I was recently reminded by a colleague about the Italian origins of the word quarantine. Literally meaning, “the span of forty days,” the word was used in the Middle Ages to describe the keeping of ships waiting off port for 40 days to prevent latent cases of plague coming on shore.
Of course, the number of forty is familiar to readers of the Bible. The number forty is always used to describe a time of exile, wandering, loneliness, and testing. We recall the story of Noah, when the rain fell for forty days and nights, forcing Noah and his family to be at sea until the storms calmed and new life began to spring forth; and, the story of the Israelite sojourn in the wilderness for forty years, between escape from Egyptian captivity and entrance into the Promised Land; and, of course, the forty days and nights after his baptism that Jesus stayed alone in the wilderness, tempted and tested, before starting his public ministry.
In these biblical stories of quarantine, time is spent apart: a time of consecrating self and community to God and God’s purposes in the world.
I have a conflicted relationship with the season of Lent. It is not easy for me to sit still; I find it difficult to act in particularly pious ways (like fasting, extended prayers, ritualistic spiritual practices); and I certainly don’t love religious language reminding me about my own sinfulness or claiming a general “wretchedness” somehow inherent in all human beings.
I am quite sure that I am not alone in this. People very close to me (who may or may not live in my own home) freely express, throughout each Lenten season, their frustration with the language, expectations, and general drudgery often imposed by churches in their Lenten liturgies. More than a couple of folks in the Grace community have shared similar sentiments. And a striking data point reinforces this truth about us: in both of the last two years at Grace, four of our lowest attended Sunday morning services were during the season of Lent. Last year, our average Sunday attendance--for all of 2019--would have neared or surpassed 80; but instead, because of low worship attendance during Lent, it remained in mid 70’s. (for reference, our average Sunday attendance in 2017 was 56.) So, it may be that many of us find Lent to be good time for a little “break” from church. 😊
This year, we are praying and planning for a meaningful, inspiring, and joy-filled experience of Lent. (We are not putting away the maracas this year!) We will incorporate elements in our liturgy we pray will inspire hope, meaning and gladness even as we are careful not to shun the particular gifts of the season to guide us in repentance, lament, and solidarity with a broken and hurting world. We are scheduling special formation and fellowship programming to inspire growth in a centered and purposeful life.
“Diversity is inviting someone to the party. Inclusion is asking them to dance.” – Unknown
Dear Friends in Grace,
I am so proud of you. So proud of us.
As I reflect back on the last 20 months, especially back to the beginning of my tenure as your Vicar, I am in awe at the distance we have already traveled together. With God’s inspiration and wisdom and help, we are growing and thriving -- in hope, in vision, in worship, and in numbers.
I am amazed by the grace with which you have embraced all kinds of changes to expand the breadth of our love and welcome. We continue to update our campus for efficiency, attractiveness, and accessibility. We are trying out new prayers in liturgy (approved by General Convention last year). We are learning new music for worship, experimenting with new ministry ideas to foster connection and outreach, and working to reorganize our staff and lay leaders to involve more and more people in the leadership and life of Grace.
We are Growing in Grace!
“Grace Upon Grace: God’s Increase and Our Response”
There is a particularly beautiful sentence, situated in the midst of the gorgeously poetic first chapter of the Gospel of John. These words always overwhelm me when I hear them; they inspire me by revealing the infinitely limitless generosity and benevolence of our Creator; they stir up within me deep gratitude, wonder, and even my own desire to grow as a gracious and generous person made in God’s image.
“From God’s fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” John 1.16
As our 2020 Stewardship Pledge Campaign gets ready to kick off on October 20, we are embracing this truth of God’s lavish and limitless GRACE as our campaign theme. During the Campaign, we will hear stories from members of our community who have experienced one surprise of God’s faithfulness after another, living out the truth that there is no end to the goodness God has for us.
What are you for?
I remember many years ago, in the aftermath of a personally devastating experience, I came to a poignant realization about myself. The epiphany didn’t come easily; in fact, I had to wallow in a great deal of anger, regret, and resentment first. Someone had inflicted great pain on me; I had chosen to operate in the wrong system; I had been wronged. And my focus was on that wrong.
At a pivotal time in that process, I became aware of something very problematic in my life up to that point: the awareness that for many years I had been charting my life’s course according to what I was against, what I was not, what I didn’t want. The problem: I didn’t know what I was actually FOR.
This revelation allowed me, over time, to rebuild a huge part of my life on very different terms. I began articulating what was most important to me, what brought the most joy, what kind of work was truly fulfilling.
The fact that I was able to make this profound shift in my life – from “against” to “for” – is in large part the reason that I found my way into the vocation of a priest and, eventually, into the call to be Vicar of Grace.
During the past several months, the Bishop’s Committee and I have been discerning what we are “FOR” at Grace. We have reviewed and considered the results from the Holy Cow! Survey; we have reflected on worship, outreach and fellowship programs at Grace; and we have engaged many thoughtful conversations with lots of folks in the congregation. Out of this work, we have drafted a list of “Core Values” for Grace that we believe reflects the reality of who we are and who we are becoming as a community.
Core Values are the things we value most of all – the convictions, commitments, and investments we are FOR. Knowing and talking about our Core Values will help us make decisions that are based on shared priorities and commitments. It helps to put the factors of individual personalities and personal passions at the service of the whole congregation.
As Christians, we are always challenged to be on the move. The stories of our tradition testify to a life of faith spurred to action, called out of comfort, inspired to cross borders, and compelled to press forward.
We recall the voice of God to Abraham, inviting him to move faithfully to a strange land; or to Sarah, promising that she would bear a child in old age. We think of the prophet Isaiah, who challenged Israel to “enlarge the place of your tent” to facilitate the enormity of God’s blessing that was promised to come; and Jonah, commanded to travel to the land of his enemies and call for repentance (with the terrifying prospect that they might be saved!). And, of course, we always lift up the witness of Jesus Christ, God Incarnate, who “did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited but emptied himself...being born in human likeness...and became obedient to the point of death,” as St. Paul proclaims to the Philippians.
To walk this life of faith, and especially to follow our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, is to walk a path fraught with change and transition and difference, through a landscape dotted with promise and hope and renewal. We walk this path for a purpose – that we may, more and more, accept God’s dream for our lives and enact God’s dream for this world.
“God's Creation gives us a model for making and sharing homes with people, but the reality of God's Trinitarian life suggests that Christian hospitality goes farther than that. We are not meant simply to invite people into our homes, but also to invite them into our lives.” –Lauren F. Winner, Mudhouse Sabbath
I’ve been thinking a great deal about hospitality lately. I’ve been thinking about what it would take for us to make the kind of space in our life together in order to nurture meaningful and lasting connection for newer members and newcomers to our church community.
Grace is truly a welcoming congregation. Almost everybody agrees on this. When folks visit our campus, whether for school business, for a community event, or for worship, they are met with love and kindness – consistently greeted with warmth, generously assisted in finding their way around, kindly thanked for being with us and always invited back. We welcome visitors unconditionally, affirm difference and diversity, and make space for the new experiences and perspectives that others bring. I am so grateful that this value of welcoming was already wholeheartedly embraced before I arrived at Grace early last year.
In my distress I called upon the Lord;/ to my God I cried for help./
From his temple he heard my voice,/ and my cry to him reached his ears.”
This time of year, it can be easy to forget that holidays aren’t happy for everyone.
For many of us who have experienced profound illness, trouble, or loss, a holiday can morph into another painful milestone along a seemingly endless line of “firsts” without that health, or well-being, or loved one present with us as before.
Happy New Year!
I love new beginnings, fresh starts, and trying again.
For Episcopalians and Christians of many other traditions all over the world, time moves to a different rhythm from the established days, weeks, months and years set on the calendar that governs modern society.
The Church’s year ebbs and flows with the energy of the cosmos. Our Liturgical Calendar (which guides our annual patterns of worship and activities) is set each year according to the solar and lunar calendars. Some Festivals, like Christmas on December 25, are fixed in place according to the sun. Others, Easter most of all, arrive at slightly different points each year, according to the moon.
(You may be interested to know that Easter’s fluctuating situation is a result of a conscious decision of the Church, about 1700 years ago. The Council of Nicaea established in 325 AD that Easter will come each year on the first Sunday after the first Full Moon after the Spring Equinox. This is why Easter can arrive much earlier or much later each year – as early as mid-March and as late as almost-May.)
“Eternal God, heavenly Father, you have graciously accepted us as living members of your Son our Savior Jesus Christ, and you have fed us with spiritual food in the Sacrament of his Body and Blood.”
If you’ve been in Sunday worship sometime during the last couple of months, you have probably received fresh-baked bread at Eucharist, in place of the wafers we often share. (I know that many of you have noticed this switcheroo, because you’ve mentioned it or asked about it.)
Truthfully, I prefer bread to wafers, for a reason I’ll share momentarily. But I didn’t set out to impose a Eucharistic preference on the whole lot of us. At first, we were just beginning our journey through the “bread discourses” in the Gospel of John – a series of 6 weeks during the Lectionary Cycle’s “Year B” when we read passages from the 6th chapter of John, all having to do in some way with “bread.”