Dear People of Christ Church,
This Sunday is the last Sunday of Epiphany Season, the Feast of the Transfiguration, the story of Jesus taking his friends up to the mountain top and being greeted by Elijah and Moses (needless to say, those friends were pretty alarmed). It has become a custom here at Christ Church (whether by the convenience of the liturgical calendar or intentional theology) that we have had baptisms every Transfiguration Sunday for as long as I've been here, I think. This Sunday, we baptize Lila Nolte, little sister to Griffin (almost 5) and Henry (2) whom we baptized when they were babies.
We hear the story of Jesus' baptism on the first Sunday after Epiphany, the kickoff for this season of illumination and healing. For Jesus, though, his baptism immediately preceded his time in the wilderness; for forty days, he struggled and was tempted, always to be sustained by his beloved Abba God and kept safe. It's a gift for us to celebrate for Lila and remember our own baptism right before our own Lenten season, our version of Jesus' forty days in the wilderness.
It's a gift because our baptism is so easy to forget. That we were made for more than what we just see with our eyes, but that there is so much power and promise and healing in the life we share with Christ. Jesus went into the wilderness with the fact of God's love for him firmly planted in his heart; at his baptism, God thundered, "This is my Son, the beloved." You, too, are God's beloved; the sustenance that Jesus felt, hungering after stones, is granted you as well.
Our Lenten class, "The Lenten Journey," is based around themes from the Orthodox theologian Alexander Schmemann. He talks about Lent as a "bright sadness;" he says the purpose of Lent is to "soften our hearts" to open them to the Spirit. In Lent, we are called to be quiet: "it is as if we were reaching a place to which the noises and the fuss of life, of the street, of all that which usually fills our days and even nights, have no access-a place where they have no power" (32).
The water of baptism soaks down to that quiet place-Schmemann wrote in 1969, and how much noisier life is now! (not that I was alive in 1969, but I'm guessing...) Life is full of such wonderful, good gifts-rich food and wine and leisure and joy-but sometimes it's good to put those down, to take some time apart. But we aren't sent off without a party-Sunday, of course, but also Tuesday, when we celebrate our Shrove Tuesday pancake supper. The tradition for eating pancakes on that day is that it's a time to use up all the indulgent stuff in the cabinet-eggs and sugar and cream-before the leaner days of Lent. The word "shrove" is a relative of "to be shriven," to receive penance and absolution. RSVP to office@christchurchwaltham.org or to the office (781 891 6012).
As you begin to pray your Lent, ask yourself what will bring you to Christ; what can soften you to reach that silent place within? Is it something to take on, something to give up? How will you bask in the deep love of your Creator, in coming near to God in the wilderness?
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Dear People of Christ Church,
Next Monday, I hope you'll join me in welcoming the Rev. George Walters-Sleyon, founder and director of the Center for Church and Prison. He is a mentee of our friend Norm Faramelli, and Sue Burkart became acquainted with him through her work with the organization Children of Incarcerated Parents. He will be speaking particularly on the "Three Strikes" law currently making its way through the legislature. It's in committee now, with members of the House and Senate ironing out differences between their versions before going to both for the final vote. The law came about in response to the murder of Woburn police officer John Maguire in 2010 in a shootout in the middle of a robbery. He was shot by Dominic Cinelli, paroled after serving 22 years of three concurrent life sentences. Cinelli had had a history of violent crime but was released on parole (though had the DA been notified as they should have been, his parole likely would not have gone through). Cinelli also died that day
So how does a Christian respond? It's hard to say on any issue that there is one Christian response. I oppose it, and Walters-Sleyon will speak about his opposition as well. But it's an issue in a wider context. This is not just a simple question of one law, or putting people in prison for longer. This issue is a knot of social issues; racism, poverty, and economics all come together in a particularly American stew. Prisons are big moneymakers, particularly those operated by private firms, a practice that is more and more common. The more we build the more prisoners are incarcerated, curiously despite the fact the crime is actually decreasing (no, it's not because all the criminals are in jail). The Corrections Corporation of America, a builder of private prisons, chillingly cautioned investors in their 2005 annual report that profits would go down if drug or immigration laws were changed. Naturally, their lobbyists are busy making sure that doesn't happen.
There are six million people under "correctional control," either in prison or on parole or probation, which would make it the second largest city in the country. Particularly in black communities, a conversation is taking place that we need to use the term "abolition." More than half of all black men without a high school diploma find themselves in prison at some point. Despite relatively equal rates of drug use, black people in the US are significantly more likely to be incarcerated for drug crimes. Blacks are now incarcerated seven times as often as whites. In her book, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Era of Colorblindness, Michelle Alexander points out that there are more blacks in the US prison system than there were in slavery in 1850. Dominic Cinelli was white, but the bill that seeks to respond to his crime will disproportionately impact black people.
Sociologists and law enforcement are the experts; I don't know how best to allocate punishment to crime, though I intuit there is a lot wrong with how we do it now. As Christians, our job is to try to reconcile the state of our world with the judgment of Matthew 25:
Then they also will answer, "Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?" Then he will answer them, "Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me." And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.' (v.44-46)
To look at social issues with the eyes of Christ: that is, to look not at "social issues" at all. It is our job to look at human beings. The family that is left behind, the son or daughter whose mother is addicted, the felon who can't even get a job at McDonald's with a record. What does it do to a person to separate them from society and permanently disenfranchise him? However much prison time a convicted felon has served, s/he still loses the right to vote, permanently. What does it say about us as a society that our system deems certain persons beyond salvation? What does it say about our values that we spend $10,000 a year for a school aged child's education but allocate $47,000 for one inmate? How do we respond to those who have lost hope? Worse, when desperation is a logical response to an impossible situation?
As always, I end with more questions than answers. But I look forward to Monday evening to hear what I can do. RSVP and share the event on facebook.
Blessings,
Sara+
Next Monday, I hope you'll join me in welcoming the Rev. George Walters-Sleyon, founder and director of the Center for Church and Prison. He is a mentee of our friend Norm Faramelli, and Sue Burkart became acquainted with him through her work with the organization Children of Incarcerated Parents. He will be speaking particularly on the "Three Strikes" law currently making its way through the legislature. It's in committee now, with members of the House and Senate ironing out differences between their versions before going to both for the final vote. The law came about in response to the murder of Woburn police officer John Maguire in 2010 in a shootout in the middle of a robbery. He was shot by Dominic Cinelli, paroled after serving 22 years of three concurrent life sentences. Cinelli had had a history of violent crime but was released on parole (though had the DA been notified as they should have been, his parole likely would not have gone through). Cinelli also died that day
So how does a Christian respond? It's hard to say on any issue that there is one Christian response. I oppose it, and Walters-Sleyon will speak about his opposition as well. But it's an issue in a wider context. This is not just a simple question of one law, or putting people in prison for longer. This issue is a knot of social issues; racism, poverty, and economics all come together in a particularly American stew. Prisons are big moneymakers, particularly those operated by private firms, a practice that is more and more common. The more we build the more prisoners are incarcerated, curiously despite the fact the crime is actually decreasing (no, it's not because all the criminals are in jail). The Corrections Corporation of America, a builder of private prisons, chillingly cautioned investors in their 2005 annual report that profits would go down if drug or immigration laws were changed. Naturally, their lobbyists are busy making sure that doesn't happen.
There are six million people under "correctional control," either in prison or on parole or probation, which would make it the second largest city in the country. Particularly in black communities, a conversation is taking place that we need to use the term "abolition." More than half of all black men without a high school diploma find themselves in prison at some point. Despite relatively equal rates of drug use, black people in the US are significantly more likely to be incarcerated for drug crimes. Blacks are now incarcerated seven times as often as whites. In her book, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Era of Colorblindness, Michelle Alexander points out that there are more blacks in the US prison system than there were in slavery in 1850. Dominic Cinelli was white, but the bill that seeks to respond to his crime will disproportionately impact black people.
Sociologists and law enforcement are the experts; I don't know how best to allocate punishment to crime, though I intuit there is a lot wrong with how we do it now. As Christians, our job is to try to reconcile the state of our world with the judgment of Matthew 25:
Then they also will answer, "Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?" Then he will answer them, "Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me." And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.' (v.44-46)
To look at social issues with the eyes of Christ: that is, to look not at "social issues" at all. It is our job to look at human beings. The family that is left behind, the son or daughter whose mother is addicted, the felon who can't even get a job at McDonald's with a record. What does it do to a person to separate them from society and permanently disenfranchise him? However much prison time a convicted felon has served, s/he still loses the right to vote, permanently. What does it say about us as a society that our system deems certain persons beyond salvation? What does it say about our values that we spend $10,000 a year for a school aged child's education but allocate $47,000 for one inmate? How do we respond to those who have lost hope? Worse, when desperation is a logical response to an impossible situation?
As always, I end with more questions than answers. But I look forward to Monday evening to hear what I can do. RSVP and share the event on facebook.
Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Dear People of Christ Church,
Next week in this space, you'll hear from our youth, two of whom will travel to Costa Rica over February vacation on pilgrimage with other teens from the Alewife Deanery. Hearing it called a "pilgrimage" instead of a mission trip got me thinking. The usual understanding of being a "missionary" and going abroad to convert people isn't really something the Episcopal Church does much more, but often you still hear that expression; I went on a "Misison trip" to Belize as the assistant rector of Emmanuel Church in 2005, where we traveled to a school and helped build and equip a computer lab. We had a mission, for sure, but we were not exactly missionaries, a la serious young men with dark ties. Happy as we are to share our faith, trying to convert the masses isn't exactly the Episcopal style these days. I definitely appreciate the shift in language.
That word-pilgrimage-is an evocative one.
One of my favorite spiritual images is that of the labyrinth: a way of taking a spiritual voyage, if not a physical one. In our fall education series lead by Matt Dooley, we did walking meditation in the church-occupying the body gives the mind a certain freedom. While the sites of Jesus' passion and birth are certainly venerated in the Christian tradition, we don't have the same commandment to go on pilgrimage as, say, Muslims have to visit Mecca. There is a sense in the walking of silent communion: we are somehow all headed in the same direction. Not long ago I happened to watch a video someone of walking the labyrinth-you can see her shadow filming, but all it shows is ankle, foot, ground. At the time, I was imprisoned in my daughter's room waiting for her to go to sleep. Every time I moved to get up, I heard her lovely/tyrannous little toddler voice call out, "Stay!" Watching those feet on my little iPhone screen brought such a deep sense of accompaniment: feeling that Jan (the walker, whose blog I read but have never met) and I were united in faith, mystically accompanied by God. Feeling rather trapped and frustrated, the image of movement and grace brought me strangely to tears. I was not walking alone and my parental frustration did not have the last word.
Another definition I have always liked is from the Nepalese movie Himalaya. A group of villagers travel down their mountain with their yak to trade salt for grain. Being passed by another traveler, a child asks his father: Who is that? A pilgrim. What's a pilgrim? A religious person who walks.
So... Living. My favorite collect after the prayers of the people talks about our "earthly pilgrimage," and the phrase is in the burial service as well. Walking. Movement. Emma and Julia, going to Costa Rica to help out in churches there and learn a bit about what the diocese is like. Each of us praying for them and supporting them in whatever way we can. I invite you also to consider what pilgrimage means to you: have you ever been on one? Is there a place you want to go? What is revealed to you in the gentle slog of GOING-up a mountain or across a river or shepherding a child to sleep. To Elvis Presley's Graceland, Thoreau's Walden, to Bethlehem, Jerusalem. How are our values confirmed by those experiences? How are they challenged?
Blessings,
Sara+
Next week in this space, you'll hear from our youth, two of whom will travel to Costa Rica over February vacation on pilgrimage with other teens from the Alewife Deanery. Hearing it called a "pilgrimage" instead of a mission trip got me thinking. The usual understanding of being a "missionary" and going abroad to convert people isn't really something the Episcopal Church does much more, but often you still hear that expression; I went on a "Misison trip" to Belize as the assistant rector of Emmanuel Church in 2005, where we traveled to a school and helped build and equip a computer lab. We had a mission, for sure, but we were not exactly missionaries, a la serious young men with dark ties. Happy as we are to share our faith, trying to convert the masses isn't exactly the Episcopal style these days. I definitely appreciate the shift in language.
That word-pilgrimage-is an evocative one.
One of my favorite spiritual images is that of the labyrinth: a way of taking a spiritual voyage, if not a physical one. In our fall education series lead by Matt Dooley, we did walking meditation in the church-occupying the body gives the mind a certain freedom. While the sites of Jesus' passion and birth are certainly venerated in the Christian tradition, we don't have the same commandment to go on pilgrimage as, say, Muslims have to visit Mecca. There is a sense in the walking of silent communion: we are somehow all headed in the same direction. Not long ago I happened to watch a video someone of walking the labyrinth-you can see her shadow filming, but all it shows is ankle, foot, ground. At the time, I was imprisoned in my daughter's room waiting for her to go to sleep. Every time I moved to get up, I heard her lovely/tyrannous little toddler voice call out, "Stay!" Watching those feet on my little iPhone screen brought such a deep sense of accompaniment: feeling that Jan (the walker, whose blog I read but have never met) and I were united in faith, mystically accompanied by God. Feeling rather trapped and frustrated, the image of movement and grace brought me strangely to tears. I was not walking alone and my parental frustration did not have the last word.
Another definition I have always liked is from the Nepalese movie Himalaya. A group of villagers travel down their mountain with their yak to trade salt for grain. Being passed by another traveler, a child asks his father: Who is that? A pilgrim. What's a pilgrim? A religious person who walks.
So... Living. My favorite collect after the prayers of the people talks about our "earthly pilgrimage," and the phrase is in the burial service as well. Walking. Movement. Emma and Julia, going to Costa Rica to help out in churches there and learn a bit about what the diocese is like. Each of us praying for them and supporting them in whatever way we can. I invite you also to consider what pilgrimage means to you: have you ever been on one? Is there a place you want to go? What is revealed to you in the gentle slog of GOING-up a mountain or across a river or shepherding a child to sleep. To Elvis Presley's Graceland, Thoreau's Walden, to Bethlehem, Jerusalem. How are our values confirmed by those experiences? How are they challenged?
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I'm sending along my report for the annual report; a .pdf of the whole document will be available online later today, linked here, and at our website, so please review it as you are able. We will have printed copies available on Sunday, but we find the meeting works a bit better if participants have read the reports in advance.
S+
Report of the Rector, 2011
This year, as I sat down to write my report, without thinking, I began to type "Dear People of Christ Church..." as I begin each week with my email newsletter. I find myself so often in a kind of internal conversation with this parish. My vocation as a priest and my job as your priest come together in ways I am so grateful for. Truly, we share ministry in this place-and I especially couldn't do it without our stellar vestry and wardens!
2011 saw so much come to fruition. We had the first full year of the Christ Church Quarterly, our beautiful newsletter edited by Kristin Harvey, with issues on music, humankind, prayer, and the Sabbath. We had three all-encompassing children's services, where we were lead by our younger members. It was also the year we finally received the CPA grant which we began applying for back in 2010, and undertook an amazing adventure of generosity and faith in our capital campaign. See Mike's report for details- I sincerely could not have imagined what a grace-filled experience we would have in those visits and in your generosity. We had a 10 percent increase in Sunday attendance and a 10 percent increase in number of pledges from 2010. We had the biggest Sunday service in the six years I've been here on Easter, with 180 people gathering to celebrate the holiday.
It also felt like a new year of openness to the gifts of the city around us; for the first time, we reached out to local businesses for donations to Diaper Depot, and received $750.00 from Watertown Savings Bank. The American Legion Band offered a concert to support DD, and our Waltham History Day took on a new significance with our approved CPA grant as a way of opening our doors to the city. The work of Bill Fowler in bringing all of this to fruition cannot be overstated, and I am deeply grateful to him for his hard work and creativity.
In the Gospel of Mark, which we hear on the third Sunday after Epiphany, Jesus goes to Simon and Andrew and calls them from their nets; follow me, he says, and I will make you fish for people. He goes to them right where they are: God finds us and gives us our ministries without too much prompting from us, often when we are engaged in quite unrelated activities! But we do have to keep our eyes, ears, and hearts open. Looking into 2012, I am so excited to see where Christ will find us, how the Holy Spirit will transform us, how God our Creator will continue to nourish us with fruits both physical (thank you, Christ Church gardeners!) and metaphorical.
Christ will find us in embarking on new leadership challenges, Christ will find us in being wise stewards of this building and of each other, Christ will find us at coffee and at the altar rail, playing games and listening, in our conflict as well as our comforts, in our digging deep and drinking in. Thanks be to God!
This week, I'm sending along my report for the annual report; a .pdf of the whole document will be available online later today, linked here, and at our website, so please review it as you are able. We will have printed copies available on Sunday, but we find the meeting works a bit better if participants have read the reports in advance.
S+
Report of the Rector, 2011
This year, as I sat down to write my report, without thinking, I began to type "Dear People of Christ Church..." as I begin each week with my email newsletter. I find myself so often in a kind of internal conversation with this parish. My vocation as a priest and my job as your priest come together in ways I am so grateful for. Truly, we share ministry in this place-and I especially couldn't do it without our stellar vestry and wardens!
2011 saw so much come to fruition. We had the first full year of the Christ Church Quarterly, our beautiful newsletter edited by Kristin Harvey, with issues on music, humankind, prayer, and the Sabbath. We had three all-encompassing children's services, where we were lead by our younger members. It was also the year we finally received the CPA grant which we began applying for back in 2010, and undertook an amazing adventure of generosity and faith in our capital campaign. See Mike's report for details- I sincerely could not have imagined what a grace-filled experience we would have in those visits and in your generosity. We had a 10 percent increase in Sunday attendance and a 10 percent increase in number of pledges from 2010. We had the biggest Sunday service in the six years I've been here on Easter, with 180 people gathering to celebrate the holiday.
It also felt like a new year of openness to the gifts of the city around us; for the first time, we reached out to local businesses for donations to Diaper Depot, and received $750.00 from Watertown Savings Bank. The American Legion Band offered a concert to support DD, and our Waltham History Day took on a new significance with our approved CPA grant as a way of opening our doors to the city. The work of Bill Fowler in bringing all of this to fruition cannot be overstated, and I am deeply grateful to him for his hard work and creativity.
In the Gospel of Mark, which we hear on the third Sunday after Epiphany, Jesus goes to Simon and Andrew and calls them from their nets; follow me, he says, and I will make you fish for people. He goes to them right where they are: God finds us and gives us our ministries without too much prompting from us, often when we are engaged in quite unrelated activities! But we do have to keep our eyes, ears, and hearts open. Looking into 2012, I am so excited to see where Christ will find us, how the Holy Spirit will transform us, how God our Creator will continue to nourish us with fruits both physical (thank you, Christ Church gardeners!) and metaphorical.
Christ will find us in embarking on new leadership challenges, Christ will find us in being wise stewards of this building and of each other, Christ will find us at coffee and at the altar rail, playing games and listening, in our conflict as well as our comforts, in our digging deep and drinking in. Thanks be to God!
Friday, January 13, 2012
Dear People of Christ Church,
This Sunday we celebrate the baptisms of Abram Leonardo and Abigail Sobosik. Abigail is the granddaughter of longtime Christ Churchers Jeanne and Jim McDonald, and joins siblings Ava and Petey-all of whom were also baptized here. Their family lives near Worcester, now, but it's good to welcome them home to Waltham where their parents, Pete and Belinda, were also married. Abram most recently graced our sanctuary in playing baby Jesus in the Pageant, so he will surely take being dunked with water in stride.
This past Sunday we threw water around, too. For our children's sermon we talked about Jesus' baptism-I believe it was Donovan who painted the vivid picture for us of John "shoving him under the water" in the river Jordan. We talked about the symbolism of water, and how the water blessing weaves imagery from all the way through the Christian story. From the beginning of creation when the Holy Spirit moved over it, to the Israelites walking through the red sea, to Jesus being baptized-water has always been a dynamic gift, both physical (we are, after all made of it) and spiritual. After we prayed over it, the kids got to do the asperges (the sprinkling of holy water on the people)-a blessing in so many ways. Putting our wet hands to our heads, we said, "I belong to Christ."
I have written in this space before about how kids in worship help us all-sometimes we get so serious and solemn about things, and they just help us to lighten up. Respect is certainly appropriate, and we need to remember and to connect with the majesty and grandeur of our faith. But there is also so much about life on earth that is just intended for our joy. There is a line in the Eucharistic prayer that says "you made us for yourself"-God's action in creation isn't some kind of distant, impersonal speech-it's celebration and song and delight. We are God's-in English the possessive is expressed kind of weakly with that little --'s--but in Greek there is a whole different verb conjugation for it. The possession is located not in the owner, but in the action itself; somehow it seems even more powerful to me that way. It's not just me that is God's, it's also the belonging itself.
So, this Sunday, be there--and come expecting to get wet!
Blessings,
Sara+
This Sunday we celebrate the baptisms of Abram Leonardo and Abigail Sobosik. Abigail is the granddaughter of longtime Christ Churchers Jeanne and Jim McDonald, and joins siblings Ava and Petey-all of whom were also baptized here. Their family lives near Worcester, now, but it's good to welcome them home to Waltham where their parents, Pete and Belinda, were also married. Abram most recently graced our sanctuary in playing baby Jesus in the Pageant, so he will surely take being dunked with water in stride.
This past Sunday we threw water around, too. For our children's sermon we talked about Jesus' baptism-I believe it was Donovan who painted the vivid picture for us of John "shoving him under the water" in the river Jordan. We talked about the symbolism of water, and how the water blessing weaves imagery from all the way through the Christian story. From the beginning of creation when the Holy Spirit moved over it, to the Israelites walking through the red sea, to Jesus being baptized-water has always been a dynamic gift, both physical (we are, after all made of it) and spiritual. After we prayed over it, the kids got to do the asperges (the sprinkling of holy water on the people)-a blessing in so many ways. Putting our wet hands to our heads, we said, "I belong to Christ."
I have written in this space before about how kids in worship help us all-sometimes we get so serious and solemn about things, and they just help us to lighten up. Respect is certainly appropriate, and we need to remember and to connect with the majesty and grandeur of our faith. But there is also so much about life on earth that is just intended for our joy. There is a line in the Eucharistic prayer that says "you made us for yourself"-God's action in creation isn't some kind of distant, impersonal speech-it's celebration and song and delight. We are God's-in English the possessive is expressed kind of weakly with that little --'s--but in Greek there is a whole different verb conjugation for it. The possession is located not in the owner, but in the action itself; somehow it seems even more powerful to me that way. It's not just me that is God's, it's also the belonging itself.
So, this Sunday, be there--and come expecting to get wet!
Blessings,
Sara+
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Dear People of Christ Church,
A blessed last few days of Advent to you!
So many thanks to our Pageant Stars (pictured right) and Director Erin Jensen. Our kids did a wonderful job of bringing the Christmas story to light this past Sunday, with a potentially record-setting number of 27 participants!
It has, though, felt like a short season of preparation, when both the calendar and our own hectic lives conspire to make Christmas seem early. Christingle Party and Pageant on the same day? Never again, please! Christmas is, of course, not sooner; it is the twenty-fifth of December, same as always. And, same as always, there is something ELSE that seems more pressing that sitting down to do the real work of contemplation and preparation, of "making room" in our hearts for the birth of Christ. I recently read someone refer to Christmas as "the feast of Nicene Dogma"-Nicea being the ecumenical council when Jesus' nature as both fully human and fully divine was officially adopted by the church, in 325-and while it doesn't sound very romantic, it's not a bad characterization of the holiday.
Christmas is the day-the day when we celebrate that God became human in the person of Jesus Christ. Two natures, fully human and fully divine. Amidst all the presents and the food and the preparation, God becomes one of us. This is a big deal, because it says a lot about God-a God willing to be one of us, to be powerless as a baby, to have to learn as a little child, to be rebellious as an adolescent (remember that time he ran away from his parents in the Temple?), to be tested as a young man, and to suffer as we all, invariably, will. It says a lot about God, but it also says a lot about us.
The God of our salvation, coming to be with us in THIS sometimes joyful and sometimes sorry state of affairs. What that says about God is that God is infinitely willing to bridge hardship and suffering to be with us in our suffering. It means that nothing we could ever undergo is alien to the heart of God. It also means, most powerfully, this: when God became human, we got a chance to be closer to God. Athanasius of Alexandria put it this way in the fourth Century:
The Word of God indeed assumed humanity that we might become God...so many are the Savior's achievements that follow from his Incarnation that to try to number them is like gazing at the open sea and trying to count the waves.
Each one of us is a wave of reconciled humanity, changed toward grace and liberated from our sin, that is, liberated from our separation from God. No more retaliation, no more defensiveness, no more revenge or "eye for an eye." Just love and peace. Love and peace for each of us-every last one of us, no matter what. That's the gift we're given at Christmas.
Thanks be to God!
Christmas Blessings,
Sara+
A blessed last few days of Advent to you!
So many thanks to our Pageant Stars (pictured right) and Director Erin Jensen. Our kids did a wonderful job of bringing the Christmas story to light this past Sunday, with a potentially record-setting number of 27 participants!
It has, though, felt like a short season of preparation, when both the calendar and our own hectic lives conspire to make Christmas seem early. Christingle Party and Pageant on the same day? Never again, please! Christmas is, of course, not sooner; it is the twenty-fifth of December, same as always. And, same as always, there is something ELSE that seems more pressing that sitting down to do the real work of contemplation and preparation, of "making room" in our hearts for the birth of Christ. I recently read someone refer to Christmas as "the feast of Nicene Dogma"-Nicea being the ecumenical council when Jesus' nature as both fully human and fully divine was officially adopted by the church, in 325-and while it doesn't sound very romantic, it's not a bad characterization of the holiday.
Christmas is the day-the day when we celebrate that God became human in the person of Jesus Christ. Two natures, fully human and fully divine. Amidst all the presents and the food and the preparation, God becomes one of us. This is a big deal, because it says a lot about God-a God willing to be one of us, to be powerless as a baby, to have to learn as a little child, to be rebellious as an adolescent (remember that time he ran away from his parents in the Temple?), to be tested as a young man, and to suffer as we all, invariably, will. It says a lot about God, but it also says a lot about us.
The God of our salvation, coming to be with us in THIS sometimes joyful and sometimes sorry state of affairs. What that says about God is that God is infinitely willing to bridge hardship and suffering to be with us in our suffering. It means that nothing we could ever undergo is alien to the heart of God. It also means, most powerfully, this: when God became human, we got a chance to be closer to God. Athanasius of Alexandria put it this way in the fourth Century:
The Word of God indeed assumed humanity that we might become God...so many are the Savior's achievements that follow from his Incarnation that to try to number them is like gazing at the open sea and trying to count the waves.
Each one of us is a wave of reconciled humanity, changed toward grace and liberated from our sin, that is, liberated from our separation from God. No more retaliation, no more defensiveness, no more revenge or "eye for an eye." Just love and peace. Love and peace for each of us-every last one of us, no matter what. That's the gift we're given at Christmas.
Thanks be to God!
Christmas Blessings,
Sara+
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
On the Ending of the Iraq War
Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, I find myself puzzling over-if I can use that light a word for something so big-the end of the Iraq war. I have probably told the story in this space before of how my husband and I got married in New York City in 2003, about six weeks before it started. February 15 was a world-wide day of action against George W Bush's plan to invade Iraq, and it also happened to be our wedding day. The BBC says that between 6 and 10 million people in up to 60 countries participated in protests that weekend-organizers put the figure at closer to 30 million. Even the Guinness Book of World Records agreed that 3 million turned out in Rome-the biggest anti war protest in history. Our wedding date was chosen because of the bishop's schedule, not our own, but when we knew about the protests planned for the day, we encouraged our guests to go uptown after the reception to march. Archbishop Desmond Tutu spoke: "President Bush, listen to the voice of the people, for many times the voice of the people is the voice of God. Listen to the voice of the people saying, 'Give peace a chance.'"
Not long after, on March 20, we were in a roadside café in Rhodes, Greece, and saw the news-the war had started. Now, almost eight years later-a big 8 years for me, it's seen me get ordained to the priesthood, get called rector of Christ Church, and give birth to two children-it's done, with President Obama speaking to troops at Fort Bragg and saying, simply, "Welcome Home." This week Time Magazine also announced that their Person of the Year is "The Protestor." I'm not an avid reader of the magazine, but I appreciated their question:
Is there a global tipping point for frustration? Everywhere, it seems, people said they'd had enough. They dissented; they demanded; they did not despair, even when the answers came back in a cloud of tear gas or a hail of bullets. They literally embodied the idea that individual action can bring collective, colossal change (Rick Stengel, Time Magazine).
It's the literal embodiment of protest that's moving; putting your body where your heart is. In my sermon on Sunday I talked about a book I read recently, by Leymah Gbowee, one of the three women awarded the Nobel Peace Prize this year. Gbowee was one of the architects of a women's peace movement that ended the brutal regime of dictator Charles Taylor. Coming to grips with their own fear and pain, they showed up day after day in the public square and organized across their own differences. Muslims and Christians, women of all tribes, working together. They even held a sex strike! But it took 14 years.
I don't know what impact those global protests had 8 years ago. I am certainly thankful for Waltham's faithful witnesses for peace who have stood on the common in Vigil on Saturdays since then, and who will still be there in witness for Afghanistan. For my own part in 2003, sending a few wedding guests on the subway is not much of a contribution (I confess that we took a cab in the opposite direction and went to a fancy hotel before coming back to Church History class on Monday). After so much of my own anger about this war-undertaken, after all, ostensibly on my behalf as an American (and a New York City resident on 9/11/01)-I long for a deeper sense of resolution or satisfaction. Instead, it's vague sadness and resignation. It is also true that a large part of the complete pull out at this time is due to the fact that the military would not tolerate losing immunity to prosecution by Iraqi law. That doesn't sound like much to celebrate.
Still, we are in the third week of Advent-the pink candle week-when we hear St Paul write to the Thessalonians in his first letter:
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you (5:16-18).
The will of God in Christ for us is to rejoice; to hold fast to even the smallest shred of good that we can find, not to be blinded by so much evil. And the end of a war is surely more than a shred of goodness. Theologically, too, there is in the Christian faith the strong tradition of lament; lament for the more than 100,000 Iraqis killed, and prayers for the one million widows and two million orphans that will have to rebuild their country. Maybe penance is appropriate, too-hopefully a chastened America will move more deliberately. I also take comfort in a Christian faith in which I don't have to have the answer; two months ago, I wrote in this space about Muammar Qadaffi's death: there are as many prayers to say as questions to ask. The important thing is to engage.
Here's what the Book of Common Prayer gives us-appropriate for Christmas, too-the coming of the Dream of God, the birth of Christ, in our midst. May our own hands and feet work for this dream in this season of hope.
Eternal God, in whose perfect kingdom no sword is drawn but the sword of righteousness, no strength known but the strength of love: So mightily spread abroad your Spirit, that all peoples may be gathered under the banner of the Prince of Peace, as children of one Father; to whom be dominion and glory, now and for ever. Amen.
Blessings,
Sara+
This week, I find myself puzzling over-if I can use that light a word for something so big-the end of the Iraq war. I have probably told the story in this space before of how my husband and I got married in New York City in 2003, about six weeks before it started. February 15 was a world-wide day of action against George W Bush's plan to invade Iraq, and it also happened to be our wedding day. The BBC says that between 6 and 10 million people in up to 60 countries participated in protests that weekend-organizers put the figure at closer to 30 million. Even the Guinness Book of World Records agreed that 3 million turned out in Rome-the biggest anti war protest in history. Our wedding date was chosen because of the bishop's schedule, not our own, but when we knew about the protests planned for the day, we encouraged our guests to go uptown after the reception to march. Archbishop Desmond Tutu spoke: "President Bush, listen to the voice of the people, for many times the voice of the people is the voice of God. Listen to the voice of the people saying, 'Give peace a chance.'"
Not long after, on March 20, we were in a roadside café in Rhodes, Greece, and saw the news-the war had started. Now, almost eight years later-a big 8 years for me, it's seen me get ordained to the priesthood, get called rector of Christ Church, and give birth to two children-it's done, with President Obama speaking to troops at Fort Bragg and saying, simply, "Welcome Home." This week Time Magazine also announced that their Person of the Year is "The Protestor." I'm not an avid reader of the magazine, but I appreciated their question:
Is there a global tipping point for frustration? Everywhere, it seems, people said they'd had enough. They dissented; they demanded; they did not despair, even when the answers came back in a cloud of tear gas or a hail of bullets. They literally embodied the idea that individual action can bring collective, colossal change (Rick Stengel, Time Magazine).
It's the literal embodiment of protest that's moving; putting your body where your heart is. In my sermon on Sunday I talked about a book I read recently, by Leymah Gbowee, one of the three women awarded the Nobel Peace Prize this year. Gbowee was one of the architects of a women's peace movement that ended the brutal regime of dictator Charles Taylor. Coming to grips with their own fear and pain, they showed up day after day in the public square and organized across their own differences. Muslims and Christians, women of all tribes, working together. They even held a sex strike! But it took 14 years.
I don't know what impact those global protests had 8 years ago. I am certainly thankful for Waltham's faithful witnesses for peace who have stood on the common in Vigil on Saturdays since then, and who will still be there in witness for Afghanistan. For my own part in 2003, sending a few wedding guests on the subway is not much of a contribution (I confess that we took a cab in the opposite direction and went to a fancy hotel before coming back to Church History class on Monday). After so much of my own anger about this war-undertaken, after all, ostensibly on my behalf as an American (and a New York City resident on 9/11/01)-I long for a deeper sense of resolution or satisfaction. Instead, it's vague sadness and resignation. It is also true that a large part of the complete pull out at this time is due to the fact that the military would not tolerate losing immunity to prosecution by Iraqi law. That doesn't sound like much to celebrate.
Still, we are in the third week of Advent-the pink candle week-when we hear St Paul write to the Thessalonians in his first letter:
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you (5:16-18).
The will of God in Christ for us is to rejoice; to hold fast to even the smallest shred of good that we can find, not to be blinded by so much evil. And the end of a war is surely more than a shred of goodness. Theologically, too, there is in the Christian faith the strong tradition of lament; lament for the more than 100,000 Iraqis killed, and prayers for the one million widows and two million orphans that will have to rebuild their country. Maybe penance is appropriate, too-hopefully a chastened America will move more deliberately. I also take comfort in a Christian faith in which I don't have to have the answer; two months ago, I wrote in this space about Muammar Qadaffi's death: there are as many prayers to say as questions to ask. The important thing is to engage.
Here's what the Book of Common Prayer gives us-appropriate for Christmas, too-the coming of the Dream of God, the birth of Christ, in our midst. May our own hands and feet work for this dream in this season of hope.
Eternal God, in whose perfect kingdom no sword is drawn but the sword of righteousness, no strength known but the strength of love: So mightily spread abroad your Spirit, that all peoples may be gathered under the banner of the Prince of Peace, as children of one Father; to whom be dominion and glory, now and for ever. Amen.
Blessings,
Sara+
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