Home » Misc
Category Archives: Misc
Talking About Race
—Cindy Geary, Co-Author of Going to School in Black and White
LaHoma and I found ourselves talking about race during our writing group a few years ago. Specifically, we were talking about school re-segregation and white flight in the district where we had both gone to school. This conversation happened after we discovered that we had both been participants in the 1970 court-ordered desegregation plan in Durham, NC. Before 1970, a few black children attended previously white schools, but no white children attended black schools. The new court order required substantive redistricting to create a racial balance that the “freedom of choice” policy had not. My sophomore year, I was among the first white students to go to the previous all-black Hillside High School.
During an earlier group meeting, I read an excerpt from a writing prompt: “the place where you lived when you were in junior high.” I mentioned in my piece that I was a Hillside graduate. LaHoma said, “You went to Hillside? I went to Hillside!” As it turned out, I was a senior her sophomore year. LaHoma is black; she always expected to go to Hillside. Neither of us had known until then that we had walked the same high school corridors. We were excited to know, after years of acquaintance, that we were both Hillside “Hornets.”
That day, after reminiscing about former teachers and classmates, we started to talk about how we felt about court-ordered desegregation, controversial at the time. We were both surprised at each other’s responses. She was surprised that I had thought it was a good experience—years after graduation, she had heard otherwise from former classmates. I was stunned to hear LaHoma had not been at all happy about desegregation. She was utterly content at her junior high school and unhappy to be reassigned to a different one just to be with white kids. It was not the story I had assumed.
Thus began an extended conversation about our experiences as white and black people in and out of our usual white and black spaces. Our stories unveiled different worlds, defined by race, that we inhabited before, during and after our school desegregation experiences. These stories became a dual memoir, Going to School in Black and White. Writing this book gave us the opportunity to speak openly with each other about our own previously unexamined biases in a way that we might not have been able to without these real school experiences to ground us.
Having these sometimes tricky conversations created a strong bond of trust between us. To honor this and to make the book worthy of our readers’ trust, our goal was complete honesty, even when what surfaced in our writing process was not as pretty as we wanted it to be. Peeling back layers of memory was sometimes painful, but also liberating. Our wish is that readers will find something of themselves in our stories, start to talk to others about the formation of their racial attitudes and beliefs, and that eventually, this will create enough comfort with each other to have further conversations about the present realities of school segregation and racial injustice.
For more information about our book and resource materials, see:
http://www.goingtoschoolinblackandwhite.com
My Old St. Paul’s Story
—Barry Brown, St. Paul’s Stewardship Committee
Suzanne and I arrived in Baltimore in the summer of 2015, after an unexpected job change and relocation. We soon began looking for a church that would be near our new home. More specifically, we wanted a traditional Episcopal service with good music and a progressive understanding of the Christian experience.
We made our first visit to Old St Paul’s on October 11, 2015, and we were hooked by the end of the service. For me, the music, liturgy, and message were all just right. Then, to make a wonderful experience even better, we were warmly greeted by many people after the service.
Over the subsequent months, we visited other churches, but never quite felt the connection we felt at OSP. We returned about every other week and began attending the forum, participated in Civic Works day of service, served lunch with the OSP team at Our Daily Bread, and attended numerous parties. All the while our network of friends at OSP continued to grow.
It is very difficult for an introvert like me to pull up my roots and move off to a strange new city. I’ve had to do it a few times in my life, and sometimes wasn’t sure I’d survive. For me, stepping into OSP felt almost as if I had always been here. This church has had an incredible impact on my adapting to a new city. So we support Old St. Paul’s with our financial pledge to help keep our spiritual home healthy, and to help insure it is here for others who need the same support it has given me.
Please consider your commitment to growth and give electronically to Old St. Paul’s:
Step Up Your Pledge
—Vicky Murray, St. Paul’s Stewardship Committee
If you already pledge to Old St. Paul’s—thank you! Your generosity funds our operations. The pledge commitments that parishioners make are used by the Vestry and church leaders to build an operating budget. Just like your personal budget, the church budget includes basic expenses (utilities, salaries, building maintenance, etc) as well as the programs that keep our congregation growing (music, education for children and adults, etc).
The theme for this year’s Stewardship Campaign is “The Gifts of God for the People of God”. We hear these words every week when we prepare to receive communion, but what do they mean? Everything that we have in our lives, from our relationships with others to our material possessions, is a gift that is given to us by God. As people of God, we are stewards of all that we hold dear.
For over twenty years, the luxury watch brand Patek Phillippe has used the advertising slogan: “You never really own a Patek Phillippe. You merely look after for it for the next generation.” This year marked our 325th year as a parish, an incredible testimony to the stewardship of those who came before us. We must continue the tradition for those who come after us.
Look around the church at the names and dates of those who are forever memorialized in our stained glass windows. Think about the financial support that they provided to Old St. Paul’s. We are blessed with a strong endowment thanks to their gifts. We are fortunate to have it, but it is our responsibility to maintain and build the endowment rather than relying on it in lieu of our pledge of financial commitment. I grew up in a church where my great-grandparents had been founding members. It is my hope that Old St. Paul’s will be there for my great-grandchildren.
We ask that you prayerfully consider increasing your pledge from what you gave in 2017.
Please consider your commitment to growth and give electronically to Old St. Paul’s:
http://stpaulsbaltimore.org/pledge/
Call No One Father
—The Rev. Mark Stanley
Isn’t it time that we stopped using the title “Father” for priests? Even though Jesus said, “Call no one Father” (Matthew 23:9), I don’t think we need to use the literal sense of that text as the foundation for this change.
I would start with the baptismal theology of our 1979 Book of Common Prayer. One of the great thrusts of our current Prayer Book is honoring the ministry of the laity. What is most important is that we are all baptized. As baptized members of Christ’s body, we have ministries either as lay or ordained people. So why should priests get a special (and seemingly superior) title? What is meant as a sign of respect towards the clergy seems to reinforce an outmoded hierarchy.
I know a priest who likes to be called Father because “I have worked so hard for this role and I want the respect this vocation deserves.” This is certainly a valid concern in a societal context where all authority figures are getting less respect. My response is that authentic respect flows from who we are and not what we are called. Our pastoral leadership and spiritual presence, and not any special title, will be the real source of a congregation giving us authority.
In addition, with the ordination of women in 1976 we have changed who can be in the priesthood. Is there an equivalent title to “Father” for women? Some women clergy like being called “Mother.” Others can’t stand it. It doesn’t help that “Mother” is also a title used by Roman Catholic nuns. In the Episcopal Church we have both genders ordained. This decision has consequences. We just can’t have one gender with a standard title that does not work for all. This seems like a simple issue of justice. Are men who like the title “Father” willing to let this title go for the sake of our clergy sisters?
Is “Father” really even the best title to describe what a priest does? I remember being a newly ordained 25 year old priest and having an elderly woman in our parish continually calling me “Father.” Do I really function like a father to her? This puts me in the parent role and her in the child position. It can actually be harming the spiritual development of parishioners to be putting them in this infantilizing position.
Furthermore, using the title Father creates the potential for theological confusion. Imagine a priest about to lead the Lord’s Prayer. It is then announced “Father Smith will now lead us in the ‘Our Father.’” Here is a situation where you are calling God “Father” in close connection with calling the priest “Father.” Is this ordained human being really in the same role as the Divine? Unfortunately some people already fall into that misunderstanding. Having a spiritual leader with the same title as the first person of the Trinity is just not a good set up for anyone.
In general I think people should be able to be called whatever they want. However when a title has the potential of getting in the way of the mission of the church, I would hope that people would be willing to make a change. Even if that change requires the sacrifice of a beloved title.
I don’t have the answer to what priests should be called. I do know that whatever we are called it should be the same title for both men and women. I find that it feels great to be a pastoral leader who is on a mutual first name basis with the people in my parish. They seem to like it too. So I propose we stick with the most meaningful names we have, our baptismal names—the names with which we are marked as Christ’s own forever.
March for Refugees: Pray, Act, and Walk
A message from Bishop Eugene Taylor Sutton
|
|
|
Epiphanies, Hopes, & Tiny Owls
—Katherine Mead-Brewer, St. Paul’s Member
One of my dearest friends recently moved from D.C. to Austin, Texas. She was nervous but also enthusiastic about the change; she wanted a new city to explore, new opportunities, new weather. But when she and her husband got there, nothing was as they’d expected. There was loneliness and job uncertainty and personal insecurities and missing their church family. I couldn’t figure out why something like this, such a heavy disappointment, such a heavy sense of fear about making a wrong/expensive/isolating decision, should fall on someone who’d only ever loved the world around her, someone who’d only ever brought happiness and light to all fortunate enough to know her.
At first this seemed like just one more negative to pile onto the aggravation-heap that became 2016 for me. What recourse did my friend have? They couldn’t move back; they’d put too much money into their new (first) house. And I couldn’t even reach out to her as I normally would’ve, because now we were hundreds of miles apart. I couldn’t wrap my arms around her or bring her ice cream or invite her out for coffee.
For a fix-it personality like me, this issue has recently felt all-consuming, touching nearly every corner of my life. So many problems seem to have clear solutions to me—just as, I imagine, they likely seem clear to others in their own ways—so why can’t I manage to fix any of them? Why are so many of my friends now living in fear?—afraid that they’ve made the wrong decision regarding their job, their schooling, their home? Afraid for their own personal safety when only a few weeks ago they were optimistic about the entire country’s future? How do we begin to move forward as individuals, as families, as communities, as a country, when everything feels so wrong?
This past Sunday, The Reverend Mary Luck Stanley preached on the fact that now, as we come out of the season of Christmas, we enter the Christian season of Epiphany. A time of revelation. The season that celebrates when the Magi finally found the infant Jesus, their own revelation, a symbolic epiphany for all of us.
Of course, simply reading this story from the Bible can make the entire thing sound easy and magical. They came bringing gifts! They followed a star! When really, I can’t think of an experience that sounds more fraught with discomfort, danger, and uncertainty. A hard journey through alien lands, traveling far from their friends and loved ones, enduring grueling encounters with selfish, paranoid leaders who would hurt others in order to further their own ends—leaders who would sacrifice an entire generation of sons simply to ensure their own continued reign.
In many ways, the season of Epiphany is exactly where I am right now. It’s a time of hardship and trials. A time of maddening limbo and grave uncertainty. But as Christ’s story reassures us, this is also a time of great revelation and discovery. This is a time when we stand up to those who would victimize us and our neighbors, even if victory seems impossible. Even if we feel powerless or inadequate. This is a time when we allow ourselves to recognize the discomfort and painfulness of our journey without succumbing to it. This is a time for persevering in the face of great obstacles and insecurity.
Just the other day, my now-Austinite friend sent me an email—the first hopeful one she’s sent in a long, long time—and in it she included the photograph of a young screech owl nesting in the tree in their backyard.
“There is a TINY OWL in my backyard,” she wrote to me, ecstatic.
“It’s a sign,” I told her. “It’s a sign that you’re supposed to be where you are. It’s a little blessing.” A little epiphany. A little emblem of hope, wonder, and beauty in the midst of so much strife and loneliness.
To me, a firm believer in signs and symbols, it seemed clear that this tiny owl was a piece of God reaching out to give comfort. A mysterious, winged creature–not so unlike the Holy Spirit.
Rosemary peeking out her front door. Photo by H.S.
And though my friend remained dubious about what exactly (if anything) the owl symbolized, she and her husband quickly named the little fellow Rosemary. Rosemary for remembrance. Because though it can be difficult to know the path forward when everything at your back is continuously shouting for your attention, continuously trying to pull you down and tie you up, always remember that life is peppered with tiny owls epiphanies, with sparks of hope and moments of inspiration, pointing you forward. Pointing you toward something better.
Ministry Takes Money
Bishop Swing, the bishop who ordained me, often said, “Ministry takes money.” Ministry certainly takes a lot of other things as well—prayer, compassion, hard work, and so on. But Bishop Swing wanted to let people of faith know that we can’t shy away from the fact that money is needed to carry out the work of the church. The church does not run on air. The diocese doesn’t pay our bills (I have heard more than one someone wonder about that). We depend on the giving of each member of the congregation.
It Takes a Village: Finding Helping Hands at Church
—Tara Kirk Sell
Since Greg and I had Sennet, we’ve had our hands full with kids. One of the things I love about our Old St. Paul’s community is that when we come to church there are so many people ready to lend a helping hand or hold a baby for a few minutes. Sometimes, my arms are just tired and so it’s really nice to have people around who enthusiastically give Greg and me a moment to rest and recharge.
The other day when we stood up front to support Michael and Suzanne during Gabriel’s baptism, we were in turn supported by other members of the church when we plopped Sennet down in Kate Brantley’s arms and left Torin with Doug, Francine, and Ramy. Sennet spent the time grabbing Maggie’s hair with her toes and I could see Torin’s head poking up as Doug held him to show him what was going on. They were happy, safe, and welcome in the arms of friends.
When we came to the goodbye party for Chuck and Lynn, Sennet was passed from person to person as Greg and I chased Torin and renewed our friendship with other people. After a while, Greg and I said to each other, “We better go figure out where our baby is,” but we were entirely sure she was happy and well cared for being held by different members of our parish.
It is acceptance and compassion and welcome and love all wrapped up in one. That’s why I love it here at Old Saint Paul’s.
Photo courtesy of The Weaver House
Tara Kirk is an American former competition swimmer and breaststroke specialist who is an Olympic silver medalist. She is a former world record holder in the 100-meter breaststroke.
Seeking Healing, Seeking Joy
—Katherine Mead-Brewer
Ernest Hemingway is a man best known for his minimalist writing and for his “man’s man” reputation: a tough, tight-lipped war-vet, always ready to bleed for his art, always with a drink in hand. He’s a man known for quotes like, “Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.”
My husband Evan Mead-Brewer shared this particular Hemingway quote on Twitter recently, saying, “Fighting depression myself, this thought has given me grim comfort before. But it’s just not true.” —Seeing this, I found myself at once surprised and deeply proud. Because Evan is absolutely right: The idea that depression is somehow married to or correlated with intelligence is a deeply problematic sentiment, one that’s poisoned our waters for far too long.
Not only does this idea somehow suggest that happy or joyful people are dumb/ignorant/thoughtless, but it also suggests that there’s a kind of romantic, even bohemian upside to suffering depression. After all, if depression is a trait shared by intelligent, creative people, then maybe there’s some inherent benefit to being depressed, maybe something about this state of suffering better enables creative thinking. Maybe, in other words, there’s nothing wrong with being depressed. Maybe being depressed is just a personality trait of those who are thoughtful, educated, and wise. But, as Evan said, this is simply untrue. Depression is absolutely not a personality trait, nor is it somehow part of a person’s intelligence. Depression is a disease, plain and simple.
What makes me proud here, is not only that Evan was bold enough to share this insight—given the kinds of stereotypes and assumptions that continue to plague people who experience depression—but also because of how difficult it can be to acknowledge one’s own needs and misconceptions in general.
Yet this is precisely what’s asked of us as Christians. Do we want to be healed? Forgiven? Saved? Then we must earnestly seek to be so. For example, just look at Psalm 30: 2, 8-12:
LORD my God, I called to you for help, and you healed me. … To you, LORD, I called; to the Lord I cried for mercy: “What is gained if I am silenced, if I go down to the pit? Will the dust praise you? Will it proclaim your faithfulness? Hear, LORD, and be merciful to me; LORD, be my help.” You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent. LORD my God, I will praise you forever.
Not only is it vital that we seek help and healing for ourselves, no matter what we suffer from, but it’s also vital that we be able to actually say those painful words: I am unwell. I need help. Please, God, someone, be my help.
Unfortunately, these are words we often make people feel embarrassed or ashamed of. Why else would these excuses (I’m not depressed; I’m just smart/creative/romantic) and negative stereotypes (She’s not depressed; she’s just lazy/selfish/attention-grubbing) continue to haunt people who suffer depression? But it’s precisely because of these kinds of excuses, prejudices, and misconceptions that many people continue to suffer needlessly—that they continue going on and on without ever seeking or asking for the help they need.
There is no inherent honor or benefit to suffering. As followers of Christ—a man perhaps best known for his suffering—we can sometimes forget this. We can sometimes convince ourselves that because Christ is revered for the suffering he underwent, suffering must be a trait of those who are good and wise and ahead of their time. But this is simply not the case.
Christ suffered, but not because he was wise or good or ahead of his time. Christ suffered because he was made to suffer by other people who were close-minded, fearful, exclusivist, and filled with hate. Suffering is not the work of any God of Love such as ours. God would never impose suffering upon us in hopes of teaching us some mysterious lesson or to make us more creative/intelligent/interesting; our God is Love, and therefore filled with joy, hope, compassion, and healing. In fact, as the Psalm says, You turned my wailing into Dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with Joy, that my heart may Sing your praises and Not Be Silent.
Dancing, joy, singing, sharing, openness—these are not the markers of people who simply aren’t intelligent enough to see all that there is to mourn, worry about, and fight for. These are simply the markers of God. The things our Creator wants for us, if only we can be bold enough to seek them for ourselves and neighbors.
Fortunately today, once we make that first hard leap into actively seeking help, there are many resources at hand for getting said help and treating depression, everything from counseling to medication to group therapy. The tools for seizing wellness are here; all we need do is ask.
What Happened at the Maryland Diocesan Convention
–Keith Murray
Last Friday and Saturday, your delegation attended the 232nd Diocesan Convention in Ellicott City. Representing Old St. Paul’s were The Reverend Mark Stanley, The Reverend Mary Luck Stanley, The Rev. Dr. Chris Dreisbach, Youth Minister Jessica Sexton, Ed Tabor, and me.
Friday began with a convention-wide Eucharist, including an inspiring sermon about Pentecost by Bishop Knudsen. Following that, we discussed each of the resolutions brought before us. Resolutions addressing clergy and lay compensation, alcohol use guidelines, diocesan canons, Cathedral Chapter bylaws, and mandatory diocesan training all passed either as presented or with slight modifications.
Also passed was a resolution to establish a relationship with the Episcopal Diocese of Puerto Rico, who had a delegate attend the convention, as well as Mark Stanley’s resolution to have Origen of Alexandria included in the calendar of saints was passed and moves along to be considered at the next General Convention. Way to go Mark!
A resolution to give ten percent of the Diocese’s unrestricted endowment, as an initial reparation for the church’s ties to slavery, to the Union of Black Episcopalians was “committed to diocesan counsel,” which means that it will be further studied and likely reconsidered at a future convention.
The keynote speaker was the Very Reverend Michael Kinman, Dean of Christ Church Cathedral in St. Louis, who preached on themes involving the social justice issues of racial disparity and injustice, current events including Ferguson and the death of Michael Brown, the death of Freddie Gray and the Black Lives Matter movement.
Saturday morning began with Morning Prayer and another business session. Bishop Sutton’s address included a description of his recent three month sabbatical for which he is extremely grateful. Bishop Sutton also had high praise for Bishop Knudsen’s ministry among us and we were reminded that she will retire in 2018. Plans for identifying her successor will need to be considered by the time the next convention convenes in 2017.
Bishop Sutton’s message in his address was a renewed initiative concerning the meaning of love. He talked about how we might go about that in a three step process—Encounter, Engage, and Reconcile. He weaved in a continued commitment to the basics of good worship, music, and mission simultaneously.
While it is easy to focus on just the “business” of the Diocesan Convention, it is inspiring to be reminded that there are many committed people, both clergy and lay, who are passionately endeavoring to spread the love of Christ throughout our diocese. Thanks be to God.
Living Our Faith: St. Paul's Episcopal Church 