On Creating Tables…

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church, connect, eat, Eucharist, God, longing, phone, power, real, social media, table, tablet, technology, transformation, virtual

Photo credit:  https://www.webmarketing-com.com/2016/10/03/50473-mobile-first-vitesse-enjeu-principal

This week I stumbled on a commercial that was created for an event commemorating Canada’s 150^th anniversary.  Canada decided to celebrate with “Eat Together” Day this summer.  The commercial, which you can see here, features a woman, surrounded by people on their phones wrapped up in their own worlds, not acknowledging each other’s presence.  Fed up, she grabs her roommate, her small kitchen table and chairs, and sets dinner out in the hallway of their apartment complex.  Slowly, people emerge from the elevator and are invited to sit down.  Others hear the commotion, come out of apartments, and add tables, chairs, and food to the impromptu gathering.  People of all colors, ethnicities, and ages sit at the table, perhaps hearing and seeing each other for the first time.

Modern technology did not create the longing to be connected.  The need has always been there.  But technology has shifted how we connect.  We can now feel closer to friends in distant places, keep up to date on news stories that were buried or hard to find, and even connect with strangers with whom we have a lot in common.  But connecting online sometimes means we are no longer available for the person sitting on the couch next to us, waiting in line at the grocery store, or living next door.  In a desire to connect from afar, we sometimes forget to connect nearby.

I am usually one of the last to criticize the ways in which technology helps us connect.  In this past week alone, I have been grateful for the ways social media has enabled me to hear when a friend or family member is safe after a storm, to see that good things are still happening to my friends who are living in areas of conflict, and to learn when friends are blessed with new babies, marriages, and milestones.  In fact, this weekend Christians around the world will be participating in “Social Media Sunday,” a Sunday to embrace the ways social media helps us connect both virtually and in real time to our neighbors, friends, and strangers.

At Hickory Neck, we will be joining other churches as we celebrate the ways social media brings us together.  But part of what we are celebrating this Sunday is how social media takes the connections we make online, and brings them to the table – the Eucharistic table, where, like that video “Eat Together,” people encounter one another in meaningful, vulnerable, and powerful ways.  We can certainly be transformed by Social Media, but nothing can replace the taste of communion bread and wine on your tongue, the experience of brushing shoulders at the altar rail with someone very different from you, and the power of God’s blessing that comes at the table.  So by all means, post about Hickory Neck Episcopal Church, bringing your cell phones and tablets to church.  But also make time and room this week to “Eat Together” at God’s table.  I suspect that the connections you make at the Eucharistic Table will enrich the virtual table you have created online.

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Homily – Luke 2.-8-20, Blue Christmas, December 21, 2016

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Blue Christmas, Christmas, happy, Holy Family, homily, honest, hope, imperfection, perfect, perfection, real, vulnerable

I can still picture the perfect Christmas in my head.  My cousins were all there, along with my aunts, uncles, and grandparents.  The kids’ table was the coveted spot for dinner – even some the adults offered to make the “sacrifice” of not sitting at the adult table in order to join the kids.  After a dinner with the lamb and asparagus casserole my grandfather always cooked, the cousins challenged the aunts and uncles to a football game in the yard.  I scored a touchdown, which if you know me, was a minor miracle.  It was a perfectly beautiful, chilly day, and I remember being happy.

Of course, I was too young to know what was actually happening.  Marriages were hanging on by a string, and only one would survive.  Anxiety was hidden beneath the surface at the kids’ table as one family member barked at us for various offenses.  At least one family member was struggling with her sexuality.  Cousins would later be caught in the middle of nasty divorces, meaning I would not see them for several years.  Jobs would be lost, and identity would be questioned in the midst of unemployment.  American politics would infect family politics.  Even my own immediate family was heading for all sorts of tumult.

For a long time, I mourned the loss of that perfect Christmas.  I saw other families seeming to hold their Christmases together without effort.  I watched commercials that reminded me more of how things used to be rather than how they were.  I would receive annual Christmas cards and letters from seemingly perfect friends that made me feel like I did not measure up.  Even the pictures of the Holy Family seemed to capture a peace and contentment that I would never have.

But slowly, over the years, the old Biblical narrative seemed to unravel.  Knowing how hard marriage is, I could finally imagine how tense things must have been between Joseph and Mary.  Knowing how hard pregnancy is, I could finally imagine how miserable Mary must have been by the time they arrived in Bethlehem.  Knowing how brutal the Roman rulers were, I could imagine how dehumanizing going back to your hometown to be enrolled in the census must have been.  Knowing that not one family member, friend, or business would take in the Holy Family, leaving them in the most humiliating of situations, I could imagine how panicked and lonely the first-time mom, Mary, must have felt, even in her exhaustion.  Knowing how filthy shepherds usually were, and how Mary and Joseph just wanted a little peace, I could imagine how overwhelmed the Holy Family felt.  Though we like nativity sets, cards, and pageants that depict the Holy Family’s experience as heavenly perfection, the scripture tells a different story.

One of my favorite paintings of Mary is a painting that depicts her, just after birth, splayed, half-dressed, on a rustic bed, with women hovering in the dark background, tending to baby Jesus.[i]  There’s something very real and raw about that painting – the animals and baby are all there, but none of it seems perfect.  That’s what I love about this service too.  We too are tired, overwhelmed, and feeling vulnerable.  We too are lost without our loved ones this year.  We too are terrified of the ambiguity of life, and the sense that we are not in control.  But unlike everywhere else we live and work, this gathering tonight says we do not have to hide; we do not have to stuff our vulnerabilities and weaknesses in a box; we do not need to try to find perfection.

Tonight we are simply invited to be real, vulnerable, and honest about the imperfection of our lives, of ourselves, and of this time of year.  And though some artists might want you to believe that the Holy Family puts forth some sort of perfection standard, if anything, the Holy Family is right there with us.  Sitting among smelly animals and shepherds, settling into itchy hay and drafty stables, and wrapping their child in scraps of simple cloths, the Holy Family invites us into an imperfect Christmas.  Only when we enter fully enter into the imperfection of our Christmases are we able to allow the perfection of Christ to light a small flame of hope in our hearts.  May that light be kindled or stoked tonight, and may that light of hope grow ever strong in the days, weeks, and years to come.

[i] Paul Gauguin, “Te Tamari No Atua (Nativity), 1896,” as found at http://www.jesus-story.net/painting_birth_christ.htm on December 20, 2016.

Getting Real and Giving Generously…

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budget, church, giving, journey, Living Generously, ministry, money, motivation, passion, pledge, real, resources

Photo credit:  www.associationserviceswa.com/2016/08/value-of-a-well-prepared-budget/

The year after I graduated from college, I volunteered fulltime through the AmeriCorps program at a Food Bank in North Carolina.  In addition to working in the warehouse and monitoring agencies, my fellow volunteers and I also had monthly classes on a variety of topics.  My favorite was a budgeting class.  Though most of us were scraping by our living stipend, we still had income and expenses like everyone else.   Our homework was to track our expenses and income for a month and then come back to class to talk about what we noticed.  After that month, I realized that I had picked up a terrible habit.  I had worked very hard to save money during that year.  As a reward for saving money, every week I would treat myself to something small.  But when I did the math, I realized the amount I had saved was much less than the amount with which I was treating myself.  The realization was shocking and wildly disappointing.

On Sunday, we are submitting our pledge commitments for the coming year at Hickory Neck.  Part of our Living Generously campaign has been talking about the powerful ministries at Hickory Neck that mean so much to us.  We have read parishioner reflections, biblical reflections from national church leaders, and a great narrative budget that helps us see how our finances function.  My husband and I are inspired and expectant about the future of Hickory Neck, and we are overjoyed to join the pledging effort to support our ministry.

Inspiration has not been a problem.  In fact, my husband and I talked about how we want to increase our pledge this year.  But as we looked at the numbers, we realized in order to align our budget with our passion, we were going to have to adjust some things.  For us, that means at least a few less meals out each month.  It also may mean being a bit more discerning about wants versus needs.  It will certainly mean keeping an eye on making sure that we are able to keep our pledge next year by saving the amount needed for our increase and not “treating” ourselves disproportionally to our increased pledge.

As the Vestry talked about Stewardship, the Vestry all realized our church giving was motivated by different things.  For some of us, understanding the mission of the church and how our pledge would be used was critical.  For others of us, we needed our giving to be rooted in a theological or spiritual understanding of resources and our stewardship of those resources.  While for others of us, our giving was more motivated by looking around us, taking stock of all the things we like about church, and calculating how much those things cost.  My hope is that our campaign has addressed all of those approaches and that our journey through stewardship season has inspired and rooted you.  I look forward to hearing your story of our journey together and kicking off another great year!