Thanksgiving

A few of us met after church last Sunday to talk about our Advent liturgy. We change the service music and prayers each season to highlight particular theological themes, and also to help our best loved prayers to stay fresh in our minds. This fall we’ve used a set of prayers of the people written by parishioner Paula Tatarunis; this Advent, we’ll use a set from the Episcopal Diocese of Iowa, written by the Rev. Susanne Watson Epting. For our Confession and Post Communion Prayer, we’ll use prayers from the Anglican Church in New Zealand. Our Eucharistic Prayer and the lyrics for the service music come from our own 1979 Book of Common Prayer, so there will still be plenty in the service that feels familiar. Reaching all the way back to Queen Elizabeth in the 16th Century and the beginnings of what we now call “Anglicanism,” we have talked about how the uniformity of our worship joins us together even amongst great differences. We are fortunate to be able to use prayers from our Anglican sisters and brothers on the other side of the globe. Stephen, our organist, has written us beautiful new settings for the season which will carry us through Epiphany. Please take a moment to visit his website, where he has kindly recorded the Gloria for us to practice before Sunday. We’ll also take a few minutes to practice right before the service. www.stephensikorski.com/christchurch Thank you, Stephen!

One of the lines from the post communion prayer has especially stayed with me, and seems very appropriate for Thanksgiving. The prayer concludes, “Accept, O God, our sacrifice of praise. Accept our thanks for all you have done. Our hands were empty, and you filled them. Amen, amen.” “Our hands were empty, and you filled them”—the Christian life is all about opening our hands. God freely gives us life, love, and grace. Even the tasks set before us are gifts from God. We are called to open our hands and give thanks. Sometimes life is difficult and chaotic. It doesn’t always feel like a gift. But even in those times, Christ is with us. Our Savior suffered, too. And sometimes, life is pure grace. The other morning, as Noah and I stumbled downstairs for breakfast (earlier than I would prefer, I have to admit), he with Isaiah in his arms and me with the dog, that line occurred to me. Quite literally, our arms have been filled!
As turn our attention to the holiday, please pray especially for those who are in difficulty this week. For the sick and the suffering, for those who are in conflict with their families and for those who are far from friends. May they be blessed and held in the embrace of our God who calls us each by name, and loves us with a boundless love. Have a happy Thanksgiving!

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.

 Already Christmas shopping, I’ve been thinking about the theology of gifts. There is a lot of dialogue in theological circles about whether a gift can really be a gift if it’s exchanged or expected. The true meaning of a gift is that it’s freely given—no strings attached, no expectation of a gift in return, no expectation, even of gratitude. By that standard, a lot of what we do isn’t gift giving at all; it’s a trade.  Parenthood is a true gift in that respect—hearing from a mother at the end of her rope with a teenaged child the other day, I thought about the wonderful gift that she gives him—the gift of accepting his anger, even at the cost of her own pain. He might grow up and thank her for that constancy and love; he might not. But either way, she still gives the gift out of the love that binds them together.  A cynic might argue that parents just care for our children so they will eventually care for us, but I think that misses something. Our love isn’t our own achievement; love comes from somewhere else.  As the first letter of John says, “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God…God is love and those who abide in love abide in God.”  As we love, we give the love that we first received in Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us. A parent, however imperfectly, reflects that love. In a faith community, we aim to mirror that love as well.

 That’s real gift giving—but I think the smaller gifts we give each other are important, too. Of course the Christmas season can get too commercialized and acquisitive. Like much in our life, it can be empty and exchange-based.  But at its best, gift giving is an invitation to transformation.  The trick, though, is that we have to be open to the ways that giving changes us—not the way that we expect our giving to change others.  The gift I give to you is as much for me as it is for you. 

 This is what giving to a church is about, too. To give, really and truly sacrificially, is to trust God. Not just fitting in those extra few dollars at the end of the year, but really building that giving into the fabric of each of our days.  Someone was telling me recently about having decided not to buy a leaf blower. It’s the height of fall, and the leaves are everywhere, and it would certainly be nice to have one.  But he decided to give the money to church, instead, and something changed. Raking on the next Saturday morning, his daughter jumped in the leaves and they spent time together. He wasn’t standing in Sears and thinking, “if I don’t buy this, then God will reward me and I will have more family time,” he just gave out of faith, and received an unexpected blessing.  There will be times that raking those leaves will be a chore, but maybe other doors will open, and he’ll talk to the neighbors. Maybe he’ll be able to give the money that he would have spent on fuel to someone who’s hungry. The choices we make echo forward, as well as back, helping us to see our past in new ways. It is, as they say, not what you want, but what you need.  

Nov. 13: God's surprises

This week, I have been called to “practice what you preach” with a vengeance.

We got a puppy. Unlike whatever sweet creature the Obamas bring to the White House, though, my little fluffball will not be little for long—in a moment of reckless spontaneity, we got a St Bernard. Cyrus is not quite seven weeks, and already weighs at least 20 lbs and will probably reach about 150.  The farm where we get our meat (Chestnut Farms in Harwick MA, has an agreement with Waltham Fields here in town where they bring the share of food to town once a month) had these tiny puppies at pickup two weeks ago, and I melted. One of our cats died this fall, and I have not been ready to consider another. I have a birthday coming up so Noah suggested that he could be my present. Cyrus is too small to be at home alone for very long, so he has come to the office with me this week.  If you’re wondering where the name comes from, Cyrus the Great was the 6^th Century BCE Babylonian King who enabled Jewish faith and life to flourish, though he himself was Persian.  There is one etymology that says that, rather than meaning “like the sun,” and being connected to the Greek Kyrie (lord), the name Cyrus means “humiliator of the enemy in verbal contest.” But I’m letting that one go. He doesn’t bark too much. . . yet.

 The reason I say I am practicing what I preach is thiat this whole adventure gives me a deep sense of God’s surprise and presence in unlikely places. God comes to us in ordinary ways, in the stuff of our lives. We can’t predict how or when or why—God’s gifts just find us somehow, when we need them.  I had thought that maybe, when he was older, we might get a dog for Isaiah to care for. But I have always been a cat person, so I was pretty reluctant. Now, God laughs: “So, you want a surprise, do you? You want me to bring you out of your ordinary habits, to get help you to outside more often?  Here you go!”

 And here we are. It’s only been a few days, but I’ve already talked to more people on Main Street than I ever did in three years of ministry here.  I’m enjoying even today’s grey autumn. I’ve met old people and young people, mothers with babies, people who work next door and people who are waiting for the bus. The sense of openness to others that implausible gift has led me into is only grace—simple and subtle and wonderful.  I don’t just rush from the car into the office, and stay at my desk for hours. I have to get up, go out, run around.  Play is not something I’ve made very much space for in my life, but this week, it’s been two hours!  And, of course, Isaiah is thrilled.

I also wanted to share with you the actions of our diocesan convention over the weekend.  You can see the full wording of these on the bulletin board at church, and I’ll have an electronic copy of them next week.  In addition to hearing about a new ministry to veterans in the diocese (let me know if you’re interested in talking more about that) and electing people to various diocesan committees, we passed seven resolutions, for the most part unanimously:

+Resolution creating a diocesan policy on immigration

+Resolution in support of transgender civil rights and inclusion in the ministries of all the baptized

+Resolution affirming actions of the 75^th General Convention on slavery and reconciliation

+Resolution on Christian formation/education regarding the spirituality, history, and practice of nonviolence in the Christian tradition

+Resolution for General Convention endorsing Feast Day on May 17 for Saints Andronicus and Junia, Apostles (as well as a second resolution on Andronicus and Junia approving use of their feast day in this diocese)

+Resolution confirming the support of the Diocese of Massachusetts for the work of the Episcopal Diocese of Jerusalem (which also included provision for further interfaith dialogue with Jews and Muslims).

Diocesan Convention is one of those things that’s much more compelling in the abstract than in its execution. That we are part of a (for the most part) democratically governed church, that anyone can submit a resolution for consideration, that priests, bishops, deacons, and lay people ALL have a say in  the decisions that are made is a great thing.  Sitting still in a conference room for two days is less compelling, so I have to remind myself that it is a privilege to be there. Each congregation has two lay delegates who can vote at convention, but anyone can attend—let me know if you’d be interested in it next year. I believe it is scheduled for November 6 and 7.

From Nov. 5--Election Thoughts

This week, the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts is getting ready for our annual diocesan convention. We meet to discuss the life of the diocese and to vote on resolutions presented by the people and congregations of our community.  Of course, my thoughts have been more dominated by Tuesday’s election than anything that we might vote on this weekend.  As I’ve been reading the newspaper and hearing people’s reactions on the radio, I find myself with tears in my eyes at the joy and celebration of what this election means for our country. I know that all of you readers might not agree on the policy subtleties of the coming Obama presidency, but I think everyone can agree that the election our first African American president represents a momentous occasion for our country.

It may be just a coincidence (or it may be quite remarkable) that this election is during a time that the Episcopal Church is grappling with its own complicity and enmeshment with racism and the legacy of slavery. One of our resolutions for this weekend’s convention proposes a process of dialogue and research into how we in our own diocese and parishes benefited historically, and currently, from that sinful institution, and how we can become “a transformed, anti-racist church and work toward healing, reconciliation and a restoration of wholeness to the family of God.”  One of our tools for reflection is a film was made by a woman in our diocese, Katrina Browne, called “Traces of the Trade.” I hope we’ll be able to find some time to watch the film together here at Christ Church. Katrina discovered that her ancestors, the DeWolfe family of Bristol, Rhode Island, were the largest slave trading family in US history.  Exposing the lie of the notion that slavery was just a Southern issue, the film follows her and nine other family members as they retrace the Triangle Trade route of their ancestors, from Rhode Island, to Ghana, to Cuba, and back. They discuss what the history of their family—and our country—means for us today, and what white America is called to do in terms of apology and reparation. 

 

In a service of repentance held at the Church of St Thomas in Philadelphia, our Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori reflects on how “through it all, people of privilege looked the other way, and too few found the courage to question inhuman ideas, words, practices, or laws. We and they ignored the image of Christ in our neighbors . . . we will not experience the full resurrection until the whole body of Christ rises again.” 

And this week, we elected our first African American president, a child of a Kenyan and a Kansan, who rose through the ranks of American politics on a promise of hope, rather than the security of privilege.  It is often said that story represents the best of America, of our diversity and opportunity and possibility, and I think it is certainly true. The number of new voters, new volunteers, and new voices in our political dialogue signaled the way so many people found their story reflected in his story.  Whatever the policy differences are between republicans and democrats in this country, this election is one small sign that a more inclusive day has arrived in American politics.

Still, there is still so much racism in this country. It is not easy for us to talk about what all of this means, about how race did (or didn’t) figure in to the election.  A vote for Obama doesn’t mean that one person has conquered all their racist impulses, and a vote against him doesn’t mean that someone else hasn’t.  The state ballot initiatives against same sex marriage and against adoption by unmarried persons remind us that equality for all God’s children is still far off.  And yet, and yet.  This election is an opening, a crack in the door of that dark dungeon of suspicion and hatred.  The way forward is not easy. The challenges facing us are many, and hard. But we do not travel alone. Our Christian faith holds us up in the promise of a hope wider than anything any politician can give us.   The unity we have in the Gospel is far deeper than any unity we might have as a nation or as a political belief.   And all of us here at Christ Church, in all of our difference, have so, so much to be grateful for in our life together.