The View from Bolton Street

See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. 

1 John 3:1 

Sometimes it is hard to believe in resurrection.  Sometimes, when segregation, division, violence and hate rule the day, it is hard to believe in resurrection.  For this reason, I was really happy to welcome Sarah and John from the Rossing Center to Memorial this week.  No matter how difficult and challenging we find the conflict in Gaza from here, they live it every day. Not only do they live it, but they have chosen to jump into the middle of this conflict and seek healing, hope, and reconciliation. 

I do not know why it is our human nature to seek out conflict. but I do know that one way that we cope with our own difficulties is to focus elsewhere on problems and purported enemies that seem so much bigger and more terrible than what we see around us.  So I am grateful for the reminder from John that we are all Children of God, and I am grateful for the witness of Sarah and John who showed us what it means to believe that the other is also a child of God.  

It is true that no dialogue between community members, either here or in Jerusalem, is going to end the conflict in Gaza. We have limited influence over the powers and principalities that drive violence and conflict the world over.  

But it is also true that when we open up and listen to those who disagree with us, even vigorously, and seek to see them first and foremost as Children of God, it is much harder to hate them.  Whether they are Israeli or Palestinian, Black or White, Republican or Democrat, or even Yankees fans. 

In this Easter Season we re-read the stories of Jesus returning to his disciples after the resurrection.  The first thing he says to them is "Peace be upon you." especially when they were startled and terrified. So we too, perhaps, should seek peace in our hearts and in our lives. 

One concrete way to practice peace building is to listen to those more closer to the conflict than we are.  Below is a video series produced by the Diocese of Jerusalem featuring clergy from around the Diocese.  I encourage you to listen to the first two episodes and continue coming back each week during the Easter season to here from our siblings in Christ in the region. 

The View from Bolton Street

The View from Bolton Street

“Nothing attracts a crowd… like a crowd”

Black Gold, Soul Asylum 

So much of the passion narrative centers around ‘the crowd’. Whether it is the Crowd outside of Lazarus’ house, the crowd on Palm Sunday or the crowds condemning Jesus to Pilate, they drive the narrative in a way that just doesn’t happen in the rest of the scriptures.  

Yes, obviously there are crowds in Galilee and during the sermon on the mount and the feeding of the 5,000 - but those crowds follow Jesus, they seek him out.  

By the time Jesus has arrived in Jerusalem, the crowd has become a mob. And mobs have minds of their own.  

We have seen a little bit of that mob mentality here in Baltimore in the last week. A tragic accident on the Patapsco River resulted in the death of six construction workers toiling overnight, and the quick thinking and action of others saved the lives of hundreds, maybe thousands.  

Locally we are mourning those who died, celebrating the work of those who came to the rescue, and figuring out how to move forward. 

But the rest of the world wants to make this about something else. And when the mob decides on a narrative, it is hard to put it back in the bottle. Because, as 90’s icons Soul Asylum taught us, nothing attracts a crowd like a crowd.

They also taught us another important lesson - “I’m want for somebody to shove, I need somebody to shove, I want somebody to shove me.” Look, I loved to dive into a mosh pit as a kid to this song. I loved to get inside and push and shove and feel alive. But it took me a while to realize that that desire for conflict, for contact, had larger consequences than torn shirt at the HFStival.

The crowd that led Jesus into Jerusalem wanted someone to shove. And when Jesus made it clear he was not there to lead a violent revolution, they turned on Jesus and found someone else to shove.

In the aftermath of the Key Bridge collapse, the crowds again want someone to shove. The ship. The inspectors. The first responders. The immigration status of the repair team. Anyone who could be at fault because it is hard for us to accept that sometimes bad things happen.

But friends, sometimes bad things happen. And when they do people of faith step into the breach. To pray. To love. To Feed. To share. Amidst all the violence of Good Friday and the Stations of the Cross, we sometimes forget about the small moments of relief granted to Jesus. The woman who wiped his face. Simon of Cyrene carrying the load. The women of Jerusalem. The words of the criminal on the cross. The visitation of his mother and the disciple whom he loved.

The View from Bolton Street

If our God, whom we serve, is able to save us from the furnace of blazing fire and from your hand, o king, he shall save us. And if not, let it be known to you, o king, that we will not serve your god. And we will not worship the gold statue you have set up. 

Daniel 3

Rebellions are built on hope 

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story 

It can be hard to have hope these days. Politically, we are increasingly calcified in our views. Economically, the gap between the haves and the have-nots continues to grow. Socially, we spend less and less time with other people and more and more time online. Spiritually, we often see faith take a back seat to the practicalities of keeping the lights on or patching the hole in the roof of an aging building. Calls for an end to violence and war fall on deaf ears, whether in Ukraine, Gaza or anywhere else.

As Christians, we are supposed to exemplify hope, and yet, often it feels like it is in short supply.  So what are we to do?

This morning I gave the reflection at the Historic Saint James Church in Lafayette Square. I let them know I was grateful to be among them and more grateful still for their continued witness of resilience and hope.

You see from their inception, Saint James has been engaged in an act of rebellion and of hope. As the first Black episcopal church south of the Mason-Dixon Line, there were many who did not think they should exist at all. Every location, including their current home on Lafayette square was fought by white powers that be. And today, when it makes no economic or practical sense to have a church on that corner, especially one with the maintenance and other challenges it has, they continue to exist and persist, serving as a witness to all of us about the power of hope. 

Rebellions are built on hope. This line from the Star Wars franchise is one of my favorites from the new set of films, and it is the turning point on which the decision is made to try

To try and get the plans to destroy the Death Star. To try to preserve the rebellion. To try to stand up for what is good and right and decent. 

Churches are also built on hope, which, perhaps, suggests to us that going to church should be an act of rebellion. After all it makes no practical or economic sense to waste a few hours on a Sunday, maybe your only free day, to sit inside with a bunch of strangers.  There are more productive ways to spend a Sunday, certainly.

The View from Bolton Street

Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks.

John 12:20

Jesus was famous for not taking the classic all-time parental advice, don’t talk to strangers. Samaritans, Pharisees, Sadducees, Gentiles, the Syro-phoenician woman… and here in the Gospel of John, some Greeks. While I don’t normally advise ignoring your parents, Jesus did seem to make a habit of it. Remember when he ‘got lost’ and stuck around in the temple in Jerusalem? Or when his mom wanted him to make wine at the wedding and Jesus tried to get out of it. There is a reason that our parents tell us to not talk to strangers. Especially as children, it is for our protection. Making sure that we don’t end up in dangerous, difficult, or uncomfortable situations.

However, as adults, it is possible we take this feeling of safety a little too far. Only spending time with people we know, people we grew up with, people who look, act, talk, and think like us. Given all of the advances in technology, this is easier and easier. You can have almost any interaction over text or email, or increasingly with artificial intelligence specifically designed to get you exactly what you want, especially if it is a refund on your stolen Amazon package.

Let that sink in.

Collectively we have decided as a society it is easier and cheaper to re-order the same product someone stole from you, even if you know who it was, than to figure out how to change their behavior.  

Unfortunately, there are some conflicts that A.I. and high corporate overhead cannot solve.  

This week I am reading a book on the conflict in Northern Ireland, a first person account by Senator George Mitchell on how they were able to come to a resolution.  In it he says one of the first things he did was go and meet with as many leaders of different factions as possible and they all had wildly different views on what started the conflict and who was to blame.  They all agreed, however, on one thing. 

Years of conflict and violence had created crippling poverty.  Jobs and economic opportunities had to be a part of the solution.  So that is where the work began. 

When Jesus’ disciples try to stop these greeks from meeting with Jesus, they are just trying to protect him (and maybe themselves).  But Jesus is always willing to hear out those of differing viewpoints in order to find common ground and a path forward.  We could stand to do the same. 

And not through text, or A.I. or faceless voices online or in the news.  But in person. Face to face.  What is behind the compulsion to vote a certain way, live a certain way, act a certain way?  Can we be curious first, and leave the judgement behind?  Can we, like Jesus, entertain the idea that something different, new, challenging might be…. Better? For us, and for the world. 

The View from Bolton Street

Matthew 5:17–19

Jesus said, “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven."

Where do we find HOPE in the midst of chaos?  Jesus promises faithfulness to the end, as we read above, and yet we look at the world, we wonder, where is Jesus.  Where is that faithfulness? Don’t you see what is going on down here?!?!

Whether you are worried about upcoming elections, violence in our city, the presence of evil in our world, your struggles and worries, or just the frustration of everyday life… I hope you will join us the next Three Wednesdays for our Lenten Dinner program with Brown Memorial and Corpus Cristi. 

The Program is entitled Finding Hope in Uncertain Times

With the myth of the inevitability of progress wrenched from dominant public discourse, many are facing the painful reality of a world that seems to be drifting away from the future that our faith promises. How do we find the energy to continue building toward that holy vision when things get worse, not better? How do we persevere when our actions for a just world seem inconsequential? Join members of Brown Memorial Presbyterian, Memorial Episcopal, and Corpus Christi Roman Catholic churches for dinner at 5:30, followed by education and discussion on these questions of finding hope in uncertain times.

In moments of chaos and uncertainty, it is most important to not feel alone.  Coming together as a community is a wonderful way to ensure you are not alone!  

So please do join us.

The View from Bolton Street

8 is Great! 

"You can hold it this way, you can hold it that way, It's still eight." 

The Count is right. Eight (years) is indeed great. This Sunday I celebrate eight years serving here at Memorial, and it truly has been a joyous and exceptional eight years.  

I am grateful to all of you who have been a part of this journey, which is really... all of you reading this reflection. Memorial has a long history and I am aware that I only play a small part in that story (My photo isn't even on the wall yet!) but let's consider all that we have accomplished in this time.

We went from a staff of four to a staff of eight, adding a bookkeeper, parish administrator, youth minister, and justice minister. 

Even with the pandemic, we have increased our attendance substantially, close to 20%. 

We have revitalized the entire physical plant; rehabbing the rectory, air conditioning and modernizing the sanctuary, and painting and air conditioning both of the parish halls.  

We are also in the process of putting new floors in the basement and rehabbing to create a Sunday school classroom and a more friendly and inviting space for the Samaritan Community. 

We began a first-of-its-kind reparations program in the middle of the pandemic, and are leading the diocese and the country in showing how Churches can process their complicated histories and continue to serve God and the community in the future.

We have distributed close to $150k in reparations funds to West Baltimore nonprofits, and many times that in volunteer hours and additional support. 

We have revitalized our music program, featuring exceptional musicians and vocalists, and a music minister who regularly composes new offerings not just for us but for the glory of God around the world. 

We have become more diverse as a congregation and in our staff and leadership, better reflecting the community around us and what we hope the Kingdom of God looks like. 

We helped more than 100 people escape the Taliban and find sanctuary in Abu Dhabi and Pakistan and provided critical legal and humanitarian services to refugees here in the U.S. who are trying to make a new home.

The Rectory went from a lightly used storage space to a home for the Episcopal Service Corps for multiple years and is now a home for refugee families resettling here in Baltimore. 

We have borne witness to what it means to believe in Jesus and share Christ's love with the world to our neighbors in Bolton Hill and beyond.  

We have been home to multiple non-profits and community-oriented programming that seek to make life more livable here in Baltimore for all. 

And perhaps most importantly we have crafted a community of love. One that does not always agree on everything but that does find common ground in the love of God and sharing that love with the world.

Thank you all for eight wonderful years. Looking forward to many more. 

The View from Bolton Street

Reflection Lent 2

No longer shall your name be Abram, but your name shall be Abraham; for I have made you the ancestor of a multitude of nations. I will make you exceedingly fruitful; and I will make nations of you, and kings shall come from you. I will establish my covenant between me and you, and your offspring after you throughout their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you.

Genesis 17:5-7

I have made you the ancestor of a multitude of nations. That is a lot of responsibility, Abraham. I do wonder how Abraham would feel about this multitude of nations today. Despite this everlasting covenant with God, despite God’s commitment that it would be everlasting, we seem to be doing our best to test God on this particular agreement. 

It isn’t just Gaza, though that is a convenient scapegoat for some of our worst thoughts and fears. Consider how much you know about Judaism. Or Islam? How many friends and colleagues do you have of different faiths - and that you have in depth conversations about faith?

We are told from the beginning that we are family.  All connected through Father Abraham.  But we often act more like estranged cousins than children of the same God.  Real dialogue can be hard, and often we prefer superficial connection than actual conversation.  So I want to offer a few ways to encourage real dialogue in the midst of conflict and difference.  These come from Catherine Cornille, a theologian at Boston College and is a helpful model to follow. 

Before we see any dialogue across difference we must first demonstrate: 

Humility -  We may have strongly held beliefs, thoughts and feelings - but we also acknowledge that neither our tradition nor our faith has all the answers, and that we may have something to learn from others.

Commitment - We do believe something.  And we understand that belief enough to dialogue with someone else.

Interconnectedness - we commit to seeing the commonalities in our traditions, like, for example, Abraham! 

Empathy - We seek to listen with our whole heart, and mind and soul to the other, putting ourselves in their shoes and seeking to see the conflict from their perspective. 

Hospitality - and finally, that we offer welcome, sustenance, and shelter to all those who seek to dialogue with. Sharing a bit of ourselves as we share what we believe lightens the tension and proves we are invested in the relationship and not just winning an argument.

I hope these guidelines can help you in your own journeys towards healing, reconciliation and renewal, however you may understand them. 

The View from Bolton Street

Gathering in Lent: In our modern Christian tradition, we tend to think of Lent as a season of individual devotions.  Whether we are taking something on (Bible study, devotionals) or giving something up (chocolate, soda, alcohol), we view it as something we do on our own.  We focus on our own sinfulness, our own distance from God, and (often unwittingly) pull away from the broader Christian community.  

However, we are entering an election year and coming out of a very isolating pandemic, and all we have to do is look around to see more and more division.  War. Conflict. Partisanship. Racism. Bigotry. Anti-Semitism. Everybody wants to know what side you are on.  

All of this division can be well, quite isolating.  For that reason, this Lent at Memorial we are going to focus on how to come back together.  You will notice some small changes in worship: we will kneel together at the altar rail for communion; we will allow some additional time for prayerful silence during worship; and we will sing, pray, and eat together - including a weekly formation program hosted by the vestry after the 10:30 service.  

Of all the things we can do this Lenten season, let's be a community. 

The View from Bolton Street

A Time for Transfiguration

Why go up the mountain?

The story of the transfiguration is one of our treasured stories from the gospels. We hear differing but not competing accounts of this story in the Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke. Yet we never get an answer to the question of why. Why does Jesus go up the mountain? Why does he bring some (but not all) of the disciples with him?

Does Jesus know what is going to happen? Was this all a carefully orchestrated event that was preordained? Or was it a happy accident? Jesus and his disciples needed a break, they went for a hike and then all this happened?

Fortunately or unfortunately, we are not told.

I say fortunately because for us it means that both can be true! As we seek to bring about our own transfiguration as a community of faith, we can take comfort in the fact that Jesus’ transfiguration happened without any clear plan, and yet the Holy Spirit was definitely present in that moment! And we can also challenge ourselves to say that we should not run from the opportunities God has put before us. Or (as Peter attempted) to be content to just stay where we are.

This Sunday we have Mark’s version of the transfiguration story as our Gospel text. You have probably noticed that the veil has been lifted from the Triptych in the rear of the Church and you can expect to see more dialogue about this particular transfiguration in the coming weeks and months. As you may be aware, two years ago the vestry voted to veil the triptych until a decision could be made about its reinterpretation or replacement. The painting is a memorial to the Rev. Dr. William Meade Dame and his wife, Susan. Dr. Dame served for 45 years as rector of Memorial Episcopal Church and during his tenure aggressively sought to keep the church, the neighborhood, and the city of Baltimore segregated. He was an enthusiastic supporter of Confederate causes here in Baltimore, advocated taking the vote away from Black men, and supported a church and a community that invented housing segregation in the U.S.

It is not a bad painting on its own merits. It certainly could do with some restoration, and is a unique example of a minor late 19th/early 20th-century American painter, Frederick Lincoln Stoddard, who mainly painted murals and as a result, this is one of the few remaining examples of his large-scale works. It is, it must be said, a very white Jesus and the painting does not reflect who we are as a community or who we would aspire to be. It is possible that restoring the painting would bring out other colors, dulling the ‘white Jesus’ at the center, but the cost of such a restoration, $30,000 or more, maybe beyond our appetite or limited budget.

As we consider how might our sanctuary space be ‘transfigured’ - I invite you all to consider all of the transforming and transfiguring this community has undergone in the last 8 years. New members, revitalized worship spaces, new knowledge of our story and history, new programs, and new initiatives. We have changed how we worship during a pandemic, how we make music, and how we are led. How would you depict the transfiguration today? When you remember that Christ was transformed on a mountain, that his face changed, that he was blessed by our ancestors and by the Holy Spirit…. What does that look like to you? How would you draw that?