The View from Bolton Street

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night…

We love Christmas music in our house.  Love it.  It is embarrassing how early in the season we start listening to Christmas music. It is shameless really. We love them all, from White Christmas to Dominick the Donkey to Christmas in Hollis we appreciate the whole canon of Christmas Carols. 

Except for one.  

Whenever ‘Do they know it’s Christmas’ comes on there are lots of groaning.  A LOT.  And all that in spite of it having a pretty epic video to go with it.  

There is something about the idea of ‘praying for the other ones’ and asking if they even know it is Christmas in Africa that just rubs me the wrong way. I mean, there WILL be snow in Africa, and there is plenty of water that isn't tears, and they will get better gifts than life! 

However, the idea that famine and drought are geological problems and not man made problems still persists in the world. As does the concept that what people need is just a little food or water or love to get them through this crisis, and not a drastic re-ordering of the entire economic system. 

Did you know that famine is rarely the result of a lack of food, but rather that food is often taken from those with little and given to those with much?  

Did you know that drought is often the result of water being stolen or diverted for swimming pools and resorts and not because there hasn’t been ‘enough rain this Christmas’? 

When the shepherds re-orient their lives towards Christ, they take their flocks with them. When the wise men arrive they bring signs and symbols of their world to the Christ Child.  When we come into contact with the divine in our lives, our hearts, minds, souls and ‘stuff’ should be re-oriented towards Jesus.  Have you re-oriented all of your life? 

When we look a little closer to home, we often find the same attitudes exist and persist.  We all feel a pang of guilt around the holidays realizing how good we have it compared to ‘the other ones’.  But instead of appeasing ourselves with toy drives and food deliveries, perhaps you should consider what you can do the rest of the year to change that reality.  To make ‘the other ones’ less other and more neighbor.  To make the stranger less strange and more family.  

I remain incredibly grateful that Memorial and so many others have embraced our reparations fund, which has set out to do just that.  That as a community we have decided we value the building of relationships, of the strengthening of communities and community partners more than simple charity work.  If you have not supported these efforts yet I hope that you will, with your time, talent and your treasure.  

And if you are worried it is too late, that you have not done enough please don’t worry.  Bono, the lead singer of U2 has gone from cringely crooning ‘tonight thank God it’s them instead of you’ to being universally acknowledged as one of the most generous people in the world and one the most active in causes of justice and equality the world over. There is always time to repair, restore, and reframe how we understand ourselves in the world and there is no better time to start than Christmas.  

The View from Bolton Street

Naming our Heroes

You might have noticed that I have been referencing superheroes more often than usual in my sermons.  Jesus and John the Baptist as Batman and Robin? Or is it Cyclops and Wolverine?  Magneto and Professor X? Or Iron Man and Captain America?  This is not JUST because the new Black Panther movie has recently come out, but also because I have been reflecting a lot about heroes during and following my sabbatical. 

The vast canon of Hindu deities, after all, offers lots of heroes to consider.  King Arthur flour bears that name for a reason, and any travel through the American West is a reminder of many people we have seen and heroes and how complicated those hero narratives have become.  It turns out conquering the American west may have been more than just surviving snake bites and cholera. As a child, I was raised on Arthurian Legends and cowboy movies.  The hero ideal for a ten-year-old me was a lone knight/cowboy surviving in the desert, saving the innocent women, locking up the bad guys, and making it home in time for supper. 

It turns out that it was never quite this simple.  

Not only did our heroes rarely, if ever, do it all alone, but they also sometimes hurt people, sometimes a lot of them, in the process. 

Our heroes aren’t always heroic, I guess. 

Maybe there are really no good people or at least no perfect people, but really only good decisions. Good choices, good moments. 

The biggest change in how the Marvel superhero universe has been presented to the world recently is that the characters are no longer two-dimensional. Not only are the movies vivid 3-D narratives, but the characters are more than just good and bad.  More often than not we find ourselves rooting for the bad guy or mad at the good guy in the story. 

The Bible is full of these kinds of heroes, as is the story of our faith.  Men and women who have done amazing things in the name of God and yet who also set some really bad examples made some really bad decisions. 

What separates out those we call heroes often has as much to do with location than anything else.  What did they do when given the opportunity to follow God more closely? Did they get closer? Or run away? 

The Shepherds and the Magi got closer. Herod went the other way. Paul got closer. The roman emperor went the other way.  

When given the opportunity to follow God more closely will you get closer? Or will you go the other way?  This is the question being asked of us this Advent as we prepare for the birth of Christ. 

The View from Bolton Street

John McIntyre's call to stewardship at the Dec. 4 service

Let me tell you a story. For more than a century, Memorial Episcopal Church was a white, racist, segregated parish. It was in living memory, in 1969, the year I was a senior in high school, that Barney Farnham opened those doors and invited Black people to worship here.

As time went on, Memorial became a place where divorced people who were not wanted in other Episcopal parishes found a welcome. The first woman ordained to the priesthood in Maryland served at this altar, and the first openly gay priest in the diocese also served at that altar.

But we are not perfected, and the story goes on. When you pledge your support to this parish, you say that you want to be part of this story. And we want you to be part of the story with us, because there is much still to be written.
--
John

The View from Bolton Street

“Take off the works of Darkness and put on the Armor of light” 

This line, from the Collect for the first Sunday of Advent, and the book of Romans, has been read in the Church since the 1500s and circumscribes our journey between now and Christmas. 

A mistake we make, of course, is thinking that light and dark are just opposites here and as long as we keep to the light we will be just fine thank you.

Except God works in the darkness of clouds in Exodus, in the void of the whirlwind in Kings, in the Belly of the whale in Jonah. Jesus does some his best work at night! In the garden, in the boat, in the late of the day when he feeds the 5,000. 

Darkness and light are realities of creation. The two first things God creates. There is nothing intrinsically evil about dark spaces or dark places. Our over reliance on light has led to, among other things, a false sense of purity, a denigration of the poor and the needy, and a judgment that might (and light and white) make right. 

There are times when we may be called to work in darkness. And God is with us in that. But this season of advent is a journey towards the light. Towards that first star of the morning, to the light of Bethlehem, and to the new light kindled in the birth of our savior Jesus. 

Let’s not forget however that that light leads to a back alley stable filled with animals surrounded by muscular, scary shepherds and strange looking foreigners. Not perfectly decorated Christmas Trees with tons of presents and a roaring fire. The light of Christ leads us to love and to discomfort. To joy and to wonder and some confusion too. 

I hope it leads you back to Church. For this season of advent and for the Christmas Season as well. 

The View from Bolton Hill

Gratitude 

On our dining room table we have a (stuffed) Turkey we use to decorate in the fall. It has detachable tail feathers that you can write on, and so as the season goes we add things that we are thankful for leading up to thanksgiving.

Over the years the content has changed, from diapers and sleep, to coffee, to school and my teachers, to vaccines and masks.

But a few things are always there - faith, family and friends.

These constants - which are sometimes blessings and sometimes… not so blessings - remind us of who we are and where we came from.

The thanksgiving readings include one of my favorite lines from Deuteronomy - when you make your offering before the Lord say “A wandering Aramean was my ancestor; he went down into Egypt and lived there as an alien, few in number.” You may have much to give thanks for this year, you may feel you have very little, you may have a full house or a half empty table, but as you gather take a moment to consider our faith story and your own story.

That we came from a wandering aramean, whose family grew in great numbers, until they found themselves exiled in the desert. They came into a land of promise, until they were exiled again. Kingdoms waxed and waned, wealth has come and gone. Saviors born and crucified, prophets celebrated and tortured, but through all of that we have always had faith, family and community.

As Christians we do not judge ourselves by the standards of the world or by our present circumstances. We consider the whole of the story, and give thanks for all of it.

Today I give thanks for Memorial’s story, and I hope today you will take a moment to give thanks for your whole story.

The View from Bolton Street

Jeremiah 23:1-6 – Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture! says the Lord

Something that smacks you in the face over and over when visiting India is the continued impact of Colonialism on the life and culture of the place.  It is present everywhere, from the food to the religion to the architecture to the bureaucracy, the legacy was everywhere.  In our western binary of good and bad we put colonialism squarely in the bad column.  However, for India and Indians, they would not be who they are without it.  Kashmiri Chilis, a staple of southern india cuisine, originally come from Latin America - brought by the portuguese.  The Architecture of the Taj Mahal and many of the royal palaces is a blend of Hindu, Arab, Chinese and Latin architecture.  The Agra Fort was built by an Indian King who married a Muslim, a Christian, and a Hindu woman and built each one a palace inside specific to their faith.  

Because America is so young, we tend to divide our history into neat pieces that fit together.  From the revolutionary period to westward expansion, the antebellum, civil war, reconstruction, the great migration, the industrial revolution, the great depression, World War II, to the baby boom, the cold war, 9/11 up to today.  And we like our religion to do the same thing. First A, then B, then C. 

But traveling through India is a constant reminder that things are rarely that simple; in life and in faith.  I am sure I am not the only one whose faith journey has had peaks, valleys, detours and frequent bathroom breaks.  This brief snippet from Jeremiah is a reminder that you and I are not alone in that.  Here he is admonishing the priests and prophets who are supposed to be following God’s word that they are leading everyone in the wrong direction, and God is just going to leave them behind.  And what was their big mistake? Not caring for the flock.  Not providing for the sick, the friendless, the needy, the foreigner, the widower.  Sometimes in our zeal to be good followers of God, we forget to care for each other. 

One side effect, perhaps, of colonialism is that people are very pragmatic about religion.  Perhaps it is because they recognize it is sometimes a political wedge, perhaps it is because of the ecumenical nature of Hinduism, perhaps it is the weather, but you do not visibly see the same kind of conflicts over religion and public space that you see in other parts of the world.  You do, however, see a lot of concern for the care for others and for God’s creation.  Perhaps there is something for us to learn from an approach less dictated by dogma and more influenced by caring for the lost (and not so lost) sheep.    

The View from Bolton Street

Fourteen weeks ago, we said goodbye, for a spell, to our hard-working rector and his family, as they took some time to fulfill some of their dreams, to travel and explore, and to be together in ways that haven’t been possible in a long time. 

At the same time, the parish laity took on full responsibility for running our parish church, to experience what is required to do that in 2022, to try some new things, and maybe gain some insights into what kind of parish we want to be as we move – please, God – into a post-pandemic future.

It will be exciting and revealing, in the next few months, to compare notes with Fr. Grey.  What did he think about while he was gone?  What new experiences widened his vision?  What things did he miss, and look forward to having/doing again when he returns? What things was he hoping he would not find the same as when he left? And we will share with him our wins and our challenges: What things did we discover are sustaining, and what things have we thought better of, on reflection?  The vestry and congregation will find ways to have conversations about these things.  

As your senior warden, it has been my canonical duty to lead in managing the church’s property, affairs, and common life with integrity, and to see to it that we continue to care for one another, continue as witnesses of our Lord, and continue the patterns of worship that strengthen our faith and make it accessible to others.

I can tell you that my eyes have been opened to some realities these last weeks.  One is that an awful lot of great stuff happens here.  Our 10:30 Sunday worship soars with the talents of amazing vocal and instrumental musicians. Our children delight us as they respond to a revived Sunday School program.  We have been inspired by eloquent preaching of diverse clergy from across the diocese.  Every week, our newsletter has had a prayerful reflection written by a member of our laity.  We have folks with the technical know-how who are tackling our most stubborn Zoom/wi-fi issues, resulting in systems with increasing functionality and reliability.  Our Faith @ 8 Sunday service is growing, and its members find spiritual sustenance in its nontraditional pattern of worship.  On December 3, an incredibly fun (I promise!) party is planned, to welcome Grey and family back, and this party will double as a fundraiser for the church.

Here's another observation: Even though our church is not a large one, its ambitions are large, and it contains enough people and initiatives so that something is always happening!  There are work flows and projects that must be managed, pastoral needs to attend to, unexpected events in our aging buildings, unexpected events in our aging selves (!), unexpected outcomes that arise from the execution of our ministries, normal but vexing conflicts that arise because we’re all human and fallible, and unexpected developments of many kinds that are utterly beyond our control.  

Running Memorial Episcopal Church is a job too big for one person. But, during the pandemic, we fell into a pattern of relying on Grey way too much.  We didn’t do it out of meanness, or out of not caring about our church.  We did it out of the same pandemic exhaustion that gripped nearly everyone.  For most of us, getting through these nearly three years has required all of our energy just to keep ourselves, and children, and our vulnerable adults, alive and healthy.  Our energies for the church have been diminished, and we fell into a pattern of letting Grey take up the slack.  Dutiful servant that he is, he took on the enormous challenge, but it was not sustainable.  

Along came the sabbatical, which Grey had the good sense to take in order to preserve himself, and us, for the long haul.  Quite a few in our congregation stepped up to do the work that needed to be done, with joy and determination to renew our commitment to making Memorial a beacon of the justice that Christ came to earth to make manifest.  By grace, the “wins” that I noted above resulted.  The Holy Spirit, always waiting patiently for us to hear her call, is stirring in our hearts again.  

Our task now is to renew and sustain our attention to the Spirit’s call, and not to revert to relying on our rector to do it for us. Together, with us doing our part in God’s work, we can do so much more than Grey can do on his own, amazing though he is.  

I hope that we will each prayerfully consider what part we will play as we move forward, and respond with a resounding “Yes!” when Grey or a fellow parishioner come asking for the gift of our time and talent.  Let us go forth, rejoicing in the power of the Spirit.  Alleluia!

Bill Roberts.

The View from Bolton Street

Kathleen Capcara spent got her start in the field of Christian education at Memorial over 25 years ago. She has made Christian education for children, youth, and adults her life’s work. 

Having recently retired, Kathleen has been spending the past six months getting to know a new generation of children and youth at Memorial. 

Kathleen and her husband John McIntyre have grown twins who grew up at Memorial. Their daughter, Alice, is a Latin teacher in Manhattan and their son, JP, works in the restaurant industry in Chicago.

Make Me an Instrument of Peace: Civil Discourse              

Jesus said, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God."  

Many of us have expressed a desire to find a path to peace now that the keenly contested midterm elections are a few days away. To have conversations with those with whom we disagree, we can't continue shouting at them from afar - we have to get close. 

To be peacemakers, we need to develop our capacity to talk with one another rather than past one another - and to listen deeply.  On his sabbatical, Grey spent some time in India where people of several religions live and work in proximity. It imagine he discovered that as human beings, we share many more values than we think we do.

The goal of being connected to anyone different from us is to be in deeper relationship and to more truly know the dignity and worth of each other. Here are a few tenets from The Episcopal Office of Government Relations and The Formation Council.  When we are trying to engage in meaningful conversations with those who don’t share our politics or religious views, we can follow these tenets as we work at being “blessed peacemakers.”

• Respect – Respect each person you meet and take the time to truly consider what they are saying. Respond, don’t react. No blaming, shaming or attacking another person. Doing this does not mean accepting or upholding their ideas as your own; rather, it can help you understand their perspective, build your knowledge for future conversations, and open your mind to previously unfamiliar ideas—especially important even if you continue to disagree with them.

• Listen Deeply – Listen to what the person is saying, focus on the ideas presented, and discuss ideas and issues—not people. Do not interrupt while others are speaking.

• Try to Understand – Try to understand the thoughts and ideas of others. Ask questions for clarification. Note: sometimes we may be discussing the same concept, yet use different words. Make sure to pay attention to such areas of misunderstanding, and seek clarification where there is any confusion.

• Speak with Humility – You may not know everything about the topic at hand, and your experience may not be that of the other person’s. Lean into your knowledge, personal experience, and expertise, but remain open to the truth others are sharing.

• Disagree and Love – We seek to learn and listen. You can disagree with someone and still love them and listen to them. Civil discourse is about listening and learning together, seeking shared understanding and exposure to new ideas in the pursuit of improving our world and fulfilling our call as followers of Jesus.

Reflect:  What inspires you about these tenets?     What challenges you?

The View from Bolton Street

When my new friend John Seeley invited me to church in October 1992, it was "sure, why not?" At Memorial, I was welcomed, fed (at coffee hour), invited to lunch the day after my first visit, and said "yes" to serving on the Stewardship Committee and to serving as one of the money counters after church.  

Like many other gay men of my generation, I had learned that the secret to professional success was to work harder than anyone else, to gladly accept a tenth of the credit due, and to have no visible social life. Memorial changed all that for me, and after 30 years, I remain very grateful for life's many riches that Memorial has given me, or "Fed me" if you will.

I am richer than I ever imagined from the love and friendships that I have been given by this community.  Sunday worshippers know me from the altar where I am frequently the verger, a chalicist, a reader, a crucifer, or an acolyte.  On Sunday nights, I am one of the three leaders in the Taizé service. Memorial paid staff know me as the one who handles payroll. Memorial pledgers and donors know me as the person who records donations, assists online donors to make Realm work for them, and provides reports as requested and year-end tax documents. The Vestry knows me as the Treasurer. And John and I will always be grateful to this community for the time when 200 Memorialites showed up at church on Sunday morning, the hottest day of the year, July 21, 2013, to witness and celebrate our wedding, less than two weeks after the law was changed (and we sent out no invitations!).

There are so many ways to give to Memorial. Volunteer service on Sunday morning, taking a walk with Anthony around West Baltimore, handing out Halloween candy on the church steps, and bringing a can of food for the basket on Sunday. Now is our Stewardship season and now is the time to think about how we can give, taking into consideration our available time and resources.

We value Memorial and want to help keep the lights on, the mechanical systems working, the roof patched, the staff and clergy salaries paid, and our outreach programs working. John and I will make a pledge to Memorial's 2023 Stewardship campaign so that we can continue to benefit from the riches offered by this community, because we know that we and the other members are the only ones who will provide that support.

The View from Bolton Street

When I was about seven, I begged my mom to let me go to Memorial on Sundays. My attendance for three years up until that point had been inconsistent, as I only attended on the Sundays when I was being watched by a family friend. I attended Sunday School alongside her son. I made friends there. The stories were presented to me in a way I understood. My mom agreed (In hindsight, I think she was just happy that I was interested in church at all), and the following Sunday began my adventure as an official member of the congregation. 

Twenty years after I first stepped through Memorial’s doors, I heard about the Youth Minister position. At first, I wasn’t going to apply. I was already working full time and doing an internship. Things were settling into a post-covid “normal” for the first time since my college graduation. I had only just started to become a part of the congregation again since I started college. And, most of all, I was terrified. I had babysat before and did plenty of events with kids when I was at Disney, but to help bring an entire program back after covid and learn to run it was a new venture entirely. One that, admittedly, I didn’t think I could handle.

So, what changed? I kept thinking about it. I thought about my time as a kid in the Youth Group. The trips we took, dinners with our leaders, learning to read music and sing today, and just generally being excited for Sunday mornings. The more I thought about being able to be the person who gave a new generation that sense of community, the more I knew I had to  go for it. So, I did, and here I am!

We’ve done good work since we started. From the events that we’ve put on, to swapping between in person and virtual, to getting Sunday School started up again. Watching the youth start to become more comfortable as things become more permanent and routine has been wonderful! I’m very proud of us, and I do mean us, because I certainly could not have done this alone. Memorial’s community has helped me with supplies, space, assistance and guidance as I continue to find my footing in all of this, and I thank you all so much for that.

There is still work to be done. There will always be work to be done. We owe it to the next generations to ensure that they have somewhere safe and encouraging to go whenever they need it, not just on Sunday mornings. But, that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t reflect on and celebrate everything that we’ve done up until this point.

Twenty-one years may have gone by since I first walked through the doors at Memorial, but it’s clear that this is still the same uplifting community that it was even then.