or probation, which would make it the second largest city in the country. Particularly in black communities, a conversation is taking place that we need to use the term "abolition." More than half of all black men without a high school diploma find themselves in prison at some point. Despite relatively equal rates of drug use, black people in the US are significantly more likely to be incarcerated for drug crimes. Blacks are now incarcerated seven times as often as whites. In her book, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Era of Colorblindness, Michelle Alexander points out that there are more blacks in the US prison system than there were in slavery in 1850. Dominic Cinelli was white, but the bill that seeks to respond to his crime will disproportionately impact black people.
Sociologists and law enforcement are the experts; I don't know how best to allocate punishment to crime, though I intuit there is a lot wrong with how we do it now. As Christians, our job is to try to reconcile the state of our world with the judgment of Matthew 25:
Then they also will answer, "Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?" Then he will answer them, "Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me." And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.' (v.44-46)
To look at social issues with the eyes of Christ: that is, to look not at "social issues" at all. It is our job to look at human beings. The family that is left behind, the son or daughter whose mother is addicted, the felon who can't even get a job at McDonald's with a record. What does it do to a person to separate them from society and permanently disenfranchise him? However much prison time a convicted felon has served, s/he still loses the right to vote, permanently. What does it say about us as a society that our system deems certain persons beyond salvation? What does it say about our values that we spend $10,000 a year for a school aged child's education but allocate $47,000 for one inmate? How do we respond to those who have lost hope? Worse, when desperation is a logical response to an impossible situation?
As always, I end with more questions than answers. But I look forward to Monday evening to hear what I can do. RSVP and share the event on facebook.
Blessings,
Sara+
Next Monday, I hope you'll join me in welcoming the Rev. George Walters-Sleyon, founder and director of the Center for Church and Prison. He is a mentee of our friend Norm Faramelli, and Sue Burkart became acquainted with him through her work with the organization Children of Incarcerated Parents. He will be speaking particularly on the "Three Strikes" law currently making its way through the legislature. It's in committee now, with members of the House and Senate ironing out differences between their versions before going to both for the final vote. The law came about in response to the murder of Woburn police officer John Maguire in 2010 in a shootout in the middle of a robbery. He was shot by Dominic Cinelli, paroled after serving 22 years of three concurrent life sentences. Cinelli had had a history of violent crime but was released on parole (though had the DA been notified as they should have been, his parole likely would not have gone through). Cinelli also died that day
So how does a Christian respond? It's hard to say on any issue that there is one Christian response. I oppose it, and Walters-Sleyon will speak about his opposition as well. But it's an issue in a wider context. This is not just a simple question of one law, or putting people in prison for longer. This issue is a knot of social issues; racism, poverty, and economics all come together in a particularly American stew. Prisons are big moneymakers, particularly those operated by private firms, a practice that is more and more common. The more we build the more prisoners are incarcerated, curiously despite the fact the crime is actually decreasing (no, it's not because all the criminals are in jail). The Corrections Corporation of America, a builder of private prisons, chillingly cautioned investors in their 2005 annual report that profits would go down if drug or immigration laws were changed. Naturally, their lobbyists are busy making sure that doesn't happen.
There are six million people under "correctional control," either in prison or on parole or probation, which would make it the second largest city in the country. Particularly in black communities, a conversation is taking place that we need to use the term "abolition." More than half of all black men without a high school diploma find themselves in prison at some point. Despite relatively equal rates of drug use, black people in the US are significantly more likely to be incarcerated for drug crimes. Blacks are now incarcerated seven times as often as whites. In her book, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Era of Colorblindness, Michelle Alexander points out that there are more blacks in the US prison system than there were in slavery in 1850. Dominic Cinelli was white, but the bill that seeks to respond to his crime will disproportionately impact black people.
Sociologists and law enforcement are the experts; I don't know how best to allocate punishment to crime, though I intuit there is a lot wrong with how we do it now. As Christians, our job is to try to reconcile the state of our world with the judgment of Matthew 25:
Then they also will answer, "Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?" Then he will answer them, "Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me." And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.' (v.44-46)
To look at social issues with the eyes of Christ: that is, to look not at "social issues" at all. It is our job to look at human beings. The family that is left behind, the son or daughter whose mother is addicted, the felon who can't even get a job at McDonald's with a record. What does it do to a person to separate them from society and permanently disenfranchise him? However much prison time a convicted felon has served, s/he still loses the right to vote, permanently. What does it say about us as a society that our system deems certain persons beyond salvation? What does it say about our values that we spend $10,000 a year for a school aged child's education but allocate $47,000 for one inmate? How do we respond to those who have lost hope? Worse, when desperation is a logical response to an impossible situation?
As always, I end with more questions than answers. But I look forward to Monday evening to hear what I can do. RSVP and share the event on facebook.
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
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+
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+
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+
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