Our scripture assignment for this coming Sunday includes a reading from Hosea, the first eleven verses of chapter eleven. After last week’s Hosea portion, in which the word “whoredom” was used no less than three times in the opening sentence, I would forgive you for being less than utterly enthusiastic about having more from this prophet. However, I must beg you to reconsider. If you are not in the habit of reading the Sunday lectionary ahead of time, this is the week to try it. Hosea 11:1-11, besides being deliciously binary, is a passage of scripture of surpassing beauty.
It will be August this Sunday, and I can feel the summer stretching out for a last lazy roll in the grass. I have a few weeks off coming the middle of August and lasting through Labor Day weekend. I imagine many of you have plans to enjoy the warm days as well. The end of each season seems to call me into the next, but I’m trying not to worry about October just yet. I hope your days are full of summer moments and presence as well.
The Gospel reading for this Sunday contains a liturgically significant event: Jesus’ disciples ask him for something, and for once he gives it to them without breaking off into some impenetrable parable or obscure object lesson. “Teach us to pray,” they ask, and he delivers the prayer that we have come to call The Lord’s Prayer.
It can hardly be overstated how central to the Christian experience this prayer is. My own first experience of Christian community included the Lord’s Prayer as a central element. Without knowing precisely what I’d gotten myself into, I wound up at summer camp where the theme for the week was this prayer. Each day of the seven day camp we took a different line or phrase from the prayer as out topic for the day. We’d spend the whole day—morning devotions, Christian education time, chapel planning, and campfire—working on the phrase of the day. “Hallowed be Thy name.” What does that mean? Once you’ve penetrated the archaic language, still, what does that mean? The Lord’s Prayer dominated our days for a solid week, and though I’d been to church less than a dozen times before that week (not counting obligatory Christmas Eve trips) I had that prayer memorized from thence forth and forever more.
It gets into us early, and it stays with us late. Just last week I sat with Pat Hertzog and prayed the prayers of Last Rites. Pat was only hours from death, and was, as the medical professionals say, “unresponsive”. Maybe she knew I was there, maybe she didn’t; she couldn’t speak or react in any way that clearly showed she was aware of me or the prayers being said for her. Then I came to the Lord’s Prayer, and said it alone. Her breathing changed, her mouth moved, her grip on my hand shifted. All of these things might have been coincidental, except that I’ve seen them so many times before. Time and again, people who can otherwise not participate in worship at all will be called out of themselves to say the Lord’s Prayer, even if the words are unintelligible to anyone who didn’t already know what they were saying. But we do already know what they are saying. They are praying in the words Jesus taught us to pray.
This Friday I’m completing the little mini-vacation I attempted two weeks ago—the one where I headed off to the Tri-Cities and ended up sicker than sick and in need of rescue. I’m looking forward to it, if only because two weeks ago I barely managed to talk to my friend Brian whom I was visiting. Hopefully this time I’ll avoid the pestilence I encountered last time.
I’m all better now, but in the spirit of sharing I’ve passed my illness along to my mom, who’s visiting from Arizona. Actually, she wasn’t visiting, she was staying in Seattle doing research for her job. However, it’s hard to research while your throat is sore and you can’t stop coughing, so Jieun and I brought her back to Puyallup for recovery. It’s like how the wealthy English used to head for the Mediterranean coast to effect a cure, except that Puyallup (while it has its charms) isn’t that nice…
At any rate, I’m looking forward to everyone being well again, because the weather just doesn’t get much better than this. Summer is well and truly upon us, and what a blessing it is! I hope you’ll give thanks where you’re able, for the world around us and for those with whom we share it on these beautiful days.
The burial office in the Book of Common Prayer can begin with the words, “In the midst of life we are in death…” and I’m feeling these words particularly lately. We’ve had two funerals at Christ Church in not much more than two weeks. There is another funeral this Sunday for Casey Longwood, whom many of you knew and loved. Another funeral, this one for our own beloved Pat Hertzog, cannot be far away. In the midst of the life of this summer we are indeed in death. Yet the burial office does not stop there; instead it ends with one of my favorite lines in all the BCP: “All of us go down to the dust; yet even at the grave we make our song: Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. Give rest, O Christ, to your servants with your saints, where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing, but life everlasting.”
May all of life embrace you this week, and may you be ever reminded of the joys and sorrows of the world our God has given us.
Last week at this time I was miserable with fever, and while the fever has gone (none too soon) I’m still miserable, though not quite as much. My doctor said this morning that I probably got a bacterial infection from my viral infection (which just seems unfair) and that some antibiotics ought to clear it up quickly. Thus, hopefully I will be hale and hearty by Sunday and can be with you all at church in the park.
I really regret not being able to be with you all last Sunday. Delivering someone else’s sermon is a tricky thing at best, but all reports I’ve gotten say Ann handled it well. Thanks to her, and thanks to you all for bearing with me. The dog and I spent our 4th miserable together, she hiding from the fireworks and me hiding from consciousness.
In addition to the Parish Picnic, this Sunday is also the beginning of the second book discussion series I planned for this summer. There is still a spot or two left for the in-person portion of the program, but let me know quickly. Otherwise, you can follow along at www.cecopbookstudy.blogspot.com. Our text is “To Heal a Fractured World: The Ethics of Responsibility” by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks. It is the best thing I’ve read about religious ethics in a very long time, and I whole heartedly recommend it. We’re hitting Part I this week, the first 129 pages.
Summer has clearly arrived at last; I hope you’re enjoying the weather. Stay cool, or sunny, as you prefer, and I’ll hope to see you on Sunday.
It’s 4th of July weekend, a fact to which my poor cowering dog can attest with ample evidence. The fine tradition of blowing things up to celebrate freedom is in no danger of dying out anytime soon from what I can tell.
This year, the 4th of July falls on a Sunday. Independence Day is one of only two national holidays recognized in the Book of Common Prayer (BCP), the other being Thanksgiving Day. I suppose that since our BCP was formally ratified by “the Bishops, the Clergy, and the Laity of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of America” (on October 16th 1789 in case you were curious) it makes sense that it would contain two of our formative patriotic feast days.
Ironically, because the day is on a Sunday, and Sundays take precedence over almost all other feasts of the church, the BCP celebration of Independence Day will take place on Monday, the 5th of July, this year. There are specific lessons set aside for Independence Day, which are linked in this week’s edition of The eClarion. but we’ll be reading the regular Sunday lessons for the 6th Sunday after Pentecost. It won’t make much difference though, as I plan to preach on some other scriptures—some particularly American scriptures.
I’ve always loved words and language, so the words used to form and shape our national character have always had particular significance to me. I try never to miss NPR’s reading of the full text of the Declaration of Independence each 4th of July, and it never fails to bring a tear to my eye. I own the complete works of Abraham Lincoln and dip into it at least a few times per year. Patriotic speech, for me, always walks a razor edge between love for home and the shared ideals of a people on one side, and nationalistic fervor and xenophobia on the other. Staying on that edge is part of the challenge of being a people and not just a tribe.
I hope your weekend is wonderful, and that you’ll stop by the church if you’re in town. Stay safe, take time out to thank God for those ideals of our country that God inspires, and have a great holiday!
While technically a Friday Letter, I’m writing this on a Thursday morning. I do this pretty regularly these past few weeks, since I’ve been taking Friday as my day off: get everything set up on Thursday then have the auto-mailer send it out Friday morning. The only reason I mention this is that this particular Thursday is June 24th, a day of significance to me.
On June 24th, 2000, ten years ago today, I was first ordained into the clergy of the Episcopal Church. Because of the way we do ordinations, I was actually ordained a deacon first, and a priest six months later. Still, an ordination is an ordination, and as of today I have been ordained for ten whole years.
Ten years is a nice, round number. It’s nearly a third of my life so far (28.57% actually), and exactly a third of what the Church Pension Fund requires for full retirement. It’s 1/10th of a century, an entire decade, and all of the current millennia.
It’s funny to think about how I arrived here from there. That ordination ten years ago took place in the Tri-Cities, at All Saints Episcopal Church. It isn’t that far from the Tri-Cities to Puyallup, and the churches there and here have a lot in common as well. It wasn’t a straight line journey though. Present at that first ordination were the Bishop of Idaho (Spokane Diocese was without a Bishop just then) and the Dean of the Cathedral of Kansas City, Missouri, who had traveled all the way out to represent my new parish. I’d been away from home for three years at that point, and it would be another seven before I was called back to the Pacific Northwest.
No good journey seems to go exactly how you planned it. Unexpected twists and turns, maps that don’t seem to correspond to the ground you’re on, bumps in the road that you really weren’t ready for. I certainly have no complaints about this particular journey, not that they would do any good if I did have them. God’s rather extreme plans for his servants in the Bible make me nervous sometimes, but on the whole I have been very blessed and continue to be so.
I guess I am telling you all of this by way of saying Thank You. It is true that priests are called by God, but it is even more true that Priests are made by congregations. Most of you on this mailing list weren’t around for that first ordination ten years ago, nor for the process of formation that preceded it. Nevertheless, you, or people very much like you, are the reason and the purpose behind my calling. The blessings of this vocation are given by God, but they are given through you. Thank you for ten years of ordained ministry. I pray the next ten may be every bit as full.
Last week’s letter was longer than usual, so I’ll try to keep this one shorter in order to maintain epistolary equilibrium. (Last week’s letter was also pretty significant, finance-wise, so if you missed it you might want to catch back up. You can find it on our website if it’s already vacated your inbox.)
This Sunday we continue our journey with Elijah in the First Book of the Kings. This week’s text includes the famous passage where Elijah is listening for God in a great wind, in an earthquake, and in a raging fire. In none of these places does Elijah find God. It is only at the last, when God speaks in that “still, small voice” that Elijah hears God. That phrase, the “still, small voice” is an artifact of the King James Translation. Our usual Sunday translation calls it “the sound of sheer silence”, which is equally mysterious if somewhat less intimate. The Hebrew is imprecise, as is generally is, which I count as a blessing. After all, we all hear God in different ways at different times. One of the lessons of this Elijah story is not that God speaks in just this way, but that if you are expecting God to shout you may be disappointed.
Last week’s letter was longer than usual, so I’ll try to keep this one shorter in order to maintain epistolary equilibrium. (Last week’s letter was also pretty significant, finance-wise, so if you missed it you might want to catch back up. You can find it on our website if it’s already vacated your inbox.)
This Sunday we continue our journey with Elijah in the First Book of the Kings. This week’s text includes the famous passage where Elijah is listening for God in a great wind, in an earthquake, and in a raging fire. In none of these places does Elijah find God. It is only at the last, when God speaks in that “still, small voice” that Elijah hears God. That phrase, the “still, small voice” is an artifact of the King James Translation. Our usual Sunday translation calls it “the sound of sheer silence”, which is equally mysterious if somewhat less intimate. The Hebrew is imprecise, as is generally is, which I count as a blessing. After all, we all hear God in different ways at different times. One of the lessons of this Elijah story is not that God speaks in just this way, but that if you are expecting God to shout you may be disappointed.
Tuesday of this week was our regular Vestry meeting. Like all Vestry meetings, this one saw time spent on reviewing our financial situation. It has been awhile since I said anything about this, so I’m going to take this opportunity to bring you up to date.
You may remember that we started the year with a large gap between our pledged income and our planned expenses.We had planned to expand our children’s education program and begin other programs to promote controlled growth of our parish – but these programs also increase costs.Our initial estimate of program costs for 2010 was $275,000.Later, after our stewardship drive, we reviewed our projected income and it was substantially smaller than this.Between pledges and plate, we expect an income of around $235,000 this year.As we explained at the annual meeting, slashing our program plan helped, but wasn’t enough.This approach only reduced the gap to $24,000.
Since January, we have taken a variety of steps to further reduce our expenses.Our largest expense, after staff salaries, is our Diocesan assessment.This is the amount we pay to the Diocese each month and it represents our support of the work of the larger church both in our region and nationally.You can think of it as a franchise fee, or even a tax, but it is intended to be our tithe to the wider church community, much as a personal tithe is our gift to the local church community.No matter how you think of it, it is a big chunk of change.Our assessment this year is $41,568. ($3464 each month).
Perhaps you’re thinking, as we did, that the annual assessment amount is pretty close to the deficit amount we calculated last December.It was tempting to consider simply not paying our assessment this year, but failing to pay your Diocesan assessment is a serious situation, with serious consequences.Knowing the gravity of that decision, your Vestry crafted a proposal to the Diocese, where we would pay only 50% of our assessment each month, seeking to catch up with our payments when possible.In response, the Diocesan Budget and Finance committee sent two representatives to discuss the matter with us.While they were understandably concerned, they agreed to our approach as a temporary measure (we’re still obligated to pay the full assessment at some point), with an additional status review set sometime in early autumn.
So for the first six months of this year, instead of sending in $3,464 each month, we sent in $1,732. This step, along with more cost cutting and savings efforts, has allowed us to keep our cash flow in the black each month. Of course, by paying only half our assessment each month, we are racking up $1,732. of debt against our assessed amount each month. After June’s payment, we’ll owe the Diocese $10,392. in unpaid assessment.
Sadly, the Diocese is suffering from the economic downturn just as we are. In fact, they have had to cut staff positions and hours much more severely than most churches. In addition, the assessment is part of our responsibility, and your Vestry wants to meet that responsibility. We plan to pay back a portion of our deferred assessment at the end of June (somewhere between $5,000.00 and $7,500.00). We told the budget and finance committee that we would make an effort to catch up in the middle of the year, and we are doing our best to honor that commitment.
We are also honoring the commitments previously made and stored away in our bank accounts. Several groups raise money and keep it with the church, and there are different gifts tucked away for different purposes. All of these monies have been clearly identified and set aside and are not being used to fund our day-to-day operations. In addition, money given to go to specific charities, which we temporarily lost track of during some transition time last year, have also been clearly identified and disbursements sent out to the places they were intended to go.
The reason we can honor these commitments is twofold. The first reason we are in relatively stable shape is you. Those of you who have made a financial pledge to the church have been meeting that pledge. Those of you who don’t have an official pledge on record must be contributing to the plate on Sunday. Each month, the amount of money that comes in is enough to cover the amount of money that goes out. There isn’t a whole lot left over, but given the economic circumstances we live with these days the fact of your continued generosity is nothing short of amazing. I thank you, and your Vestry thanks you, for your continued faithfulness to this place.
Secondly, you need to know how hard your Vestry has worked this year to make every dollar we have count. They have changed out the office copier to get a better monthly lease. They have switched to a new phone and internet provider to save money on each month’s bill. They have spent hours on the phone challenging fees and services that we didn’t want or need. Everywhere possible, they are working to make our operating budget as lean and mean as it can be. I hope you will join me in thanking them for their considerable efforts.
At this point, roughly half-way through the year, if our income and expenses continue at their present rates we will close the year with a roughly $12,000.00 shortfall.This is a significant improvement from the $24,000.00 shortfall we projected in January, but clearly we still have further to go.
Our next step was to begin an early Stewardship season, by holding a planning workshop with Carl Knirk, the canon for planned giving at the Diocese.However, as most of you already know, Carl was taken from us unexpectedly just a couple of short weeks ago.The Vestry is working now to revise our stewardship development plans, and we will have more on this topic later.Carl’s untimely and unexpected death does highlight that none of us knows beforehand the time of our passing.Carl was prepared though, as this is one of the key ways he helped Episcopalians throughout the Diocese.Carl lived an exemplary life in countless ways, and its end was no less an example for us. Carl maintained a clear and up-to-date will, which detailed his wishes in the event like the one which prevailed.This preparation was an act of love – for his family and friends, and was an embodiment of his faith that recognized his larger church family by simply including his church as a recipient of a portion of his estate.Our goal is to provide workshops where each of us can complete a similar level of preparation for our own families (regardless of whether this includes our church).
Of course, I would be remiss if I painted too bright a picture for you of our current situation. I am optimistic by nature, especially when it comes to money, so I should probably end by saying that even though we are in a much better position now than we thought we’d be last December, our financial position remains fairly precarious. There just isn’t much to fall back on anywhere. A hole in the roof or a broken furnace boiler would be a crisis that we aren’t really ready to handle. There is much financial work to be done to build ourselves a secure foundation, both for our own good and for the good of those who will shepherd ChristChurch in the future. There is one particular pitfall we all need to avoid this year: each summer, as folks head off to vacation or spend time away, our income tends to drop off as people aren’t here to put their offerings into the plates on Sunday. I’m preaching to myself here just as much as I am to any of you, for I am equally guilty of this oversight. This summer, before heading off to vacation in August, I’m going to fill my pledge envelopes and drop them in the offering plate in advance. I hope you’ll consider doing that as well.
Finally, and again, my deep and heartfelt thanks to all of you who share this wonderful church with me, and make it such a special piece of God’s Kingdom.
I know it’s a temporary reprieve, but the sunshine this morning combined with the new calendar month is making me feel like summer is near. No doubt by the time you read this it will be raining again. There is a petition in form one of the prayers of the people in which we ask “for seasonable weather…” I never know quite what to do with that prayer. I know everyone thinks that it means nice, sunny days, but I imagine God listening to this and thinking, “I didn’t make you move to the Pacific Northwest; that is seasonable.”
I reported last Sunday the death of Carl Knirk, our diocesan Canon for Stewardship and Planning Giving. If you knew Carl, even just in passing, you knew he was a wonderful person. The song, “They will Know we are Christians by our Love” was written about people like Carl. He was to come and be with us here at CECoP at the end of June, to talk about planned giving—to say to us as he’s said to so many in this diocese over the years, that it is part of our responsibility as people, and as people of faith, to arrange for the stewardship of those resources God gives us in the event of our death. I’ve no doubt that Carl was prepared, both financially and spiritually, though his sudden death has left the many who knew and loved him reeling with the loss. The celebration of his life and ministry will be held at St. Mark’s Cathedral where he was a member, on Saturday, June 12th, at 11:00am.
Two quick announcements before I sign off. First, a reminder that all Altar Party ministers are invited to stay after either the 8am or 10am Services this Sunday for a brief training session and refresher. Any interested in learning more about these ministries are also invited to attend. Second, we begin the study of our first book this Sunday, Barbara Brown Taylor’s An Altar in the World. There is still room in the real time sessions scheduled for Sunday evenings, or you can go to http://cecopbookstudy.blogspot.com/ and jump into the discussion there.
...to the online home of Christ Episcopal Church of Puyallup. Recent sermons, letters, and newsletters will appear on the home page. Links will take you to contact information, driving directions, and descriptions of our worship.
Located at:
210 Fifth Street S.W.
Puyallup, WA. 98371-5383
(253) 848-2323
Sunday worship is at 8:00 a.m. and 10:00 a.m. The 10:00 a.m. service includes music by our church choir and band. Sunday school and child care is available during the 10:00 a.m. service.
Wednesday Eucharist is at 12:05 p.m. and is followed by a light lunch.
ben | 
07 30th, 2010| 
