View from the Pulpit - June 2023

“Listen carefully…and incline the ear of your heart."

(Saint Benedict of Nursia)

Who are we? Where are we going? What are we supposed to be doing?

Listening to folks in the parish over my two and a half years as rector (and listening to my own personal wonderings and worryings) I’ve heard variations on the questions above raised again and again - often not in these exact words. They’re very understandable and important questions for any parish, any organization, for human beings in general. Questions of identity and purpose and direction.

Questions like:

How do we return to “normal” now that the pandemic is over?
How do we better manage our buildings and grounds?
How do we get more families with kids to attend?
What should our music and liturgy be like?
What do we do about education for all ages?
What can we do to be more active around social justice issues?
What should our website/newsletter/signage look like?
How do we connect to the wider community?
How do we grow the parish?

Behind all these questions I hear a good and deep love of God and the Church and Saint Elisabeth’s as a community. I hear a compassionate and noble desire to be of service to others, a hopeful desire to be a vibrant parish, a laudable desire to do what’s right. All good desires.

But I also think I sometimes hear in some of these questions something very understandable but perhaps less good and right. A different spirit that, while not outright bad, is perhaps less reliable. Less reliable because sometimes, the concerns expressed don’t seem to come from a place of love or faith or hope but rather from a place of fear. And these fears generally seem to concern either the past or the future. I’d put them under two broad headings: nostalgia and anxiety. Nostalgia about a past that is gone and a desire to recapture its glories or return to its security or good feelings. And anxiety about a future that is threatening because it seems diminished, different, sad or scary. And while God was with us in the past and will be with us in the future, the place to encounter and respond to God is here and now, in the present. As one song we’ve sung in church says, “What we need is here.”

Over the course of the next few months, in my Voice articles, I’m going to offer some reflections on approaching our past, future, and present as individuals and as a parish. Some meditations on nostalgia and anxiety and how we might faithfully chart a course between them. Inclining the ear of our heart to what the Spirit is up to in our midst today.

For now, I invite you to ponder some of the questions above for yourself. And ask yourself what is motivating your response to them: Is it faith or fear, nostalgia or anxiety, a love of God and this parish, or is it something else…?

Please consider these articles in the next few months an invitation to talk with me about where we are at as a church community, where we have been, and where we are going. My door (and email/voicemail inboxes) is always open to conversation. Next month, an article on the dangers of nostalgia and the blessings of a spirituality of memory…

In the meantime, this prayer from Damian Torres-Botello SJ:

"God…What are You inviting me to discover at this moment? Help me find the good and grace when I’m struggling to understand what is unfolding around me. Help me locate You more clearly Lord, so that my eyes may find You in the fog….For what I need now is patience and trust, strength and courage, a peaceful heart and calm mind to carry me through this time. Amen."

Faithfully,
The Rev. Adam Spencer, Rector