The View from Bolton Street

And God created the human in his image,

In the image of God, he created him,

Male and female, he created them.

Let’s talk about pronouns. Everybody has them and in most languages, everything has them as well. English is a bit of an anomaly in that regard, and perhaps that is part of the current kerfuffle we have in our public dialogue around trans identity and pronouns. Just look at the above translation from Hebrew: “the human” (singular) refers to all of us, and “he created him” in the next phrase is, in the words of the translator, “grammatically but not anatomically masculine.” Despite various and sundry claims like “there are no pronouns in the bible” or “God doesn’t have pronouns” the simple claim by God to Moses “...I am” put that to rest.

But the question is not really about whether God has pronouns, or if pronouns exist. The question is about identity. Should we, as people of faith, allow or encourage others to wrestle with, question, or even change their gender identity?

Now, I, of course, recognize that in our particular community at Memorial, the answer to this is almost universally yes. Even in the broader Episcopal Church, there is broad support for trans rights.  But in all of our larger circles, there are people, good Christian people, who are really reluctant to support anything associated with trans rights.  

To those friends and loved ones, I would say that when confronted with difficult,  uncomfortable situations we should take our cues from Jesus and from scripture.  We should be curious, open-minded, clear in our faith, and clearer in our love. 

In that spirit I offer three reflections on Compassion, Reflection and Grace.

First, Compassion: it is painful, mentally and physically, to transition. It is not a decision anyone makes quickly or easily.  A first step for us is acknowledging how stressful and painful this time must be, and reminding your friends, neighbors, loved ones that you love them and care for them, no matter what. Jesus tells the prodigal son story for a reason, we should never abandon family.

Second, Reflection: We worship a God that we identify as one and yet three. A God that was at once earthly man, heavenly deity, and ethereal spirit. We serve a God that has identified as God, Jesus, Male and Female, and sometimes just “I AM.” As Christians we have been arguing for thousands of years about how exactly we can describe and explain God to each other, so perhaps we should offer a little understanding to those people seeking to understand how God has made them. What aspects of your own identity have you struggled with? Your profession? Calling? Hairstyle? Clothing? Instead of being judge mental let’s reflect on our own struggles and ask how we can support others in theirs.

Finally, Grace: You don’t have to be okay with someone’s choices to be okay with them. I still love the Yankees fans in my life. If someone asks you to use a different set of pronouns, or to call them by a different name, or to accept them as a different gender, that does not require you to change your fundamental beliefs or your understanding of God. It just requires showing enough respect for the people you love to trust their beliefs.

There is a lot of anger out in the world right now. At beer companies and clothing stores and at faces we see online.  But as Christians, we should remember that none of those things really matter. What matters is the relationship we have with God and with God’s people in the world, you, me, and all of us.  And if we begin those relationships, no matter how fraught, with compassion, reflection, and grace, we will do much, much better.

The View from Bolton Street

“When the day of Pentecost had come, the disciples were all together in one place. And suddenly from heaven, there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind.”

Acts 2:1-2

“Oh, and there we were, all in one place, A generation lost in space.” Don McLean, American Pie

Sometimes, when people come together, magic happens. We know, of course, about Pentecost. And lore has it that Don Mclean’s words here refer to the crowd at Woodstock, a moment that defined a generation.

There have been many generation-defining moments since of course, for me it was Barack Obama’s inauguration. For Monica and I and the tens of thousands of other people on the mall that day it felt like a moment of extreme possibility and potential. When most anything was possible.

I imagine Pentecost was like that. After much striving, many sleepless nights, fear, and trepidation were suddenly replaced with unmitigated joy!

It is easy of course to look back at Obama’s election, or any other seminal moment, with a kind of cynicism that “it was never gonna work”, “America has always been like this.” Certainly, America has not lived up to the promise of that moment, and the church has rarely fully lived into the vision provided by the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.

But that does not mean we should give up on it.

We should not give up on America “that great unfinished symphony” nor should we give up on the power and potential of the Holy Spirit to work through us, the Church, to live into that Pentecost moment.

It is easy to be jaded. I know. I’ve been very good at it in my life. You know I’ve been watching the Orioles since I was 12 right?

But as the Church we exist in part to support each other in our disbelief until we can come around to putting our faith again in the power and purpose of the Holy Spirit. A better church. A better city. A better world is out there. Just out of reach! Just beyond our grasp. All we can do is to fix our eyes on Jesus and trust that God will continue to lead us to exactly where God desires us to be.

When the disciples let go of their need for control, they made thousands of converts in one day! They spoke hundreds of languages! They turned the world upside down.

What will happen to us if we follow suit? If we let go, let God, and let the spirit guide us the possibilities are endless.

The View from Bolton Street

Famous Last Words: Jesus’ Farewell to His Disciples

Above the main stained-glass window in the old Virginia Theological Seminary (VTS) Chapel, under the watchful gaze of the Robert E. Lee Tiffany window(with Lee as Moses), behind the altar rail of Liberian wood (where we sent Black Episcopalians post Civil War), easily visible from the balcony built for ‘domestics’ and servants of students and faculty of the Seminary (The Seminary was a segregated institution), were the words: “Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel.” These words, from the Gospel of Mark’s account of the Great Commission and the Ascension of Christ, greeted generations of seminarians as they entered the chapel to worship, surrounded by a symbology that reflected a particular kind of mission. A mission based on manifest destiny, that American white protestants knew what was best and everyone else needed to catch up, a mission that left out a lot of important voices. These words in particular are interesting because they are from one of the few sections of the gospels that scholars almost universally agree is not original and was added later.

A corrupted gospel on the wall informed a corrupted gospel preached in the architecture and furnishings of the chapel. For many years, the chapel played a part in the adoration of the confederacy, colonialism and white supremacy. These were imperfect people worshipping in an imperfect place. Even so, the seminary also served to educate generations of clergy, some better, some worse, but all committed to proclaiming the Gospel of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Many, maybe even most of whom have been faithful servants of Christ and the Church. Champions of civil rights, of women’s rights, of peace and non violence, worshipped and studied in this place.

What do we do with our complicated legacy?

The Chapel at VTS comes to mind today as we celebrate the Feast of the Ascension. As I reflect on the words of Christ as he is raised up, I am pulled back to an October afternoon, watching smoke and flames rise over that chapel as it was consumed, in record time, by a fire. There were many tears that day, Tears of anger and anguish. Of frustration and shame. But over time, there has been a sense of permission to move on. To rise out of the ashes with an intentionality to acknowledge and move away from a tradition rooted in slavery, colonialism, racism and white supremacy and instead embrace a new perspective on our Christian faith.

This year for the Feast of the Ascension, we do not use the text from Mark, but rather the account from Luke and Acts. It is the same story. Jesus ascends to heaven, but not before commissioning his followers to continue his work in the world. However, the language in Acts is different. Instead of being sent out to proclaim the gospel, the disciples are called to be witnesses “in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria and to the ends of the earth.” What does it mean to be a witness? A witness testifies to what they have seen, they tell the truth, and they do not lie. So, the disciples are sent out to witness to the life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Christ.

But a witness also is primarily an observer. They watch, they absorb, they record, and finally, they share what they have seen with others. As witnesses then, our work perhaps is not to go and fix things, to assume we have the answers, or to go make things right. Rather it is to come with questions, with curiosity, and with humility to see how the Gospel is reflected in other places and spaces.

It is quite a different perspective! Instead of going and doing to others, we go and listen, observe, and share with others. In my own walk of faith, I have shifted my approach to ministry from going and doing TO OTHERS to seeking to BE WITH and SHARE with others.

As we prepare to gather tomorrow for Ascension day, to worship, sing, and break bread (well…lasagna) we are offered an opportunity to hear Jesus’ “last words” again for the first time. "It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth."

I am not so naive to think that the destruction of one church, or one monument, will make any of us better. These are nothing more than symbols and it is what we do with the symbols that matters. But when we are challenged to rethink the symbology and meaning we give to places and spaces in our lives, when we our challenged to consider what really matters for us, we have an opportunity to reorient our lives towards the Divine.

As those flames rose over the chapel, an instituiton was invited to consider how it would define its legacy for another generation. As Christ rose up to heaven, he invited the disciples to define for the whole world, what the Christian faith would be. Today we are invited to consider what this ascension moment means for us.

Be a witness. Don’t be beholden to imperfect gospels or the imperfect story being told about your life. Embrace the opportunity to define yourself not as the world does but as Christ would, and go and share that same grace and love with the world. Listening. Learning. Sharing. Hoping.

Amen.

The View from Bolton Street

Adoption

Growing up my only experience with adoption was the musicals “Oliver” and “Annie”. It was “Please sir can I have some more” or Daddy Warbucks with little nuance between. 

I would, of course, discover much later that more than a few of my friends had been adopted and many people in my life had “chosen ”families who had taken them in when their own relations could not or would not maintain a relationship with them. This week I have the extreme privilege of gathering with the blood and chosen family to lay to rest one such person who took under her wing many people who for short or longer periods, needed someone to love them. 

In ensuring that everyone had someone they could look to as a mother, as a father, as a parent; Ellen lived a life Christ would be proud of “I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live.”

Perhaps you too have chosen a family that has adopted you or that you have adopted? My mother’s parents paid my father’s college tuition without him knowing because his own parents were neither willing nor able to be in his life. My grandmother always had an extra place at the table not for Elijah but for whoever might be without family to dine with at that moment. 

Sometimes we can have shame or embarrassment about these arrangements - but we should not. This is how our relationship as Christians is with God. We are not God’s chosen people. Rather we have been grafted onto the tree, embraced with a spirit of adoption as Children of God NOT because we deserve it or asked for it, but simply because God desires to love us and make sure we have a home. 

The same spirit that made the Ellens and Audreys of the world adopt you is the spirit with which God loves us and Christ saved us. 

I think about this as I watch more and more of my friends and family foster or adopt children, for all kinds of reasons. Whatever practical reason there may or may not be, it is that same spirit present in God’s love for us — these are beloved children of God who for whatever reason cannot be loved by their blood relatives. Thanks be to God there are those of us who embrace that spirit of adoption and seek to love total strangers just as Christ loves us.

Adoption, of course, is not always sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes a child blends seamlessly with a family: and sometimes they do not. Sometimes it is a joyful moment when a foster child returns to their birth family, and sometimes it is terrifying.  Sometimes that morning of joy takes too long to arrive. 

In the readings this week we hear over and over again what it is to be children of God. What it means to be grafted onto the Tree or Jesse, heirs according to the promise. Unlike in the movies, it is not just the lucky ones who get adopted, because all of us receive God’s love and all of us have the capacity to offer a seat at the table, to be chosen family for those who are in need of adoption. 

The View from Bolton Street

On Martyrs

Acts 7:55-60

Filled with the Holy Spirit, Stephen gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. “Look,” he said, “I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!” But they covered their ears, and with a loud shout, all rushed together against him. Then they dragged him out of the city and began to stone him, and the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul. While they were stoning Stephen, he prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” Then he knelt down and cried out in a loud voice, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” When he said this, he died

On Monday a 30-year-old man was killed in the NYC subway by a civilian who said he was acting out. Last June, a man walked into a reception at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Birmingham, Alabama, and killed two people, injuring another one.  In between those two shootings, there has been something like a mass shooting a day, often more. We have quite literally lost count.  Our reading from Acts tells the story of Stephen, the first Deacon of the church and the first martyr as well. We don’t often, or always, think of modern-day martyrs, but victims of violence in this country, particularly senseless gun violence for no reason at all, perhaps should be on that list.  

Why?  Not just because their deaths are senseless though they are. And not just because they are killed for no reason, although that is usually true as well. 

Victims of violence are martyrs because they are being sacrificed on an iron cross.  They die because America has collectively decided we value the right to own a gun more than the right to life, liberty or the pursuit of happiness.  Gun worship is idol worship.  It is putting a false God on a pedestal and saying this is where I put my trust!  And for that reason, these martyrs need to die.  

I am not a likely gun control advocate.  I grew up knowing how to shoot.  My father owned guns and made sure we knew our way around a firearm “in case the space aliens ever come” he would say.  I have no specific animosity towards them and have enjoyed the challenge of target practice and the adrenaline rush of the moment.  

But none of that is worth indiscriminate death. None of that is worth thousands of martyrs a year sacrificed on the altar of gun violence.  

As Christians, our faith compels us to celebrate abundant life in all its forms. To ensure that all people as best we can have equal ability to live happy, fulfilling, joyful lives.  We are realists of course. We know not every day is our best day, and none of us want to be accountable to God for how we behaved on our worst days. But we can limit the impact of those bad days. 

If we can’t stop neighbors, friends, family members and co-workers from killing each other because they had a bad day, perhaps we should take away the one common denominator in all these deaths. Guns. 

The View from Bolton Street

Have you ever been to the Baltimore Zoo?  Not the flamingos, or the new elephant exhibit or even the merry-go-round… but the goat petting corral. Yes. this is where it is at.  Did you know they have a goat that can paint?  I won’t comment on its talent or the authenticity of his work, but there are numerous paintings hanging in the barn to remind you of this unique talent.  So you get to the corral, and after a brief instruction from the staff you walk in, grab a small rubber bristled brush and you can brush the goats.  No feeding, no grooming, just brushing.  

I know, as a kid, you would put a quarter in the machine and get a handful of pellets to feed to the goats, and you could pet them and ride them, all that stuff. 

But these days, we know better.  So no more feeding, no more riding or harassing, just some light brushing with vet-approved devices.  It’s not unlike the Dolphins at the aquarium.  No more dolphin shows for our entertainment, just dolphin exercises for their exercise and enjoyment.  Slowly, we are learning to be better shepherds.  In this week’s Gospel Jesus talks about the Good Shepherd - one who brings life, and life abundantly.  

There is something beautiful about being in that goat corral and it being their space. We come to the gate, and we are only let in if we promise to take care of the sheep (well, goats).  In return we get to see them live, play, and yes, even paint.  It may seem less fun to not climb on the goats and cheer on the dolphins, but there is some value in being a good shepherd. Because you get to bring life to others.  

In a world that is increasingly commodified, extractive and parasitic - there is a lot of value in giving space for life.  It is what I love about the goat corral, the dolphin tank, and the Church.  We make space for life, abundant, abundant life.  

What are ways you bring life to the world?  To the city? To your home? 

The View from Bolton Street

Memorial Episcopal Church continues to be a unique community of faith, steeped in our traditions and open to the work of justice in the world around us –or as I like to call it, following Jesus’ example.  

This year our children’s program is bursting at the seams, our justice and reparations work is on track and picking up steam, and we are feeling a return to pre-pandemic-type attendance as our numbers for church attendance and volunteerism are picking up. All the while we continue to offer streaming services.  We welcomed two new young members to the faith with confirmations this Holy Week, and continue to see new members who have joined the Church in the last year.  It is energizing and exciting!  Did I mention the new floors are finally installed and the air conditioning should be operational any day now?  It has certainly been a long time coming.

Unfortunately, giving has not returned as quickly and our annual stewardship drive is more than $30,000 less than it was last year, and we also have eleven fewer pledges. As we seek to do good work in the community, help develop young Christians and have a powerful music ministry within worship, we are still dependent on the financial support of our members, friends and neighbors to keep the lights on and our programs going. 

If you have not yet made a pledge to Memorial but would like to, you can do so here: Stewardship 2022 — Memorial Church (memorialboltonhill.org) And if you have other skills to offer, grant writing, maintenance, graphic design, or any other skills and talents you’d like to share with the world, don’t be afraid to reach out.  There are many ways to be good stewards of the gift of this parish, and they are all received with equal joy.

Of course, the best way to support the memorial is with your presence! Either in person or online we would love to have you at any of the events listed below, in worship on Tuesday or Sunday mornings, or at future events. As we continue to build the beloved community it is good to remember that it is even more beloved with you in it. 

The View from Bolton Street

The View from Bolton Street

Now on that same day, the first day of the week, two of the disciples were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him.

Luke 24: 13-14

What a great day we had on Sunday! The music! The people! The coffee hour! The resurrection! The flowers! The trumpet!

It was all glorious. Let’s do it again!

In this easter season, I am reminded that Jesus continues to appear to us, whether on the road to Emmaus or the highway to Towson, Jesus continues to appear. But… we need to have our eyes and ears open so that we are able to recognize him, and what better way to do that than to be in community with each other.

It is true that where two or three are gathered, the Holy Spirit is present, but I think we can all agree that often it is easier to hear the Spirit speaking when there are more of us together! Communal worship allows us time to reflect, time to gather perspective on our lives, and an opportunity to consider what God might have in store for us; what joy might be waiting for us.

If you are looking for joy, if you felt joy on Easter, or you might like to feel it again - perhaps you would join us this Sunday and for the rest of this Easter season!

The View from Bolton Street

Isaiah 50:4 

The Lord God has given me
the tongue of a teacher,

that I may know how to sustain
the weary with a word.

Morning by morning he wakens--
wakens my ear
to listen as those who are taught.

Another week. Another school shooting.  Six more victims are in the legacy of inaction in this country when it comes to gun violence.  We worship a God who takes on, among other names, that of teacher, and Isaiah reminds us that we are God's students, every day is woken by the words of our heavenly teacher.  

Yet six of God's students, God's children, did not wake up today.  And despite the painfully obvious fact that the one constant in nearly every school shooting - the use of a gun, not just any gun but a semiautomatic AR-15 style assault rifle - as a culture we go everywhere else looking for blame. 

This time, because the shooter attended the school as a young girl and now identifies as a man, it is the trans community.  For such a small part of our population they already bear a tremendous burden - to have the blame for mental illness and school shootings put on them is just more hurt on top of, more hurt on top of more hurt. 

So let me offer a word to the weary here: 

Sin is indeed the cause of the continued, and increasing, trauma of school shootings in this country.  But it is not a sin connected to sexual identity or mental illness or who someone is or who they love.  Living into the person God called you to be is not SIN, it is HOLINESS.  And a community that allows and encourages that transformation is one of GRACE, not shame. Memorial, I pray, will always be such a holy and grace-filled community. 

 It is the sin spelled out for us in the ten commandments, that we read every Sunday during lent.  'Thou shalt not make for thyself any idol.' And this country has made an idol of guns.  In particular, cool-looking guns that make us feel powerful, independent, protected, and superior to everyone else.   

Whether it is a golden calf, a warm gun, or an Old Flag -- any totem that we put our trust in over and above God, in place of God, or as a symbol of God, is an idol.  Jesus Christ is the only thing that saves us, yesterday, today, and forever.  No number of guns in your safe, ammo in your stockpile, or food in your basement will be your salvation.  As a culture, and as a country, we have to stop worshipping the false promise that we as individuals can save ourselves or anyone else.  I also loved 'Red Dawn' - but it was a movie, and it turns out, Nicaraguan revolutionaries weren't the ones bringing guns to our street, it was Wall Street Corporations. Because the God they really value is not red or blue, but green.  

The Good News is, the truly Good News, is that we at Memorial and in the Episcopal Church represent a group of people committed to being a community of love.  Where we find safety in the community, not carbon steel plating; where we find hope in the resurrection, not a light trigger pull; and where we share God's love with everyone - no matter who they are, who they love, or how they live.  

My only prayer is that more people give up the idols of guns and money and power for the God of peace, justice, and resurrection. 

The View from Bolton Street

Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I will lay sinews on you,

and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live; and you shall know that I am the Lord.”

Ezekiel 37

Okay, but what can God do with empty pews?

It is a harsh reality that many clergies these days feel a bit like Ezekiel, prophesying to half-empty spaces hoping to see the bones of the Church rise up. I can only imagine what it feels like to sit on the other side, wondering where the person on your right and on your left has gone, why it feels so empty in a space that once felt so warm.

As a Christian community we are confronting an outside world that in some ways has moved on from church; living in a secular society skeptical of a religion that purports to tell everyone how to live, that seems to thrive on judgment and division, and that, during the worst of the COVID pandemic shut its doors to people when perhaps they needed God most. Perhaps worst of all, we are confronted with a group of people who love what we do but who simply found other things to do on a Sunday morning. Antagonism and indifference.

If 2020 brought twin pandemics of COVID and white supremacy, the post COVID era has brought on ‘the Great Resignation’ - not just from work but from public life: church, community, politics, even family. More and more of us have decided to just simply be alone. Or perhaps to be ‘online’ - that is to be together, but only in the context of a curated world where we have more control over how we are perceived and understood, and who we interact with, than we ever have to find in real life.

While preachers and pastors have always lamented sermons falling on ‘deaf ears’, now we wonder if they reach any ears at all. Some, perhaps, are simply resigned to it.

They say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.’

And yet I walk outside and I see lots of people out and about enjoying the seasonable (if mercurial) weather. I walk into Church on Sunday and I see a glut of small kids following Miles to Sunday School, I see people timidly stepping foot in the church for the first time or the first time in a long time looking for meaning. I see people hungry for a call to justice, to action, to community. I see new neighbors and new communities popping up around us. I see energy, and joy, and life.

I see the bones, and I see the new flesh, muscle and sinew and I pray that they can come together.

But the muscles need something to attach to. The sinews and flesh need a frame to fill out. This valley of dry bones needs to be attentive to the work of the spirit and see and connect to what God is offering to us as a community of faith right now and embrace and support it so that it can grow.

Even if that skin has a different hue. Even if those muscles flex in different ways. If the body that forms has different interests, passions, directions.

The Church will always be the Body of Christ at work in the world. The challenge for worshipping communities like Memorial today is that we have to decide if we want to be a part of building up the Body of Christ or to stick with what we have always done. If we want to hoard the gifts and talents and treasures we have, or do we want to turn around and share them with the wider world, not for our glory, or Memorial’s glory, or the Episcopal Church’s glory… but for God’s Glory.

Despite increases in attendance, program and need in the broader community - Stewardship at Memorial, including volunteer hours, financial contributions, and gifts of time and talent, are all declining. Our own great resignation. We can be resigned to this fact. That there is opportunity and potential out there and perhaps we are not the community to do it.

Or we can look at the abundance all around us. Stop worrying about what we don’t have and revel in the joy of what we do. And in so doing find Christ and each other and in that, everything we could possibly need to share with the world.

For when the Lord calls “and bring you up from your graves, O my people. I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act.”