Dear Edwards Church Community,
One of the unavoidable, healthy tensions in any community that has a tradition with deep roots in history and a commitment to serve the current world is upholding the enduring values of that tradition while allowing it – even inviting it – to be reshaped and changed by being in dialog with the evolving conditions of contemporary life. After all, only by being engaged in that constant give and take over time with its environment does any organism – biological or organizational – thrive in different circumstances. It is a source of encouragement to me that our vision statement opens by declaring:
Gathering at the crossroads of ancient faith and contemporary culture,
we are a Christian church asking God to open us to a new way.
Like this first stanza, each of the following stanzas of our poetic vision statement contains a subtle reflection of an existing challenge paired with a commitment to address that challenge. Facing the challenge reflected in the opening stanza, i.e., how to express the essence of our religious tradition in ways that are vital now, we ask God to open us to a new way. That can be scary, but if God is leading, we can follow.
Knowing that the road is long,
we choose to walk together.
A church community is somewhat like a chosen family. Partly we are connected to people to whom we can easily relate, and partly it requires effort. One of the great things about church that is different from family is that its stated values, its organizing principles, are a little more clearly stated and still adaptable (depending on your church and family!). The road of life and the Way in which Jesus led are both long journeys. So we walk together, even if it means having to stop along the way and revisit the map. (GPS voices chirp, “Recalculating.”) Being a church together means we are committed to God and each other for the long haul, even – or especially – when we differ.
Finding strength in our diversity,
we call on all our talents to worship and serve.
The fact that churches, like families, sometimes find themselves at odds over priorities should not shock us. Read the book of Acts, which chronicles the first generation after Jesus. You will find countless examples of people sharing their different perspectives, i.e., arguing, when done in one mode, discussing in another. The process of discussing things on which we have different perspectives can actually draw us closer together. It all depends on how and why we share perspectives: either to convert each other, to persuade each other of the superiority of our insights and opinions, or to learn from each other by being open to the possibility that your experience and perspective might actually have something to teach me?
Last fall, Linda Vincent and Lynn Korbel offered mindfulness meditation workshops, open to the church and wider community. Lynn’s focused on mindfulness and communication, Linda’s on mindfulness and healing. Participating in them, I was reminded of the wealth of talents we have to worship and serve. They are not just the conspicuous ones, but the quiet ones as well. (1 Cor. 12) More importantly, however, I was reminded of the risk we all take when we only try what we are already comfortable doing. In those workshops, as much as I tried to remain focused (part of the practice!), I kept finding myself wishing that others could share that experience, not only for the deep sense of ease and the opening up to the “other” that it encourages, but for the positive impact it can have within a community. Like the monthly labyrinth walk, which sometimes has a few walkers and sometimes so many it overflows, it is a quiet spiritual practice with transformative potential, right here in our midst.
An occasional visitor to our Sunday services is also a founding member of the mindfulness meditation group that meets in our sanctuary on Monday evenings, the River Valley Sangha. He grew up in a Christian tradition, currently has a Zen Buddhist based mindfulness practice, and is comfortable joining us in worship. So comfortable that he recently joined with other official “members” of the church to serve a dinner at the Hampshire Interfaith Emergency Shelter (a/k/a Cot Shelter). Members of our church also sit with the Monday night meditation group, as occasional guests or regulars.
Encountering the world’s joys and suffering,
we offer ourselves as instruments of love and justice.
The emergency shelter, Cathedral in the Night, the Survival Center, MANNA – in these and other established ways we offer ourselves as a church to the community. But we do not rest on that. When new circumstances arise calling for a fresh response – the Syrian refugee crisis, any number of natural disasters – we do what churches and houses of worship have always done. We offer ourselves, which is the most precious gift.
Longing to find the holy in ourselves and others,
we listen for God’s still-speaking voice.
Being church together is sometimes inspiring and sometimes work. If it were not sufficiently inspiring often enough, we would lose the energy and commitment required for the work. Our vision includes gathering to be opened by God. It includes knowing that the road is long, finding the strength embedded in diversity, and offering ourselves in response to the joys and sufferings of the world. It all sounds like work to me.
Fortunately, there is also joy in the world and the spark of the Divine in each of us. Perhaps the new way, to which God will open us, can make both joy and the Divine more visible. It is up to each one of us to do whatever we can to make it so.
I remain grateful for the ministry of this church and the opportunity to encourage all of us to live into the vision that we share.
Blessings,
Michael