Thanksgiving for Vital Stories

Thanksgiving for Vital Stories

As I reflect on this season of thanksgiving, I find I am grateful for our Regional Gatherings this fall. They were great in helping me get to know the people of this diocese better. I am especially grateful for the discussions we had around the Vital Signs of Parish Health. Developed out of diocesan-wide conversations held in 2020 to identify what areas of focus go into creating a health church, the Vital Signs are now an integral part of all of our revitalization work. At each of the Regional Gatherings, we took 10 minutes in Zoom breakout rooms to answer the following questions.

       Which Vital Sign do you think is your congregation’s greatest strength?
       Where do you think God is calling you to invest your energy?

Watching the expression on people’s faces as they described their greatest strength became a source of growing joy. They lit up with energy and enthusiasm, eager to share that area of ministry in their church. And even as they moved to share what area they felt called to invest in, the energy–and the sense of possibility–remained. I love hearing these stories. Especially amazing are those that came out of this pandemic time. They give me great hope for our churches and how we are going about sharing the gospel in this world.

Last Thursday, the Parish Vitality Working Group and I hosted Sharing Vital Stories through the School for Christian Faith and Leadership, an event inviting the whole diocese to share stories about the ways in which our parishes have experienced vitality in the last 18 months framed by the seven Vital Signs. We did the work in small groups. And while I was a bit worried when we began because many of the people in my group had done this previously in a trial run — Would they tell the same story as last time? — new stories were told. New stories that were just as awe inspiring as those from that first test round. As the evening ended, I gave great thanks for how we have embraced the inspiration of the Holy Spirit in a pandemic time that could have shut us down physically, mentally, and spiritually. As the evening ended, I gave great thanks. This pandemic time could have shut us down, physically, mentally, and spiritually. Instead, we embraced the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. And as we continue sharing vital stories, continue embracing the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, continue investing in possibility, we surely will also continue our path toward revitalization.

The Rev. Canon Anne-Marie Jeffery, Canon for Congregational Vitality

Creating a catechumenate at St. Andrew’s, College Park

Creating a catechumenate at St. Andrew’s, College Park

When the COVID pandemic reached the Washington, D.C. area in March 2020, forcing our congregations to cease in-person worship, I immediately sent an email to two adults in my parish who were planning to be baptized at the Easter Vigil. The postponement was particularly difficult since we did not know when we would be able to resume baptisms.

Later that spring, after an adult formation class where we discussed the ancient baptismal preparation process – the catechumenate – one of the two adults in the parish who was awaiting baptism contacted me to ask if it would be possible for her to complete a catechumenal process. The idea of creating a catechumenate at St. Andrew’s had been a dream of mine for quite some time, and after a time of intense planning and preparation, the resulting product was a ten-month catechumenal process that would begin in the fall, with two-hour monthly meetings and supplemental readings. In addition, we also decided to utilize all of the accompanying catechumenal liturgical rites contained in the Book of Occasional Services.

The process was an overwhelming success, and it will be offered each fall, with the intention that lay catechists and sponsors will assume full leadership next year. This fall’s group includes someone who found St. Andrew’s through our livestreamed Sunday services and discovered the catechumenate through our website. The presence of a catechumenate in our parish, along with the celebration of the associated liturgical rites, has created a renewed appreciation for the importance of baptism and prompted the parish to change the position of our baptismal font, taking it off casters and permanently affixing it to a limestone base in the narthex of the church, immediately inside the front doors. The baptismal font stands as a physical reminder of God’s boundless grace and our commitment to follow Christ.

The Rev. Timothy Johnson, rector, St. Andrew’s, College Park

La fe puesta en marcha

La fe puesta en marcha

La fe puesta en marcha es lo que nos salva.

La mayoría de las mañanas escucho dos breves meditaciones de oración mientras me preparo para el día: Pray as You Go, y su versión en español Rezando Voy. Normalmente las palabras y la música se apoderan de mí, pero de vez en cuando una frase me llama la atención y se instala en mi interior.

Eso sucedió recientemente cuando escuché la frase: la fe puesta en marcha es lo que nos salva. Me recordó lo que Jesús decía a menudo cuando la gente venía a él en busca de sanación: tu fe te ha sanado.

Durante mucho tiempo me he resistido a la noción de que nuestra fe es lo que nos salva o nos cura. Pone tal presión sobre nosotros para tener suficiente fe, o el tipo correcto de fe. Tal pensamiento puede conducir a vidas espirituales de auto-rectitud para algunos, e insuficiencia perpetua para otros.

Sin embargo, la idea de la fe puesta en marcha sugiere que la fe es, de hecho, una respuesta a un encuentro que Dios inicia. Algo sucede: escuchamos un llamado; nuestros corazones están inspirados o quebrados; sentimos una presencia que está tan cerca como nuestra respiración y tan esquiva como el viento. Nunca entenderemos completamente el movimiento de Dios hacia nosotros, y no podemos evocar la presencia de Jesús cuando nos lo ordenen. Todo lo que podemos hacer es responder a lo que “extrañamente calienta nuestros corazones”, como John Wesley describió una vez la presencia de Dios.

Esta se ha convertido en mi definición práctica de la fe: nuestra respuesta a esos misteriosos movimientos de gracia que nos llegan. Pueden suceder cosas asombrosas cuando respondemos a esos momentos de Dios con una fe puesta en movimiento. No se necesita mucha fe para comenzar un viaje valiente. La fe del tamaño de una semilla de mostaza servirá.

Últimamente he estado presidiendo una serie de servicios de confirmación, un punto culminante de mi trabajo. En el centro de ese servicio está lo que se conoce como “El Pacto Bautismal”. Comienza con tres preguntas acerca de la creencia: ¿Crees en Dios? ¿Crees en Jesucristo? ¿Crees en el Espíritu Santo? — seguido por cinco preguntas sobre cómo vamos a vivir como resultado de nuestra creencia: ¿Continuarás en la comunidad cristiana? ¿Reconocerás cuando falles y pedirás perdón? ¿Vivirás con integridad, tratarás a los demás con dignidad y lucharás por la justicia y la paz?

Por más esenciales que sean nuestras respuestas a estas preguntas, igualmente importantes son las maneras en que describen cómo Dios se nos aparece primero. Creer en este contexto significa confiar. Antes de que podamos creer, debemos tener alguna experiencia que nos permita confiar en este misterio que llamamos Dios.

Así, las preguntas ¿crees en Dios, en Jesús, en el Espíritu Santo? nos preguntan si hemos experimentado lo que nuestro libro de oración llama el misterio de la fe, para asegurarnos de que hay más en esta vida que lo que podemos ver, y que la fuente de todo es amor. Si la respuesta es no, ¿adónde podríamos ir para tener tales experiencias? Si la respuesta es afirmativa, ¿adónde podríamos ir a tener más?

Las preguntas que siguen describen las arenas en la vida en las que es más probable que experimentemos el poder y la presencia de Dios en Cristo: en la comunidad cristiana, en aquellos momentos en que fallamos o nos falta; en relación unos con otros; y trabajando juntos para crear un mundo justo y pacífico. A veces simplemente necesitamos comenzar a movernos. Jesús promete encontrarnos en el camino.

Recientemente, un colega contó el momento en que decidió recorrer las 530 millas del Camino de Santiago, una antigua ruta de peregrinación cristiana por el norte de España. Había sido gravemente herido por la Iglesia y estaba buscando algún tipo de sanación y paz dentro de sí mismo. Así que comenzo a caminar, poniendo en movimiento la poca fe que tenía. En el camino se encontró con personas de todo el mundo que estaban en búsqueda de los suyos, muchos que habían sido heridos, también, e inciertos sobre sus futuros.

Una noche alrededor de una fogata, sus compañeros peregrinos se dieron cuenta de que era sacerdote y comenzaron a sondear su fe. Háblanos de Jesús, preguntaron. Respiró profundamente y dijo: “Esto es lo que sé: Jesús eligió amar sin excepción. Y con su último aliento perdonó a los que lo estaban matando “. Se detuvo. “Quiero aprender a amar así. Por eso sigo a Jesús “. Sintió una curación repentina sobre él mientras hablaba, y su corazón fue sanado. La fe puesta en marcha lo había salvado.

La fe puesta en marcha también nos salva. Hace mucho tiempo decidí confiar en Jesús por su amor y perdón, y por otros cuya fe me inspiró. Cuando mi fe flaquea, lo que hace, sé que es hora de volver a las personas, lugares y prácticas que abren mi corazón para recibir. Sé que es hora de moverse. A veces la fe que pongo en movimiento no es mucho más grande que una semilla de mostaza. Pero increíblemente, Jesús se encuentra conmigo en el camino, y mi fe crece.

Quiero aprender a amar como Jesús ama y ayudar a crear un mundo donde tal amor es el derecho de nacimiento de todos. Cuando un grupo suficiente de nosotros hagamos esto juntos, pueden pasar cosas asombrosas, y de hecho pasan. Así que sigan caminando, amigos. La fe puesta en marcha es lo que nos salva.

Al acercarse el Adviento, esta es la primera de tres reflexiones sobre los fundamentos de la vida cristiana: la fe, la esperanza y el amor.

La fe puesta en marcha

Faith Set in Motion

La fe puesta en marcha es lo que nos salva. Faith set in motion is what saves us.

Most mornings I listen to two brief prayer meditations as I gather myself for the day: Pray As You Go, and its Spanish version Rezando Voy. Typically the words and music wash over me, but occasionally a phrase catches my attention and takes up residence inside.

That happened recently when I heard la fe puesta en marcha es lo que nos salva. It reminded me of what Jesus often said when people came to him for healing: your faith has made you well.

I’ve long resisted the notion that our faith is what saves or heals us. It places such pressure on us to have enough faith, or the right kind of faith. Such thinking can lead to spiritual lives of self-righteousness for some and perpetual inadequacy for others.

Yet the idea of faith set in motion suggests that faith is, in fact, a response to an encounter that God initiates. Something happens: we hear a call; our hearts are inspired or broken open; we feel a presence that is both as close as our breath and as elusive as the wind. We’ll never fully understand God’s movement towards us, and we can’t evoke Jesus’ presence on command. All we can do is respond to that which “strangely warms our hearts,” as John Wesley once described the presence of God.

This has become my working definition of faith: our response to those mysterious stirrings of grace that come to us. Amazing things can happen when we respond to those God moments with a faith set in motion, and they do. It doesn’t take much faith to begin a courageous journey. Faith the size of a mustard seed will do.

I’ve been presiding at a number of Confirmation services lately–a highlight of my job. At the heart of that service is what’s known as “the Baptismal Covenant.” It begins with three questions about belief–Do you believe in God? Do you believe in Jesus Christ? Do you believe in the Holy Spirit?–followed by five questions about how we will live as a result of our belief: Will you continue in Christian community? Will you acknowledge when you fail and ask forgiveness? Will you live with integrity, treat others with dignity, and strive for justice and peace?

As essential as our answers are to these questions, equally important are the ways they describe how God first shows up for us. Belief in this context means trust. Before we can believe, we must have some experience that allows us to trust in this mystery we call God.

Thus the questions, do you believe in God, in Jesus, in the Holy Spirit? are asking if we’ve experienced enough of what our prayer book calls the mystery of faith to assure us that there is more to this life than meets the eye, and that the source of it all is love.
If the answer is no, where might we go to have such experiences? If the answer is yes, where might we go to have more?

The questions that follow describe the arenas in life in which we are most likely to experience the power and presence of God in Christ: in Christian community, at those times when we fail or fall short; in relationship with one another; and together working to create a just and peaceful world. Sometimes we simply need to start moving. Jesus promises to meet us on the road.

A colleague recently told of the time he decided to walk the entire 530 miles of the Camino de Santiago, an ancient Christian pilgrimage route across northern Spain. He had been sorely wounded by the Church and was seeking some kind of healing and peace within himself. So he started walking, setting what little faith he had in motion. On the road he met people from all over the world who were on searches of their own, many who had been wounded, too, and uncertain about their futures.

One night around a campfire, his fellow pilgrims realized that he was a priest and began probing his faith. Tell us about Jesus, they asked. He took a deep breath and said, “This is what I know: Jesus chose to love without exception. And with his last breath he forgave those who were killing him.” He paused. “I want to learn to love like that. That’s why I follow Jesus.” He felt a healing rush come over him as he spoke, and his heart was healed. Faith set in motion had saved him.

Faith set in motion saves us as well. Long ago, I decided to put my trust in Jesus because of his love and forgiveness, and because of others whose faith inspired me. When my faith falters, which it does, I know that it’s time to go back to the people, places and practices that open my heart to receive. I know that it’s time to move. Sometimes the faith I put in motion isn’t much bigger than a mustard seed. But incredibly enough, Jesus meets me on the road, and my faith grows.

I want to learn to love as Jesus loves and to help create a world where such love is everyone’s birthright. When enough of us do that together, amazing things can happen, and they do. So keep walking, friends. Faith set in motion is what saves us.

As Advent approaches, this is the first of three reflections on the foundations of Christian life: faith, hope and love.