Dear People of Christ Church,
Whenever I’m back from vacation I always start out this message by saying that it’s nice to be back, but that has a different resonance now that I feel more solidly back, knowing that my family won’t be moving to Central New York! I’m excited for Dio CNY and for Rev. DeDe, who will be consecrated as their bishop in December. I’m also really, really looking so forward to our new year. There are great things happening at Christ Church:
+ Our new combined outreach space will launch both Diaper Depot and Grandma’s Pantry into a cozier, brighter, and bigger space. These ministries are crucial to what God is doing at Christ Church. Victoria Sundgren has led Diaper Depot so ably and steadily for the last several years and will hand over the reins to Erin (and Chloe!) Jensen. Sally Lobo, Christ Churcher since birth, continues to lead Grandma’s Pantry with unparalleled dedication to this church and the city of Waltham. If you see them, say thank you—better yet, consider volunteering. Grandma’s Pantry is on Fridays from 9-11am, and diapers are distributed the third Saturday of the month from 10-12. To help prepare for distribution by packaging diapers, you can help out on your schedule.
+ Our children’s education is thriving, with exciting new curricula for our grades 4-5 and 6-8 classes. Grades 4-5 will cover the big stories, like the flood and Exodus, with more complex reasoning than GP storytelling is conducive to, and grades 6-8 focus on big questions like “Why does the Bible contradict itself” and “Can it be proven that God exists?” Special congratulations to last year’s big class of third graders who move out of Godly Play and will begin learning in new ways. It’s also exciting times for our rising ninth graders, Chloe Jensen, Alicia Duce, and Jennifer Coates. High school formation will pick up where last year’s middle school work left off with small group conversation and participant-focused instruction.
+In other formation news, please let me know if you would be interested in an “Intro to the Episcopal Church” class that would run after church on Sundays from September 11-October 9. This is for anyone who would like preparation for reception or confirmation as an Episcopalian or who just wants to learn more about our liturgy, history, and theology. It would be similar to the class that just concluded in June. Confirmation comes right up on October 15, held at Redeemer Lexington. Hopefully Christ Church will have a decent-sized group this year!
+ Our now year-long Stations of the Cross project is coming to a close. The remaining broken Stations are out for restoration thanks to several generous donors, and we look forward to getting them back for hanging this fall.
+On September 4, Labor Day Weekend, we’ll bless all the books and bags and laptops and smartphones we use to make our work go as part of the children’s sermon.
In my wider work in the church, I continue to serve as dean for the Alewife Deanery (our local cluster of 13 Episcopal Churches) and on the Commission on Ministry. I’m excited to see how our partnership with Chaplains on the Way will unfold, and glad for our continued conversation with St Peter’s as they discern their place in our wider diocese under our new bishop’s staff.
Finally, I’m excited because I got a dog! When we were camping a sweet furry friend wandered into our site in the Jefferson National Forest two weeks ago. After ten days in his “stray hold” waiting to see if anyone came forward to claim him, North, (named for North Creek, where he turned up) will occasionally make his way into the office here on Main St. He looks like a cross between a black lab and a terrier and, of course, I think he’s the sweetest thing ever.
Blessings,
Sara+
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label education. Show all posts
Thursday, August 25, 2016
Thursday, May 19, 2016
Outward and Visible Signs
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week at our Episcopal Church class we talked about the shape of the liturgy. In the Episcopal Church, that’s also to have a conversation about what we believe theologically—we “do” theology as we “do” church. It’s also to have a conversation about our history, since the way our practices have changed is also part of the story of how our context has changed. The Episcopal Church is part of the Anglican tradition (Anglican just means "of England"—we are one of the many branches of a tree that reaches back to the Reformation in England in the 16th century), and the Anglican tradition is very, very wide in its variety of practices.
This past Sunday, though, with our combination of incense and jazz mass, was definitely an unusual pairing. There are places where you hear saxophones in church, and there are places where you smell incense every week, but they are not frequently in the same place. AND we got to sprinkle holy water at the baptism! Putting them together is not so much a “more is better” attitude—it’s not always—so much as it’s a way of thinking about liturgy in terms of embodied experience. Church is the only place most of us ever sing. It engages our souls and bodies in a new way. Watching the incense rise and being enveloped in the sweet smell of frankincense reminds us that our prayer moves out of our sight and into the heavens, that all of our senses are part of our encounter of God in the world. Why in the world would we want church to be less engaging than our regular lives?
Worship, at its best, should be a time to connect with mystery and transcendence. We don’t just go to church to hear a nice sermon (though hopefully the preaching is engaging enough to come back). We don’t just go to church to be fed at communion and buoyed enough to slog through the rest of the week. It’s not just about coffee hour and having good conversation. Hopefully church is about instilling in us a certain way of seeing that can permeate all of our lives. We practice our faith—not just in the sense of completing particular tasks, but also in the sense of inculcating a particular attitude toward the world.
The Episcopal Catechism, which I absolutely adore in its paradoxical duality of precision and openness, tells us that a sacrament is “an outward and visible sign of an inward invisible grace.” We need the sacraments and our embodied worship to remind us to look behind what we see, to remember that what you see isn’t always what you get. God’s vision is exponentially broader than our own. (I did hear recently that the real test of Christian faith in implausible things was not believing that Jesus could be present in bread at communion, but that the wafers we use are actually bread…that’s a point for a different day.).
How does church help you practice your wider vision? How could our practices at Christ Church do that better?
Blessings,
Sara+
This week at our Episcopal Church class we talked about the shape of the liturgy. In the Episcopal Church, that’s also to have a conversation about what we believe theologically—we “do” theology as we “do” church. It’s also to have a conversation about our history, since the way our practices have changed is also part of the story of how our context has changed. The Episcopal Church is part of the Anglican tradition (Anglican just means "of England"—we are one of the many branches of a tree that reaches back to the Reformation in England in the 16th century), and the Anglican tradition is very, very wide in its variety of practices.
This past Sunday, though, with our combination of incense and jazz mass, was definitely an unusual pairing. There are places where you hear saxophones in church, and there are places where you smell incense every week, but they are not frequently in the same place. AND we got to sprinkle holy water at the baptism! Putting them together is not so much a “more is better” attitude—it’s not always—so much as it’s a way of thinking about liturgy in terms of embodied experience. Church is the only place most of us ever sing. It engages our souls and bodies in a new way. Watching the incense rise and being enveloped in the sweet smell of frankincense reminds us that our prayer moves out of our sight and into the heavens, that all of our senses are part of our encounter of God in the world. Why in the world would we want church to be less engaging than our regular lives?
Worship, at its best, should be a time to connect with mystery and transcendence. We don’t just go to church to hear a nice sermon (though hopefully the preaching is engaging enough to come back). We don’t just go to church to be fed at communion and buoyed enough to slog through the rest of the week. It’s not just about coffee hour and having good conversation. Hopefully church is about instilling in us a certain way of seeing that can permeate all of our lives. We practice our faith—not just in the sense of completing particular tasks, but also in the sense of inculcating a particular attitude toward the world.
The Episcopal Catechism, which I absolutely adore in its paradoxical duality of precision and openness, tells us that a sacrament is “an outward and visible sign of an inward invisible grace.” We need the sacraments and our embodied worship to remind us to look behind what we see, to remember that what you see isn’t always what you get. God’s vision is exponentially broader than our own. (I did hear recently that the real test of Christian faith in implausible things was not believing that Jesus could be present in bread at communion, but that the wafers we use are actually bread…that’s a point for a different day.).
How does church help you practice your wider vision? How could our practices at Christ Church do that better?
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, October 8, 2015
I Give my Heart To
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week I’m delighted to share that our Tuesday night education for all ages went off swimmingly, with about 15 of us gathered for dinner, conversation (both a kids’ section and one for adults), and Eucharist. We all looked at the same lessons from the book of Kings—the adults with text and the kids with felt and wood. We heard about the prophet Elijah, as he was fed by ravens, supported by a widow, and imparted his “Spirit” to Elisha, his prophetic successor. Godly Play defines a prophet as “someone who comes so close to God and God comes so close to them, they know what God wants.” I am not a prophet and I’m not sure who in our world now I’d offer that appellation, but I know that the prophetic call is part of our faith, even if we wouldn’t adopt that identity. To be close to God and listen for what God wants—both for the world and for ourselves.
In Scripture, there’s a unity between the prophet and God’s desire—God’s desires become their desires. And, maybe, their desires become God’s desire. God provides, not always as they might want, but as God wills. Someone in Tuesday’s conversation laid it straight on the table—“Am I really supposed to believe this?” That someone lived in the wilderness and didn’t starve because the birds fed him? That the widow who gave him her last morsel of food had a miraculous bag of flour and bottle of oil that never ran out? Here, as I often do, I find it’s helpful to hold the meaning of “belief” a little lightly. I believe in the wonder of a God who makes something out of nothing, in ways both small and great. I believe that, as we remembered the prayer of St Francis on Sunday, “in giving we receive,” and that each of our small generosities add up to something enormous and holy, something that’s only possible in community. I believe in a world in which three women at our service for domestic violence month could get up in front of the church and speak the truth about their experience, that they were done wearing masks or pretending things were fine. That going forward is not the same as “moving on.” That those who are hurt by violence and evil can respond with love, kindness, and generosity without giving those who hurt them the last word. These are all prophetic tasks, whether or not those who embody these graces would claim that title for themselves.
So yes, yes I do think we can believe it, but maybe more in the traditional Latin sense of the word credo, rather than the usual sense of the English. Credo means “I give my heart to.” Sometimes it’s intentional, choosing to invest ourselves in something bigger than ourselves. Sometimes we slip into it, like falling in love unexpectedly. And sometimes it’s something like faith, where the answer is sometimes yes, and sometimes no, but step by step we walk the path together.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week I’m delighted to share that our Tuesday night education for all ages went off swimmingly, with about 15 of us gathered for dinner, conversation (both a kids’ section and one for adults), and Eucharist. We all looked at the same lessons from the book of Kings—the adults with text and the kids with felt and wood. We heard about the prophet Elijah, as he was fed by ravens, supported by a widow, and imparted his “Spirit” to Elisha, his prophetic successor. Godly Play defines a prophet as “someone who comes so close to God and God comes so close to them, they know what God wants.” I am not a prophet and I’m not sure who in our world now I’d offer that appellation, but I know that the prophetic call is part of our faith, even if we wouldn’t adopt that identity. To be close to God and listen for what God wants—both for the world and for ourselves.
In Scripture, there’s a unity between the prophet and God’s desire—God’s desires become their desires. And, maybe, their desires become God’s desire. God provides, not always as they might want, but as God wills. Someone in Tuesday’s conversation laid it straight on the table—“Am I really supposed to believe this?” That someone lived in the wilderness and didn’t starve because the birds fed him? That the widow who gave him her last morsel of food had a miraculous bag of flour and bottle of oil that never ran out? Here, as I often do, I find it’s helpful to hold the meaning of “belief” a little lightly. I believe in the wonder of a God who makes something out of nothing, in ways both small and great. I believe that, as we remembered the prayer of St Francis on Sunday, “in giving we receive,” and that each of our small generosities add up to something enormous and holy, something that’s only possible in community. I believe in a world in which three women at our service for domestic violence month could get up in front of the church and speak the truth about their experience, that they were done wearing masks or pretending things were fine. That going forward is not the same as “moving on.” That those who are hurt by violence and evil can respond with love, kindness, and generosity without giving those who hurt them the last word. These are all prophetic tasks, whether or not those who embody these graces would claim that title for themselves.
So yes, yes I do think we can believe it, but maybe more in the traditional Latin sense of the word credo, rather than the usual sense of the English. Credo means “I give my heart to.” Sometimes it’s intentional, choosing to invest ourselves in something bigger than ourselves. Sometimes we slip into it, like falling in love unexpectedly. And sometimes it’s something like faith, where the answer is sometimes yes, and sometimes no, but step by step we walk the path together.
Blessings,
Sara+
Friday, September 19, 2014
Fall 2014 Education
Dear People of Christ Church,
Today I’m super excited about plans for fall Tuesdays for all ages—as we did last in Lent, Erin Jensen is graciously leading a program for kids concurrent with the adult program. We’re adopting the same format as worked well last Lent, with groups meeting at 6pm for everyone to eat dinner together, and then kids and adult separating from 6:40-7:30. Then we rejoin for Eucharist at 7:30 for those who want to stay, and welcome group 2, a second adult module that begins at 8pm after the service. The 8pm group will again be facilitated by Anna and Victoria, and my partner for the earlier group will be Heather Leonardo.
But what is the program? God, dirt, and love: Five Conversations about Things that Matter. Each week we’ll have a different topic and begin with readings from Scripture or other writings to begin with, and then explore what their meaning is in our own lives. The schedule, so far, is:
9/30: Spirituality + Church
10/7: Creation + Place (all ages together for the early group)
10/14: Family + Relationships
10/21: Peace + Justice
10/28: Money + Stewardship
The kids will be doing a similar program, but with some activities around the topics in addition to the Bible study. Erin Jensen will lead the program for school aged kids, and we’re hoping to offer some more nursery-like care for the younger ones.
One of the things vestry has been working on is discerning around different opportunities for us to be in deeper community with each other—to go beyond coffee hour (great as coffee hour can be, of course). I got the idea building on last fall’s group, which read the book Free: Spending your Time and Money on What Matters Most—and was thinking about, exactly, we do build our lives around what’s most important.
How can church be a place of nourishment and grounding, rather than just another thing to compete with already-full lives of kids’ sports and work meetings? What are the places you love, the dirt that calls you and makes you want to care for creation because you love it, not just because you ought to? What makes our families and partnerships tick? What does Scripture say about the relation between God’s love and human love? How can we honestly engage in financial decision making, to share our resources in important ways but also enjoy the fruits of our labor?
I know what my questions are—what are yours? Each group will have leaders, of course, but the content and direction of the conversation will be different for each group. See you then!
Blessings,
Sara+
Today I’m super excited about plans for fall Tuesdays for all ages—as we did last in Lent, Erin Jensen is graciously leading a program for kids concurrent with the adult program. We’re adopting the same format as worked well last Lent, with groups meeting at 6pm for everyone to eat dinner together, and then kids and adult separating from 6:40-7:30. Then we rejoin for Eucharist at 7:30 for those who want to stay, and welcome group 2, a second adult module that begins at 8pm after the service. The 8pm group will again be facilitated by Anna and Victoria, and my partner for the earlier group will be Heather Leonardo.
But what is the program? God, dirt, and love: Five Conversations about Things that Matter. Each week we’ll have a different topic and begin with readings from Scripture or other writings to begin with, and then explore what their meaning is in our own lives. The schedule, so far, is:
9/30: Spirituality + Church
10/7: Creation + Place (all ages together for the early group)
10/14: Family + Relationships
10/21: Peace + Justice
10/28: Money + Stewardship
The kids will be doing a similar program, but with some activities around the topics in addition to the Bible study. Erin Jensen will lead the program for school aged kids, and we’re hoping to offer some more nursery-like care for the younger ones.
One of the things vestry has been working on is discerning around different opportunities for us to be in deeper community with each other—to go beyond coffee hour (great as coffee hour can be, of course). I got the idea building on last fall’s group, which read the book Free: Spending your Time and Money on What Matters Most—and was thinking about, exactly, we do build our lives around what’s most important.
How can church be a place of nourishment and grounding, rather than just another thing to compete with already-full lives of kids’ sports and work meetings? What are the places you love, the dirt that calls you and makes you want to care for creation because you love it, not just because you ought to? What makes our families and partnerships tick? What does Scripture say about the relation between God’s love and human love? How can we honestly engage in financial decision making, to share our resources in important ways but also enjoy the fruits of our labor?
I know what my questions are—what are yours? Each group will have leaders, of course, but the content and direction of the conversation will be different for each group. See you then!
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, February 13, 2014
God's mission, our church
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, as I was talking with you in my sermon on Sunday, I'm still thinking about the interplay of church as organization and church as people. The buzzword in church circles is "missional"-the focus is on how we are living the mission of God, not on how we organize ourselves or how we provide a service (we are not like manicurists or exterminators, for example, though we do emphasize service to the world). It's hard not to fall into a consumerist way of relating. Our contemporary culture just uses that language; it's convenient. Who is our market? How can we promote our message to resonate with them? How are we meeting the needs of our funders? What balance of challenge and inspiration, happy music and solemn music, will please our patrons?
We do need to be accountable, and the opinions of those who gather do matter, but we are the church because God has a mission in the world, not because we want to strengthen our organization or please ourselves. The sacraments are food for our souls and we come because we are hungry, but we also believe that feeding that particular hunger makes us attuned to other kinds of hunger in the world. We are healed at the altar and reminded of our deep worthiness as children of God so we can go out in the world and join in God's work of healing others. That's mission-that's church as body, not church as service provider. We want a strong organization to serve the mission, but the organization is not the mission.
Understanding ourselves as a gathered body instead of a corporation frees us in a really particular way. This is what Simon and Andrew learned when they started fishing for people-it's God's mission, not theirs, and they're free to succeed or fail, as long as they're listening. The question for us is how to listen. Listen to our city, to where we are called to be in ministry. Listen to each other, to how we can help each other hear the call of God in our lives. When you coach your kid's sport's team, that's part of God's call for you. When you stand on the Common for the peace vigil, that's part of God's call for you. When you watch your grandkids after school, it's God's call.We don't just live out our call as Christians within these four walls.
I wrote two weeks ago about the small group model we are considering for Lent education, beginning on Tuesday, March 11. It's beginning to be a bit more fleshed out, and we've settled on reading the book The Restoration Project by Christopher Martin, whom I met at a conference last year. Martin uses the restoration of Leonardo DaVinci's painting, the Last Supper, as a metaphor for how we can be restored to the image of God, and how our parishes can be home bases for transformation of the self as well as the world. The theological model he uses is based on the steps of humility set out by St Benedict in his Rule of Life. Christopher is a priest and a father of two, so at the same time as the method is steeped in Christian tradition and monasticism, it's also very practical and tied to the life of ordinary people living now. The hope in beginning these smaller groups is to be able to support one another in all the different ways we live out our callings as Christians, as well as to know each other on a deeper level.
As she has generously done for the last two years, Erin Jensen will coordinate children's education with a mix of Godly Play and other projects. Everyone is welcome to come for dinner at 6pm, and then the first education portion for children and adults will be from 6:40 to 7:30, with our simple meditative Eucharist at 7:30. What's different this year is that there will be a second group that will convene with the same content after the service, so if you can't make it as early as 6 you can still participate, joining at the Eucharist at 7:30 or just the group beginning at 8. If there is interest, there would also be a daytime group, so please let us know if that works better for you. Contact Anna Jones with questions. If the groups are successful, they may continue beyond Lent, but we'll start for five weeks to begin with. Sign up for a copy of the book here.
thanks and peace,
Sara+
This week, as I was talking with you in my sermon on Sunday, I'm still thinking about the interplay of church as organization and church as people. The buzzword in church circles is "missional"-the focus is on how we are living the mission of God, not on how we organize ourselves or how we provide a service (we are not like manicurists or exterminators, for example, though we do emphasize service to the world). It's hard not to fall into a consumerist way of relating. Our contemporary culture just uses that language; it's convenient. Who is our market? How can we promote our message to resonate with them? How are we meeting the needs of our funders? What balance of challenge and inspiration, happy music and solemn music, will please our patrons?
We do need to be accountable, and the opinions of those who gather do matter, but we are the church because God has a mission in the world, not because we want to strengthen our organization or please ourselves. The sacraments are food for our souls and we come because we are hungry, but we also believe that feeding that particular hunger makes us attuned to other kinds of hunger in the world. We are healed at the altar and reminded of our deep worthiness as children of God so we can go out in the world and join in God's work of healing others. That's mission-that's church as body, not church as service provider. We want a strong organization to serve the mission, but the organization is not the mission.
Understanding ourselves as a gathered body instead of a corporation frees us in a really particular way. This is what Simon and Andrew learned when they started fishing for people-it's God's mission, not theirs, and they're free to succeed or fail, as long as they're listening. The question for us is how to listen. Listen to our city, to where we are called to be in ministry. Listen to each other, to how we can help each other hear the call of God in our lives. When you coach your kid's sport's team, that's part of God's call for you. When you stand on the Common for the peace vigil, that's part of God's call for you. When you watch your grandkids after school, it's God's call.We don't just live out our call as Christians within these four walls.
I wrote two weeks ago about the small group model we are considering for Lent education, beginning on Tuesday, March 11. It's beginning to be a bit more fleshed out, and we've settled on reading the book The Restoration Project by Christopher Martin, whom I met at a conference last year. Martin uses the restoration of Leonardo DaVinci's painting, the Last Supper, as a metaphor for how we can be restored to the image of God, and how our parishes can be home bases for transformation of the self as well as the world. The theological model he uses is based on the steps of humility set out by St Benedict in his Rule of Life. Christopher is a priest and a father of two, so at the same time as the method is steeped in Christian tradition and monasticism, it's also very practical and tied to the life of ordinary people living now. The hope in beginning these smaller groups is to be able to support one another in all the different ways we live out our callings as Christians, as well as to know each other on a deeper level.
As she has generously done for the last two years, Erin Jensen will coordinate children's education with a mix of Godly Play and other projects. Everyone is welcome to come for dinner at 6pm, and then the first education portion for children and adults will be from 6:40 to 7:30, with our simple meditative Eucharist at 7:30. What's different this year is that there will be a second group that will convene with the same content after the service, so if you can't make it as early as 6 you can still participate, joining at the Eucharist at 7:30 or just the group beginning at 8. If there is interest, there would also be a daytime group, so please let us know if that works better for you. Contact Anna Jones with questions. If the groups are successful, they may continue beyond Lent, but we'll start for five weeks to begin with. Sign up for a copy of the book here.
thanks and peace,
Sara+
Friday, September 27, 2013
Thanksgiving and Abundance
Dear People of Christ Church,
I think I'm still feeling unsettled by Sunday's Gospel--the story of the corrupt manager who, upon finding out he's going to get fired, cuts the debtors' bills so they'll be nice to him when he's out on the street himself. On Sunday, the corruption of the whole system seemed the most important thing; rigged from top to bottom to benefit those who had over those who had not. A lot in our own economic system works that way, too; I likened the situation the debtors found themselves in to one of those "cash 'til payday" lending places that charge exorbitant rates of interest, when suddenly a $150 car repair loan ends up costing twice that when the person just can't quite get on top of it.
There is something about the way we humans seem to "do" society where everything gets messed up; exploitation and greed seem part of our social DNA. Add racism, sexism, homophobia, and all those other structural oppressions to the mix, and it's quite a toxic stew we find ourselves operating in. Jesus always confronted those powers-as we say in the baptismal covenant, "The powers of evil which corrupt and destroy the creatures of this world"--and we're called to do the same.
So Jesus cast his lot in with those on the bottom of the pile. But what do we do when we find ourselves somewhere closer to the middle? We met for our first Tuesday night book group on Mark and Lisa Scandrette's Free: Spending Your Time and Money on What Matters Most, and our conversation thus far is so illuminating. It's one thing to sit back and critique a corrupt system, and in some ways a fairly easy thing to work in the world to change that system. I mentioned in my sermon the Raise Up Massachusetts ballot initiative campaign to increase the minimum wage from $8.00 to $10.50 and secure sick pay for all workers by 2015. That's one thing we can do. But what about our day to day lives? In between soccer and swimming and work commitments and bosses? What are we called to sacrifice? And what kind of sacrifice are we talking about here?
One of the things that I'm loving about the book so far is how honest the authors are. Including sidebars by their daughter, they admit that it's been hard to live as simply as they have (on one non profit income with three kids in the city of San Francisco). The center of their simplicity, though, isn't some kind of harsh moralism that stands outside the world and shakes its finger. The center of their simplicity is faith in God and God's abundance. Holding the things they have lightly makes it possible to receive what God gives (for a taste of Mark's writing, see Helping Kids Develop a Sense of Abundance and Generosity). In the book, Hailey Scandrette talks about how she gets better clothes from thrift stores, and Lisa talks about how she has a weakness for craft supplies. Mark has a thing for designer shoes; there's nothing inherently wrong with these desires--but they have to be held in perspective. Our desire for "more" always has to be grounded in our gratitude for what we have already. In that light, the things we lack are suddenly a lot less important.
The "powers and principalities" of this world are rigged against human flourishing. Whether the Roman empire, or a medieval lord, or a CEO who makes 800 times their employees (Walmart's CEO's $17.6 million total compensation to the average worker's $22,100)(cited from cnn.com).
"The system" has never equally served everyone. But there have always been cracks, places where the light gets through. Jesus teaches us to work on multiple levels; the social as well as the personal. With every diaper we give out, with every phone call to Congress on behalf of kids on food stamps, a little more light squeaks out into the darkness. The power of God's love won't be contained, and there is nothing that can separate us from it.
Blessings,
Sara+
I think I'm still feeling unsettled by Sunday's Gospel--the story of the corrupt manager who, upon finding out he's going to get fired, cuts the debtors' bills so they'll be nice to him when he's out on the street himself. On Sunday, the corruption of the whole system seemed the most important thing; rigged from top to bottom to benefit those who had over those who had not. A lot in our own economic system works that way, too; I likened the situation the debtors found themselves in to one of those "cash 'til payday" lending places that charge exorbitant rates of interest, when suddenly a $150 car repair loan ends up costing twice that when the person just can't quite get on top of it.
There is something about the way we humans seem to "do" society where everything gets messed up; exploitation and greed seem part of our social DNA. Add racism, sexism, homophobia, and all those other structural oppressions to the mix, and it's quite a toxic stew we find ourselves operating in. Jesus always confronted those powers-as we say in the baptismal covenant, "The powers of evil which corrupt and destroy the creatures of this world"--and we're called to do the same.
So Jesus cast his lot in with those on the bottom of the pile. But what do we do when we find ourselves somewhere closer to the middle? We met for our first Tuesday night book group on Mark and Lisa Scandrette's Free: Spending Your Time and Money on What Matters Most, and our conversation thus far is so illuminating. It's one thing to sit back and critique a corrupt system, and in some ways a fairly easy thing to work in the world to change that system. I mentioned in my sermon the Raise Up Massachusetts ballot initiative campaign to increase the minimum wage from $8.00 to $10.50 and secure sick pay for all workers by 2015. That's one thing we can do. But what about our day to day lives? In between soccer and swimming and work commitments and bosses? What are we called to sacrifice? And what kind of sacrifice are we talking about here?
One of the things that I'm loving about the book so far is how honest the authors are. Including sidebars by their daughter, they admit that it's been hard to live as simply as they have (on one non profit income with three kids in the city of San Francisco). The center of their simplicity, though, isn't some kind of harsh moralism that stands outside the world and shakes its finger. The center of their simplicity is faith in God and God's abundance. Holding the things they have lightly makes it possible to receive what God gives (for a taste of Mark's writing, see Helping Kids Develop a Sense of Abundance and Generosity). In the book, Hailey Scandrette talks about how she gets better clothes from thrift stores, and Lisa talks about how she has a weakness for craft supplies. Mark has a thing for designer shoes; there's nothing inherently wrong with these desires--but they have to be held in perspective. Our desire for "more" always has to be grounded in our gratitude for what we have already. In that light, the things we lack are suddenly a lot less important.
The "powers and principalities" of this world are rigged against human flourishing. Whether the Roman empire, or a medieval lord, or a CEO who makes 800 times their employees (Walmart's CEO's $17.6 million total compensation to the average worker's $22,100)(cited from cnn.com).
"The system" has never equally served everyone. But there have always been cracks, places where the light gets through. Jesus teaches us to work on multiple levels; the social as well as the personal. With every diaper we give out, with every phone call to Congress on behalf of kids on food stamps, a little more light squeaks out into the darkness. The power of God's love won't be contained, and there is nothing that can separate us from it.
Blessings,
Sara+
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Our priority: Knowing Christ
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I'm thinking about priorities.
The vestry met this Monday and talked, finally, about whether or not we were going to go through with the training portion of the Hartford Study. I've written about it in this space before, and many of you were gracious enough to participate in focus groups last May with sociologist David Roozen from Hartford Seminary. There are eleven other congregations in the diocese who are also part of it, and, to be honest, it was kind of nice to feel chosen in being recognized as a growing congregation that was worthy of extra attention. The core part of our participation was to be four day-long Saturday trainings, and I spoke with several folks about being part of a team to participate as well as the wider vestry. It was tough to convince anyone.
So we aren't doing it. I'm excited about this decision for a numberof reasons. Obviously, I'm happy to have four more Saturdays with my family. Of course. The other thing is deeper. The assumption underlying the research model is that there are professional experts who can generalize from our demographics and one Sunday visit how to "improve ourselves," that they then have the expertise to show us how. It also felt like there was a nostalgia for a time that church was somehow easier; if we could just get back to a time when there were more volunteers, more bodies, we'd be fine. Now, there is plenty we can do to improve ourselves. And we do want to grow. As Christians, we are invited
to place repentance at the core of our personal and community practices. How are we being open to newcomers? How are we (gently, respectfully) sharing the good news of what God is doinghere? How are we learning, how are we journeying with Christ? How are we respecting one another, how are we being open to the future and the world? How are we each, as a community and individually, transformed by the fire of God's love? Based on what we heard from the Hartford people, it wasn't clear that that's actually what would happen.
Priorities come back to purpose. One of the central tools of the book we're looking at for fall education is a process of discernment for individuals to consider what, exactly, is most important to us in our lives. This helps us to be clearer about how we use our time and money, and offers us an opportunity to be more joyful in making those choices. The authors write:
Paul states that his ultimate goal was to "know Christ" and the power of resurrection (Philippians 3:10). We're intrigued that the core of the Bible's message about our ultimate purpose isn't about doing or achieving. It's about relationship. Anyone, no matter what their age, or location in life, whether they are rich or poor, can pursue and experience what matters most-learning to live life with God. One way to summarize this is to say that our purpose is: to live with God and participate in the restorative activity of God in our world (Scandrette 52).
So vestry is going to take another direction. Experts are not our priority. The living words and work of God are our priority. The world we encounter here and now is our priority. Our fall plan is for vestry to add a quarterly leadership-focused meeting where we dedicate significant time to bigger picture ideas and goals, to create some time for real discernment about what we're doing. We'll still meet every month for our regular meetings. A week from this Sunday our "sermon talk back time" will open a space
for wider conversation about the readings for the day and what it says to us, to get us talking about our parish life and our own responses to Scripture. Later in November we'll look at ourparish vision to see how we're doing and where we need more focus.
Please RSVP here for Tuesday nights-let me know if you can cook, or lead a children's activity, or just come and share in conversation.
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Dear People of Christ Church,
Tuesday night, we had our first Lenten Tuesday meeting, which was just delightful. The book we are reading, Resurrection, by Rowan Williams (written back in 1982, when he was an ordinary priest and theologian, not archbishop of Canterbury), is a little dense in parts, but we had a great conversation wading through and puzzling over what it means for us, now. It's easy to wonder what use it is to think about theology; it doesn't put food on the table or house the homeless, and sometimes it gives you a headache.
Williams' basic point in the book is that all Christian doctrine, or belief, is ultimately a reflection on Easter-the resurrection. The resurrection is about Jesus, of course, and God's response to the crucifixion, but it's also about violence-about ending the power of violence over us. It's also about our guilt; our violence is what crucified Christ. Each of us born into that same world that produced the crucifixion. Each one of us lash out in violence because we, first, have been hurt-born into a web of suffering analogous to, but less personal than what we usually call "original sin-" a pendulum of suffering that swings back and forth, from pain to pain. Christ, the victim of our violence, is also the One who releases us by forgiveness. Christ is always there in those who suffer-the guilty as well as the innocent. And, so, our hope is in those we victimize-in Christ as well as in the woman working in a factory for sub-standard wages so we can buy cheap electronics. Our hope is in Christ, and Christ in in her.
So why go to all this trouble of thinking about all of this? Isn't it enough to participate in the sacraments, to be kind, to believe? Of course that is what faith is about. But reflecting on faith has a particular grace to give us. This reflection changes the way we behave, but it takes a long time. Another, maybe counter-intuitive reason we reflect, is that it reminds us just how much there is to know-and just how much we don't know. Just as surely as kindness and joy are part of our faith, so, too, is humility. Theology helps us to realize we don't have it all figured out, and that helps us in conversation with others. I sometimes feel like I say this like a broken record, but one of the reasons I so strongly believe in giving communion to children is that they show us how just to accept being fed; they don't "understand" in a traditional way what any of this stuff is about, but we adults flatter ourselves when we think that we do. A good, dense theology read can make four year olds out of all of us-and that's a good thing.
So many things we don't understand-devastaion and earthquake, nuclear meltdown, tsunami that reaches all the way to Hawaii and California-we are all connected. This Sunday, we'll have an opportunity for offering to Episcopal Relief and Development. The handy thing about being part of an international church is that there are always people already on the ground in a disaster. From The Most Rev. Nathaniel M. Uematsu,
Primate of Japan and Bishop of Hokkaido: "What we can do right now...is pray. Prayer has power. I hope and request that you pray for the people who are affected, for those who have died and for their families. Pray for the people involved with the rescue efforts, and in particular pray for Tohoku and Kita Kanto dioceses and their priests and parishioners during this time of Lent."
See you Sunday!
Blessings,
Sara+
PS: Happy St Patrick's Day! For Mission St Clare's daily prayer service, click here.
Tuesday night, we had our first Lenten Tuesday meeting, which was just delightful. The book we are reading, Resurrection, by Rowan Williams (written back in 1982, when he was an ordinary priest and theologian, not archbishop of Canterbury), is a little dense in parts, but we had a great conversation wading through and puzzling over what it means for us, now. It's easy to wonder what use it is to think about theology; it doesn't put food on the table or house the homeless, and sometimes it gives you a headache.
Williams' basic point in the book is that all Christian doctrine, or belief, is ultimately a reflection on Easter-the resurrection. The resurrection is about Jesus, of course, and God's response to the crucifixion, but it's also about violence-about ending the power of violence over us. It's also about our guilt; our violence is what crucified Christ. Each of us born into that same world that produced the crucifixion. Each one of us lash out in violence because we, first, have been hurt-born into a web of suffering analogous to, but less personal than what we usually call "original sin-" a pendulum of suffering that swings back and forth, from pain to pain. Christ, the victim of our violence, is also the One who releases us by forgiveness. Christ is always there in those who suffer-the guilty as well as the innocent. And, so, our hope is in those we victimize-in Christ as well as in the woman working in a factory for sub-standard wages so we can buy cheap electronics. Our hope is in Christ, and Christ in in her.
So why go to all this trouble of thinking about all of this? Isn't it enough to participate in the sacraments, to be kind, to believe? Of course that is what faith is about. But reflecting on faith has a particular grace to give us. This reflection changes the way we behave, but it takes a long time. Another, maybe counter-intuitive reason we reflect, is that it reminds us just how much there is to know-and just how much we don't know. Just as surely as kindness and joy are part of our faith, so, too, is humility. Theology helps us to realize we don't have it all figured out, and that helps us in conversation with others. I sometimes feel like I say this like a broken record, but one of the reasons I so strongly believe in giving communion to children is that they show us how just to accept being fed; they don't "understand" in a traditional way what any of this stuff is about, but we adults flatter ourselves when we think that we do. A good, dense theology read can make four year olds out of all of us-and that's a good thing.
So many things we don't understand-devastaion and earthquake, nuclear meltdown, tsunami that reaches all the way to Hawaii and California-we are all connected. This Sunday, we'll have an opportunity for offering to Episcopal Relief and Development. The handy thing about being part of an international church is that there are always people already on the ground in a disaster. From The Most Rev. Nathaniel M. Uematsu,
Primate of Japan and Bishop of Hokkaido: "What we can do right now...is pray. Prayer has power. I hope and request that you pray for the people who are affected, for those who have died and for their families. Pray for the people involved with the rescue efforts, and in particular pray for Tohoku and Kita Kanto dioceses and their priests and parishioners during this time of Lent."
See you Sunday!
Blessings,
Sara+
PS: Happy St Patrick's Day! For Mission St Clare's daily prayer service, click here.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Community of Learning
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week Paul Hartge, our Micah Intern, will be our preacher at both services. It's been wonderful these past few weeks to hear the different voices of our stewardship speakers, and we'll also hear from Bill Fowler this week about what stewardship means to him. Please turn in your pledge cards, and really consider in prayer how your financial giving to your church community can reflect how valuable our community is.
A church community is a community of pastoral care, fellowship, and worship, but it's also a community of learning and teaching. Even those who don't attend our book groups or seasonal series are still learners as they approach their faith; in listening to Scripture as part of our worship, in hearing sermons, in reading the Quarterly and (hopefully) reading pieces in this space as well. We never stop learning in our daily lives; our faith commitments can also be areas of intellectual growth.
We're a learning community, but we're also a teaching community. Of course we teach our children, but we teach each other, too. Having Paul Hartge, our Micah intern with us this year is about learning from him and what he has to share, but it's also about his learning from us. Part of this year for him is discerning whether God might be calling him to ordained ministry. Each person in this community is part of that discernment work as he learns about ministry and his gifts and desires. And so, this week, he turns his focus to preaching.
During my year as a Micah intern, I had the chance to preach both at my internship site (the Church of St John the Evangelist in Boston), and at the Episcopal Chaplaincy at Boston University. As part of my work with St John's, I worked with homeless people in Boston, so when two men whom I'd worked with in that community found out I was preaching, they came out on a cold December evening to hear me. I was, of course, nervous, but afterwards Matthew and Al held up signs like Olympic judges-one "10" and one "9.5." (Matthew thought it was a little much for me to receive two perfect tens, but he assured me that I'd done well). I actually still have those signs-a reminder of that time of intense prayer and work, certainly, but also support from the people I was ministering with. So all blessings to Paul this Sunday! I know each of you will offer him the hospitality of your listening hearts.
Speaking of learning, you've also seen printed here that we hope to offer a series on faith and politics in November. All the way back to St Augustine (and certainly earlier), the question of the relation of the individual believer to his or her country has been a subject of lively debate in the Christian tradition. In the founding of this country, the separation of church and state was viewed to protect the church from the state, rather than the other way around, as we tend to read it now. What do St Paul's words about being transformed, rather than conformed to the world, have to say to us? To our civic participation? This series will be more a time to talk about these wider issues than, necessarily, a "pro/con" on what the church says about particular issues (though we will get to some of them as well). Please let us know of your interest in participating. We're hoping to get a Bible Study off the ground, too, possibly jointly with St Peter's.
Finally, you'll see in our "Staff news" section that we have big news! Stephen and his wife Tanya expect the birth of their daughter in early November, and my family and I are moving to Medford, where my husband's church is, as well as my son's preschool, which my daughter will soon attend. (It's Mama's turn to have the longer commute, and our kids are ready for a house with a proper yard). Our new house is West Medford, not far from the Arlington line, so it's not too far. I will likely be out of the office Wednesday and Thursday of next week, but Emilie, our administrator, always knows how to find me and I'll be on email.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week Paul Hartge, our Micah Intern, will be our preacher at both services. It's been wonderful these past few weeks to hear the different voices of our stewardship speakers, and we'll also hear from Bill Fowler this week about what stewardship means to him. Please turn in your pledge cards, and really consider in prayer how your financial giving to your church community can reflect how valuable our community is.
A church community is a community of pastoral care, fellowship, and worship, but it's also a community of learning and teaching. Even those who don't attend our book groups or seasonal series are still learners as they approach their faith; in listening to Scripture as part of our worship, in hearing sermons, in reading the Quarterly and (hopefully) reading pieces in this space as well. We never stop learning in our daily lives; our faith commitments can also be areas of intellectual growth.
We're a learning community, but we're also a teaching community. Of course we teach our children, but we teach each other, too. Having Paul Hartge, our Micah intern with us this year is about learning from him and what he has to share, but it's also about his learning from us. Part of this year for him is discerning whether God might be calling him to ordained ministry. Each person in this community is part of that discernment work as he learns about ministry and his gifts and desires. And so, this week, he turns his focus to preaching.
During my year as a Micah intern, I had the chance to preach both at my internship site (the Church of St John the Evangelist in Boston), and at the Episcopal Chaplaincy at Boston University. As part of my work with St John's, I worked with homeless people in Boston, so when two men whom I'd worked with in that community found out I was preaching, they came out on a cold December evening to hear me. I was, of course, nervous, but afterwards Matthew and Al held up signs like Olympic judges-one "10" and one "9.5." (Matthew thought it was a little much for me to receive two perfect tens, but he assured me that I'd done well). I actually still have those signs-a reminder of that time of intense prayer and work, certainly, but also support from the people I was ministering with. So all blessings to Paul this Sunday! I know each of you will offer him the hospitality of your listening hearts.
Speaking of learning, you've also seen printed here that we hope to offer a series on faith and politics in November. All the way back to St Augustine (and certainly earlier), the question of the relation of the individual believer to his or her country has been a subject of lively debate in the Christian tradition. In the founding of this country, the separation of church and state was viewed to protect the church from the state, rather than the other way around, as we tend to read it now. What do St Paul's words about being transformed, rather than conformed to the world, have to say to us? To our civic participation? This series will be more a time to talk about these wider issues than, necessarily, a "pro/con" on what the church says about particular issues (though we will get to some of them as well). Please let us know of your interest in participating. We're hoping to get a Bible Study off the ground, too, possibly jointly with St Peter's.
Finally, you'll see in our "Staff news" section that we have big news! Stephen and his wife Tanya expect the birth of their daughter in early November, and my family and I are moving to Medford, where my husband's church is, as well as my son's preschool, which my daughter will soon attend. (It's Mama's turn to have the longer commute, and our kids are ready for a house with a proper yard). Our new house is West Medford, not far from the Arlington line, so it's not too far. I will likely be out of the office Wednesday and Thursday of next week, but Emilie, our administrator, always knows how to find me and I'll be on email.
Blessings,
Sara+
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