Dear People of Christ Church,
Come to Church!
Tonight at 7, tomorrow at 12pm or 7pm (kids' Stations of the Cross at 6); and Saturday at 7pm and Sunday morning as usual. I'm reprinting some of the background info on Holy Week from the brochure I put together; to read more about each service, check out the brochure linked here.
What is Holy Week?
Holy week is the week between Palm Sunday and Easter. It begins with Maundy Thursday, continues on Good Friday, and culminates in the Great Vigil of Easter on Saturday Night. These are sometimes called by the Latin Triduum (meaning "three days."). They are, technically, one service-there's no final blessing or dismissal from Thursday's opening until the end of the Great Vigil on Saturday. Often times the observance during the week might include the Stations of the Cross or a simple Eucharist on Holy Monday and Holy Tuesday, and a service called Tenebrae is held on Wednesday. At Christ Church, we have Stations (lead by a lay person) on Tuesday, are home on Wednesday (St Paul's in Brookline has a lovely Tenebrae service a few of us attended several years ago), and then have church Thursday-Sunday. In 2013 a children's Stations of the Cross is added in on Good Friday at 6pm.
Why Holy week?
Holy Week is, spiritually and theologically, the high point and center of the whole church year. Having gone through the journey of Maundy Thursday, the depths of Good Friday, the watching and waiting of the Vigil-the celebration of the Easter resurrection is that much more powerful-and honest. Our liturgies aren't museum pieces; they draw us into a deeper truth of our faith. They are in some ways a mirror of our own experience. Jesus Christ was fully human. Though he was in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself. (Philippians 2: 5) Jesus emptied himself and took on all of the uncertainty, pain, and suffering of human living. Nothing human is alien to the heart of God because of Jesus' closeness to us. This week, Jesus enters the depths of human love, and also human grief and suffering. This week is about us, not just about God. "Wash each other," Jesus tells us in Scripture, and as we do, we wash Christ himself. This week, we observe and participate in this sacrificial closeness God has to us.
Where do the services come from?
Our liturgies come from the pilgrimage diary of a fourth century Spanish nun, Egeria. We owe our own Book of Common Prayer liturgies to the discovery of her account of her travels. Egeria was a remarkable woman who wrote and traveled at a time that many women couldn't do either. We know she was Roman, so she was a convert to the Christian faith. Our celebration of Maundy Thursday goes back even further, to the account in Scripture of Jesus' last night as described in the Gospel of John, when he washes his disciples' feet as he models servanthood. It is also the time we remember the institution of the Holy Eucharist; we say the same words from the Gospel on Maundy Thursday and every time we celebrate communion: This is my body, this is my blood. Do this in remembrance of me.
Look with compassion dear God, on this your family. Be with us especially this Holy Week, as we observe the events of Christ's Passion. Lead us into your truth and guide us in your righteousness as we await the One who will rise in glory. Amen.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, March 28, 2013
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
From March 21: Archbishop of Canterbury
Dear Peopl of Christ Church:
We have an Archbishop!
No, it’s not worldwide-leader envy, we really do have a new Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, who succeeds Rowan Williams, who served from 2002 to 2012. And while he has no “authority” in the usual power-over sense vis a vis the Episcopal Church in the US, he is still the symbolic head of the Anglican Communion, of which we are a part and, thereby, our Archbishop. He was “enthroned” today, and there’s an excellent BBC article that describes the service and links to a photo gallery and other info about him. here –you can also read the 40 page bulletin from the service here.
A former oil executive, he comes from a much more evangelical background than Rowan Williams, and has five children and was only ordained priest in his mid thirties—he was bishop of Durham for less than a year before being chosen Archbishop. He is said to have particular gifts in reconciliation, and he will need them. I’ve written over the years quite a bit about our place as Episcopalians in the global Anglican Church, and today, I have to say that I care both more and less than I used to (see the ecrier blog ).
I’m still trying to clean the beautiful red Tanzanian dust out of my formerly black Sunday morning shoes, and of course the people who I met there---truly brothers and sisters in faith—are part of the reason I find myself caring more about Anglicanism. At the same time, I have to say I also care less—the institutional formality of how we are related and what it means is just not part of what Anglicanism means to me. What it means is that our Holy Week services go all the way back to the early church. What it means is that worship in our own language is important. What it means is that we have a generosity of belief that encompasses disagreement on matters theological as well as political (as well as the vast majority which are both). We can also all think it’s kind of cool that he’s being officially installed by a woman (though ironically the English church doesn’t even have female bishops) and that he sat on a 1,000 year old “throne” and kissed a 1,500 year old book as part of the service. That’s our heritage over here, too. But for once I’m not going to stress over who’s in and who’s out, or who’s on what “side” of history. So I’m happy to take Archbishop Justin on those terms (and follow him @ABCJustin and check out the twitters at #ABC105)—enjoy the show!
Speaking of the show!
Don’t miss out on Palm Sunday and Holy Week! Better than a “show,” this Sunday and next week we walk through the last week of Jesus, participating in our faith in a way that is always new and always the same. Read more about those liturgies here.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
From March 14: Pope Francis
Dear People of Christ Church,
Habemus Papum!
We have a pope.
Or is it Habent-They have a pope?
Yesterday as soon as I heard there was white smoke coming out of the Vatican, we turned on the radio in the office and I was glued to twitter and facebook to see who it would be. I've not studied Latin, but I appreciated a tweet from a friend that explained the difference between habemus and habent-because fascinated as I was, I don't, at the end of the day, tend to include myself in the "we" of pope-having.
For Anglicans, the pope was one of the reasons to break away. Clearly his motives were mixed, but when King Henry VIII wanted to locate the center of his church where the church itself was, part of the goal was to localize. The idea that someone far away was making decisions and declarations about what was supposed to be happening in England-at that time, for all intents and purposes, Rome was on the other side of the world-was a big incentive to creating a self-sustained church. We're doing the Intro to the Episcopal Church class on Sundays in April, and one of the first ways I begin to explain what Anglicanism is is to say how it's all just "closer to the ground" than the Roman Catholic Church. The church in the United States is self-governing in its way, and our own diocese again is more homegrown. Not even the Presiding Bishop, who in other provinces of the church would be called an "archbishop," can "make" us do anything. When our diocese chose the first female bishop in the world, with Bishop Barbara C Harris' historic election in 1989, nobody anywhere could tell us that we couldn't. Not to mention that all bishops are elected by both clergy and lay people, so the "conclave" idea is pretty different from the way we do things.
Still, there's really only one bishop of Rome-one pope-and just because I'm not a Roman Catholic, I'm still a catholic, small "c," as in the "one holy catholic and apostolic Church," praying to be one in Christ with everyone who seeks God and tries to follow Jesus. In that context, "catholic" just means "universal"-whatever institutional barriers we may erect, we are still one church, and we draw our identity from the earliest believers in the same way as the Roman Catholic Church does. Politically and theologically, I would dearly love it if Pope Francis got up tomorrow and said, "OK, the gays and the ladies are in," but, as one of you commented on my facebook page, "the pope is still Catholic." There's lots of sexism and lots of prejudice against GLBT persons everywhere in society-in our own wider church as well-and we are not less brothers and sisters with those with whom we disagree about those issues.
And there is a lot that is intriguing about this new pope. As a Jesuit, he's part of an order of priests that has seen its share of dissension with Rome. As an person of faith and a church leader, he's modeled his life in simplicity. He didn't live in the fancy bishop's residence in Argentina; he has his own small apartment, and apparently even cooked his own meals (!). He visited an AIDS hospice and kissed the feet of patients there. Coming out to address the crowds, he kept his usual cassock and cape on, and didn't wear the vestments that had been made for him. After he prayed with the crowd-and he prayed with the people, asking them to pray for him as well-he took the bus back to the hotel, not the papal car. And then he went to go pay his bill at the hotel himself! So far, it sounds like he's doing things his own way, and I am interested to see what more he will do. The fact that he's from Argentina (though born to Italian parents) also signifies a shift; Europe isn't the center of the world anymore
Sister Simone Campbell from the "Nuns on the bus" nationwide tour last year to promote the church's mission on social justice (in particular in response to Paul Ryan's proposed budget that would slash social-welfare programs) tweeted, "Pope Francis brings hope & care for the poor. He can come join us on the bus!" So I'm inclined to say that if he gets the pro-justice imprimatur from Sister Simone, he can have it from me, too.
This Sunday, we'll pray for Pope Francis, and for all God's people, of all faiths, throughout the world.
Blessings,
Sara+
Habemus Papum!
We have a pope.
Or is it Habent-They have a pope?
Yesterday as soon as I heard there was white smoke coming out of the Vatican, we turned on the radio in the office and I was glued to twitter and facebook to see who it would be. I've not studied Latin, but I appreciated a tweet from a friend that explained the difference between habemus and habent-because fascinated as I was, I don't, at the end of the day, tend to include myself in the "we" of pope-having.
For Anglicans, the pope was one of the reasons to break away. Clearly his motives were mixed, but when King Henry VIII wanted to locate the center of his church where the church itself was, part of the goal was to localize. The idea that someone far away was making decisions and declarations about what was supposed to be happening in England-at that time, for all intents and purposes, Rome was on the other side of the world-was a big incentive to creating a self-sustained church. We're doing the Intro to the Episcopal Church class on Sundays in April, and one of the first ways I begin to explain what Anglicanism is is to say how it's all just "closer to the ground" than the Roman Catholic Church. The church in the United States is self-governing in its way, and our own diocese again is more homegrown. Not even the Presiding Bishop, who in other provinces of the church would be called an "archbishop," can "make" us do anything. When our diocese chose the first female bishop in the world, with Bishop Barbara C Harris' historic election in 1989, nobody anywhere could tell us that we couldn't. Not to mention that all bishops are elected by both clergy and lay people, so the "conclave" idea is pretty different from the way we do things.
Still, there's really only one bishop of Rome-one pope-and just because I'm not a Roman Catholic, I'm still a catholic, small "c," as in the "one holy catholic and apostolic Church," praying to be one in Christ with everyone who seeks God and tries to follow Jesus. In that context, "catholic" just means "universal"-whatever institutional barriers we may erect, we are still one church, and we draw our identity from the earliest believers in the same way as the Roman Catholic Church does. Politically and theologically, I would dearly love it if Pope Francis got up tomorrow and said, "OK, the gays and the ladies are in," but, as one of you commented on my facebook page, "the pope is still Catholic." There's lots of sexism and lots of prejudice against GLBT persons everywhere in society-in our own wider church as well-and we are not less brothers and sisters with those with whom we disagree about those issues.
And there is a lot that is intriguing about this new pope. As a Jesuit, he's part of an order of priests that has seen its share of dissension with Rome. As an person of faith and a church leader, he's modeled his life in simplicity. He didn't live in the fancy bishop's residence in Argentina; he has his own small apartment, and apparently even cooked his own meals (!). He visited an AIDS hospice and kissed the feet of patients there. Coming out to address the crowds, he kept his usual cassock and cape on, and didn't wear the vestments that had been made for him. After he prayed with the crowd-and he prayed with the people, asking them to pray for him as well-he took the bus back to the hotel, not the papal car. And then he went to go pay his bill at the hotel himself! So far, it sounds like he's doing things his own way, and I am interested to see what more he will do. The fact that he's from Argentina (though born to Italian parents) also signifies a shift; Europe isn't the center of the world anymore
Sister Simone Campbell from the "Nuns on the bus" nationwide tour last year to promote the church's mission on social justice (in particular in response to Paul Ryan's proposed budget that would slash social-welfare programs) tweeted, "Pope Francis brings hope & care for the poor. He can come join us on the bus!" So I'm inclined to say that if he gets the pro-justice imprimatur from Sister Simone, he can have it from me, too.
This Sunday, we'll pray for Pope Francis, and for all God's people, of all faiths, throughout the world.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, March 7, 2013
From March 7: Remembering Uganda and Tanzania
Dear People of Christ Church,
Looking out at the snow, I'm getting ready for the presentation I'll share after church this Sunday about my sabbatical trip to Africa. Three months ago at this time, I was sitting in a cinderblock church in Kizara, Tanzania. I was one of about 20 at the altar-twelve other priests and two bishops, plus six altar servers-and the only woman. But what a glorious day. It took us six hours to drive up the Usambara mountains to the tiny village of Kizara, where the Massachusetts-based Friends of Tanzania had helped to fund the construction of a health center. I was there with Bishop Shaw and a constellation of other clergy and lay people from home to bless it and celebrate the new care that would be available to people in that very remote part of the world.
Our group left on December 2, all of our bags loaded down with candy, bubbles, and school supplies (many donated by YOU!) to share with the children we would meet. I felt some uneasiness in appearing suddenly as strangers with candy-on the face of it, pretty useless-but after spending some time with people I felt less angst and more... fun. After all, Jesus didn't turn water into a nutritious wheat grass soy shake-he turned it into wine. Doing the hokey pokey with our lollipops in a churchyard in Kasese, Uganda while children's parents went for HIV testing and younger siblings were vaccinated was definitely a Cana moment. Love is an international language-apparently also refined sugar.
Our trip was divided into two parts-one week in Tanzania hosted by the Anglican Diocese of Tanga and five days (not counting travel time) in Kasese, Uganda, hosted by the Bishop Masereka Christian Foundation. We landed at the airport in Mt Kilimanjaro, Tanzania, and drove to Korogwe, the home of the Diocesan offices, where our task was to visit parishes and build relationships between Tanzania and Massachusetts. The Anglican Church in Tanzania has good British Oxford Movement roots and is correspondingly high church, so Bishop Shaw and Bishop Maimbo blessed the health center that day in fine form with cope and miter on a rainy, 80 degree day. We blessed a lot of things on the trip-swing sets, a kindergarten classroom, sewing machines, hospital rooms-there was such an embodied sense of God's generosity and celebration.
Our time in Tanzania was all church. The next week, our Uganda visit was all mission. Bishop Masereka has visited our diocese several times (and has preached here and at St Peter's), so I thought I had some sense of what they do-I was wrong. It's nearly impossible to convey just with words the astonishing difference the Foundation makes in the lives of the people of Kasese.
The Foundation's work is divided between health care and education. Our diocesan collaborative campaign (to which Christ Church has so far given about $35,000 through our Together Now pledges-yay!) has supported the construction of a new and Jubilee Funds have supported the education program as well. Their health work is currently done out of their health center and mobile clinic (which reaches those who can't or won't come to their offices). With a 15% rate of HIV infection among adults in Kasese, the district is home to 15,000 to 20,000 orphans. Funding school is hard enough (the fees for primary school are about $400 a year, depending on whether in includes room and board), but for kids without a stable home situation, it's next to impossible. In the education program, sponsored students are given 360 degrees of support-from tuition and fees to books to girls' menstrual products-there is no barrier left standing between these dedicated students and their education. Students come from families where one or both parents have died from HIV, or are themselves positive or otherwise vulnerable. BMCF supports 611 children, more than 50% of whom don't live with a parent. Ann Nyangoma and her staff spare nothing in their efforts to keep kids in school, but financial barriers are another question-there are always more kids who need help.
What was most amazing-and there were a lot of amazing things on that trip-was how much confidence I came out of it in the work that's being done. I really believe that the Diocese of Tanga is going to follow through on their "Vision 2025" plan to expand accountability in their organizations and clergy support through their parishes. I really believe that fewer kids will drop out of school, that fewer mothers will pass HIV on to their babies. We saw a lot of struggle, but also a lot of hope.
This Sunday after our 10 am service, I'll share more about our trip. For our international Easter collection this year, the Vestry has decided to send our support to the Masereka Foundation's Children's Program, so I hope you'll choose to give generously. Last year's "Creole Pig" collection for Haiti gathered about $800-about enough for two kids to attend school for a year. Do you think we could go for $1200 and get three kids enrolled?
Hear more on Sunday.
blessings,
Sara+
p.s. I blogged all the steamy (literally steamy-hot and rainy season steamy) details at my blog --click on "Tanzania and Uganda." You can also read more about the ministries in Tanzania at Friends of Tanzania/Tanga
See also:
The Bishop Masereka Christian Foundation
The Anglican Diocese of Tanga
Looking out at the snow, I'm getting ready for the presentation I'll share after church this Sunday about my sabbatical trip to Africa. Three months ago at this time, I was sitting in a cinderblock church in Kizara, Tanzania. I was one of about 20 at the altar-twelve other priests and two bishops, plus six altar servers-and the only woman. But what a glorious day. It took us six hours to drive up the Usambara mountains to the tiny village of Kizara, where the Massachusetts-based Friends of Tanzania had helped to fund the construction of a health center. I was there with Bishop Shaw and a constellation of other clergy and lay people from home to bless it and celebrate the new care that would be available to people in that very remote part of the world.
Our group left on December 2, all of our bags loaded down with candy, bubbles, and school supplies (many donated by YOU!) to share with the children we would meet. I felt some uneasiness in appearing suddenly as strangers with candy-on the face of it, pretty useless-but after spending some time with people I felt less angst and more... fun. After all, Jesus didn't turn water into a nutritious wheat grass soy shake-he turned it into wine. Doing the hokey pokey with our lollipops in a churchyard in Kasese, Uganda while children's parents went for HIV testing and younger siblings were vaccinated was definitely a Cana moment. Love is an international language-apparently also refined sugar.
Our trip was divided into two parts-one week in Tanzania hosted by the Anglican Diocese of Tanga and five days (not counting travel time) in Kasese, Uganda, hosted by the Bishop Masereka Christian Foundation. We landed at the airport in Mt Kilimanjaro, Tanzania, and drove to Korogwe, the home of the Diocesan offices, where our task was to visit parishes and build relationships between Tanzania and Massachusetts. The Anglican Church in Tanzania has good British Oxford Movement roots and is correspondingly high church, so Bishop Shaw and Bishop Maimbo blessed the health center that day in fine form with cope and miter on a rainy, 80 degree day. We blessed a lot of things on the trip-swing sets, a kindergarten classroom, sewing machines, hospital rooms-there was such an embodied sense of God's generosity and celebration.
Our time in Tanzania was all church. The next week, our Uganda visit was all mission. Bishop Masereka has visited our diocese several times (and has preached here and at St Peter's), so I thought I had some sense of what they do-I was wrong. It's nearly impossible to convey just with words the astonishing difference the Foundation makes in the lives of the people of Kasese.
The Foundation's work is divided between health care and education. Our diocesan collaborative campaign (to which Christ Church has so far given about $35,000 through our Together Now pledges-yay!) has supported the construction of a new and Jubilee Funds have supported the education program as well. Their health work is currently done out of their health center and mobile clinic (which reaches those who can't or won't come to their offices). With a 15% rate of HIV infection among adults in Kasese, the district is home to 15,000 to 20,000 orphans. Funding school is hard enough (the fees for primary school are about $400 a year, depending on whether in includes room and board), but for kids without a stable home situation, it's next to impossible. In the education program, sponsored students are given 360 degrees of support-from tuition and fees to books to girls' menstrual products-there is no barrier left standing between these dedicated students and their education. Students come from families where one or both parents have died from HIV, or are themselves positive or otherwise vulnerable. BMCF supports 611 children, more than 50% of whom don't live with a parent. Ann Nyangoma and her staff spare nothing in their efforts to keep kids in school, but financial barriers are another question-there are always more kids who need help.
What was most amazing-and there were a lot of amazing things on that trip-was how much confidence I came out of it in the work that's being done. I really believe that the Diocese of Tanga is going to follow through on their "Vision 2025" plan to expand accountability in their organizations and clergy support through their parishes. I really believe that fewer kids will drop out of school, that fewer mothers will pass HIV on to their babies. We saw a lot of struggle, but also a lot of hope.
This Sunday after our 10 am service, I'll share more about our trip. For our international Easter collection this year, the Vestry has decided to send our support to the Masereka Foundation's Children's Program, so I hope you'll choose to give generously. Last year's "Creole Pig" collection for Haiti gathered about $800-about enough for two kids to attend school for a year. Do you think we could go for $1200 and get three kids enrolled?
Hear more on Sunday.
blessings,
Sara+
p.s. I blogged all the steamy (literally steamy-hot and rainy season steamy) details at my blog --click on "Tanzania and Uganda." You can also read more about the ministries in Tanzania at Friends of Tanzania/Tanga
See also:
The Bishop Masereka Christian Foundation
The Anglican Diocese of Tanga
Thursday, February 28, 2013
From Feb 28: Economic Justice
Dear People of Christ Church,
As I do every so often, this morning I was with the Sisters of Saint Anne in Arlington, saying Mass for the convent. Our Gospel was the story of Lazarus and the rich man-Lazarus who suffered at the gate of the rich man's house, poor and begging, and the rich man, who after death found himself in burning flames while Lazarus and Abraham snuggled together in heaven. As I wrote last week, I'm pretty agnostic about an individual "Big Bad" (i.e., Satan/the devil) but I do believe that there must be some sense of wholeness and restoration for us in the passage from life to death, and that must certainly include a sense of sharing in the suffering that we've inflicted.
Let me explain a little more.
I don't think that everything is unicorns and fluffy clouds after we die. Even for the purest in heart, our puny minds can't even imagine how grace-filled and beautiful it is to be united with God. I think we are fully known-that we will see "face to face" (1 Corinthians 13.12) and know as we have been fully known. As we are known, now-then we will know. And part of that knowing surely must be how we are linked to others, how the suffering of one person hurts us all. In our life together now, we hide those connections; we don't see the suffering of the animals we eat, or the panic of polar bears losing the ice they depend on. We don't visit the factories that make our stuff, don't feel the depth of the unending fear of those who live in war zones and suffer genocide. We allow them to stay far away-frankly, we prefer it that way.
How would our world change if we enacted Christ's call to love our enemies? We barely even try to imagine because we're too afraid they'd shoot first.
But in that "face to face" encounter? All of that has to fall away. The cost of our lives comes into focus. Suffering will no longer be invisible. And yes, I think it's going to hurt. Not because God wants to punish us-and likely not with literal flames (IT'S A METAPHOR!)-but because seeing the real nature of reality that we can only dimly imagine now will show us how we are linked. And if a Pakistani woman whose husband has been killed by a drone strike really is my sister, those unicorns and fluffy clouds are going to feel pretty far away.
Still, the heart of the Gospel is forgiveness; still Jesus forgave even from the cross. I also don't believe that what we do is forever. Only God can "do" forever. All we can do is pray with our hearts and our hands, asking God for the grace to be bold enough to witness suffering and strong enough to do something about it. We're called to inhabit the space between, of grieving and seeking to right the injustices of the world but also thanking God for full bellies and access to health care.
But getting back to the rich man-the specific question of economic justice is still an important one, and I don't want to get too far away from it. In our Tuesday Lenten conversation on Scripture quite a bit of energy was generated by Jesus' words about how it's harder for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven than for a camel to fit through the eye of a needle. As Jose said, God doesn't want us to be poor-but as Sasha said, God's not quite letting us off the hook, either. What do we make of our own comparative wealth, or the American economy that so lavishly rewards a very few at the expense of everyone else? Compared to a Somali orphan, I'm doing pretty well. Compared to the CEO of Google, it's a wonder I can survive in this world at all driving my little Toyota by myself instead of having a personal limo driver.
Our bishops have invited the diocese to read together a book by the theologian and activist Cornel West and the journalist Tavis Smiley called The Rich and the Rest of Us-I've created a short online survey to discern how it might fit into our spring and summer plans for adult education at Christ Church. Please take a few minutes to fill it out here. I promise it's short!
As part of that same endeavor, they've also invited the diocese into the "B Peace" endeavor, a partner to B Safe in response to the murder of Jorge Fuentes, a B Safe graduate, last year. They're inviting congregations to be part of organizing in partnership with schools and against gun violence-also let me know if you want to hear more about their plans.
A lot is wrong, but a lot is possible, too. And we know we're not working alone.
Blessings,
Sara+
PS: Follow Jesus, but also look at what I post on twitter: your rector has joined the 21st century @revsarai
As I do every so often, this morning I was with the Sisters of Saint Anne in Arlington, saying Mass for the convent. Our Gospel was the story of Lazarus and the rich man-Lazarus who suffered at the gate of the rich man's house, poor and begging, and the rich man, who after death found himself in burning flames while Lazarus and Abraham snuggled together in heaven. As I wrote last week, I'm pretty agnostic about an individual "Big Bad" (i.e., Satan/the devil) but I do believe that there must be some sense of wholeness and restoration for us in the passage from life to death, and that must certainly include a sense of sharing in the suffering that we've inflicted.
Let me explain a little more.
I don't think that everything is unicorns and fluffy clouds after we die. Even for the purest in heart, our puny minds can't even imagine how grace-filled and beautiful it is to be united with God. I think we are fully known-that we will see "face to face" (1 Corinthians 13.12) and know as we have been fully known. As we are known, now-then we will know. And part of that knowing surely must be how we are linked to others, how the suffering of one person hurts us all. In our life together now, we hide those connections; we don't see the suffering of the animals we eat, or the panic of polar bears losing the ice they depend on. We don't visit the factories that make our stuff, don't feel the depth of the unending fear of those who live in war zones and suffer genocide. We allow them to stay far away-frankly, we prefer it that way.
How would our world change if we enacted Christ's call to love our enemies? We barely even try to imagine because we're too afraid they'd shoot first.
But in that "face to face" encounter? All of that has to fall away. The cost of our lives comes into focus. Suffering will no longer be invisible. And yes, I think it's going to hurt. Not because God wants to punish us-and likely not with literal flames (IT'S A METAPHOR!)-but because seeing the real nature of reality that we can only dimly imagine now will show us how we are linked. And if a Pakistani woman whose husband has been killed by a drone strike really is my sister, those unicorns and fluffy clouds are going to feel pretty far away.
Still, the heart of the Gospel is forgiveness; still Jesus forgave even from the cross. I also don't believe that what we do is forever. Only God can "do" forever. All we can do is pray with our hearts and our hands, asking God for the grace to be bold enough to witness suffering and strong enough to do something about it. We're called to inhabit the space between, of grieving and seeking to right the injustices of the world but also thanking God for full bellies and access to health care.
But getting back to the rich man-the specific question of economic justice is still an important one, and I don't want to get too far away from it. In our Tuesday Lenten conversation on Scripture quite a bit of energy was generated by Jesus' words about how it's harder for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven than for a camel to fit through the eye of a needle. As Jose said, God doesn't want us to be poor-but as Sasha said, God's not quite letting us off the hook, either. What do we make of our own comparative wealth, or the American economy that so lavishly rewards a very few at the expense of everyone else? Compared to a Somali orphan, I'm doing pretty well. Compared to the CEO of Google, it's a wonder I can survive in this world at all driving my little Toyota by myself instead of having a personal limo driver.
Our bishops have invited the diocese to read together a book by the theologian and activist Cornel West and the journalist Tavis Smiley called The Rich and the Rest of Us-I've created a short online survey to discern how it might fit into our spring and summer plans for adult education at Christ Church. Please take a few minutes to fill it out here. I promise it's short!
As part of that same endeavor, they've also invited the diocese into the "B Peace" endeavor, a partner to B Safe in response to the murder of Jorge Fuentes, a B Safe graduate, last year. They're inviting congregations to be part of organizing in partnership with schools and against gun violence-also let me know if you want to hear more about their plans.
A lot is wrong, but a lot is possible, too. And we know we're not working alone.
Blessings,
Sara+
PS: Follow Jesus, but also look at what I post on twitter: your rector has joined the 21st century @revsarai
Thursday, February 21, 2013
From Feb 21: The Journey in Lent
Dear People of Christ Church,
I hope you're having a fruitful start to your Lent; have you stuck to your chosen paths toward Easter? I was reading an article recently that asked this question: If you said you were going to pray for 15 minutes every morning for Lent and you already missed two of them, is God annoyed that you've already failed twice, or is God delighted that you set aside time for prayer five times?
I think if you had to pick one, you'd probably admit that you first focused on the failure, not the success. There are a lot of reasons it's hard for us to see how God sees or love how God loves, and one stumbling block has to be the uniquely human burden of so frequently turning toward negativity. Whenever I find myself favoring harsh self-criticism over compassion, I struggle to remember to ask myself: does this come from God, or from somewhere else? It's good to hold ourselves accountable, but not if it blinds us to the intimacy we already share with God in our lives.
Historically, the name for the "somewhere else" has been the devil. Satan. To be honest, I'm pretty doubtful about the existence of anything at all like a red cartoon character with horns and a tail. At the same time, I also reject the old Michelangelo image of God as an old white man with a beard, however majestic looking *he* is reaching across the Sistine Chapel.
The thing is, I feel like I actually have experienced God in my life; I have been embraced by oceans of love and acceptance, I've heard the still small voice guiding my steps and I've been moved by the suffering I've seen in the world. I've been bodily fed and restored by our sacraments, made one with all of you in Christ at the altar. I don't have a visual image for what that's like, apart from the experience of being in relationship.
I've not had a personal experience of any sense of anthropomorphized evil. I have seen it in action: the hopelessness of our culture in our "debate" about gun violence while children are dying. The extreme poverty of Sub-Saharan Africa while governments insist that nothing can be done. Racism and homophobia. Passivity in the face of suffering. Rape. These are all evil. There's no dressing it up to make it reasonable, but still I have a hard time naming it as Satan. CS Lewis wrote that the devil's greatest success is convincing us that he (sic) doesn't exist. There are quite a few things that CS Lewis and I disagree about, but I think that sounds about right. I have just as much trouble with it as anyone else.
What's even harder is seeing how, in my own life, I succumb to the "not from God" stuff on a smaller level. How can I ask God's help to withstand the temptation to scold myself for not being good enough? How can I ask God's help to withstand the temptation not to give up on my spiritual practices when they get hard? How do I ask God for help in resisting the evils of complacency in our church community, in being too comfortable with how pleasant it all is?
Our First Sunday of Lent Gospel is very clear about how Jesus is tempted; he withstands the devil's invitation because he trusts in God. How do we also trust in God to withstand evils both great and small? How do we support each other in the journey?
Blessings,
Sara+
PS Did you miss our first Lent series conversation? It's not too late! For the next four Tuesdays, members of the congregation will lead us through a series of conversations on prayer. Next Tuesday, Daniel Keleher on Jesus, while Erin Jensen teaches the Godly Play series on Knowing Jesus in a New Way for the younger set.
I hope you're having a fruitful start to your Lent; have you stuck to your chosen paths toward Easter? I was reading an article recently that asked this question: If you said you were going to pray for 15 minutes every morning for Lent and you already missed two of them, is God annoyed that you've already failed twice, or is God delighted that you set aside time for prayer five times?
I think if you had to pick one, you'd probably admit that you first focused on the failure, not the success. There are a lot of reasons it's hard for us to see how God sees or love how God loves, and one stumbling block has to be the uniquely human burden of so frequently turning toward negativity. Whenever I find myself favoring harsh self-criticism over compassion, I struggle to remember to ask myself: does this come from God, or from somewhere else? It's good to hold ourselves accountable, but not if it blinds us to the intimacy we already share with God in our lives.
Historically, the name for the "somewhere else" has been the devil. Satan. To be honest, I'm pretty doubtful about the existence of anything at all like a red cartoon character with horns and a tail. At the same time, I also reject the old Michelangelo image of God as an old white man with a beard, however majestic looking *he* is reaching across the Sistine Chapel.
The thing is, I feel like I actually have experienced God in my life; I have been embraced by oceans of love and acceptance, I've heard the still small voice guiding my steps and I've been moved by the suffering I've seen in the world. I've been bodily fed and restored by our sacraments, made one with all of you in Christ at the altar. I don't have a visual image for what that's like, apart from the experience of being in relationship.
I've not had a personal experience of any sense of anthropomorphized evil. I have seen it in action: the hopelessness of our culture in our "debate" about gun violence while children are dying. The extreme poverty of Sub-Saharan Africa while governments insist that nothing can be done. Racism and homophobia. Passivity in the face of suffering. Rape. These are all evil. There's no dressing it up to make it reasonable, but still I have a hard time naming it as Satan. CS Lewis wrote that the devil's greatest success is convincing us that he (sic) doesn't exist. There are quite a few things that CS Lewis and I disagree about, but I think that sounds about right. I have just as much trouble with it as anyone else.
What's even harder is seeing how, in my own life, I succumb to the "not from God" stuff on a smaller level. How can I ask God's help to withstand the temptation to scold myself for not being good enough? How can I ask God's help to withstand the temptation not to give up on my spiritual practices when they get hard? How do I ask God for help in resisting the evils of complacency in our church community, in being too comfortable with how pleasant it all is?
Our First Sunday of Lent Gospel is very clear about how Jesus is tempted; he withstands the devil's invitation because he trusts in God. How do we also trust in God to withstand evils both great and small? How do we support each other in the journey?
Blessings,
Sara+
PS Did you miss our first Lent series conversation? It's not too late! For the next four Tuesdays, members of the congregation will lead us through a series of conversations on prayer. Next Tuesday, Daniel Keleher on Jesus, while Erin Jensen teaches the Godly Play series on Knowing Jesus in a New Way for the younger set.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
From Feb 14: Holy Lenten Season
Dear People of Christ Church,
A holy Lent to you, and a happy Valentine's day! My wedding anniversary is tomorrow, so in my household we have a universal "pass" on celebrating today, but I hope you will do something special. I have heard a few moans about the coincidence between the beginning of Lent and Valentine's Day-all those usual treats of chocolate or champagne are often on the chopping block when it comes to Lent. For the record, I don't think that our general discomfort is much of an offering to God, but I do think the invitation of simplicity that Lent offers us is something to follow after.
Our bishop, Tom Shaw, has started a video blog series: "Monk in the Midst," and he released one this week for Valentine's Day. He says that Lent is a little like a Valentine to God. If it's possible to take Valentine's day in an un-cynical, un-commercialized way, and observe it as a centering-in on love, then I think it works...being a monk, Tom does not have a lot of experience with romantic love, but he does know God (I wrote one of these pieces several years ago about Valentine's Day and the Church here)
Tom says that Lent can be a time to tell God who we are, what we desire. It's a time we can admit our unfaithfulness, and ask about all the things we don't understand. In my sermon yesterday, I quoted Dorothy Day's comment about wanting to create a world in which it was easier to be good. One of the invitations of Lent, going on that theme, is an experiment to see how we can structure a life in which it is easier to be near God. What are the places we can clear out in order to make room for God? Where can you add in some silence, or take away some "stuff," in order to see God's face?
Lent is not necessarily an occasion for general self-improvement; if you need to drink less, you should go ahead and just do that-but I find that the limited scope of it makes it easier to try something out that I might want to do for longer. My unexpectedly transformative activity last year (which I'm doing again this year) was having no radio in the car. It takes me between 20 and 35 minutes to drive from home to work, so adding in an average of an hour of silence each day was big. I'm a total NPR junkie; even bad call-in shows on topics I'm not actually interested in-so to break the habit of always having that distraction shifted a lot for me. I found even in the non-Lenten parts of the year that I was able to turn off that episode of Fresh Air with Paula Dean-how to contract diabetes and then control it isn't an improvement on silence. There's nothing wrong with listening to public radio, but if it's crowding out my awareness of where I actually am-and the present is the only place God can find you-it's not worth it.
What practices will bring you closer to God this Lent? What can you add, or take away?
Blessings,
Sara+
Bishop Tom's video is at diomass.org
For 40 days of ideas, check out Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber's page here
Local friends
Our friends at Chaplains on the Way are offering labyrinth walks at First Presbyterian Church at 34 Alder Street in the evenings on the second Tuesday of the month (7:30-9) and on the second Wednesday from 3 to 4pm.
COTW also offers a Centering Prayer group right here at Christ Church every Wednesday from about 9:15-9:45.
The Wider Church
Want to learn more about the saints? Rev. Norm wrote about them in this space last fall; take a different approach and see who will win the "Golden Halo." The "saintly smackdown" is at www.lentmadness.org.
And of course, join US here at Christ Church for Lent education for all:
Dinner at 6pm; children's and adult education at 6:40, Eucharist in the choir room at 7:30.
More on Ashes to Go
See the Waltham News Tribune
My personal blog at saraiwrites
A holy Lent to you, and a happy Valentine's day! My wedding anniversary is tomorrow, so in my household we have a universal "pass" on celebrating today, but I hope you will do something special. I have heard a few moans about the coincidence between the beginning of Lent and Valentine's Day-all those usual treats of chocolate or champagne are often on the chopping block when it comes to Lent. For the record, I don't think that our general discomfort is much of an offering to God, but I do think the invitation of simplicity that Lent offers us is something to follow after.
Our bishop, Tom Shaw, has started a video blog series: "Monk in the Midst," and he released one this week for Valentine's Day. He says that Lent is a little like a Valentine to God. If it's possible to take Valentine's day in an un-cynical, un-commercialized way, and observe it as a centering-in on love, then I think it works...being a monk, Tom does not have a lot of experience with romantic love, but he does know God (I wrote one of these pieces several years ago about Valentine's Day and the Church here)
Tom says that Lent can be a time to tell God who we are, what we desire. It's a time we can admit our unfaithfulness, and ask about all the things we don't understand. In my sermon yesterday, I quoted Dorothy Day's comment about wanting to create a world in which it was easier to be good. One of the invitations of Lent, going on that theme, is an experiment to see how we can structure a life in which it is easier to be near God. What are the places we can clear out in order to make room for God? Where can you add in some silence, or take away some "stuff," in order to see God's face?
Lent is not necessarily an occasion for general self-improvement; if you need to drink less, you should go ahead and just do that-but I find that the limited scope of it makes it easier to try something out that I might want to do for longer. My unexpectedly transformative activity last year (which I'm doing again this year) was having no radio in the car. It takes me between 20 and 35 minutes to drive from home to work, so adding in an average of an hour of silence each day was big. I'm a total NPR junkie; even bad call-in shows on topics I'm not actually interested in-so to break the habit of always having that distraction shifted a lot for me. I found even in the non-Lenten parts of the year that I was able to turn off that episode of Fresh Air with Paula Dean-how to contract diabetes and then control it isn't an improvement on silence. There's nothing wrong with listening to public radio, but if it's crowding out my awareness of where I actually am-and the present is the only place God can find you-it's not worth it.
What practices will bring you closer to God this Lent? What can you add, or take away?
Blessings,
Sara+
Bishop Tom's video is at diomass.org
For 40 days of ideas, check out Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber's page here
Local friends
Our friends at Chaplains on the Way are offering labyrinth walks at First Presbyterian Church at 34 Alder Street in the evenings on the second Tuesday of the month (7:30-9) and on the second Wednesday from 3 to 4pm.
COTW also offers a Centering Prayer group right here at Christ Church every Wednesday from about 9:15-9:45.
The Wider Church
Want to learn more about the saints? Rev. Norm wrote about them in this space last fall; take a different approach and see who will win the "Golden Halo." The "saintly smackdown" is at www.lentmadness.org.
And of course, join US here at Christ Church for Lent education for all:
Dinner at 6pm; children's and adult education at 6:40, Eucharist in the choir room at 7:30.
More on Ashes to Go
See the Waltham News Tribune
My personal blog at saraiwrites
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