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Dear People of Christ Church,
This week my friends’ and my plot to get ourselves out of our offices—”two priests and a rabbi drinking coffee” resulted in another great conversation. Angel and David and I sat with one person who grew up Catholic and later converted to Judaism, one Christian new to Waltham in search of a church home, and one repeat customer who might call himself “spiritual but not religious.” Our word for the day: Hell.
Not usually one of my go-to spiritual concepts, but it was on my mind since it comes up in our Gospel for Sunday in the parable of Lazarus and the rich man. In the story, Lazarus (not to be confused with the guy who was raised from the dead) rests on Abraham’s breast, finally at peace after a lifetime sitting outside the gate of a rich man’s home begging. That rich man has also died, but he has been sent to the lake of fire in Hades. A great chasm is fixed between the two; Lazarus couldn’t help even if he wanted to.
The chasm is not, however, new: it ruptured while the two were alive, when the rich man chose not to see Lazarus. God didn’t create it as punishment: it simply was. “Hades” in the story is a nod to Greek mythology, not Jesus talking about God’s plans for us in the afterlife. But it comes with a hard question: the rich man didn’t see Lazarus. What are we not seeing? Then, as now, what does it mean to be part of a world where it’s so easy not to see?
This parable follows the parable of the dishonest manager, which we heard last week. In that one, we sit across the table from the manager who asks us: how much do you owe?
How much do I owe? Good grief, how much. A lot. Nobody is comparing me to a poisonous candy. Nobody is going to shoot me if my car breaks down (no matter where my hands are, and especially not if they are up in the air).
Why think of this as a debt? Many others do not have this thing that I have. And I certainly did not earn my citizenship or my pale skin or my access to education. My debt is to God, through those who suffer in this world. My debt is to them, through God. Easy to forget those lines in the Lord’s Prayer that really in the original language are more correctly translated as “debts.” Forgive us our debts, God, as we forgive our debtors. We say “trespasses,” which makes it a lot harder to say that as a confession.
Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.
Forgive us, God, all the things we don’t see, and give the grace and courage to open our eyes and hearts to your call.
Blessings,
Sara+

Dear People of Christ Church,
I’ve written several versions of this post trying to get to the bottom of what, exactly, I was doing for my time at Wild Goose Festival last week. Part of the standard clergy employment agreement is to have two weeks of “continuing education” time. I’ve gone to Wild Goose Festival now three times as part of that, and also used the time for retreats and conferences. So there is a sense of accountability around it—our parishes generously provide for this (and offer some funding!) in addition to vacation, so I want to try to share this with you.

I’m glad to include links of everything I saw—a lot of the presentations were things the presenters have offered before, so information is easy to convey. I will be glad to send you links. But the experience isn’t about data. What it is about is the amazing sense of how God was working in the lives of the people I met and listened to. Almost every person I heard had a deep sense of Scripture. I did the math and I’ve preached at least 400 sermons. I know some things about the Bible. But the way that Mark Charles, a Navajo activist and educator, talked about how white settlers in the Americas lacked a “land covenant” with God to guide our relationship, or the way Bree Newsome talked about how Jesus worked for peace, not order, or how Tony Campolo talked about the love of Jesus moved in his heart to advocate for GLBT persons in the evangelical movement—literally, OMG.

I have heretical moments, but by and large I think my theology about Jesus is pretty sound. But that’s my theology. My passion for Jesus is more in sacrament and symbol and church and service. It’s more intellection and less clear than “Ok, Lord, I’ll climb that pole.” I’d be afraid to climb a flag pole just for the sake of the height, much less risking arrest and the legitimate possibility of being shot. But Bree Newsome pointed out that Jesus was mostly just in the Temple when he was knocking things over. He was out in the world doing his ministry where God called him to be.

So that’s my real invitation from Wild Goose Festival. Where am I muting the invitation of the Holy Spirit because of fear? Where am I unfree from a disordered attachment to comfort? In church, in my family, in my prayer? How often am I willing to do the hard work for genuine, holy, peace? To learn from marginalized voices, not because it’s my “duty,” but because Jesus is there. It’s very comfortable to say that “education” is the key to success and social mobility, and that’s often true. But where we need to lean harder on education is for people like me who don’t get arrested for failing to use a turn signal, to learn what we don’t know. As a person of privilege in this country I can be like a fish in water and not have to understand what water is. But that is not the way of Jesus.

A white anti-racist response has to come from humility. This country was founded on the theft of land and came to economic dominance through slavery. It is coming toward democracy, and is founded on some amazing ideals of freedom and equality that are coming toward being for all people. But those ideals aren’t a reality for all of its people. The inspiring part, though, is that if the truth really will set us free—and I think we have to believe it does—is that we are all on our way to the vineyard. Some will be on time, some will be late, and some will be really, really late. But as Episcopal priest Paul Fromberg said in his talk on “An apocalyptic of peace:” I don’t believe in progress. I believe in salvation.”

As a Christian I, too, believe in salvation.

Blessings,
Sara+

Dear People of Christ Church,

So many great things going on this week!
Friday night, please join us for our parish arts and talent show. There will be everything from bellydancing to singing to poetry about cats, along with pieces from the Community Day Center’s Photo Exhibit, “Homelessness Through Our Eyes.” And there will be pizza.

Saturday, come over to help with Post Office food drive. The USPS’s annual “Stamp Out Hunger” event allows you to put food out at your mailbox to be delivered to local food pantries, and our own “Grandma’s Pantry” is a grateful recipient. Often times the haul is very generous, which means we need lots of help. Please be in touch with Sally Lobo if you can make it.

Sunday, please join Christ Churchers for the Mother’s Day Walk for Peace. In the last few years we’ve had 15-20 participants—let’s make it 30 this year! Meet at 7:30 am near the B Peace for Jorge tent on the Common. The Walk benefits the Louis Brown Peace Institute, founded by Tina Chery after her son Louis Brown was murdered. Money from the walk this year will go for a new grant program for advocacy groups and a new fund for those who need assistance with burial costs when their loved ones die by violence. We’ll be walking as part of the B Peace for Jorge team, which convened under the leadership of Bishop Tom Shaw after Jorge Fuentes, a counselor for St Stephen’s B Safe Program (for which we will volunteer later this summer!), was shot walking his dog. The year after Jorge’s death, Bishop Tom did the walk and celebrated the Eucharist at the end, a tradition Bishop Gates will continue this year.

With a lot of “walk” events—for breast cancer, or hunger, or suicide—the walking can feel sort of secondary. They are an important occasion to raise awareness—to turn our attention and offer support. For several years my kids did the Walk for Hunger with Grace Medford, and I know it gave them a tangible sense of focusing their attention on those who have less than they. But there is no direct correlation between putting one foot in front of the other and ending hunger. It’s a means, not an end.

The thing about the Peace Walk that is so compelling to me is that this is a time when the walking actually DOES make a difference. Many of us never have occasion to visit places we hear about on the news where yet another young person has been shot. We aren’t confronted with the reality of not allowing our kids to play outside for fear of random gunfire. The news tells us about these crimes, and maybe we pay attention and maybe we don’t—but we forget that there are communities and churches and schools full of kids and moms and dads and teenagers who walk their dogs who confront this as reality all the time. But illegal guns are a problem for everyone. Racism is a problem for everyone. 500 people from the suburbs descending on Dorchester once a year doesn’t change much. But bit by bit, it might change us. Maybe you have a conversation with someone or maybe you see racism in a different light. Maybe just one piece of the puzzle of race and inequality snaps in place. There’s hope.

This year, it feels especially important—this year’s march isn’t tied specifically to the Black Lives Matter Movement, but of course they are related. Police officers will be stationed throughout the walk to help guide walkers—we are grateful to them! But it’s the same racism that has led many police officers to immediately find people of color suspect. It’s the same racism that still lingers as suspicion and mistrust. It’s the same racism that infects our justice systems, our schools, and our streets. One poisonous well, many different outflows. Sunday, we will be one people of God, trying to find our way back to each other and to the grace of Christ that makes us all whole.

Blessings,
Sara+

Dear People of Christ Church,
This week, our Gospel brings up the question of “Church vs State”—Jesus is tested by the Pharisees and Herodians about whether or not to pay their taxes. Disarming the debate, he famously looks at the coin and declares that it’s got Caesar’s face on it, so they can give it back to Caesar. Those things that belong to God, they go to God.
I’m increasingly aware that we vote in just a few weeks, and there are some pretty important ballot initiatives on the table. The rubber of faith and our politics is about to hit the road.

It seems worth it here to mention a difference that I think is important to keep in mind when we think about politics and church. There’s a difference between being partisan and political. We get into all kinds of hot water when we are partisan—supporting particular candidates or political parties—and not just because of our IRS status, which would be on the line in that case. Being political, however, is just part of what it is to be human. Politics is all about power—who has it and who doesn’t. As Christians, our task is to look for those who have less power and stand with them. This is basic “What Would Jesus Do” stuff—prostitutes and tax collectors and widows and orphans. We’re on their side. People of faith can disagree with integrity with each other on how to solve particular questions of power in society (immigration, social welfare, etc), but advocating on the side of those on the margins just isn’t up for debate. I’m reminded of the Stephen Colbert quote—“If this is going to be a Christian nation that doesn’t help the poor, either we have to pretend that Jesus was just as selfish as we are, or we’ve got to acknowledge that He commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition and then admit that we just don’t want to do it.” Ouch.

In any case, there is a certainly a moral dimension to all four questions, but I’m particularly concerned about the questions on earned sick time and casino gambling in Massachusetts. There is currently no job protection for those who need to miss work for to care for themselves or a sick child, parent, or spouse. The ballot initiative also protects time spent for attending to the effects of domestic violence on themselves or a dependent child—this is really important!

For people of faith, I think the gambling question is potentially tricker. Well, actually, it’s not. But it seems like it is. When it comes to “social ill” issues, I’m usually on the harm reduction side of the equation; let’s not legislate people’s bad behavior. Gambling is quite different, though-it isn’t just about individual choice, it’s about how it creates a whole social climate and feeds a predatory industry. In the clear words of Doug Fisher, bishop of Western Massachusetts, “Jesus came to bring Good News to the poor. Casinos are BAD NEWS for the poor. We follow Jesus.” In state after state, the promises made by gambling advocates that they create jobs are repeatedly shown to be wildly overestimated. Every quarter spent on a slot machine is one quarter not spent at a local business. It appears to be a “done deal” that Massachusetts will be the latest state to adopt casino gambling, but it’s not. Every voter has the power to say that this is not in our best interest.

From a more traditionally moral standpoint, do I have a problem with gambling in itself? This is probably the moment to admit that after my family met some card playing kids at an Appalachian Mountain Club hut last week the first thing my son did when we got home was to get out his piggy bank to buy a set of poker chips like the ones he played with there. I’d make a bad Puritan. A multi million dollar casino backed by organized crime folks , however, isn’t a bunch of kids with plastic coins. Massachusetts could be the first state where the citizens repeal a deal that politicians have made in favor of gambling. Let’s do it!

For the full text of the bishops’ statements, see here.

Blessings,
Sara+