Dear People of Christ Church,
First, blessings to those who were confirmed and received last Saturday! Three cheers for Mary, Susan, Jackie, Sam and David. Confirmation is the big “I do” in being an Episcopalian and symbolizes the connection of the individual with the wider church (for whom the bishop stands in) as staking our faith in the Christian faith as expressed in the worldwide Episcopal/Anglican family. It is a lovely commitment to make.
I’m grateful to God for those five, and also for the beginning of our conversations about stewardship. As you’ll read in our materials, this year the vestry is in charge of it—not one individual or household, but the whole gathered body of our parish leaders. This Sunday the Jensens will offer our stewardship reflection about belonging—we are at home at church.
Home, at its best, feels safe: that’s the gauzy Thanksgiving holiday image. The truth is, we sometimes have to work at home being home; sometimes nerves fray and tempers flare. Sometimes that deep, spiritual sense of home crumbles: we hurt each other and what is broken can’t be repaired.
I’ve been thinking about that more complicated aspect of home in preparation for Tuesday’s service of hope and healing from domestic violence. In its third year, we do this in cooperation with REACH and other interfaith partners in Waltham. It is a terrible thing that the church has, historically, been complicit in domestic violence. I’ve heard too many stories about someone’s pastor saying “But I know your spouse, they would never do that.” Or “Jesus always forgave, so you should forgive, too.” Jesus did forgive, and we also are called to that. But God never calls us to jeopardize our own safety by tolerating violence. Forgiveness doesn’t happen at the expense of personal safety. The service is a quiet one: we’ll hear survivors speak and have a chance to light candles in prayer. Alison Shea will be singing, along with Rev. Matt from Agape Christian Community, a new UCC church.
There are a lot of occasions to pray together coming up—we’ll also be offering an election eve Eucharist on November 7 at 6:30pm in cooperation with Santuario and First Lutheran. Christ Church will host, Pastor Tom Maehl of First Lutheran will preach, and Padre Angel of Santuario will celebrate communion (Angel is one of my partners in crime with Two Priests and a Rabbi). We’re also considering holding the church open all day for prayer—let me know if that would be meaningful to you (and if you’re interested in helping out—we’d need to take shifts).
Speaking of elections—this Sunday I’ll invite some conversation on the four Massachusetts ballot initiatives after church. Where does your faith have you leaning? Have you made up your mind about them all? Christians of good faith and goodwill can always learn from each other (and disagree, too). I look forward to our conversation.
Blessings,
Sara+
Showing posts with label stewardship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stewardship. Show all posts
Thursday, October 20, 2016
Thursday, November 19, 2015
A Container for Grace
Dear People of Christ Church,
Thank you, thank you, thank you to all who are making our annual stewardship and roof campaign possible. From stewardship co-chairs Heather and Chris Leonardo who have invited us into our dreaming and reflecting on our past, present and future, to Michael Mailman reminding us of how the light comes through the windows and Jonathan Duce presenting us with the shingles that had blown off the roof, to Doug telling us the story of our 2011 campaign and how his family had just joined, and how far we’ve come since then. I spoke in my sermon about how our building is a container for grace—how this is a place where transformation happens. Whether people coming for AA, or Chaplains on the Way contemplative prayer, or REACH’s trainings on elder violence or yoga for survivors, or each one of you, your imagination caught by some indescribable something that reminds you of how God is present and moving in your life—750 Main Street is a place where things happen.
This is a place where things happen for us and for our city. Where the hungry are fed at Grandma’s Pantry, the wet baby gets dry at Diaper Depot, and our Sunday School classes invite our children into times of wonder and joy at the stories of God’s living Word.
Our 2011 campaign is on track—bathrooms and carpets and parking lot are all being funded and rolling along, but to avoid jeopardizing all of that good work we need to attend to the roof. When he started working here last summer, Daniel, our music director, didn’t know that it sometimes rains over the organ! So there is much to do, and so many people passionate for the work of God who are doing it. If you weren’t in church, please check out their videos on youtube. I’m also sharing a recording of my sermon here.
Finally, I can’t let this week go without offering some words about the current moment in our country regarding Syrian refugees. The fact that a Syrian passport was found near one of the terrorist’s bodies after the attacks in Paris has led fully half of US governors, including our own Charlie Baker, to say that Syrians are not welcome in their states. Not only are the vetting processes for refugees coming to the United States among the most stringent in the world, to single out a single nation as somehow more suspect than any other is simple intolerance. You can read their whole letter here, but let me close with these words from Christian leaders across the state, including our own bishops Alan and Gayle, as well as Mass Council of Churches Executive Director Laura Everett:
Refugees do not bring terror, they are fleeing from it.
As Christians we try to live our lives in accordance with Jesus’ Great Commandment—to love our neighbors as ourselves. We want safe homes, the freedom to worship, stable governments and opportunities to thrive. Our Syrian neighbors desire the same. Our faith also teaches us to welcome the stranger. Syrians seeking refuge, as well as the Somalians, Bhutanese, Iraqis, Central Americans and others, are neighbors worthy of our welcome and in need of our care. Our nation is founded on this welcome. We must make sure that we do not allow fear to overwhelm us, crowd out our compassion, or fundamentally change our character. We refuse to live as a Commonwealth scared of those unlike us.
Amen, Amen, Amen.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thank you, thank you, thank you to all who are making our annual stewardship and roof campaign possible. From stewardship co-chairs Heather and Chris Leonardo who have invited us into our dreaming and reflecting on our past, present and future, to Michael Mailman reminding us of how the light comes through the windows and Jonathan Duce presenting us with the shingles that had blown off the roof, to Doug telling us the story of our 2011 campaign and how his family had just joined, and how far we’ve come since then. I spoke in my sermon about how our building is a container for grace—how this is a place where transformation happens. Whether people coming for AA, or Chaplains on the Way contemplative prayer, or REACH’s trainings on elder violence or yoga for survivors, or each one of you, your imagination caught by some indescribable something that reminds you of how God is present and moving in your life—750 Main Street is a place where things happen.
This is a place where things happen for us and for our city. Where the hungry are fed at Grandma’s Pantry, the wet baby gets dry at Diaper Depot, and our Sunday School classes invite our children into times of wonder and joy at the stories of God’s living Word.
Our 2011 campaign is on track—bathrooms and carpets and parking lot are all being funded and rolling along, but to avoid jeopardizing all of that good work we need to attend to the roof. When he started working here last summer, Daniel, our music director, didn’t know that it sometimes rains over the organ! So there is much to do, and so many people passionate for the work of God who are doing it. If you weren’t in church, please check out their videos on youtube. I’m also sharing a recording of my sermon here.
Finally, I can’t let this week go without offering some words about the current moment in our country regarding Syrian refugees. The fact that a Syrian passport was found near one of the terrorist’s bodies after the attacks in Paris has led fully half of US governors, including our own Charlie Baker, to say that Syrians are not welcome in their states. Not only are the vetting processes for refugees coming to the United States among the most stringent in the world, to single out a single nation as somehow more suspect than any other is simple intolerance. You can read their whole letter here, but let me close with these words from Christian leaders across the state, including our own bishops Alan and Gayle, as well as Mass Council of Churches Executive Director Laura Everett:
Refugees do not bring terror, they are fleeing from it.
As Christians we try to live our lives in accordance with Jesus’ Great Commandment—to love our neighbors as ourselves. We want safe homes, the freedom to worship, stable governments and opportunities to thrive. Our Syrian neighbors desire the same. Our faith also teaches us to welcome the stranger. Syrians seeking refuge, as well as the Somalians, Bhutanese, Iraqis, Central Americans and others, are neighbors worthy of our welcome and in need of our care. Our nation is founded on this welcome. We must make sure that we do not allow fear to overwhelm us, crowd out our compassion, or fundamentally change our character. We refuse to live as a Commonwealth scared of those unlike us.
Amen, Amen, Amen.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Big Dreams
Dear People of Christ Church,
Last Sunday, parishioner Maria Aleman invited us to think about our “big dream” for Christ Church. She talked about how delighted she and her wife had been to find a community where they could ground their marriage in their faith. She talked about how Christ Church reaches out into the community in welcome and love. She said her big dream was for us to be a place for learners—where a school could ground people in love of God and love of knowledge. Or a place for newcomers to the US who need to learn English, to offer support and instruction for those in need of new skills. She talked about her big dreams. What are your big dreams?
A colleague of mine recently described me to someone as the priest from “the diaper church,” because we are known for our outreach to families in need. When I first started working here the parish used to hold 4 rummage sales a year, taking over the whole lower hall for months at a time. Our “white elephant” room was well known around town. I once received a phone call from someone asking, “Is this the church where you come and get people’s stuff when they die?” Indeed we were. We’re also the senior food pantry church, the church that has a Ugandan Church, and “the big stone church.” Those are all ways that we’ve been known, and are known. How do you know us?
Maria’s talk got me thinking about how my big dreams have changed over the years. When we started planning our work on the entryway narthex and our tower in 2011, we learned that the whole structure was unstable, from the floor of the narthex to the cross at the top—at that point, the big dream was that no one would risk bodily injury coming to church! Those dreams were dreams I never even imagined we’d need to tackle—and while it sounds modest to dream about a secure building, in the year 2015 it’s actually not. Waltham has said goodbye to Immanuel Methodist and to the Evangelical Covenant Church, both beautiful, historic churches that were once part of the lifeblood of our town. The Episcopal Church in Wayland closed last summer, and we’re receiving the Stations of the Cross from St John the Evangelist, which closed this fall.
So, yes, my dreams do include the stability of our building, because I love what other dreams it makes possible. My big dreams are of a place where everyone knows that God loves them, that Christ can be found in every single person. My big dreams are of a place that gets to be the church that really, truly welcomes everyone, where you walk in and think, “Wow, something is happening here that is getting me curious about what God might be doing in my life.” My big dream is of a place where you can lose yourself in transcendence and awe and then walk out the doors and remember that Jesus is hanging out on the park bench as well, not only met in bread and wine. My big dream is that we can remember that, to paraphrase the prayer book, we come for “strength, as well as solace, for renewal, as well as forgiveness.” My big dream for Christ Church is that we become a place where we take risks together, knowing that Christ’s heart beating in us makes us strong. My big dream is that wandering toddlers bless us all with their sense of freedom while elders bless us with their wisdom and generosity.
What’s your dream?
Blessings,
Sara+
P.S. Here’s the link—apologies for the cut off! (watch here).
Last Sunday, parishioner Maria Aleman invited us to think about our “big dream” for Christ Church. She talked about how delighted she and her wife had been to find a community where they could ground their marriage in their faith. She talked about how Christ Church reaches out into the community in welcome and love. She said her big dream was for us to be a place for learners—where a school could ground people in love of God and love of knowledge. Or a place for newcomers to the US who need to learn English, to offer support and instruction for those in need of new skills. She talked about her big dreams. What are your big dreams?
A colleague of mine recently described me to someone as the priest from “the diaper church,” because we are known for our outreach to families in need. When I first started working here the parish used to hold 4 rummage sales a year, taking over the whole lower hall for months at a time. Our “white elephant” room was well known around town. I once received a phone call from someone asking, “Is this the church where you come and get people’s stuff when they die?” Indeed we were. We’re also the senior food pantry church, the church that has a Ugandan Church, and “the big stone church.” Those are all ways that we’ve been known, and are known. How do you know us?
Maria’s talk got me thinking about how my big dreams have changed over the years. When we started planning our work on the entryway narthex and our tower in 2011, we learned that the whole structure was unstable, from the floor of the narthex to the cross at the top—at that point, the big dream was that no one would risk bodily injury coming to church! Those dreams were dreams I never even imagined we’d need to tackle—and while it sounds modest to dream about a secure building, in the year 2015 it’s actually not. Waltham has said goodbye to Immanuel Methodist and to the Evangelical Covenant Church, both beautiful, historic churches that were once part of the lifeblood of our town. The Episcopal Church in Wayland closed last summer, and we’re receiving the Stations of the Cross from St John the Evangelist, which closed this fall.
So, yes, my dreams do include the stability of our building, because I love what other dreams it makes possible. My big dreams are of a place where everyone knows that God loves them, that Christ can be found in every single person. My big dreams are of a place that gets to be the church that really, truly welcomes everyone, where you walk in and think, “Wow, something is happening here that is getting me curious about what God might be doing in my life.” My big dream is of a place where you can lose yourself in transcendence and awe and then walk out the doors and remember that Jesus is hanging out on the park bench as well, not only met in bread and wine. My big dream is that we can remember that, to paraphrase the prayer book, we come for “strength, as well as solace, for renewal, as well as forgiveness.” My big dream for Christ Church is that we become a place where we take risks together, knowing that Christ’s heart beating in us makes us strong. My big dream is that wandering toddlers bless us all with their sense of freedom while elders bless us with their wisdom and generosity.
What’s your dream?
Blessings,
Sara+
P.S. Here’s the link—apologies for the cut off! (watch here).
Friday, November 21, 2014
To Be the Body of Christ
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, it was a pleasure to distribute the thank you notes written on Sunday in response to Sarah Staley’s stewardship talk, which you can see here. Many of the notes were general in nature—thanks to all who make the church “go”—from altar guild to readers to building maintenance to children’s education—so even if you didn't receive a personal one in the mail, please know that it matters that you are here.
It matters—and not just because of what you do, but because being the church is a less and less common endeavor. The results of a nationwide study of Episcopal Congregations were published this month, and the news for our denomination is not great. The median Episcopal parish had 77 people in church in 2003, which then dropped to 66 in 2009, and dropped to 61 by 2013. People just don't go to church as much anymore.
Over the last ten years, the average Sunday attendance of Episcopal Churches has declined twenty-four percent. We can point to all kinds of things outside ourselves to explain why this is the case. Sports are taking over every family’s life, not just those who want to go to church. All households are impacted by the change in work expectations, where we’re all attached to our digital tethers 24 hours a day. And that’s those of us fortunate enough to be employed and to have time “off” in the first place. There’s no end to work or homework, or anxiety. To claim, then, that one ought to make it a priority to sit in a 115 year old building for an hour every Sunday—every Sunday?!?—when the rest of our lives are so chaotic sounds pretty crazy. Isn't it more compassionate just to stay home and take a nap? Can’t you pray from the couch? Is God worth praying to if God can’t find you there?
In some ways, this is the “time” version of the piece I wrote last week about how important it is to give our money to the church. Spending time and money are both ways to signal our commitment. I said last week I give money to church because church helps make me who I am. I’m fed, supported, loved by God. That’s true for time, too, but when it comes to actually showing up for church, the reverse is also true; me going to church makes the church who it is.
The church needs everyone not just to fill seats, but to be faithful to the vision God has for us, a substantial part of which is being together, bodily. One thing I was struck by in the thank-you’s was that several people thanked each other for being an inspiration to them—you are teaching each other to be faithful. When each of you show up, it makes it easier for the others to do that. For you to hear each other’s voices, to smile at each other’s kids, to laugh when the sound system malfunctions. To celebrate at baptisms and marriages, and to mourn for the dead. There are plenty of things that your church community needs you to do, but the most important thing is just for you to be. Church is on a human scale. We can enrich our community with all the blogs and facebook posts in the world, but we still need to be in the same room together.
Christ Church has been growing steadily over the last ten years—there was a big jump between 2006 and 2008 of 15%, and then from 2008 to 2013 another 11% of growth. That’s pretty fantastic…only 25% of other congregations have had similar growth. But for it to keep going, you need to keep going. You are smart, dedicated, loving and faithful. You come from all different backgrounds and live in all different kinds of households. You are the Body of Christ. Thank you.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, it was a pleasure to distribute the thank you notes written on Sunday in response to Sarah Staley’s stewardship talk, which you can see here. Many of the notes were general in nature—thanks to all who make the church “go”—from altar guild to readers to building maintenance to children’s education—so even if you didn't receive a personal one in the mail, please know that it matters that you are here.
It matters—and not just because of what you do, but because being the church is a less and less common endeavor. The results of a nationwide study of Episcopal Congregations were published this month, and the news for our denomination is not great. The median Episcopal parish had 77 people in church in 2003, which then dropped to 66 in 2009, and dropped to 61 by 2013. People just don't go to church as much anymore.
Over the last ten years, the average Sunday attendance of Episcopal Churches has declined twenty-four percent. We can point to all kinds of things outside ourselves to explain why this is the case. Sports are taking over every family’s life, not just those who want to go to church. All households are impacted by the change in work expectations, where we’re all attached to our digital tethers 24 hours a day. And that’s those of us fortunate enough to be employed and to have time “off” in the first place. There’s no end to work or homework, or anxiety. To claim, then, that one ought to make it a priority to sit in a 115 year old building for an hour every Sunday—every Sunday?!?—when the rest of our lives are so chaotic sounds pretty crazy. Isn't it more compassionate just to stay home and take a nap? Can’t you pray from the couch? Is God worth praying to if God can’t find you there?
In some ways, this is the “time” version of the piece I wrote last week about how important it is to give our money to the church. Spending time and money are both ways to signal our commitment. I said last week I give money to church because church helps make me who I am. I’m fed, supported, loved by God. That’s true for time, too, but when it comes to actually showing up for church, the reverse is also true; me going to church makes the church who it is.
The church needs everyone not just to fill seats, but to be faithful to the vision God has for us, a substantial part of which is being together, bodily. One thing I was struck by in the thank-you’s was that several people thanked each other for being an inspiration to them—you are teaching each other to be faithful. When each of you show up, it makes it easier for the others to do that. For you to hear each other’s voices, to smile at each other’s kids, to laugh when the sound system malfunctions. To celebrate at baptisms and marriages, and to mourn for the dead. There are plenty of things that your church community needs you to do, but the most important thing is just for you to be. Church is on a human scale. We can enrich our community with all the blogs and facebook posts in the world, but we still need to be in the same room together.
Christ Church has been growing steadily over the last ten years—there was a big jump between 2006 and 2008 of 15%, and then from 2008 to 2013 another 11% of growth. That’s pretty fantastic…only 25% of other congregations have had similar growth. But for it to keep going, you need to keep going. You are smart, dedicated, loving and faithful. You come from all different backgrounds and live in all different kinds of households. You are the Body of Christ. Thank you.
Blessings,
Sara+
Friday, November 14, 2014
Why, Exactly, Give to Church
Dear People of Christ Church,
This past Sunday we had our first speaker as part of our stewardship series. These three Sundays of November we imagine what it would be like to be fully offer ourselves—all that we are and all that we have—to God. Maureen Fowler gave us a wonderful beginning in inviting us to think about the barriers that keep us from giving our gifts. Everyone was invited to write their responses to the talk on slips of paper throughout the pews, and we gathered them in a (confidential) offering basket to be blessed with the food for Grandma’s Pantry and our gifts of money for the work of the church.
As you all know, we haven’t distributed pledge cards yet, the idea being to first spend some time thinking and praying about what we will give. In her talk (which you can watch here), Maureen talked about how when tithing was first created, there were no 5 K races for breast cancer. There was no Land Trust or Community Day Center. There was no fundraising for mosquito nets to fight malaria or subsidizing children’s education. There are a lot of things you can give your money to. And, arguably, a la Matthew 25—when Jesus says “when you did it to the least of these you did it to me”—when you give to all of these other fantastic things, you are most certainly saying yes to that call to serve God in others.
So the question you may have asked yourself is why, exactly, giving to church is a good use of your money. The parish heating bill is $20,000. Do you really want to be part of that? As well as we’re growing at Christ Church, parishes all over the Episcopal Church are in decline. Are our pledges propping up a dying institution? Maybe you’d come closer to God staying home and praying in silence. Maybe you’d come closer to the Jesus who is in solidarity with “the least of these” going out into the world and giving to every person on every street corner who asked you to. What kind of positive investment is this, really, apart from all the spiritualized “shoulds” and “oughts?”
Like anything, your answer may not be my answer. But here’s one idea. The reason I give a ton of money to church is that I think being part of church makes me who I am. Being part of a church cultivates in me the vision to see the people on the street who ask for money. Being part of church gives me the vision to see why giving to care for God’s creation is part of practicing my faith. Being part of church helps me to be nourished in ways I didn’t even realize I was hungry. I wonder if giving to church makes it possible for you to be who you are, too.
Being part of church makes it possible for me to make a bigger impact than I could on my own. I can’t invite a yoga class for trauma survivors to meet in my living room, but REACH has organized one to meet in our parish hall every Monday for eight weeks. I don’t want to host an anger management class in my own basement, either, but here on Tuesday nights there’s one that has met for five or six years. I can’t be home every Friday morning to hand out food for seniors or diapers on Saturdays, but my parish pledge goes to that work.
I can’t celebrate the Eucharist by myself—no “Take, eat, this is my body given for you,” eucharistic as sometimes it felt when I was nursing my babies. Practically, I also give to church because when I come to hear Sarah Staley talk about holy gratitude next week, I want the heat to be on, and it falls to all of us to help make that happen. I give to church because no matter where God and I may find each other throughout the week, knowing we will meet at a place and time makes it that much more likely I can meet God in all places and times.
Blessings,
Sara+
This past Sunday we had our first speaker as part of our stewardship series. These three Sundays of November we imagine what it would be like to be fully offer ourselves—all that we are and all that we have—to God. Maureen Fowler gave us a wonderful beginning in inviting us to think about the barriers that keep us from giving our gifts. Everyone was invited to write their responses to the talk on slips of paper throughout the pews, and we gathered them in a (confidential) offering basket to be blessed with the food for Grandma’s Pantry and our gifts of money for the work of the church.
As you all know, we haven’t distributed pledge cards yet, the idea being to first spend some time thinking and praying about what we will give. In her talk (which you can watch here), Maureen talked about how when tithing was first created, there were no 5 K races for breast cancer. There was no Land Trust or Community Day Center. There was no fundraising for mosquito nets to fight malaria or subsidizing children’s education. There are a lot of things you can give your money to. And, arguably, a la Matthew 25—when Jesus says “when you did it to the least of these you did it to me”—when you give to all of these other fantastic things, you are most certainly saying yes to that call to serve God in others.
So the question you may have asked yourself is why, exactly, giving to church is a good use of your money. The parish heating bill is $20,000. Do you really want to be part of that? As well as we’re growing at Christ Church, parishes all over the Episcopal Church are in decline. Are our pledges propping up a dying institution? Maybe you’d come closer to God staying home and praying in silence. Maybe you’d come closer to the Jesus who is in solidarity with “the least of these” going out into the world and giving to every person on every street corner who asked you to. What kind of positive investment is this, really, apart from all the spiritualized “shoulds” and “oughts?”
Like anything, your answer may not be my answer. But here’s one idea. The reason I give a ton of money to church is that I think being part of church makes me who I am. Being part of a church cultivates in me the vision to see the people on the street who ask for money. Being part of church gives me the vision to see why giving to care for God’s creation is part of practicing my faith. Being part of church helps me to be nourished in ways I didn’t even realize I was hungry. I wonder if giving to church makes it possible for you to be who you are, too.
Being part of church makes it possible for me to make a bigger impact than I could on my own. I can’t invite a yoga class for trauma survivors to meet in my living room, but REACH has organized one to meet in our parish hall every Monday for eight weeks. I don’t want to host an anger management class in my own basement, either, but here on Tuesday nights there’s one that has met for five or six years. I can’t be home every Friday morning to hand out food for seniors or diapers on Saturdays, but my parish pledge goes to that work.
I can’t celebrate the Eucharist by myself—no “Take, eat, this is my body given for you,” eucharistic as sometimes it felt when I was nursing my babies. Practically, I also give to church because when I come to hear Sarah Staley talk about holy gratitude next week, I want the heat to be on, and it falls to all of us to help make that happen. I give to church because no matter where God and I may find each other throughout the week, knowing we will meet at a place and time makes it that much more likely I can meet God in all places and times.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Church for the World
Dear People of Christ Church,
Thanks to everyone who came out for our domestic violence month service on Monday! It was incredibly moving, and we’ll leave out our candles that were lit on Sunday. There were around 25 people there—a mix of Christ Churchers, folks connected to REACH, our partners in the event, and neighbors from around town who had never been to a service before. It’s always hard to measure the impact of things like that. I’d rather have just two people who walked away amazed and comforted than 100 people who were there but not that interested—and by that measure, it was great. For a follow up, we’re having a brown bag lunch at Christ Church next Wednesday at noon for those who want to talk more. Please see below for some other great events REACH is organizing this month!
It’s hard to measure our impact as church—I can’t remember who said it, but there’s something about how a church is the only organization that doesn't exist solely for the benefit of its members. We are called into community for the benefit of the world, and that’s quite different from calculating our worth in cost benefit analyses of dollars and our own personal positive feelings. What is at stake is the good news of God breaking into the world—and that’s much, much bigger.
The good news of God in Christ broke into the world when someone said to their pastor after the service on Monday “That woman was telling my story, too.” The good news of God in Christ breaks in when—I am not exaggerating—the heat is on on Sunday, even when the oil bill has been tremendously high, but you, dear souls, pay your pledges, so the water in the baptismal font doesn't freeze. The good news of God breaks in when someone says, “Wow, I never thought I could feel this comfortable in church. Thank you for being so welcoming.” Each one of you reading this has had a part in making that good news break into the world. When you put your last five dollars in the plate, when you came to church that one time even though you didn't feel like it—these commitments that bring us beyond ourselves are part of how God helps us show up for each other. It’s how God’s work gets done even in our little grudging lives—and how God sometimes even, ever so little, opens our hearts more and more to each other’s love.
The church has always existed to be a counter cultural organization—the powers and principalities have always said that might makes right and our importance comes from our power over others and not our faithfulness. In today’s culture, though, the culture against which the church has always tried to be “counter” is even—um—counterier. We can’t rely on a general assumption that people go to church, and therefore will set up the life of a community around that. In the name of pluralism, I’m fine with that—I don’t want to live in a world where a traditional Sunday Christian practice is upheld at the expense of other traditions. I do, though, want to be part of a church that calls us into being part of God’s mission, in offering us substantial ways to wrestle with God’s desires for our world and God’s whispering in our lives. How can Christ Church be that for you? Where does God want you to go? How can the rest of us support you in that?
Blessings,
Sara+
Thanks to everyone who came out for our domestic violence month service on Monday! It was incredibly moving, and we’ll leave out our candles that were lit on Sunday. There were around 25 people there—a mix of Christ Churchers, folks connected to REACH, our partners in the event, and neighbors from around town who had never been to a service before. It’s always hard to measure the impact of things like that. I’d rather have just two people who walked away amazed and comforted than 100 people who were there but not that interested—and by that measure, it was great. For a follow up, we’re having a brown bag lunch at Christ Church next Wednesday at noon for those who want to talk more. Please see below for some other great events REACH is organizing this month!
It’s hard to measure our impact as church—I can’t remember who said it, but there’s something about how a church is the only organization that doesn't exist solely for the benefit of its members. We are called into community for the benefit of the world, and that’s quite different from calculating our worth in cost benefit analyses of dollars and our own personal positive feelings. What is at stake is the good news of God breaking into the world—and that’s much, much bigger.
The good news of God in Christ broke into the world when someone said to their pastor after the service on Monday “That woman was telling my story, too.” The good news of God in Christ breaks in when—I am not exaggerating—the heat is on on Sunday, even when the oil bill has been tremendously high, but you, dear souls, pay your pledges, so the water in the baptismal font doesn't freeze. The good news of God breaks in when someone says, “Wow, I never thought I could feel this comfortable in church. Thank you for being so welcoming.” Each one of you reading this has had a part in making that good news break into the world. When you put your last five dollars in the plate, when you came to church that one time even though you didn't feel like it—these commitments that bring us beyond ourselves are part of how God helps us show up for each other. It’s how God’s work gets done even in our little grudging lives—and how God sometimes even, ever so little, opens our hearts more and more to each other’s love.
The church has always existed to be a counter cultural organization—the powers and principalities have always said that might makes right and our importance comes from our power over others and not our faithfulness. In today’s culture, though, the culture against which the church has always tried to be “counter” is even—um—counterier. We can’t rely on a general assumption that people go to church, and therefore will set up the life of a community around that. In the name of pluralism, I’m fine with that—I don’t want to live in a world where a traditional Sunday Christian practice is upheld at the expense of other traditions. I do, though, want to be part of a church that calls us into being part of God’s mission, in offering us substantial ways to wrestle with God’s desires for our world and God’s whispering in our lives. How can Christ Church be that for you? Where does God want you to go? How can the rest of us support you in that?
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Church: find your way
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, of course, I'm thinking about Marcia Luce, who died last Friday. It was definitely a first when during our children's sermon on Sunday it was the priest who burst into tears and not a worried toddler who didn't want to go sit at the front of the church! She will be missed, and even though it's been almost a week now, somehow it was only the experience on Sunday of having to deliver the news that made it real. Marcia was senior warden when I came to Christ Church eight years ago, and was such a great source of support and counsel. She was also always the first to tell me I'd done something wrong, but always in the context of such rapid forgiveness that it was nothing short of holy.
In planning for the burial on Sunday, I've been so struck by what a blessing it is to be a truly multigenerational community. Other than in our own families, there are few places in this world in which the very young and the very old are in relationship with each other, and even fewer where we believe all of us to be equals. Every time I meet with a family to talk about baptizing a baby, I emphasize that their child will never be more of a Christian, never more included, never more important, than on that day of their baptism-and never less, either. When we say we are brothers and sisters in Christ, we mean it: the transcendence of the God who brings us all together also enables us to transcend all those differences. This is not to say that we all need the same thing in the community, but it is to say that we need each other.
There are so many dividing lines in the world-whenever we meet someone our tendency is immediately to put them in a category. There's nothing wrong with the categories in themselves: being gay or being from Waltham instead of San Francisco or being young or old are all part of how we understand ourselves. But Christian community also teaches us that while we can identify with those categories, we are still bound to each other in other ways. This is a profoundly radical way of being in the world. If we really know one another across these differences, it's much harder to dismiss each others' concerns. Even if you don't have a kid in church, you can probably see how hiring a part time director of religious education-and even increasing your pledge a teensy bit to try to help pay for it!-is food for your faith. Even if the crazy-time children's sermon drives you bonkers, you can see how asking questions in a different way might teach everyone something. You might be too much of an introvert to enjoy parish dinners, but you also might sneakily donate something to the silent auction to support the cause. Being part of a community isn't about getting your way, it's about finding your way.
So in the meantime, pray for me, as I prepare for Saturday-and pray for each other, in thanksgiving for the grace that leads you together.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, of course, I'm thinking about Marcia Luce, who died last Friday. It was definitely a first when during our children's sermon on Sunday it was the priest who burst into tears and not a worried toddler who didn't want to go sit at the front of the church! She will be missed, and even though it's been almost a week now, somehow it was only the experience on Sunday of having to deliver the news that made it real. Marcia was senior warden when I came to Christ Church eight years ago, and was such a great source of support and counsel. She was also always the first to tell me I'd done something wrong, but always in the context of such rapid forgiveness that it was nothing short of holy.
In planning for the burial on Sunday, I've been so struck by what a blessing it is to be a truly multigenerational community. Other than in our own families, there are few places in this world in which the very young and the very old are in relationship with each other, and even fewer where we believe all of us to be equals. Every time I meet with a family to talk about baptizing a baby, I emphasize that their child will never be more of a Christian, never more included, never more important, than on that day of their baptism-and never less, either. When we say we are brothers and sisters in Christ, we mean it: the transcendence of the God who brings us all together also enables us to transcend all those differences. This is not to say that we all need the same thing in the community, but it is to say that we need each other.
There are so many dividing lines in the world-whenever we meet someone our tendency is immediately to put them in a category. There's nothing wrong with the categories in themselves: being gay or being from Waltham instead of San Francisco or being young or old are all part of how we understand ourselves. But Christian community also teaches us that while we can identify with those categories, we are still bound to each other in other ways. This is a profoundly radical way of being in the world. If we really know one another across these differences, it's much harder to dismiss each others' concerns. Even if you don't have a kid in church, you can probably see how hiring a part time director of religious education-and even increasing your pledge a teensy bit to try to help pay for it!-is food for your faith. Even if the crazy-time children's sermon drives you bonkers, you can see how asking questions in a different way might teach everyone something. You might be too much of an introvert to enjoy parish dinners, but you also might sneakily donate something to the silent auction to support the cause. Being part of a community isn't about getting your way, it's about finding your way.
So in the meantime, pray for me, as I prepare for Saturday-and pray for each other, in thanksgiving for the grace that leads you together.
Blessings,
Sara+
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Joy, Generosity, and Freedom
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I'm thinking about the practice of generosity. On Tuesday night we were talking about how it's kind of a muscle--the more you do it, the easier it is. A lot of the reason we shy away from deep generosity is fear. On Sunday as part of the intro to stewardship, Sasha Killewald talked about how she and Phil were having a conversation about what to pledge and he threw out a number. Immediately, Sasha recounted, she said, "No way. It's too much." But, Sasha continued, "Really what I was saying is, I'm afraid."
Part of our fear, I think, comes from a misplaced understanding of freedom. It's easy to blame our consumer culture, operating under the assumption that all of our problems can be fixed with money. Many can, and that's not always a bad thing. I can't just knit myself a new hot water heater; I have to pay someone to bring it to my house and install it for me. There is nothing faithless about saving up money for emergencies. But even Jesus advised against "gathering into barns" and finding security in our possessions. If people could be distracted by their stuff even in first-century Palestine, we're toast, right?
Yes and no. It may be that our temptations seem more tempting, but every ancient religion has something to say about real freedom. There is something about our human proclivity to anxiety that has maybe always prompted us to look for security in the wrong places. Whether India or the Middle East or the Americas or Japan, basically everybody always has struggled with finding the transcendent peace that can put "stuff" in its proper place.
Most powerfully, we have God, and we have each other. We gather in church on Sundays bringing different gifts and we all come from different places on our journey with giving. I was raised to tithe at least ten percent, and that's what my own family does. But I still struggle with wondering whether it's "enough." Census factfinder.gov says that mean household income in Waltham is $68,326- a 5% annual pledge would be almost $3,500. Is it only about money? Of course not. This year we're intentionally seeking to honor and nurture our gifts of time and talent as well. But even the most generous with our time still want the lights to be on when we arrive (and, on the other side, even the biggest pledgers still want somebody singing in the choir!).
Still, why should we give? On a Biblical level, sure, we give because we're told to. There are a lot of instructions in the Bible that we can sort of interpret our way out of (three cheers for ending the prohibition on lobster!) But the stuff about giving our money just isn't about interpretation. Does the amount have to be 10%? It's a standard to work toward, but not necessarily a place to stop when you get there.
The other reason to give is more subtle. It's not just because Jesus or Abraham tells you to. The other reason to give is that it's joyful. By refusing to be bound by what our reptile brain and consumer society says is what "security" really is, we're staking our lives in God in a new way, declaring our emancipation.
Finally, we do it because it's who we are. That's where the joy really is. As baptized Christians we join the pattern of God's life, and God's live is one of continual and joyful gift. Thanks be to God!
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, I'm thinking about the practice of generosity. On Tuesday night we were talking about how it's kind of a muscle--the more you do it, the easier it is. A lot of the reason we shy away from deep generosity is fear. On Sunday as part of the intro to stewardship, Sasha Killewald talked about how she and Phil were having a conversation about what to pledge and he threw out a number. Immediately, Sasha recounted, she said, "No way. It's too much." But, Sasha continued, "Really what I was saying is, I'm afraid."
Part of our fear, I think, comes from a misplaced understanding of freedom. It's easy to blame our consumer culture, operating under the assumption that all of our problems can be fixed with money. Many can, and that's not always a bad thing. I can't just knit myself a new hot water heater; I have to pay someone to bring it to my house and install it for me. There is nothing faithless about saving up money for emergencies. But even Jesus advised against "gathering into barns" and finding security in our possessions. If people could be distracted by their stuff even in first-century Palestine, we're toast, right?
Yes and no. It may be that our temptations seem more tempting, but every ancient religion has something to say about real freedom. There is something about our human proclivity to anxiety that has maybe always prompted us to look for security in the wrong places. Whether India or the Middle East or the Americas or Japan, basically everybody always has struggled with finding the transcendent peace that can put "stuff" in its proper place.
Most powerfully, we have God, and we have each other. We gather in church on Sundays bringing different gifts and we all come from different places on our journey with giving. I was raised to tithe at least ten percent, and that's what my own family does. But I still struggle with wondering whether it's "enough." Census factfinder.gov says that mean household income in Waltham is $68,326- a 5% annual pledge would be almost $3,500. Is it only about money? Of course not. This year we're intentionally seeking to honor and nurture our gifts of time and talent as well. But even the most generous with our time still want the lights to be on when we arrive (and, on the other side, even the biggest pledgers still want somebody singing in the choir!).
Still, why should we give? On a Biblical level, sure, we give because we're told to. There are a lot of instructions in the Bible that we can sort of interpret our way out of (three cheers for ending the prohibition on lobster!) But the stuff about giving our money just isn't about interpretation. Does the amount have to be 10%? It's a standard to work toward, but not necessarily a place to stop when you get there.
The other reason to give is more subtle. It's not just because Jesus or Abraham tells you to. The other reason to give is that it's joyful. By refusing to be bound by what our reptile brain and consumer society says is what "security" really is, we're staking our lives in God in a new way, declaring our emancipation.
Finally, we do it because it's who we are. That's where the joy really is. As baptized Christians we join the pattern of God's life, and God's live is one of continual and joyful gift. Thanks be to God!
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Simplifying with More
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, we begin our conversation about stewardship. Even though, of course, it's a year-round endeavor, most often we dedicate several weeks each fall to really focus our attention. I'm excited to have Sasha Killewald and Christine Dutt co-chairing our efforts this year, with a bit of a different focus.
This year, we're thinking about "more."
This may seem kind of ironic, given that I've spent a fair amount of writing in this space for the last few weeks on simplicity. What would St Francis say about us trying to organize ourselves into "more?" Or Thoreau, from his cabin in the woods? Well, it's not more out of nothing. It's more a reallocation. One of the things I've enjoyed about our adult formation conversation on Free is the practice of looking at the big picture of time and money. Our schedules and finances might seem pretty locked in, but there are still a lot of choices to be made. This year with stewardship season we're trying to think about what, if we reallocated our personal energies (both financial resources and time and talent) a little differently, what would be possible. What if we had something going on for adult formation all the time, and everyone participated in at least one Bible study, or book group, or conversation series every year? What if when it came time for yard clean up day, or Fieldstone Fair planning time, each of those endeavors had so many people come we could expand our work even further? What if each of us had a clear sense of purpose in our participation in this community, in how we are crucially part of the mission of God in this place? What if our own callings as baptized Christians were so essential to how we operate in the world that our spiritual practices were first, not a pleasant add on? What if we discovered that "more" in the place of our faith and spirituality could somehow lead to "more" in all other parts of our lives?
These are big questions, and I'm not going to solve them head on and right here. But I look forward to the conversation, and remain grateful for our calling here together on Main Street.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, we begin our conversation about stewardship. Even though, of course, it's a year-round endeavor, most often we dedicate several weeks each fall to really focus our attention. I'm excited to have Sasha Killewald and Christine Dutt co-chairing our efforts this year, with a bit of a different focus.
This year, we're thinking about "more."
This may seem kind of ironic, given that I've spent a fair amount of writing in this space for the last few weeks on simplicity. What would St Francis say about us trying to organize ourselves into "more?" Or Thoreau, from his cabin in the woods? Well, it's not more out of nothing. It's more a reallocation. One of the things I've enjoyed about our adult formation conversation on Free is the practice of looking at the big picture of time and money. Our schedules and finances might seem pretty locked in, but there are still a lot of choices to be made. This year with stewardship season we're trying to think about what, if we reallocated our personal energies (both financial resources and time and talent) a little differently, what would be possible. What if we had something going on for adult formation all the time, and everyone participated in at least one Bible study, or book group, or conversation series every year? What if when it came time for yard clean up day, or Fieldstone Fair planning time, each of those endeavors had so many people come we could expand our work even further? What if each of us had a clear sense of purpose in our participation in this community, in how we are crucially part of the mission of God in this place? What if our own callings as baptized Christians were so essential to how we operate in the world that our spiritual practices were first, not a pleasant add on? What if we discovered that "more" in the place of our faith and spirituality could somehow lead to "more" in all other parts of our lives?
These are big questions, and I'm not going to solve them head on and right here. But I look forward to the conversation, and remain grateful for our calling here together on Main Street.
Blessings,
Sara+
Monday, November 21, 2011
Dear Friends:
It's been nice to be back in the office after my retreat, which was quite restorative. As we wrote in last week's email, longtime parishioner Otho Kerr died on Monday, and I spent the week with his upcoming burial in the back of my mind. Even with a few text messages sent back and forth with one of his sons, it was still a good time away. It was also a time to reconsider whether my family (and beloved parish!) could handle me being actually on retreat for real, say, in another state, for actual nights away--I think the answer is yes. But the funeral on Saturday was quite frankly one of the most moving I've ever participated in, and certainly I never would have missed it. Of course every time we gather to celebrate someone's life and mourn their death is special, but there was something about the reflections offered by sons, the beautiful rendition of the Lord's Prayer that Gregory Kerr sang, the readings, the Gospel-it was really the best of our tradition all together. Otho and his wife, Julia, had been married for 61 years, and I know we will all keep her in our prayers as well. Otho Kerr III, in his remembrance, talked about how he had run the New York City Marathon the day before his father died, and how Otho had been sharing his son's stats with the nurses at Spaulding Rehab. What a gift for both of them.
Otherwise, things move along-and quickly!-this weekend is the final "Commitment Sunday" for our capital campaign and our concluding week of stewardship speakers and events. Thanks to Victoria and Michelle who have shared their stories so far--Jose will talk a bit this Sunday about his journey in giving. As always, your generosity has been breathtaking, and I am so thankful for all of you who are still considering how you are able to support our capital campaign (gifts and pledges so far total over $276,000). This building work will be so important to our hospitality and welcome to people of all generations for years to come. What's also exciting is that, in our partnership with the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts, once we reach our goal, as we have, the sharing formula shifts-so now every pledge will have 85% stay at Christ Church and 15% goes to wider mission. Stewardship also winds up this week, and it's exciting to see those pledge cards roll in as well. The gifts you give to keep the heat on, the parking lot plowed, and salaries paid is so vital to our witness. We celebrate the Eucharist more than one hundred times each year, not to mention the sacraments brought to those who are sick. There are a lot of worthy "causes" to give to, no shortage of people and endeavors that need your support. But the work of the church is the one that is, hopefully, the center of your spiritual life. When I consider my own faith, I think I need to give as much as the church needs to receive.
Meanwhile, enjoy these last days of fall before the cold descends. Take a few extra deep breaths, a few more minutes at your morning coffee. Park at the edge of the lot so you can have a little more time to breathe fresh air and move your body. Give thanks if you are fortunate enough to move your body, to engage God's creation with all your senses.
Blessings,
Sara+
It's been nice to be back in the office after my retreat, which was quite restorative. As we wrote in last week's email, longtime parishioner Otho Kerr died on Monday, and I spent the week with his upcoming burial in the back of my mind. Even with a few text messages sent back and forth with one of his sons, it was still a good time away. It was also a time to reconsider whether my family (and beloved parish!) could handle me being actually on retreat for real, say, in another state, for actual nights away--I think the answer is yes. But the funeral on Saturday was quite frankly one of the most moving I've ever participated in, and certainly I never would have missed it. Of course every time we gather to celebrate someone's life and mourn their death is special, but there was something about the reflections offered by sons, the beautiful rendition of the Lord's Prayer that Gregory Kerr sang, the readings, the Gospel-it was really the best of our tradition all together. Otho and his wife, Julia, had been married for 61 years, and I know we will all keep her in our prayers as well. Otho Kerr III, in his remembrance, talked about how he had run the New York City Marathon the day before his father died, and how Otho had been sharing his son's stats with the nurses at Spaulding Rehab. What a gift for both of them.
Otherwise, things move along-and quickly!-this weekend is the final "Commitment Sunday" for our capital campaign and our concluding week of stewardship speakers and events. Thanks to Victoria and Michelle who have shared their stories so far--Jose will talk a bit this Sunday about his journey in giving. As always, your generosity has been breathtaking, and I am so thankful for all of you who are still considering how you are able to support our capital campaign (gifts and pledges so far total over $276,000). This building work will be so important to our hospitality and welcome to people of all generations for years to come. What's also exciting is that, in our partnership with the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts, once we reach our goal, as we have, the sharing formula shifts-so now every pledge will have 85% stay at Christ Church and 15% goes to wider mission. Stewardship also winds up this week, and it's exciting to see those pledge cards roll in as well. The gifts you give to keep the heat on, the parking lot plowed, and salaries paid is so vital to our witness. We celebrate the Eucharist more than one hundred times each year, not to mention the sacraments brought to those who are sick. There are a lot of worthy "causes" to give to, no shortage of people and endeavors that need your support. But the work of the church is the one that is, hopefully, the center of your spiritual life. When I consider my own faith, I think I need to give as much as the church needs to receive.
Meanwhile, enjoy these last days of fall before the cold descends. Take a few extra deep breaths, a few more minutes at your morning coffee. Park at the edge of the lot so you can have a little more time to breathe fresh air and move your body. Give thanks if you are fortunate enough to move your body, to engage God's creation with all your senses.
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Dear People of Christ Church,
Lee, our parish administrator, and I have been folding and stuffing envelopes with materials for stewardship all day (somehow those things always come under the wire, no matter how much we try to prepare for them!)...so this week I'm sharing a poem with you I found in my files. It's by the medieval Persian poet Hāfez, also known as
Khwāja Shamsu d-Dīn Muhammad Hāfez-e Shīrāzī. Hāfez is a pen name, which is also a word that means that someone has committed the Qu'ran to memory, which he is said to have done as a child. He died around 1389. It seems fitting to the theme of stewardship-if we only really realized how much God has given us, how easy would it be to return to God a portion of our riches?
Blessings,
Sara+
So Many Gifts
Hāfez
Trans. Daniel Ladinsky
There are so many gifts
Still unopened from your birthday,
There are so many hand-crafted presents
That have been sent to you by God.
The Beloved does not mind repeating,
"Everything I have is also yours."
Please forgive Hafiz and the Friend
If we break into a sweet laughter
When your heart complains of being thirsty
When ages ago
Every cell in your soul
Capsized forever
Into this infinite golden sea.
Indeed,
A lover's pain is like holding one's breath
Too long
In the middle of a vital performance,
In the middle of one of Creation's favorite
Songs.
Indeed, a lover's pain is this sleeping,
This sleeping,
When God just rolled over and gave you
Such a big good-morning kiss!
There are so many gifts, my dear,
Still unopened from your birthday.
O, there are so many hand-crafted presents
That have been sent to your life
From God.
Lee, our parish administrator, and I have been folding and stuffing envelopes with materials for stewardship all day (somehow those things always come under the wire, no matter how much we try to prepare for them!)...so this week I'm sharing a poem with you I found in my files. It's by the medieval Persian poet Hāfez, also known as
Khwāja Shamsu d-Dīn Muhammad Hāfez-e Shīrāzī. Hāfez is a pen name, which is also a word that means that someone has committed the Qu'ran to memory, which he is said to have done as a child. He died around 1389. It seems fitting to the theme of stewardship-if we only really realized how much God has given us, how easy would it be to return to God a portion of our riches?
Blessings,
Sara+
So Many Gifts
Hāfez
Trans. Daniel Ladinsky
There are so many gifts
Still unopened from your birthday,
There are so many hand-crafted presents
That have been sent to you by God.
The Beloved does not mind repeating,
"Everything I have is also yours."
Please forgive Hafiz and the Friend
If we break into a sweet laughter
When your heart complains of being thirsty
When ages ago
Every cell in your soul
Capsized forever
Into this infinite golden sea.
Indeed,
A lover's pain is like holding one's breath
Too long
In the middle of a vital performance,
In the middle of one of Creation's favorite
Songs.
Indeed, a lover's pain is this sleeping,
This sleeping,
When God just rolled over and gave you
Such a big good-morning kiss!
There are so many gifts, my dear,
Still unopened from your birthday.
O, there are so many hand-crafted presents
That have been sent to your life
From God.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Mission statement
Dear People of Christ Church,
This past week, we celebrated the end of our official stewardship campaign with a delicious soup and bread lunch. Sarah Staley has been a great chair of our stewardship campaign, and the food was delicious. Thanks be to God-and to each of you who have made--and will make--pledges for 2011.
On Sunday at soup and bread, we spread out paper on each of the tables to invite reflection on hospitality, outreach, faith, and stewardship. The first three came out of our GPS and Vestry retreat. Initially, they came to us as a place to put our focus for our work in the coming years-places where we are particularly passionate, and want to develop our mission further. As I thought about them, though, it seemed to me that they were actually more than that-they were at the center of what our community is about all the time, not just things we need some more work on. It's not entirely surprising that we decided to focus on things that we are already pretty serious about.Tyler Mailman's picture on Sunday of "Holding the Doors Open" (above) is about as good a description of hospitality as I can imagine.
After the group did our work around the mission statement, the GPS committee has moved on to putting some thoughts together around vision. Nothing will say it all-particularly not tidy bullet points (ten of them). This process, though, of putting-into-words has been fascinating. What is it, really, that makes us who we are? There is a lot that is un-sayable-as a Christian believer in a pretty "deconstructionish" mode I'm very committed to the notion that words are unreliable and unsteady. At the same time, not articulating a vision and settling down to be a generic "nice church" also isn't something I can get very excited about. It's a discernment process--trying on some things and seeing if they fit. How do we tackle big concepts like oppression? Are we dodging something central to our faith if we leave them out? Or are we being inclusive so as not to be misunderstood? [In that case, as in many others, the Book of Common Prayer came to the rescue--we have cut and pasted liberally from its articulation of things]. So I do think we need this-- and I've kind of enjoyed the challenge. Also, we have benefited a lot from the gifts and talents of our group members. Mike Balulescu has emerged as an amazing scribe for the group, keeping us focused and not letting us get too wordy. So special thanks to him and to Jonathan Duce, our chair.
After more than a month of meetings, we have a draft--loosely categorized under the themes of hospitality, outreach, and faith. The ten concepts we've named will help us to structure our strategic planning for the next several years. This Sunday, we'll distribute copies of the draft that the committee has come up with. It's not a perfect document, but it is a starting place for us to consider how we articulate our hopes for the community. Each of us will have some time to think about it in the coming week, and then we'll have a parish meeting after the 10:00 service on Sunday to hear each other's thoughts. The GPS committee will meet on November 23, and then offer a final draft. If you aren't able to make it to church this Sunday but would like to see what the committee has come up with, please let me know and I will get you the draft.
Blessings,
Sara+
This past week, we celebrated the end of our official stewardship campaign with a delicious soup and bread lunch. Sarah Staley has been a great chair of our stewardship campaign, and the food was delicious. Thanks be to God-and to each of you who have made--and will make--pledges for 2011.
On Sunday at soup and bread, we spread out paper on each of the tables to invite reflection on hospitality, outreach, faith, and stewardship. The first three came out of our GPS and Vestry retreat. Initially, they came to us as a place to put our focus for our work in the coming years-places where we are particularly passionate, and want to develop our mission further. As I thought about them, though, it seemed to me that they were actually more than that-they were at the center of what our community is about all the time, not just things we need some more work on. It's not entirely surprising that we decided to focus on things that we are already pretty serious about.Tyler Mailman's picture on Sunday of "Holding the Doors Open" (above) is about as good a description of hospitality as I can imagine.
After the group did our work around the mission statement, the GPS committee has moved on to putting some thoughts together around vision. Nothing will say it all-particularly not tidy bullet points (ten of them). This process, though, of putting-into-words has been fascinating. What is it, really, that makes us who we are? There is a lot that is un-sayable-as a Christian believer in a pretty "deconstructionish" mode I'm very committed to the notion that words are unreliable and unsteady. At the same time, not articulating a vision and settling down to be a generic "nice church" also isn't something I can get very excited about. It's a discernment process--trying on some things and seeing if they fit. How do we tackle big concepts like oppression? Are we dodging something central to our faith if we leave them out? Or are we being inclusive so as not to be misunderstood? [In that case, as in many others, the Book of Common Prayer came to the rescue--we have cut and pasted liberally from its articulation of things]. So I do think we need this-- and I've kind of enjoyed the challenge. Also, we have benefited a lot from the gifts and talents of our group members. Mike Balulescu has emerged as an amazing scribe for the group, keeping us focused and not letting us get too wordy. So special thanks to him and to Jonathan Duce, our chair.
After more than a month of meetings, we have a draft--loosely categorized under the themes of hospitality, outreach, and faith. The ten concepts we've named will help us to structure our strategic planning for the next several years. This Sunday, we'll distribute copies of the draft that the committee has come up with. It's not a perfect document, but it is a starting place for us to consider how we articulate our hopes for the community. Each of us will have some time to think about it in the coming week, and then we'll have a parish meeting after the 10:00 service on Sunday to hear each other's thoughts. The GPS committee will meet on November 23, and then offer a final draft. If you aren't able to make it to church this Sunday but would like to see what the committee has come up with, please let me know and I will get you the draft.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Giving with open hands
This Sunday, we'll observe our regular first Sunday of the month Children's Service, and also meet after the service to talk about the results of the "GPS" (God's People Serving) Committee's work on our mission statement. I hope you'll plan to stay after the service to give your input on the mission statement the group has drawn up. I love it!
This Sunday's Gospel has the story of the Prophet Elijah being sent to a widow in Sidon. It's in the middle of a drought, which sent to punish king Ahab for worshipping his wife's pagan God, Baal (Jezebel, who happens to be from Sidon herself). Elijah goes in order to be fed; God doesn't tell him why he's going, or what he's supposed to do when he gets there. Just go, God tells him. She'll feed you. And so he goes. Elijah's mission unfolds as he arrives--as it turns out, he winds up with something to give the widow as well, but at first, it's not clear whether she'll "get" anything out of the deal. He goes to receive.
It's a counter-intuitive mission. This week, I started re-reading a book I first encountered a long time ago, called Poustinia, by Catherine Doherty. I picked it up again because Doherty is mentioned in Thomas Merton's Seven Story Mountain, which we just finished at our daytime book group. Doherty, an immigrant from Russia, started the Madonna House Apostolate, an intentional Christian community where Thomas Merton stayed briefly in Harlem before entering the monastery.
Doherty's unique insights are the combination of a life formed in the Orthodox spirituality of Russia, but oriented outward through the influence of Roman Catholic social justice teaching. In her book, she talks about the Russian tradition of the urodivoi, the fool for Christ: the one who gives away everything--really, everything--and begs for alms. Like Elijah, the fool goes out in order to be fed. The fool is able to support him or herself, but instead throws their life on the mercy of others, spending the day in prayer and pleading. She tells the story of one such person her father knew, who went to the slums and personally gave away all his money (which he'd dramatically just converted to bags of gold and silver). The father met the man years later, begging outside a church, still there, still praying, still with nothing. Why have you done this, the father asks, "I am atoning for the men who have called Christ a fool during his lifetime, and during all the centuries thereafter."
This is a challenging notion for us--it cuts at the heart of American notions of accomplishment and worth--not to mention practicality. Doherty writes, "If you want to see what a 'contribution' really is, look at the Man on the cross. That's a contribution. When you are hanging on a cross you can't do anything because you are crucified." The fool for Christ goes to be crucified with him; Elijah's mission was similar. Was he sent to the woman to be a burden? God miraculously gave her the food to give Elijah, but neither knew in advance what the outcome would be. Their mutual faith created the gift. What if we gave with such open hands? What would we receive, even if we gave all we had?
This Sunday's Gospel has the story of the Prophet Elijah being sent to a widow in Sidon. It's in the middle of a drought, which sent to punish king Ahab for worshipping his wife's pagan God, Baal (Jezebel, who happens to be from Sidon herself). Elijah goes in order to be fed; God doesn't tell him why he's going, or what he's supposed to do when he gets there. Just go, God tells him. She'll feed you. And so he goes. Elijah's mission unfolds as he arrives--as it turns out, he winds up with something to give the widow as well, but at first, it's not clear whether she'll "get" anything out of the deal. He goes to receive.
It's a counter-intuitive mission. This week, I started re-reading a book I first encountered a long time ago, called Poustinia, by Catherine Doherty. I picked it up again because Doherty is mentioned in Thomas Merton's Seven Story Mountain, which we just finished at our daytime book group. Doherty, an immigrant from Russia, started the Madonna House Apostolate, an intentional Christian community where Thomas Merton stayed briefly in Harlem before entering the monastery.
Doherty's unique insights are the combination of a life formed in the Orthodox spirituality of Russia, but oriented outward through the influence of Roman Catholic social justice teaching. In her book, she talks about the Russian tradition of the urodivoi, the fool for Christ: the one who gives away everything--really, everything--and begs for alms. Like Elijah, the fool goes out in order to be fed. The fool is able to support him or herself, but instead throws their life on the mercy of others, spending the day in prayer and pleading. She tells the story of one such person her father knew, who went to the slums and personally gave away all his money (which he'd dramatically just converted to bags of gold and silver). The father met the man years later, begging outside a church, still there, still praying, still with nothing. Why have you done this, the father asks, "I am atoning for the men who have called Christ a fool during his lifetime, and during all the centuries thereafter."
This is a challenging notion for us--it cuts at the heart of American notions of accomplishment and worth--not to mention practicality. Doherty writes, "If you want to see what a 'contribution' really is, look at the Man on the cross. That's a contribution. When you are hanging on a cross you can't do anything because you are crucified." The fool for Christ goes to be crucified with him; Elijah's mission was similar. Was he sent to the woman to be a burden? God miraculously gave her the food to give Elijah, but neither knew in advance what the outcome would be. Their mutual faith created the gift. What if we gave with such open hands? What would we receive, even if we gave all we had?
Monday, January 4, 2010
Stewardship Thoughts Back from leave
I’m so glad to be back writing to you in this space. There were several times when I was on leave and came across something and thought, “I’d like to share that with Christ Church.” I was aware of how much I benefit from being in this community in addition to it being “just” my work. So it is good to be back. The bag of chocolate truffles that someone left on the table in my office also helped, and the Pageant on Sunday was fantastic—thanks to Jonathan Duce, our fearless organizer, all the parents and participatns, and especially the Hobins, who made a great holy family.
Having been away for stewardship season this year, it was sort of odd to see it in the newsletter how we crept towards our goal, without being part of the conversation. We are now at about $76,000—still about 9,000 below last year’s figure, and unfortunately $24,000 below our goal of $100,000. Those totals (which might seem a little discouraging) actually don’t quite tell the whole story. Of course we need to have the money, and certainly more is better, but fully 19 of those pledges were increases over last year. 5 of them were entirely new pledges. Looking at the numbers so far, there are some wonderfully generous people in our congregation, some increasing their pledges by thirty percent, even fifty percent.
Keeping the doors open here at Christ Church isn’t cheap; before we’ve even hired a priest, administrator, organist or sexton, we’ve already spent close to $87,000 on building maintenance, candles, and heat, electricity, and phone, and our share to the diocese. When you want to pay people to preach the sermon, play the organ, print the bulletin and take out the trash, it adds more than double that amount. Well, I can hear you saying, “I don’t know if I quite get thousands of dollars worth out of coming to church. Coffee hour is great, and Rev. Sara is fine, but come on, that’s a lot of money.”
It’s true—if you’re looking for personal satisfaction, a hot tub is probably a better investment than a church pledge. But that’s the thing—contributing to your church community isn’t about personal satisfaction. It’s nice when it feels good, but what you’re really doing when you support this church is making sure the doors can be open for everybody else. The Gospel is about all the people who haven’t heard it yet—it’s good news, and it needs to be shared. They haven’t had a chance to support this community yet. You have. Each of us has a wonderful story to tell about the work God is doing in our lives to heal us and allow us to share the love of Christ. Celebrating church every Sunday here in Waltham is part of the way we tell that story, all of us together.
So… thanks so much to those of you who have given from your hearts to keep this community going. There is a wonderful spirit in this place, I am so glad to be back here with you, and thrilled that my new daughter Adah will get to be part of it, too!
Having been away for stewardship season this year, it was sort of odd to see it in the newsletter how we crept towards our goal, without being part of the conversation. We are now at about $76,000—still about 9,000 below last year’s figure, and unfortunately $24,000 below our goal of $100,000. Those totals (which might seem a little discouraging) actually don’t quite tell the whole story. Of course we need to have the money, and certainly more is better, but fully 19 of those pledges were increases over last year. 5 of them were entirely new pledges. Looking at the numbers so far, there are some wonderfully generous people in our congregation, some increasing their pledges by thirty percent, even fifty percent.
Keeping the doors open here at Christ Church isn’t cheap; before we’ve even hired a priest, administrator, organist or sexton, we’ve already spent close to $87,000 on building maintenance, candles, and heat, electricity, and phone, and our share to the diocese. When you want to pay people to preach the sermon, play the organ, print the bulletin and take out the trash, it adds more than double that amount. Well, I can hear you saying, “I don’t know if I quite get thousands of dollars worth out of coming to church. Coffee hour is great, and Rev. Sara is fine, but come on, that’s a lot of money.”
It’s true—if you’re looking for personal satisfaction, a hot tub is probably a better investment than a church pledge. But that’s the thing—contributing to your church community isn’t about personal satisfaction. It’s nice when it feels good, but what you’re really doing when you support this church is making sure the doors can be open for everybody else. The Gospel is about all the people who haven’t heard it yet—it’s good news, and it needs to be shared. They haven’t had a chance to support this community yet. You have. Each of us has a wonderful story to tell about the work God is doing in our lives to heal us and allow us to share the love of Christ. Celebrating church every Sunday here in Waltham is part of the way we tell that story, all of us together.
So… thanks so much to those of you who have given from your hearts to keep this community going. There is a wonderful spirit in this place, I am so glad to be back here with you, and thrilled that my new daughter Adah will get to be part of it, too!
Friday, September 25, 2009
Looking Forward
Yes, I'm still here, and I hope to see you all on Sunday! I'm especially looking forward to planting the tree we bought as part of the gift giving at the installation. We have a cherry tree for the kids and me to plant together, in thanksgiving for love of God "planted" in us. We'll go outside for it right after the service.
In the midst of trying to tie up all the loose ends before going on maternity leave, I find myself ready to go, but also really wanting to stay to work with you on some things that are coming up. The ministry fair is on October 4 (you might remember the one we had in the spring, when we had tables and displays on all the different ministries at Christ Church), and I am excited to see how stewardship season kicks off, also on that day. This year Cindy Hutchison is our intrepid stewardship committee leader, and we'll hear from different parishioners each Sunday in October speak about giving to Christ Church.
Also starting in October, we're doing some stewardship of our own in the use of our building. As you know, we already have a number of congregations that regularly use our space for worship--one Spanish speaking Pentecostal Church (the Missionary Church of Christ), one French speaking Pentecostal Church (Mission Maranatha), and St Peter's Ugandan Anglican Church. We also rent our the halls from time to time, regularly to a labor union and also an anger management seminar. WATCH, the Waltham Alliance to Create Housing, also uses our space quite frequenty.
Of course, the rental income helps us to be more financially sustainable, but it's also a question of stewardship. Put simply, we aren't being good stewards of our building if it sits empty all the time! By partnering with other groups and organizations whose missions we support, we are partnering with them in their work. One new such program is with Breaking Barriers, a group which recently merged with WATCH.
Starting the first week of October, Breaking Barriers is restarting a chapter of their "Path to Success" leadership development program. Entitled "The Power of a Mother," the classes are focused on helping immigrant moms with young children, who often find themselves quite isolated. Along with English instruction, the classes will focus on leadership development and life skills training. The classes will be held at Christ Church for about 15 women, with care provided for their children as well. They will be held on from 10 to 12, 2 days a week (Tuesdays and Thursdays, I believe). Christ Churchers have been invited to collaborate with Power of a Mother in a number of ways:
- Joining thementoring and tutoring program for local immigrants, including Path to Success mothers,
- Presenting during Path to Success life skills classes,
- Interactive literacy activities with young children in the childcare
Liz Straghalis, their program coordinator, will be speaking at next Tuesday's Outreach Committee meeting (6 pm) to talk more about it--please let committee chair Shawn Russell know if you're interested but can't make the meeting (smr8b@yahoo.com).
Those are just a few things that are coming up--in the October Fieldstone Crier you'll hear more about Allison Berry, who will come to speak about REACH, our local anti-domestic violence organization, and you'll also have an introduction from Rev. Cathy, who will be stepping in for me. After this Sunday, I'll be on leave until Christmas Eve. Our wardens, Jonathan and Marcia, are on for parish-related matters; for pastoral questions, ask Rev. Cathy.
Kristina will be emailing out an announcements-only edition of this newsletter every other week.
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Gifts
As I sit to write today, I find myself wondering (as so frequently I do!) where the time has gone. Thanksgiving is already next week, as we get catapulted into the fervor of the holiday season. I hope, whatever your plans are for next week, you travel safely.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
October 9: Abundance and Worry
This week, I’ve been thinking about the economy, in all its whirling uncertainty. It’s all so abstract—I heard that a stack of 700 billion dollar bills would reach 54 miles into the sky, but that doesn’t help me understand the recent bail-out any better. The amount is staggering. Now we know, too, the crisis isn’t confined to the United States, either—it’s worldwide, stretching all the way to China. As a non-financially oriented person myself, I have a hard time understanding what’s really going on—how bad is it? What do we do? How did we get here? Who can I blame? All of these swirling questions contribute not just to worry, but to a deep, deep uncertainty about the future. And this is the week we get our pledge cards! How can I give to church when I don’t even know what I’ll have for myself?
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