Youth retreat to Whidbey Island, make new friends

The numbers couldn't have worked out more perfectly: ten youth from St. Thomas, ten from St. Mark's Cathedral. We set out through rain and traffic Friday evening and even got separated onto two different ferries. But eventually, we all made it to Camp Casey on Whidbey Island.

The St. Mark's youth, under the able leadership of Children & Youth Director Cindy Spencer, do this retreat every single year. This is the third time St. Thomas youth have joined them to make a special effort at building new friendships. We had a young bunch this year: one sophomore, two freshmen, and a host of middle schoolers.

This particular retreat is not meant to be intense. It's time away, time for recharging and refreshing. More than once I heard a youth say, "I'm bored!" I think this really means, "I'm slowing down for the first time since Christmas, and I don't know how to handle it!" I get that way too. A little boredom is sometimes necessary before we can get used to the fact that we are human beings, not "human doings."

That's not to say we did nothing, of course! We cooked our own meals and cleaned up after ourselves. We walked on the beach in the rain and chose rocks with which to build an altar. We played lots of board games, card games, and basketball games, we did the Limbo, and we watched a movie or two.


But perhaps the highlight for most of us was our time playing at Fort Casey. This fort was built to be used in the event of a foreign invasion from the East that, of course, never occurred. It was decommissioned decades ago, and the military barracks that make up Camp Casey are now owned and operated by Seattle Pacific University. Fort Casey has everything you'd expect: giant stone structures built into the grounds, battlements, and dark rooms that are great for playing Sardines, or The Hunter and the Hunted.

On Sunday morning, we shared Morning Prayer. We sang songs together and heard the Gospel account of Jesus' Transfiguration on the mountaintop. Instead of a sermon, we each drew our own "transfigured selves," and then we worked together to design a "Transfigured Person." We came away Sunday afternoon having learned that God wants us to keep becoming more like ourselves ... the people we are when we feel truly alive. May God be with us all as we come down from the mountaintop of Camp Casey, back into the world we know so well.

My special thanks go out to Cindy and Heath Spencer, Sunni Bannon, and my wife Christy and daughter Sarah, who shared the weekend with us.

- Josh Hosler

Jesus is ___________.

If you live in the Seattle area, you can hardly have missed the bumper stickers everywhere that say, simply, “Jesus Is ______.” You fill in the blank. But what does it mean?

The bumper stickers are a product of The City Church, an evangelical mega-church in Bellevue. A quick look at their Beliefs page tells us they’re very different from Episcopalians. They believe that Holy Scripture informs us on matters of science, so clearly they’re not down with Darwin. They believe in “the literal existence of Adam and Eve” and “the worldwide cataclysmic deluge” (read: Noah’s flood). They stand very firmly against same-sex unions.

So I’m a little puzzled that a fundamentalist church would create not only the “Jesus Is ______” bumper stickers, but also create a Web site that allows you to fill in the blank yourself! When I visited the site today, a number of different submissions were flashing by on the screen, including the following:

Jesus is gay.
Jesus is the only way!!!
Jesus is bigotry.
Jesus is our beacon of strength.
Jesus is not powerful. Unfortunately his homophobic fan club is.
Jesus is glad that I’m an atheist.
Jesus is not a fairy tale.
Jesus is a popular name in Mexico.
Jesus is my savior.
Jesus is risk.
Jesus is the giver of courage.
Jesus is an unwanted baby that Mary and Joseph really didn’t want, so they blamed God.
Jesus is you.

You can add your own, too. Go ahead … try it! But ... why would a fundamentalist church create such a thing at all? Normally I think of fundamentalist churches as working hard to shut down all conversation. This site not only opens conversation … it makes no effort at all to rein it in.

So why did they do it?

And why didn’t we think of it first?

Growing beyond our own lives

Sometimes while sitting in church, I can’t help but grab a pen and start writing. Thoughts flood my mind. I think: “I know I’m not preaching today, but I have a sermon anyway!”

It was like that yesterday. I was particularly struck by the modern paraphrase of Psalm 15 by Stephen Mitchell:

Lord, who can be trusted with power, and who may act in your place?

Those with a passion for justice, who speak the truth from their hearts;

Who have let go of selfish interests and grown beyond their own lives;

Who see the wretched as their family and the poor as their flesh and blood.

They alone are impartial and worthy of the people’s trust

Their compassion lights up the whole earth, and their kindness endures forever.

It occurred to me that my work as a youth minister—and as a Christian formation director for all ages—could be summed up in the task of urging people to “grow beyond their own lives.”

When have you grown beyond your own life?

Another Response To Violence

by The Rev Lex Breckinridge

The observance of the birthday of Dr. Martin Luther King has special resonance in the wake of another recent political assassination attempt, this one in Tucson, that resulted in six deaths and the grave wounding of the assassin's target, Congresswoman Giffords.

Following Dr. King's murder, Robert Kennedy gave an impromptu speech which powerfully speaks to the need for healing and reconciliation in a nation at least as divided as we are today. His beautifully "Franciscan" words and his reference to Aeschylus' observation that wisdom is formed by our tears never fail to move me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j6mxL2cqxrA

Rebuild Our Church in Haiti

On the first anniversary of the earthquake that destroyed Haiti, The Episcopal Church is inaugurating an international, church-wide fundraising campaign, Rebuild our Church in Haiti. In just 35 seconds, the January 12, 2010 earthquake leveled the churches and diocesan facilities, including Holy Trinity Cathedral in the capital city of Port-au-Prince. Also lost in the destruction of the Cathedral site were Holy Trinity Music School, Holy Trinity Professional School, and the primary and secondary schools.

Almost all the Episcopal facilities in the Diocese of Haiti were damaged or destroyed in the earthquake: the 200 parishes, congregations, missions and preaching stations including the Cathedral; the 254 nursery, primary and secondary schools; the university; the seminary; the community college; the three trade schools; the hospital and numerous medical missions; and St. Vincent’s Center for the Handicapped; and a Jubilee Center.

This campaign is designed so that all individuals, congregations, and dioceses can participate. A special web page has been prepared allowing easy access to information, facts, video, and ways to donate: www.EpiscopalChurch.org/HaitiAppeal.

As the project gets under way, nearly half the dioceses in The Episcopal Church have begun organizing volunteers or otherwise making plans to participate. Individuals can “buy a brick” for as little as $10 to begin to rebuild The Episcopal Church in Haiti.

The Episcopal Church Foundation (ECF) is coordinating this church-wide appeal. For more information, visit www.EpiscopalChurch.org/HaitiAppeal or email Terri Mathes or call 717-599-0627.

How Will We Respond to Violence?

by The Rev Lex Breckinridge

The response from the political culture to the horrific tragedy in Tucson has, for the most part, been entirely predictable. Blaming and finger-pointing. Fear and paranoia. Plenty of heat but precious little light. It’s truly bi-partisan. As Christians, our response ought to be different. I share with you part of a reflection written by Diana Butler Bass, writer, theologian, Episcopalian:

“Sunday January 9 is the day on which many Christians celebrate the Baptism of Jesus: “When Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.’” Jesus’ baptism in water symbolizes life, the newness that comes of cleansing. But there is a darker symbol of baptism in American history: that of blood. In 1862, Episcopal bishop Stephen Elliot of Georgia said, “All nations which come into existence…must be born amid the storm of revolution and must win their way to a place in history through the baptism of blood.” Baptism as water? Baptism as blood? Baptism accompanied by a dove or baptism accompanied by the storm of revolution?

American Christianity is deeply conflicted, caught between two powerful symbols of baptism, symbols that haunt our political sub-consciousness. To which baptism are we called? Which baptism does the world most need today? Which baptism truly heals? Do we need the water of God, or the blood of a nine-year old laying on a street in Tucson? The answer is profoundly and simply obvious. We need redemption gushing from the rivers of God’s love, not that of blood-soaked sidewalks.

If we don’t speak for the soul, our silence will surely aid evil.”

How will we, as individual Christians and as a Christian community, “speak for the soul”, in the midst of this violent event and its emotionally violent aftermath? First, let us know that the fear and paranoia experienced on all sides of our nation’s political culture locks us into a vicious cycle that produces more fear and paranoia. This is destructive of our minds, bodies, and spirits. But this doesn’t have to be the case. We can create peace in ourselves, our families, and this community. It begins with prayer. We will become what we pray for. If we pray for healing and peace, we will know healing and peace in our lives. If we pray with open hearts for our enemies, in some mysterious way, they lose their power to threaten us. When our prayers are aligned with God’s will, we can bring about a new reality. But it’s impossible to create peace if our hearts are condemning and judging. The bitter disagreements that are dividing our nation contribute to the energy that creates violence, both physical and emotional. “Fight energy,” whether generated by the Right or the Left, is still fight energy. It doesn’t make for peace. It corrodes the soul. We long for the redemptive power of God’s healing love.

I commend to all of us in these times the Prayer Attributed to St. Francis found on p. 833 of the Book of Common Prayer.

Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

If we make this our prayer, day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment, we can become the peacemakers that our Lord Jesus has called us to be. In this way, we will surely “speak for the soul.”

Faithfully, Lex

Reading God’s Word with My Grandfather

I got a phone call last month from my Uncle Hal. He’s a Baptist pastor who is no longer working for the Church, and he called to offer me a complete collection of the Interpreter’s Bible, a multi-volume Bible with tons of helpful commentary. It’s the same set that both he and my grandfather used to write sermons many decades ago.

At first I resisted. I thought, “This gift will be heavy and bulky, and I’ll have to find shelf space for it. Besides, there’s a newer version of the Interpreter’s Bible out there that matches the translation we currently use in the Episcopal Church; that version would be much more useful to me.”

Then I thought more about my grandfather, Harold Fremont Smith, a Baptist pastor and a vital force in the American Baptist Church in the Pacific Northwest from the 1930s into the 1960s. He died in a car accident five years before I was born. To use the same books he used would be quite an honor. So I accepted the gift. See, it’s more than just words on a page. It’s the Word of God. I’ll take the books with me to seminary in Virginia this summer. I can imagine myself sitting there, writing papers or sermons with my grandfather right there at my shoulder, whispering inspiration into my ear. I hope I’ll be ready. I hope my ears will be open.

When I get ready to tell a Godly Play story with kids, I tell them, “You have to be ready! How do we get ready? Eyes open, ears open … mouths closed.” We adults could use the same advice in church on Sunday mornings. This is important stuff! We are gathered together to hear the Word of God: the family stories, the stories we tell again and again.

First we hear a reading from the Hebrew Scriptures, a/k/a the Old Testament. Usually it’s something from one of the prophets, or a formative story of the people of Israel. Next we join with the choir for a psalm, one of the hymns of ancient Israel. These are so varied, and their themes so universal, that we still use the same 150 psalms today. Following the psalm is the Epistle: a reading from the Christian Scriptures, a/k/a New Testament. This is usually a letter written in the earliest years of the Christian Church to communicate something of vital importance to a budding Christian community.

Next we hear from one of the four Gospels, the stories of Jesus. We stand for this reading because the Gospels are at the center of our faith. “Gospel” means “Good News.” And could once a week possibly be too often to hear a piece of Good News? Finally, we hear a sermon, an original reflection that opens the Scriptures to us in our own place and time.

The Liturgy of the Word is a time to open our ears. You may think we tell the same stories over and over again in church, but that’s not exactly true. The difference is you: you are different now than you were the last time you heard the story. If you open your ears, you may well find that the words mean something very different now than they did earlier in your life.

Although I never met my grandfather, I am different now than I used to be. Had my uncle given me these volumes when I was 12 or 18 or 25 or 35, I might not have been able to appreciate such a caring gift. Now it will mean much more to me.