Church Rocket Science

Sunday was “Blast-Off Sunday” at St. Andrew’s –- the beginning of Sunday school, which the kids marked by going outside and firing little foam-rubber rockets into the air. This is always an important day, but it was something to celebrate this year because of the way Sunday school is changing for us.

For many years, we offered Sunday school during the first part of the 10:15 (“family”) service. Not anymore. Now Sunday school is happening between the two services, starting at 9:15 a.m. And the reason why is a great reminder of who we are as Episcopalians.

We made this change so our kids could experience worship regularly. As Episcopalians, liturgy using the Book of Common Prayer is a huge part of our identity. Other denominations may focus on reading the Bible, or channeling the activity of the Holy Spirit, or hearing long sermons, or singing praise music, or whatever. For us, the focus is liturgy – worshipping God through common prayer, as Anglicans have been doing for centuries. When we had Sunday school during the first part of the liturgy, it taught an unintentional but still unhealthy lesson: “Worship is for older people, not for kids.” In the moment on any given Sunday, I can imagine both kids and parents being happier with that arrangement (I certainly remember being dragged to church when I didn’t want to be there.) But the problem is, the kids eventually grow up without any place for worship in their heads or in their hearts. So, we discerned that we should be forming our kids to know and to love worship, rather than teaching them that worship is something older people do.

So, to make that a reality, we’re now giving kids their own worship time every Sunday. After Sunday school, they gather for Children’s Chapel, complete with Bible readings, and a kids’ sermon, and fun music, and their own prayers, and a little altar, and candles, and everything. Then they join their parents in the church before Communion, so families can receive the presence of Christ together.

Most churches have been doing this kind of thing for years, so we’re not exactly pushing the envelope here. But for St. Andrew’s to catch this wave (again) is a grand thing. And so, after the kids shot off their rockets in the churchyard, the clergy shot of rockets, too – in the church, during the announcements. The fact that Episcopal kids need to worship may not be ecclesiological rocket science, but it is a change to celebrate.

Moments of transfiguration

August 7, 2010

I’m sorry for the long absence. I hope and pray to make the space consistently for this again. That’s certainly something easier hoped and prayed for than done, but I’ll give it my best.

Ann and I have been at a lake for the past couple of days, celebrating her birthday and our anniversary. One of the best things about that experience has been sitting on a screened porch overlooking a cove of the lake, shielded by the trees. It’s been a lovely opportunity simply to sit, without checking e-mail, and listen -– to the birds, to the breeze, to God. And every now and then, when one does such a countercultural thing, one is blessed with visions.

This morning, I was sitting there alone before Ann woke up, praying. At other moments in the past few days, depending on the sun and the wind, the water has appeared still and dark and flat, a quiet companion but, frankly, of little interest. This morning, everything changed. A breeze came up, moving the water in a gentle current; the sun was at just the right angle from my eyes. And the result was transfiguration. The water flashed and shimmered as if electrified, glittering with divine energy. It was the same cove, of course -– but it wasn’t.

Yesterday was the feast of the Transfiguration, which recalls Jesus’ appearance with Moses and Elijah on the mountaintop. The disciples with him reported that, for a brief moment, everything about him changed –- that he shone in dazzling light, revealing the fullness of divinity they had only glimpsed in words and signs before.

At least part of the message of that revelation is that God continues to share with us flashes of divinity. What usually looks to us still and flat and mundane can become transfigured before our eyes, even now. Take God’s good creation, and add incarnation, and mix it with the breath of the Holy Spirit, and you never know what you might be blessed to see -– or who you might be blessed to become.

Finally Back

I apologize for being silent for so long. There's simply been too much to attend to, on all kinds of levels. Here's a Holy Week offering -- may your journey this week lead you into unexpected conversations with God.


Question Time

Imagine God comes down to sit with you,
To share a coffee, or a glass of wine;
And then, our sovereign Lord offers a gift:
“It’s question time,” God tells you. “Ask away.”

Without the time for much deep thought, I’d say
The thing that seems forever on my mind:
“So just what do you want from us? It seems
I always strain to hear your voice. And when
The question’s hardest, all I get are soft
Whispers of love. Give me a key that I
Can turn inside confusing locks – and live.”

God smiles and takes a sip and says, “Think back.
It took a flood to cleanse the world of sin.
It took a wilderness of death to bring
Israel into the promised land. It took
An exile, generations long, before
People could turn their hearts to me and live.
It took a cross to show the path of life.
Do not fear death, but give yourself away,
For sometimes choosing death is how you plant
The seed that springs into full bloom next day.”

I know you’re right, my Lord, but still I wait
And hope you’ll show another, softer road.
Instead, you finish up your drink and move
Along. A cross was not the thing I had
In mind when we sat down. But love requires
Us both to die so that we both may live.

A Blessedly Stressful Advent

Very quickly, in the midst of the stress and anxiety that can curse this time of holy Advent expectation, let me share a moment in the life of my congregation.

A couple of days ago, I took a moment to stop and notice what was going on at St. Andrew’s in a single late morning and early afternoon. In the entryway, one man was gathering up containers others had brought for the lunch program at the Kansas City Community Kitchen. Down the hall, a group of women were gathering for Bible study. Downstairs, 14 people were loading packets of food into backpacks to help feed poor children from our partner school during Christmas break. Soon after, seven people were sitting around a table revamping the church’s website to make it easier to use for newcomers and members alike. And in the office, staff and volunteers were doing the mostly unseen and unsung work of caring for people in trouble, preparing worship booklets for Christmas Eve, tracking the money, distributing assistance to strangers in need, keeping the building in good shape, and responding to scores of e-mails and phone calls.

In addition to all the activity, and the love it embodies, what struck me was the fact that this was simply a day in the life. Granted, it’s late Advent; and that means everything is cranked up a few notches. But basically, this is just what we do here.

So maybe I need to see all that pre-Christmas stress and anxiety through a different lens. In this moment, and at all moments, we’re getting ready for the Savior to come among us –- next week, as a child in the cold; and finally, as the Lord of all. This kind of work is not exactly contemplative, but it’s certainly necessary preparation for God-With-Us.

So –- a blessedly stressful Advent to you.

Heading Home ... and Beyond

Friday, Nov. 20, 1:27 p.m.

It's been a blessedly easy morning so far. Things got complicated last night when we were told the departure time from Cayes had been moved up a half hour (schedules are rather flexible here). So we dutifully asked Colbert to pick us up at 5:15 a.m. for a 6:30 flight. When we got to the airport, the gate was locked – we had beaten the employees, as well as the airline manager who held our tickets. So we stood around for (hmmm...) a half hour waiting to go inside. As it turned out, our flight left at the originally scheduled time after all, 7 a.m. At least we got to watch the sunrise.

The other small glitch this morning was the absence of running water at Hosanna House. I guess I didn't really need that shower after all.

For me, at least, a trip like this defies quick and clear conclusions. As we've each said more than once, it will take some time to process what we've done and seen and heard. But as far as themes go, it's probably worth paying attention to the Gospel reading for today from the Daily Office lectionary. Here's part of that passage:

“Take care that you do not despise any one of these little ones [children]; for I tell you, in heaven their angels continually see the face of my Father. What do you think? If a shepherd has a hundred sheep, and one of them has gone astray, does he not leave the 99 on the mountains and go in search of the one that went astray? And if he finds it, truly I tell you, he rejoices over it more than over the 99 that never went astray. So it is not the will of your Father in heaven that any of these little ones should be lost.” (Matthew 18:10-14)

Every child counts, even (especially) those most of us never see. God sees each of them, no matter how remote their village, no matter how desperate their circumstances, no matter how easily we might write them off. In God's eyes, no children are so lost that God's people should stop looking for ways to reach them. It may seem like a pipe dream to imagine the children of Maniche graduating from middle school and being prepared for a trade beyond sharecropping. But it's not. Such a transformational future is within the grasp of our two partner congregations. That which God purposes God also blesses. So if we're faithful to our calling, if we resist the temptation to deny the power of new creation God shares with us, then we can be the agents who bring such a miraculous future to life.

The Last Day

Thursday, Nov. 19, 10:48 p.m.

I think we're all ready for it to be the last day. And yet, as we passed out of Maniche this afternoon for the last time, I think we all were leaving with some sadness because we've become, in some small way, a part of this community. As Chris and Kathy both said, we recognize individual kids by this point – some we'll miss and some we'll be just as happy to leave behind, frankly, as would be the case if any of us spent a week at any school in Kansas City. We've enfleshed the connection we remember every Sunday as we offer prayers for “our partner school in Maniche, Haiti.” Now, that connection has been lived out through time in the classroom, time playing volleyball, time walking home with students, time meeting with parents and teachers. So we'll miss our extended family once we're gone.

Today was relatively easy, as far as work goes – which was a good thing considering how tired all of us have become. We got there in time to watch the flag ceremony in front of the newly painted school, which was very satisfying given the pieces of our souls we left there scraping and painting and running down supplies. Then we worked with the students in each class to make Christmas cards for the people of St. Andrew's. As in past years, we'll offer parishioners the chance to sponsor kids in Maniche by purchasing Christmas cards during the four Sundays of Advent. The difference this year is that the cards will have been made by the child being sponsored, will feature his or her photo, and will include a little biographical information. So look for some seriously cute drawings in the Jewell Room this year.

We also gave each child a dose of de-worming medication. Among the challenges the kids face is intestinal parasites that consume many of the scarce calories the kids consume. These parasites come from infested water, contaminated hands, and through the sole of the feet from the dirt. We left additional pills for two more administrations later in the year.

Late in the morning, we facilitated a meeting between the parents and the teachers. We had notified the parents about the meeting during church on Sunday, and we'd mentioned it on our walkabouts to the kids' homes. But we had no idea how many parents might actually show up. Last time a team attempted a similar meeting here, a grand total of one parent came. Today, we had more than 50. The teachers got to voice their frustrations about kids not doing homework and coming to school out of uniform; the parents got to voice their frustrations with being unable to track homework (because the vast majority are illiterate!) and with their scarce resources for paying for uniforms, school lunches, and tuition (about half the parents pay at least something toward the cost of their kids' education). From the meeting came a pledge to work toward having a teacher stay after school for a study hall. More important, the parents wholeheartedly agree they want the school to offer middle-school classes, too. Even if they can't support the schoolwork like many American parents, they too want their kids to have a better life than they do. We ended by sharing a cake – and hearing a number of comments from the parents about how deeply they appreciate the education that St. Andrew's makes available to their kids. They also really appreciated the fact that the team of missionaries came to work for a week. Nothing says “I love you” quite like showing up to do the work.

Late this afternoon, the MN team and our group headed off to the beach for a final evening of relaxation. The water (and the lobster) was nearly as glorious as the sunset, and we prayed the Phos Hilaron again as the sun passed over the horizon. The only damper on the evening was the flat tire on the way home, but several of us pitched in and, praise God, the spare actually had air.

Tomorrow we head out at 5:15 a.m. for the long trip home. Please keep us in your prayers for safe travels and for something approximating timely departures.....

Painting the Future

Wednesday, Nov. 18, 4:25 p.m.

We're back after a day of painting at the school in Maniche. Today is a national holiday in Haiti, celebrating (I think) the first raising of the Haitian national flag. The flag's design has a good story, by the way. It's half blue and half red, with the national seal in the center. The color choice came from independence itself. The story goes that, to create the first Haitian flag, the victorious blacks and mulattoes took a French tri-color and ripped the white out of it. Such was the history, as well.

Anyway, because it's a national holiday, school was not in session. However, given the number of kids at the school today, you'd never have known it was a vacation day. Many of the students (and a number of parents and teachers, too) took us up on the offer to come and help paint on their holiday. As a result, we “finished” just before lunch – which means we ran out of paint. But the job is done well enough, and the school certainly looks a thousand times better than it did before the paint. Again, the issue of quality standards arose, this time on the drive home. We asked Colbert if he had gone into the school building to see the paint job. He said, “Yes … but the job is not yet done, of course.” This cast a bit of a pall over our sense of accomplishment. Frankly, we'd felt we had a loaves-and-fishes moment with the paint, stretching the blue as far as we possibly could to reach at least a point of conclusion, if not professional standard. In any event, painting was a much more satisfying thing this time (at least we can learn from our mistakes). We organized the throngs of painters better, with one of us stationed in each of the remaining four classrooms and one of us (Sean) acting as quartermaster. This kept our helpers more on task and prevented paint and supplies from wandering all over the schoolyard.

After lunch, we set up the volleyball net we'd brought. I'm sure the students, teachers, and parents got several chuckles watching us try to assemble the net, following instructions that clearly had been translated into English from another language. Between this and our natural inabilities at engineering, we put on a pretty good show. But the net went up, and the kids loved learning how the game was supposed to work. In Haiti, boys play soccer and girls play volleyball – but the girls in Maniche had never seen a volleyball or a net. So Ann and Kathy showed the girls how to play and set the boundary for the boys. By the time we left, the girls were getting good at keeping the boys out of their game. The soccer balls and volleyballs are a huge hit, and we probably should bring a duffel bag full of them each time a group comes here.

This morning, before painting, we had a great conference with Colbert, Msr. Samuel the headmaster, and Msr. Jude the disciplinarian/assistant. We wanted to find out what options the students have for education beyond 6th grade, which is where our school stops. They said Maniche used to have a government-run middle school and high school, but after it failed to pay its teachers for three consecutive years(!), it was forced to close. There's also a Roman Catholic school for 7th through 9th grades, but it's available only to parishioners. So, the answer is, our students currently have nowhere to go for education beyond 6th grade. This gave us a clear sense of where St. Andrew's mission in Maniche needs to head for the future – offering middle-school classes in the afternoon, once the elementary classes have finished with the rooms. It's exciting to think we can be part of opening up the future for these kids. In Haiti, graduating from 6th grade is an important thing, but it won't open any doors to get you out of a sharecropping life (how most of our families support themselves). But if you graduate from 9th grade, you have the opportunity to get into vocational training, learning to be a carpenter, mechanic, mason, etc. That life is still hard but tremendously better than living off the land (or what seems more like living off the rocks). We have the chance to make this possible for our kids in Maniche. I think I hear a calling....

Tonight, Colbert has invited us to come to his home, the rectory in Cayes, for dinner with his wife and brand-new daughter. We'll also be joined by the group that's been working with MN's educational program here this week, which means Colbert and his wife will have about 20 blans descending on their house for dinner. We'll be cozy but certainly well-fed. Hospitality is huge here, so we will continue to feast on this mission to help Haitians overcome poverty and hunger. Whether it's dinner at Colbert's or lobster on the beach, our experience here has certainly been one of privilege and plenty. I'm not sure what to do with that other than to be grateful in all times and in all places, taking nothing for granted especially in our context of ubiquitous availability. Every stale cheeseburger at the drive-through is a rich gift from God.