The Voices of St. Johns Youngstown

I am praying often for the people of Ukraine. I can’t imagine living in a war zone, and I have to admit being relieved that I don’t have to be. The bravery and sacrifice we are witnessing is inspiring. The stream of refugees is overwhelming. As with so many situations in our world, thoughts and prayers, while essential, are not enough.

Some people are giving money to various charities. That is an action that is positive and helpful. I am always impressed when someone is willing to give of themselves to help others. If there are refugees resettled in Youngstown, I hope the church is moved to offer them assistance. I like practical ways to respond.

While I have compassion for those who are negatively affected by the high price of gas, for those of us who can manage, let’s stop complaining about it. Compassion that only lasts until I am inconvenienced isn’t really compassion. I don’t like paying more for gas, but it reminds me that the cost of war and suffering isn’t born by just a few. We are all impacted by the pain of others. And we should be, 

Going deeper we might ask ourselves some hard questions about how we solve problems in this country. Violence here is accepted as inevitable. It is not inevitable, it is a choice. Our culture respects power and might. We want to be the ones who wield it. We can’t glory in our own power and point shaking fingers at the power others claim. 

If we are really motivated to help end the war in Ukraine, let’s end violence in our own country. Let’s show that mediation and nonviolent action are a viable alternative that we practice until we get it right. Let’s be willing to change and sacrifice in our own lives, putting our time, money and convenience where our hearts are. Life in our own neighborhood could be so much better if we valued all people and treated everyone like they matter.

Thoughts and prayers, though essential, are never enough. 

More on bad guys, which was the topic of my sermon this week.

We are taught as children to separate people. The good guys are usually the people “like us” and the bad guys are always “different.” I think of westerns and Disney movies. Bad guys always look bad, sinister, scary. But so much of the reason why they look bad is because we have been taught to fear that “look”.

Cowboys and Indians are a good example. Cowboys were white, and whatever their behavior, however extreme, it was always justified in the story. Indigenous people always spoke a language we didn’t understand, always were portrayed as backward and uncivilized. Until recently they were rarely offered any sympathy or justification. And by now people are so culturally formed in those unhelpful, racist images, it is hard to even realize the bias. 

White people have been taught to fear dark skin, disability, people with body types or injuries that set them apart. And I will say again, I have been taught this. We have been taught that if someone could be seen as different, they are probably bad.

White people have also been taught that the values we grew up with are worth defending. They might encourage an individualistic, might-makes-right, self-centered view of the world. But we have held them so long we don’t question it. And if we have a bad guy, someone who might ask uncomfortable questions about our choices, that distraction is enough not to have to deal with truth or justice or compassion.

All of us need to pay attention when we identify someone as bad or the enemy. We need to ask ourselves to look deeper into why. What are we afraid of, what makes us uncomfortable? Why is it so important that this person is bad? How does it benefit us to have an enemy? Safety aside, why have an enemy?

In these trying times we are so much more alike than different. We all experience grief and sorrow, hopes and dreams. We all need to find the connections and support one another. We are called to recognize everyone’s belovedness, just as God does. 

War is looming. I have listened to many commentaries and predictions and rationalizations for the past several weeks. Accusations and justifications, numbers of people who will die. That is what grieves me. Thinking about the cost of the war. Not in dollars but in human life. And the cost to our humanity as well. 

I hear the governments talking about people as if they are not real, just a statistic, the cost of war. People are referred to as possessions to be traded or leveraged. It reminds me of the language people used to talk about slavery. I am reading about the process of transforming our perception of humans into a commodity, the extracting of a soul in order to make a profit. It continues in its own way today. 

We are all God’s possession, equally cared for and loved. No human has a right to own or injure or plan to injure any of God’s beloved. It’s one of the commandments. We are to honor one another, to see life as the sacred gift it is. A gift given not because we earned it, or because one group is better. A gift given to everyone who is alive.

I recently heard a priest talk about changing his language intentionally so as not to use possessive pronouns at all. He is trying to hold nothing as his personal possession, but acknowledge that every good thing belongs to God. Think about not saying “my house” or “my children” or “my country”. What might it mean if we saw everything as a gift we are given for a short time to steward?

I pray for peace. Not because I am worried about what war will do to my retirement funds. I pray for peace because all people matter, life is sacred. It is not ours to dispose of, but ours to cherish. People die in war.

How do we live in that sense of respect and dignity for all people, so that it becomes a disposition taken for granted? How do I treat the people in my life, my community, my world,  as beloved of God? We need to change the narrative, and by that I mean I am responsible for that transformation in my own sphere of influence. And you are too.

By the time you read this, Valentine’s Day will be over. I didn’t want to spoil it for those who love it. But I have a few problems with this holiday. As a parent of 6, it was never fun to organize a class load of Valentine cards and candy for approximately 150 classmates, give or take. The night before the party was always a frenzy. 

The hope that I have is that you know you are loved regardless of your relationship status. I hope you know your value even if you didn’t have a date. I hope you see yourself as beautiful even if no one has told you that for a while. You don’t have to be in a relationship to be fabulous.

If you are in a relationship, I pray that it is healthy. I pray that you don’t have to pretend everything is OK. I pray that you and your partner treat each other with respect and reverence, and that your time together is always a blessing. I pray that you are always deepening your love for one another, and that you see your love as a sign of God’s love. I pray that you have people who support you as a couple when things inevitably get tough.

If you are in a situation that might not be what society calls traditional, I pray that you stay strong and find the support you need. And if you are not interested in romantic relationship at all,  I pray you have good friends who can tell you that you are awesome. Not everyone fits into societal norms and expectations, and that is a good thing. Be yourself!

Valentine’s Day has a narrative that just doesn’t fit everyone. That can make the day hard for some people. Know that you are always a delight in the eyes of God, always beloved, always created to be just as you are. Don’t let the ways of the world define you. God thinks you  are marvelous! 

Our Annual Meeting is next Sunday, February 6. We will elect some new people to vestry, and thank the ones who are going off. We will talk about last year’s finances, and pass a budget for 2022. We will hear about the health of the parish, and answer questions that people raise. It is that time we conduct the yearly business of the church, and it is important.

I wish we were meeting in person. We can accomplish the things we are canonically obligated to do on zoom. We did it last year. But zoom has its limits, and it concerns me that people won’t be able to talk to one another, share stories and reconnect. Questions people have been wondering about might not get raised in the interest of expediency or technological struggle. It is important that people know the facts, and not have to guess.

So please try your best to meet together next Sunday. Raise the concerns and celebrate the joys. Do your part to deepen relationships and understanding. Ask your questions, even if they are hard or don’t seem to matter. They do matter. Work to build community. We can get through all things together. We are the Body of Christ. 

If you have any tech questions or need help with zoom, please ask!  Thank you for all you do.

Thursday afternoon I had a zoom meeting with my women clergy support group. It’s a fantastic group of priests who listen to and care for one another, especially during the pandemic. We hadn’t met for a while, and it was so good to see everyone. We caught up on life changes, celebrations, frustrations and concerns. It was so wonderful and encouraging to be together again.

The next evening, I heard that one of our group had died. I had seen her happy and doing well one day, and the next day, she had died. I know that is the way life and death go. And we all know it doesn’t make it any easier.

My message today is simple: tell everyone you know how much you love them. Tell them you appreciate them and why. Tell them how they have made your life and the world better. Don’t wait for the right time and don’t be shy. There is never a bad time to tell people they are loved.

Know that you are wonderful and appreciated and that you make a difference in the world as well!  And please pray for the Episcopal Diocese of Ohio in our grief at the loss of a wonderful priest. Thank you.

January is the month that I do my “spring cleaning” I go through every room, every closet, every drawer and see what I am not using that I could share with others. This year, I took on my basement, my least favorite space in the house, and am happy to report that it is neatly organized for the first time since I moved in. I might also have noticed the people at GoodWill are not as happy to see me these days. 

I have never been one for New Year’s Resolutions. I know that for me January is my time to start fresh and get things in order, time to be healthier after the excesses of the holidays, time to reconnect with people I care about.  I reinvest in healthy habits that make me feel good about myself, and set the tone for the year. I try not to set myself up for inevitable failure when I am too ambitious about personal change. 

This year, though, I have prayed about investing in the spiritual discipline of kindness. I am feeling called to be careful. There are so many rabbit holes of frustration that we are spending too much time in these days. It is time to acknowledge that we don’t agree about everything, and that probably won’t change. I hope that what I want, what makes sense to me, will eventually happen, but I can’t get us there. 

I also know that people who do not agree with me are good people. I work to see that—generosity, care for others, behind the scenes work for the church. Everyone has good in them. It is my job to find it. And that will be impossible if I am not kind. 

Look, do I always want to be kind? No. Do I think of clever things I should have said and sometimes wish I said, yes I do. Am I good at this, no. But maybe after a year of intensive practice, I will get better. 

It might seem that I say this a lot. It feels that way to me too. However, we aren’t to where we need to be yet. So I will keep practicing and praying for a kinder world. I hope you will join me.

The decision to cancel this year’s Boar’s Head Festival was hard. Very hard. Everyone tried to remain hopeful until the people in the cast started getting sick, and then too many were sick to replace everyone, and it became clear that for reasons of safety and practicality, we had to say no. We also decided to suspend the choir for the month of January, although in person services remain as scheduled.

Church decisions should come down to trying to follow what Jesus would do. In other words, how do we best love one another in this particular time and place. Church decisions are not about fear or money or other worldly concerns. They are about the delicate balance of living your faith in the practical spaces of our daily lives, holding a tension between hope and joy and sacrifice. 

Throughout this pandemic we have asked people to make the best decisions they can to keep themselves safe. The actual process of this, and the outcome, will be different for each person, because we each have an individual set of circumstances. Maybe you have health concerns, maybe you have small children or grandchildren, maybe your job exposes you to risk, maybe you care for an elder or at risk person. These dynamics are not about fearing for yourself or others, they are about loving yourself or others. 

God never wants us to be sick or in pain or to take unnecessary risks. God loves us more than we can ask or imagine, and always desires the best for us. In all circumstances, God is with us, supporting us, comforting us, sharing our pain or confusion or whatever we are suffering. God is always a God of compassion, and we are on the receiving end of love and grace that we can’t imagine.

In light of this, we make the decision to cancel this year’s Boar’s Head from a position of strength, from a charism of hospitality, and with great compassion. We are acting out of love for our neighbors, especially the first responders and health care workers who are suffering for their care of others. We are blessed at St. John’s to have bold and faithful leaders who are courageous in their care and willing to take the risk of offering something we love for people we love.

May God keep us all safe and healthy. We put our trust in our Loving God.

I love it when there is a full final week of Advent. If we go straight to Christmas Eve from the celebration of the fourth Sunday of Advent I feel cheated, like I am missing something. This year, driven by supply chains concerns, I bought all the gifts I am giving fairly early, so it isn’t that I need more time to prepare. To prepare for the rituals of Christmas. But I always need time to prepare my heart. In fact, I need all the time I can get.

I am struck this year by how different it was last year. We had shut down in person worship after being together only a month. No one was vaccinated. I was despairing, trying to figure out how to do something, anything, to celebrate Christmas safely. Numbers of sick and dead were rising. It was truly a grim time.

This year everything has changed except the number of sick and dying. We will be in person for the Christmas services. Many people are vaccinated and boostered. There is a sense of relief that celebration is possible. We are holding on to all of the festivity and joy that we can.

It is almost surreal for me. I still am desperately trying to keep people safe in a world where not everyone agrees on what that means. My biggest concern about personally getting sick is the inconvenience of quarantine. If I didn’t pay attention I wouldn’t know the desperation of health care workers and the dread of teachers. Everything seems fine on the surface, when it frankly is anything but fine.

So I need these final days of Advent to hone a few spiritual disciplines that need work.  I need to practice patience, especially with people making choices I don’t understand. I need to practice humility, because it is so easy to think I am right, and to forget the suffering of others. I need to be better at joy, a feeling that comes from God’s promises being fulfilled not my own wishes.

God is about to take on human form and walk with us. And I realize the world is not ready, that I am not really ready. Let’s get to work, and pray for each other.

It’s that time of year again. The time when I complain about holiday music. To be clear, I love Christmas carols. In other words, music that is about the birth of Jesus and the joy we experience in that. Songs like O Holy Night and Breath of Heaven always bring tears to my eyes. I carry my CD player all over the house so I can sing along at the top of my lungs.

What I don’t like are the holiday foolishness that passes for Christmas. I don’t want a hippo or my two front teeth, I don’t want to sing about Santa Baby or wanting to be home for the holidays. This isn’t the season of falling in love.  I don’t mind an occasional White Christmas or songs that reference snow, but not too often.

I know this sounds scroogey, but I hold on tight to the real meaning of Christmas, which includes the joy of giving, wonder that God would become human, the fulfillment of God’s dreams for us, deep gratitude. We don’t focus on that enough. We need to keep Jesus and love and generosity in Christmas.

Which doesn’t mean that I only say Merry Christmas. Part of God becoming incarnate is a reminder to love everyone, especially those who don’t believe what you believe. There is no worse way to convey the love of Christ than a snarly and judgmental greeting. 

Fundamentally I pray with Joy to the World and O Little Town of Bethlehem. They express through word and tune the fullness of my heart in this season. I don’t want to be distracted by secular expressions that have nothing to do with the Word becoming flesh and dwelling among us.

I try not to be crabby about it. But in case anyone needs reassurance, I really do not want a hippopotamus for Christmas.