Core Values and Stewardship of Action

(Reuters photo)

Today, we welcome a guest post on our staff blog from our Rector's Warden, Pam Hill.

A few months ago I was so smug! I had planned my visit to see our son Peter and his wife, Mandy very carefully, in order to be in South Dakota to help out soon after the birth of their new baby and get back here for the wonderfully exciting dedication of the new Wellspring space. Things worked perfectly! I could join them a week after they got home with the baby, stay for two weeks, and return in time for the celebration. It went flawlessly until the night before I was to fly home. Smugness turned into humility.

There’s nothing like a powerful act of nature to remind you that you’re not in charge. And there’s nothing like the elimination of daily props and taken-for-granted amenities to thrust you into an unasked for “back to basics” experience. It’s one thing to plan to go camping or to rough it on vacation, but to be “passing through” on your way elsewhere, then stymied in transit, on your own, in a makeshift spot, and having it suddenly become where you will remain for an unknown period of time, brings you to an intimate present in this transitory life. These are the times you bump into the question Jarrett raised on a recent Sunday: does creation care about me? There was day and there was night. There were few distractions—cold, wind, darkness, strangers, and snow. I say “present” because that’s where I was. There were past memories of fun-filled hours from days before and a remembered future that I would go into. But here and now was where I was without much to do. When busyness becomes pared down like this, is that when core values emerge? Maybe.

Survival or getting through is supposed to be a key instinct, a value we all have. Is the value on “me” or “us”? I think for many people at this present time, survival-in-comfort is really the value. And comfort is tied to getting what I want, more or less when I want it. It’s an affront when it’s taken away. In this storm trapped without lights, heat, or escape and with diminishing food and omg, dying cell phones, one comfort people sought was to be with others, so people gathered in small family or friend-groups in large, chilly, public spaces. At first there was a lot of complaining and asking questions that had no answers. Once beyond that however, a few people ventured out and struck up conversations with strangers. Somebody had a deck of cards; another person a set of dominoes. Games began. People shared ideas about how to keep warm, and information or rumors they’d heard. There were some little acts of kindness and some of appalling thoughtlessness. People more or less maintained civility. A certain pragmatism carried most people through. Things weren’t dire, and it would end relatively soon. Boredom or being with yourself with nothing to do (except fret) was a main complaint. In the midst of going someplace else we were all caught right here. There was an underlying nervous energy, especially for a lot of the men, to be out doing something to make it end faster. They would go out and stand in the gale winds and blowing snow and stare at their SUV’s and trucks, and then come back in. When the winds dropped and the snow stopped at last, they rushed out in sneakers and flip flops with wastebaskets as shovels to free their cars, sometimes taking the snow and dumping it on the car next to theirs. It’s a thin space between what I need and acting in concert with broader needs.

Core values, something we’re about to consider deeply at St. Martin’s, are shown in actions. If I think generosity is something I value, then others should see this through acts. That’s why identifying values has a check system that goes along with it. If I value consideration of others, yet cut in line ahead of those patiently waiting for food, they don’t call it consideration. I am the steward of my own actions, even if and especially when I’m caught in the unexpected. That’s not to say there aren’t moments of frustration, fear, huddling under the covers. (It was really cold!) Could I say that creation didn’t care about me? Sure. And that God didn’t care about me? Less sure. I still had stewardship over all I have been given. My actions would still be governed by my values. No longer could I act in smugness, though. That easily perceived yet rather thoughtless value faded. It was an unexpected time to think and to be immensely thankful. I could think about what I have, what I value, and what I could do. And with grace, maybe, be a sort of good steward. God does act in very mysterious ways.

- Pam Hill, Rector's Warden

Catching Up with POWER

On October 9th, St. Martin's hosted three “house meetings” to explain the current priorities of POWER – Philadelphians Organized to Witness, Empower, and Rebuild. All POWER congregations are holding house meetings in October, most in members’ homes. We decided to make the gatherings easier by holding them after one of our wonderful SUPPERs.

We began by showing this video created by POWER to illustrate its analysis of the state of the city. That video can be seen on St. Martin’s website in case you missed it. However, the video throws out so many statistics in a rushed voice that it is hard to catch. Here is a recap.

A prevalent myth is that Philadelphia and PA are broke, forcing us to close schools and pay poverty wages. However, tax breaks for corporations operating in PA have more than tripled, from $850,000 in 2003 to $3,200,000,000 in 2013. In 2010, 73% of corporations paid no corporate income tax. A good example is Comcast. After spending $140,789 in lobbying efforts in Philadelphia, Comcast received $30,000,000 of property tax abatements over five years, in addition to $42,750,000 in state grants and assistance. In 2011, Comcast made $55,000,000,000 in profits.

At the Philadelphia Airport, where POWER concentrated its efforts all last year, US Airways paid $166,485 in lobbying efforts while its earnings jumped to $637 million in 2012. The CEO of US Airways received a 44 percent increase in compensation to $5.5 million last year. Meanwhile, more than 20% of US Airways staff at the airport reported going hungry within the last year. 75% had difficulty paying bills. 97% received no paid sick days. A significant number rely on food stamps.

The number of Philadelphians at or below the poverty line is 40%; a doubling in the last six years. Philadelphia has the highest level of severe poverty among the nation’s ten largest cities. Poverty-wage jobs often lack basic support structures like paid sick leave, time off, and health benefits. Among workers of color, the rate of poverty is twice as high. Even in the suburbs, poverty rates have grown by 40% in the last decade. For these reasons, creating jobs with a living wage is one of POWER’s two main concerns.

POWER's other main goal is improving public education. Lawmakers, lobbied by corporations, have consistently underfunded Pennsylvania’s schools. We are one of only three states that lack a fair funding formula. An article about this was written in The Atlantic, and can be read here or on St. Martin's Facebook page.  476 of 500 school districts in Pennsylvania were underfunded in 2006 even before Governor Corbett cut $1,000,000,000 from the education budget.  While education is reduced, the prison budget has doubled over the last decade. A good example is $400,000,000 for a new prison just outside the city.

Jim Wallace of Sojourners magazine asserts that public budgets are moral documents. We, the tax payers, are complicit in what these budgets say. The city owns the airport and all its public projects. The city allows subcontracted labor on city projects to be paid lower than the minimum wage without benefits.

POWER is working on a campaign to pass an initiative on the May ballot to correct this practice. POWER is also working to achieve a fair funding formula for our schools. Watch the video on the website. Help POWER accomplish its goals.

- The Rev. Carol Duncan

Christianity and the Economy

After many years of thought and reflection about the matter I have come down to the following beliefs about the economy based on my faith, experience, and reason.  Our members often look for guidance on issues of economic justice and this is a distillation of my position.

1. Capitalism is both extremely productive and destructive at the same time.
2. It is also the best system we have. Command and control economies just don't work, suffering from both political evils and deadly hubris.
3. Human dignity requires freedom, risk, reward and consequences which are virtues that capitalism supports.
4. Human dignity requires community as well. Unrestrained capitalism is corrosive of community and heedless of the common good.
5. Racism, historic and current, has created systemic disadvantages for people of color.  This injustice requires rectification and sacrifice on the part of people of class and race privilege.
6. If we accept the benefits of capitalism we must also accept responsibility for its permanent downside - unemployment never below 5% (and often much higher), massive displacement, destruction and transition of the workforce on a regular basis, and growing income inequality.
7. Therefore our Government - because charity at 2% of GDP cannot even approach its ability to aggregate resources - must work to restrain our worst impulses and moderate the effects of capitalism for the unemployed and the unemployable. A goal should be a broad and stable middle class of folks earning between $50k and $120 per year to ensure a stable democracy and general prosperity.
8. Therefore those with more than enough must give more to rectify the imbalance through taxes,  and charitable gifts of money, skills and time.
9. If your 'more than enough', seems like 'never enough', get your house in order.

To see an excellent treatment of this topic read "The Life You Can Save" by Peter Singer.

Also, in preparation for my Sunday forum: 1% Revolution, check out these videos on YouTube by Peter Singer and Dan Pallotta. They're too long to share in whole at forum, but well worth the watch for sake of discussion.

Thanks for watching!

- The Rev. Jarrett Kerbel

Not What I Expected

Wednesday, October 2^nd, began as a typical day for me.  Meeting, desk work, playing for St. James School’s weekly mass, and Treble Choir rehearsal.  In the middle of the afternoon, I checked my email.  The Philadelphia Orchestra had announced a free “Pop Up” concert that evening.  They were supposed to play in Carnegie Hall, NYC, that evening, but were sent away (tail between their legs) due to a stagehands’ union strike.  The orchestra, en route back to Philadelphia, quickly organized a fun concert of lighter classics, and sent the word out via social media.  (see the parable of the marriage feast, Matthew 22)

After Treble Choir rehearsal, I was tired, ready to go home.  I almost did just that – but a feeling of guilt stopped me.  Since the concert was announced barely five hours before it began, surely the hall would be far from full.  Playing for a small audience can be demoralizing.  I decided I would go, because I feared an empty hall, echoing with the empty claps of a couple hundred people, and I could empathize with the musicians who pour themselves into their art when nobody seems to be listening.

I arrived just minutes before it began.  Verizon Hall was completely packed.  It was abuzz with an energy that I had never felt before – and was filled with a broader spectrum of age, race, and class than I had never seen before.  The players were wearing bright colors, the audience in everything from suits to ripped jeans.  I crawled my way into the middle of the orchestra section – a seat I couldn’t afford at a regular concert. 

The concertmaster walked on stage.  The audience went into a roar of applause.  He clearly didn’t know what to make of it – he gave a nervous look, a nod to acknowledge the audience’s fervor.  The clapping continued.  The orchestra could hardly tune.  Maestro Yannick walked onto the stage, and the applause returned to a wild roar.  It was like a rock concert!  Yannick soaked up the applause graciously and the concert began.

Now, I have been to many concerts, heard orchestras of many different abilities, with audiences of many different levels of appreciation (for lack of a better word), in many different settings.  My expectation, after seeing this crowd and hearing their untamed applause, was that this was going to be a concert where people talk audibly during each piece, text on their phones, and walk around at will as if the concert were a sporting event.  I was completely wrong.  This was one of the most sophisticated audiences I had ever sat with.  The silence during the performance was profound, with the exception of the occasional cry of a young child (truly, a child’s occasional noise worries parents far more than it bothers concertgoers).  At the moment the first piece ended, the audience jumped to its feet and screamed their appreciation.  I had never seen anything like it!  I felt the most amazing feeling of community and belonging, knowing that this packed concert hall was the city’s way of giving the orchestra a much-needed hug after being booted from NYC.  This concert became more than audience listening to performers – as much as the audience loved and responded to the music, the orchestra loved and responded to the audience.  It was a jam session and everyone was invited.

Yannick broke a major “rule” and invited the audience to vote on what piece they would play next.  Like a game show, the audience cheered for the selection they wanted most.  I tell you, it could have been “The Price is Right”, with the screaming I heard.  While the orchestra played the winning piece, a young boy passionately conducted along with Yannick, in plain sight of both the maestro and the rest of the audience.  For some reason, this was completely acceptable and everybody seemed to love it.

Next, an unlikely conductor was brought up to conduct the orchestra – a ten-year-old girl.  (Isaiah 11:6)  She was very brave and very smart!  She was an instant hit with the audience and the orchestra – I had never seen such smiles on the players, and the audience helped her keep a steady tempo by clapping – again, not a tacky, drunken Oktoberfest sort of clapping, but instead, a reaction that was completely natural.  By this time I had discerned that my neighbors were both also big fans of the orchestra – and all three of us were happily breaking “the rules” by clapping, conducting in our seats.  We shared stories about performances we had heard, like old friends.  Never was this music amusing (literally, “non-thinking”); it fully engaged the soul.  Throughout the rest of the evening, I saw the players laugh out loud, make jokes at maestro Yannick, and simply be human, along with the rest of us mere mortals.

I am nearly ten years out of college now; back in school, it was so easy to hold onto high ideals and dreams.  Out of school, I have found the professional world much more brutal and rejecting than I had imagined.  But after this concert last Wednesday, my belief in music to cross human-imposed boundaries and bring a city together (especially in light of government shutdowns and the array of soul-crushing news that bombards us every single day) was renewed.

So how does this apply to our life of faith at St. Martin’s?  I sincerely hope that at every service, the music we make is in the same spirit of Wednesday’s Philadelphia Orchestra concert.  As much as the choir sings for those in the pews, I hope the people in the pews sing for the choir.  I hope that anyone who comes into our building feeling rejected, overwhelmed, burdened, hurt, or whatever, is healed by what we do – and not a “come to church, get a dose of religion” kind of healed – a healing that is a wake-up call to the soul, a reminder that indeed there is a force of good working in our world, and that people care and want to improve things.  Every person who walks in our doors should find relief from the world’s rigid expectations and seek who they were called to be.

Like the imaginary (well, mostly imaginary) “rules” of the concert hall, the world has a complete and complex system of rules that govern our lives.  What a horrible thing we humans do to ourselves and each other!  What are the rules that govern our worship services?  How are we perceived by those outside our community?  Which of these is right and good, and which are bad or a hindrance to our mission?  Like the Philadelphia Orchestra, we have a wealth of gifts to share, and to not share these gifts would indeed be a sin.

I also sincerely believe that we did just that this last Sunday – the musical gifts of the choirs, the nourishing gifts of those behind Wellspring, and the many other spiritual gifts of the congregation.  These, like the musical gifts of the orchestra, are something worth passing on – indeed, too good not to share!

- Erik Meyer

Wobbly Walk with God

Stepping Stones by Maria Keays on Flickr

A couple of weeks ago, I was picking up produce from our farm share at our local garden. This weekly ritual - shared with my toddler - often falls in the midst of multiple errands that get squeezed into the post-naptime/pre-dinnertime window on my day off with her. On this particular afternoon, as we were walking through the garden, my daughter asked to walk along the wobbly stones bordering one of the plots. I helped her step up on the first stone and held her hand as we walked along.

At least, that’s what I thought I was doing. I suddenly realized that I was directing her by grasping her elbow tightly and setting the pace. I took a deep breath and made the choice to let my child take the lead. Wouldn’t this be so much more enjoyable, I thought, if I simply trusted her judgment to go at a pace she was comfortable with rather than hurriedly pulling her along?

I realized that my walk with my child was much like my walk with God. When I pray, I often do it on my own schedule and forget to stop and listen in the process. I come to God with certain expectations in mind and find it difficult to have the patience necessary to make space for the Spirit. To trust God to take the lead.

Why am I always trying to call the shots, to take the reins? When I let my daughter set our pace that afternoon, I had to let go of a few things. I had to let go of my sense of urgency and my sense of security. Slowing down meant that we wouldn’t get our vegetables as quickly and be on to the next errand on our list. Loosening my grip meant allowing for the possibility that my child would trip and fall.

But I also allowed for something else: joy. Our weekly ritual had become a task rather than an opportunity to be in nature together, exploring the world. My toddler helped remind me how to breathe and take it all in.

How can we slow down and relinquish control, not just in our relationship with others but in our relationship with God? How can we let the moment happen rather than making it happen?  How do we leave room to be surprised by joy?

- The Rev. Callie Swanlund