The Neighbor and The Renter

by Julia Graves

There was a knock at my front door. I was not expecting anyone, so I was curious as to whom it was. As I opened the door there stood two young women. They appeared familiar but I was not sure from where. They knew me by name. They began to tell me how they had just moved their mother, my neighbor, to their home. The cancer she had been diagnosed with this past May had moved into her lungs. She has become very weak and needs assistance getting back and forth to her daily radiation and chemo appointments.

It was five years ago that I met her. Spring vacation, and a beautiful spring day it was. I had just moved into the neighborhood. “The Renter,” they called me, because I was one of the few in a mainly homeowner-occupied neighborhood. She lived across the street and was always in her yard doing something. Mowing, watering, weeding, and while she was doing these things, she would smile and wave at everyone that passed by. There is a saying in our neighborhood, “if you want to know anything about the neighborhood, just go ask her.” It is not because she is a gossip or a snoop. It is because she is unconditionally friendly, she loves everyone. She greets the stranger who passes her yard with a smile and open arms.

This past Sunday as I knelt praying at St. Luke’s, I looked up at the statue of Jesus. Arms open to the world, ready and willing to receive everyone, just as my neighbor does for everyone who passes her yard. I shared this thought with my friend when I went to visit her after church. We embraced each other while sitting on her daughter's sofa. I shared with her my experience at St. Luke's. “That is how I want to be,” she said. “I love everyone.”

May we all learn be to be so welcoming and to love so unconditionally.

The Presence

by Kyle Wiseley

Since pondering the powerful reading from the 40th chapter of Isaiah which was included among last Sunday’s lectionary, I have been focusing on our collectively perceived greatness of God, particularly as articulated by the prophet Isaiah in the fortieth chapter of his book. In it he describes many aspects of the Divine: as warrior God who overcomes his enemies with great power; as a gentle, pastoral God who feeds his sheep like a shepherd and carries the weak in his arms; and as an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-conquering God who completely rules the earth without fear of contradiction.

We frail humans speak so often and so assuredly about God as if we could know God in all God’s myriad aspects. Frequently we speak arrogantly as if we have the answers all figured out and further questioning would be futile. We structure theological principles and church dogma and canon law on the self assurance that we know the REAL answers, that we have found the ultimate Truth, and operate on the principle that from henceforth the institutional church must move forward along only the path that we have discerned with no opportunity for the Spirit to reveal new realities and concepts. From observation and study of past history I find a much more open and humble perception of God and God’s will for humanity and several years ago, after a pilgrimage to holy places in Europe, I expressed it thus:

THE PRESENCE

A lifetime of temples:

Small, wood-framed country churches

And vast stone cathedrals

And far too many artless boxes

Evoking narrowness, judgment and fear;

And one day in Switzerland

Exploring more churches

Than I could ever have thought possible

In such a short excursion,

(All Catholic, for my host and guide

Was a Catholic priest).

But at the last all structure melts

And dogma sinks to silence,

The all-pervading ether

Being the only temple adequate

To embrace the whole of You.

Sacred Storytelling

by Reverend Jennifer Creswell

“What’s your amazing story?” I wish this question were an original of mine, but I suspect it’s not. Still, it’s a good question to ask in community. It’s a question that opens doors into people’s experience,and invites them to share pieces of their life. And that’s a gift. I’ve been at St. Luke’s a year now (and been a priest for three and a half). When people ask me what I like most about my work, I tell them it’s hearing people’s stories, and, even more, being invited into the stories. Stories about birth, stories about death, stories about illness and healing, stories about love, stories about conflict, stories about community.

In a family-size church like St. Luke’s, it only takes a few Sundays of worship services to recognize the people who make up this community. A few more Sundays, and you’ll know most of their names. But stories, stories take longer to learn. We don’t all wear our stories on our sleeves. For some of us, sharing our story is an act of generosity. It’s something we offer, in faith, to people we love.

As people of a Book, people who understand God, in one form, as Word, stories are an important part of our faith tradition. We read the stories in the Bible and we look for the places where the stories intersect with our stories. We look for places where we can read ourselves into the sacred text, and places where the text interprets our own lives.

In weekly lectionary groups, and in occasional interactive sermons (like the one we had last week), we are encouraged, as a community, to share stories with each other. Nothing invites us into someone else’s life and reality like hearing a piece of their story. How can we judge another person’s life when we hear it as part of their sacred story? How can we not love the person who lays herself bare in telling us her experiences? Sharing stories builds community. Sharing stories also heals.

Be on the lookout for more ways to share your story, and listen to other stories, at St. Luke’s: in vestry spiritual time, in lectionary groups (Mondays 9:15, Wednesdays 5:30), in interactive sermons, in Lenten dinner groups.

Here’s to the story: the story we are telling, and living, together.

New Beginnings and Old Lessons

by Kyle Wiseley

This has been an amazing week in both our national life and in the life of St. Luke’s.

Last Sunday was our annual meeting -- the first I’ve attended as a member of the parish. St. Luke’s is a delightful place and I am extremely happy to have found it. Since my life’s circumstances set me down literally next door to the church, I have been welcomed with open arms by the warm and loving people of this parish and it already feels like home.

I rejoice in the growth I see happening here, especially the young families and the delightful children who enrich us with their presence. Over the course of the past thirty some years, my life’s journey has taken me to many different Episcopal parishes and I’m sorry to say, not all are as welcoming and accepting as I have found St. Luke’s to be. When we gather for worship or for fellowship there is a palpable feeling of caring and affection which flows between and among the beautiful saints who make up this church family. I particularly felt it on the Sunday following Christmas, when the weather had prevented us from celebrating together on Advent IV, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. As we gathered that morning there was such joy on everyone’s face and such a genuine feeling of happiness that we were all back together again as our church family. That alone is enough to keep me returning Sunday after Sunday.

I have also found that this is a place of spiritual nourishment. The homilies prepared and offered by Rev. Jennifer and the lay preachers are always well thought out and inspirational. I always take away something that I find spiritually useful during the week ahead. The lectionary study group enriches my spiritual life through my hearing the Word as it is filtered through the perceptions of my brothers and sisters. Again I always come away with some new perception of our common Story that I would have never developed on my own.

Our building and grounds are beautiful and well-maintained, and the Labyrinth is a wonderful gift to the wider community. Since I live within sight of it, I see people who are not involved with our parish, walking and meditating and I have a sense of pride to be part of a parish that offers that kind of gift to the wider community.

With the change of our national Administration, there is a sense of new beginnings all across our community and across the country itself. And yet, here at home our national day of celebration was besmirched by the revelation of scandal in the Portland City Administration. Scandal that particularly devastated the gay and lesbian community as well as the community at large. But disappointing as that development is, there is a lesson to be learned: Character counts! Integrity is important! The high road is not always easy, but it is the only truly safe way to continue on one’s journey.

So, in the freshness of this new year my hope is that we can rededicate ourselves to genuine affection and support for one another, greater efforts to reach out to those outside our parish family who need our compassion and care, and ever increasing devotion to the example set by Jesus as our moral and spiritual guide.

Blessed 2009.