A Pastoral Letter from Rev. Carol

“Responding to the Tragedy in Newtown”

December 19, 2012

Many of us are struggling with feelings of sadness, anger, and helplessness following the shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary School. It’s important to remember that there are as many ways of responding to this kind of tragedy and horror as there are people. There is no “right” or “wrong” way to respond! Grief follows its own course. No two people experience grief the same way. 

Children express grief sometimes by withdrawing, or regressing (e.g. becoming “clingy,” or doing other things we –and they—thought they’d outgrown). They may run and play, but still be grieving. Outward appearances don’t tell the whole story of what our children and youth (or we ourselves) are experiencing. Sometimes grief is expressed as anger or becoming either risk-averse or engaging in extreme risk-taking. Grief can sometimes sneak up on us, coming over us when we least expect it to. As Christians, we might find ourselves asking “where was God?” even as we affirm in our faith that God was right there, in the midst of all that happened and is still happening in Newtown, and in our lives as well.

That this tragedy occurred so close to Christmas is making it hard for some of us to feel the spirit of Christmas; yet we might also be sensing, as we continue to read our Bibles, as we continue to pray our Advent devotions and as we continue to sing our songs of expectation, that “this is the same world Jesus came into so long ago—the world that now awaits him with longing hearts as Christmas once again draws near.”

As we wait for Christmas, here are some other things we can do….

…20 Acts of Kindness. To honor the memory of the children who died at Sandy Hook Elementary School, many people have found solace in doing “20 Acts of Kindness” for people they know and those they don’t. Prompted by a tweet from NBC’s Ann Curry, the “20 Acts of Kindness” movement is spreading across the country and around the world. Every act of kindness we do transforms the world, starting with the worlds we occupy—our own hearts, our own needs to know the love of God, and to share that love with others.

…Simplify Christmas. If there are some things that you usually do at Christmas, but don’t feel like doing this year, give yourself permission to not do them. Save them for next year. Instead, see if there is something you really want to do, or people you really want to be in touch with—and act on it. Make the extra phone call this Christmas, and try especially to be in touch with people you know who live alone, and/or who have experienced some great loss this past year. Reach out to those who are on active duty, or who have returned from active duty, and make a point of letting the people in your lives know how much you love and appreciate them.

…Guard your eyes. An old monastic tradition and spiritual practice, guarding our eyes in today’s world might mean turning off the TV, limiting the amount of time we spend on the internet, and being mindful of what movies we see. Choose instead to look at things that nourish the mind and heart and spirit. Go for a walk and take in the winter sights; visit your favorite museum or art gallery; go to or tune your TV to a PG- or G-rated film that you find uplifting; read that book or poetry collection you’ve been wanting to read.

…Pray and act on what needs to change in each of us and in our country. Pray for our leaders. Learn which corporations (including media) profit from violence in any form, and write to express your views, or boycott their products. See if you own any holdings in these companies (through mutual funds, retirement accounts) and express your views on violence to their leaders (or consider divesting). 

..Take time to savor the good things, too, in things large and small. Keep your eyes open for the joy that is around you, waiting for you to notice it, and to savor it in your heart. Take care of yourselves, and those you love, and have a holy and blessed Christmas. 

God’s peace,

The News from Sandy Hook

They told the children to cover their eyes and run, to run so they wouldn't see. They knew that what had happened was so terrible, that the last thing they wanted was for the children to have to remember the images of their classmates who would never run again. Our hearts ache with the thought of what happened at Sandy Hook, not only to the children who were taken so cruelly from their families, not only to the community that is left to grieve them, but to the shooter, who did this evil thing. I am especially struck this morning by the thought that what the children saw when they finally opened their eyes was not a parent waiting for them with open arms, but armed SWAT team members, many of whom are probably parents themselves, dressed in protective gear and scouting the scene to make sure there was only the one shooter. For all the armor, for all the guns they carried, there was nothing they could do; the damage had already been done. And for these brave men and women, the images will not go away, because they couldn't close their eyes.

So we pray today for Sandy Hook, for those who lost children and grandchildren, and for those who lost mothers and fathers. We pray for their family members, and for the whole community of Sandy Hook, as we share their sadness and lament their loss. And we pray for all those for whom this mass killing is a reminder of past horrors, past losses. We look to our faith and the promise of God's comfort and mercy for those who cry out in pain and disbelief, and we pray for the courage to stand up and say,  it is time to stop arming the citizens of our communities with weapons of mass destruction.

Be our light in the darkness

Some of us are at work, some of us are working at home, and some of us are home with loved ones because school and just about everything else has been cancelled. And now we get to ride out the storm. What are you doing at your house? We've assembled the flashlights and extra batteries, the candles, the rain gear, and the battery operated radio. We've filled up our emergency water containers, and will be filling some extra pitchers in just a little while. We've watched the weather for hours on end, and are content now to turn off the TV (until the 11 AM update, anyway). My spouse is making chili and filling up the house with warm spicy smells. We are ready to hunker down. There are a lot of trees around us, and so we will probably consider sleeping in the basement tonight. As we settle in, there will be prayers said, and thanksgivings offered up, as we put our lives and "all that we have" into God's hands once again. Although many of these will be "heart prayers" and follow no preset pattern, there are a few from the Book of Common Prayer that we will no doubt be turning to, including those that ask for protection for those in need and danger, and those who live alone. So much of what we pray for this day is summed up in the prayer we used during yesterday's service to conclude our Prayers of the People:

Be our light in the darkness, O Lord, and in your great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night; for the love of your only Son, our Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. 

If you would like to let us know how you are preparing, or how you are doing as the storm rolls in, I hope you will add your comments to this blog! Carol+

Campaign 2012

It used to be that I followed presidential campaigns--and presidential debates--quite closely. It was something I did--watch the ads, listen to the speeches, read the analyses, and follow what the media pundits were saying, and how they were covering the campaign (or not). I don't know if it was my passion for politics that fed my interest, which then led me to study and eventually to teach political rhetoric--or if it got to the point that I was doing all of these things just because I was teaching those classes. In any event, at some point, it became a lot less fun.

Once I started down the road to ordained ministry--shortly after the 2000 presidential election--I became absorbed by other things--both heavenly and not so heavenly. The poor, the old, the young, and the working (and not working) class whose lives are lived outside the spotlight of politics. People in their 50s who have used all their savings or just about, and fear they will not have anything for retirement. People who started out without advantage or privilege, who have jobs but who rely on benevolence to get them through when they get sick, or when their kids need new shoes. The mentally disabled who have fallen through the cracks of the "official" social service system. The non-profit agencies and the religiously affiliated associations that run out of money to help with utilities and rent assistance midway through the budget year. Frustrated parishioners who do all they can to help the poor and hungry, but who want to do more. And so after seven years of ordained ministry, I find myself looking once again at politics, but from quite a different perspective.

People tell me they don't want to hear about "politics" at church, and I understand. There's been a lot of resistance to hearing what sounds like ideologically-driven agendas, on both the left and the right, being put forth by preachers. The young especially do not want to hear about politics--having been turned off (rightly so) by what they see as the intolerance and hypocrisy of the religious right. That's why, we're told, so many young people have given up on religion altogether. It's sad, and it's unfair perhaps to religious groups, like ours, that are "open and affirming"--but it's understandable. And it's put pressure on all of us who preach on Sunday to not turn any more people away.

My guess is that unless you're part of a church that advocates for one political agenda or another, you're likely to be hearing very little about politics in church. Religion has become a largely private affair, between the individual and God. Our relationship with God is central to our being, but that relationship always involves others, both within our own worshiping community and those outside it--our neighbors. An exclusive or near-exclusive focus on individual piety doesn't take the politics out of religion--it just makes religion feel more comfortable. And safe.

So how can we talk about politics at church, or anywhere else for that matter? Miroslav Volf, a professor of theology and ethics at Yale University, who has written about religion and the common good, has been making a list of Christian values he is going to use to help him decide who to vote for this fall. Here's the link to his Facebook page--http://www.facebook.com/miroslav.volf.12. I've subscribed and plan to keep watching the conversation, and hope others will do the same.  

On floating

This summer's heat waves have made watching the Olympic Trials and now, the Games, a welcome distraction. Like many people, I have been watching the swimming--marveling at the beauty of the athletes making their way through the water, their strokes and kicks so finely honed. It's a long ways from the kind of swimming most of us do, whether for exercise or enjoyment. Watching the Olympics reminds me of summer days and evenings spent swimming in a backyard pool, and early morning swims inside at the YMCA when it was too cold to do much of anything outside. There's something about swimming that seems to open us up to our spiritual side--something the poet Denise Levertov captures very well when she compares swimming to flying.

As swimmers dare
to lie face to the sky
and water bears them,
as hawks rest upon air
and air sustains them,
so would I learn to attain 
freefall, and float
into Creator Spirit's deep embrace,
knowing no effort earns
that all-surrounding grace.

Resting and letting the air sustain us--letting go and falling into the Creator's loving embrace. Not racing...not winning...just floating, "knowing no effort earns that all-surrounding grace." There are times to rest and let go, and see what it feels like to float again.

Things we take for granted

One of the things tragedy teaches us is not to take our loved ones for granted. When we hear of events like those that took place in Aurora last week, and we see the aftermath of the carnage in the sorrow of those who lost loved ones in the shooting, it makes us want to hold our loved ones a little closer, and to be sure to say, "I love you" before we--or they--leave the house.

It also shakes us up to be reminded, once again, that none of us is immune from the horror of violence. If things like this can happen at a movie theater, we say, then there is no place that is safe. In the past, of course, we've said this about schools and college campuses. Now it's the movie complex down the street. And so we realize, even more clearly, this could have been me--it could have been one of my friends or family members.

No one escapes the sense of loss a tragedy like this evokes, not even the spectator looking on from a distance. I'm reminded of something the seventeenth century poet John Donne wrote--a quote I used to have on a poster hanging on the wall of my dorm room : "No man is an island, unto itself...each man is a part of the promontory, a piece of the main...any man's death diminishes me. Therefore, do not ask for whom the bell tolls--it tolls for thee." In the lingering sorrow many of us feel--a reminder that we are not immune--but also, that we are not alone. We are connected to one another--connected even to the young man who pulled the trigger.  

What will the tragedy of this person's life teach us? The story I'm listening for is not just the story of what happened to this individual, but what made it possible for him to fulfill his fantasy. I'm going to be listening not only to "what might have been" had someone or something intervened with him, but to those who challenge me not to feel helpless, or resigned, about the consequences of living in a "free" society, where weapons and ammunition that are designed for the express intent of killing people (including law enforcement officials) can so easily be acquired. 

I'm going to be listening to what those who study violence in the media have to tell us. My guess is that they're going to tell us what we've heard before--that violence stimulates and it sells; and the more violence we see, the more we want to see, because, like any addiction, we need more to achieve the kind of stimulation we experienced at first. And I'm going to be asking, might this tragedy motivate us to see if there might be a connection between this individual's violent fantasy and our own unfulfilled needs which we (fortunately) don't act on, but which still shape and feed our desires? 

Our faith makes it possible to grasp the reality of evil in the world, and to acknowledge what Carl Jung calls the shadow side of our personality, which our culture often encourages. It's in the face of that reality that the light of Christ is such a comfort--as it beckons us to prayer, compassion, and an honest reckoning with what is going on inside ourselves and our society that needs to be touched--and healed-- by his love.   

Enfold the victims of this tragedy is your loving arms, dear Lord, and guide them in the days to come. Help us make this world a safer place, and show us the way of peace. Amen. 

Big Questions

They're the questions we learn not to ask after a certain age. For some of us, that happens when we're still in school--for others, it comes after we're out in the world. Some of us still want to ask, but we don't have anyone we think we can talk with.

What is the meaning of life? Why are we here? What kind of God is God? Does God really care about me and my loved ones? How can God let good people, and especially the innocent, suffer? If God loves me AND my enemies, what good is there in being good, anyway? How can I follow Jesus when I don't really want to be like the Christians I know? Can a person be faithful and still have questions...and doubts?

None of us can explore the big questions by ourselves. We need others.

Some of us have wonderful "friends" in the books we have on our shelves--the spiritual guides we have found through the years, whose writings we go back to over and over again.

The friends I have on my bookshelf include Desmund Tutu, Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, Henri Nouwen, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Rowan Williams, Lauren Winner, Barbara Brown Taylor, Evelyn Underhill, Fleming Rutledge, David Whyte, John O'Donohue, Denise Levertov, Mary Oliver--to name just a few.


But books, as wonderfully nourishing and steadying as they can be, aren't the same as having a spiritual conversation, or just being with people you can talk to about anything.

How do you get time to exercise with your busy schedule? ... What did you think about the sermon on Job last weekend?

Finding the space and the time for spiritual friendship...to ask the big questions...to share the journey. It's something to pray about, to strive for, and to help make happen. And I'm thinking, that's what it means to be church today...to make space and time for the big questions...and to help one another by listening with open hearts and minds to what God is doing among us.

I'm wondering...would anyone like to start a conversation in this blog about where you find spiritual friendship these days....and the time and space to pursue and nurture it? Anyone can post to this blog; I do moderate the posts out of respect for the kind of conversation space this is meant to be...your post should appear within a few hours!

Hope to hear from you!