Why "The Gander"?

Why "The Gander"?

Most people are familiar with the mythology of St. Martin's cloak. Less familiar may be the myth of St. Martin's goose. It is told that Martin the priest was wanted as bishop. He didn't want the job, and so hid (here the accounts are fuzzy) in a goose pen, barn, or bush and was revealed by the honking of the goose. A gander is a male goose - much like a drake is a male duck. To "take a gander" means to take a peek, a look. We hope to use this space to take a deeper look at things happening at St. Martin's, and share more thoughts and information with you.

Thursday, September 26, 2019

Stop Hiding, Open Up those Boxes

Image: A pale wood box with a gold clasp sits slightly open, with the opening of the box turned 20-30 degrees to the left.
Text in graphic: This Week in the Rector's Note "We are all wounded. Self-awareness, honesty, and trusting community help us turn our wounds into gifts of wisdom, sensitivity, and compassion. ...Again and again in pastoral caregiving at St. Martin’s I encounter wonderful people who are adding suffering to their suffering because they think they are the only one struggling in the community." - Stop Hiding, Open Up those Boxes. 9.26.2019. Church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, Episcopal.

A journalist asked Brad Pitt the following question during an interview about his upcoming movie, “Was Ad Astra a way to work through some of the loneliness you may have been experiencing?” His answer was vulnerable and revealing, “The fact is, we all carry pain, grief, and loss,” he said. “We spend most of our time hiding it, but it’s there, it’s in you. So you open up those boxes.”

The article then gives the back story which I quote at length:

It was reported that the final straw in Pitt’s 11-year relationship with (Angelina) Jolie came in September 2016, when they fought about his drinking while aboard a private plane. Now, Pitt is committed to his sobriety. “I had taken things as far as I could take it, so I removed my drinking privileges,” he told me. After she filed for divorce, Pitt spent a year and a half in Alcoholics Anonymous. 
His recovery group was composed entirely of men, and Pitt was moved by their vulnerability. “You had all these men sitting around being open and honest in a way I have never heard,” Pitt said. “It was this safe space where there was little judgment, and therefore little judgment of yourself.” 
Astonishingly, no one from the group sold Pitt’s stories to the tabloids. The men trusted one another, and in that trust, he found catharsis. “It was actually really freeing just to expose the ugly sides of yourself,” he said. “There’s great value in that.”

I am grateful for the brave honesty Brad Pitt displays in this interview. My hope is that his example helped hundreds, maybe thousands of people, come out of hiding and into spaces transparency, trust, healing, and growth.

“We all carry pain, grief, and loss.” We are all wounded. Self-awareness, honesty, and trusting community help us turn our wounds into gifts of wisdom, sensitivity, and compassion. Hiding, avoiding, and denying cause wounds to fester into self-destructive behaviors and acting out which passes the harm to others. God’s grace transforms our despair over our wounds into hope for progress and growth into a “new creation.”

Again and again in pastoral caregiving at St. Martin’s I encounter wonderful people who are adding suffering to their suffering because they think they are the only one struggling in the community. They tell me that they feel that “everyone else” must “have it all together;” “have it all figured out,” or “have it easy.” When we only present ourselves as happy, high achieving, successful, and winning - that is, when we only share one side of our life - without knowing it we may be increasing the isolation of someone who is struggling. One of the most helpful things we can say to someone is, “You are not alone.”

I want St. Martin’s to be a community of love, acceptance, and grace where people feel free to come out of hiding and find the healing we all crave. Our church is called to be this way because Jesus was this way, and he continues to give us what we need to brave the journey into honesty and vulnerability.

In God’s presence there is no hiding, no deception, no masks, and no facade. As the Prayer Book says so beautifully, God is the one, “unto whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid.” We are transparent before God’s pervasive light and all encompassing love.

Blessings,
The Rev. Jarrett Kerbel
Rector


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If you'd like to know more about addiction and recovery, please join us at Parish Forum on Sunday, October 6 where Steele Stevens will lead a discussion on Understanding Addictions. Learn more on our Parish Forum page.

Thursday, September 19, 2019

1619-1919: Finding Ourselves in the History of Racism



Editor's Note: This week's post is written by the Rev. Barbara Ballenger. She has helped to lead St. Martin's Becoming Beloved Community work since 2014.

St. Martin’s efforts at Becoming Beloved Community follow the lead of the Episcopal Church in its church-wide call for racial reconciliation and healing. It is part of the church’s deep reflection on its own complicity in the long legacy of racial oppression. This call is rooted in the scriptures and the Baptismal Covenant, which invite us to a new level of respect for the dignity of every human being that fundamentally challenges and displaces racism.

In August, The New York Times reminded us of a sobering anniversary, the 400th year that the first enslaved Africans were brought to Virginia, anticipating four centuries of race-based oppression in the United States. For Episcopalians, whose Anglican forebears built, blessed, and benefited from the architecture of slavery and its aftermath, this legacy clings to us in ways typical of deep structural sin: fostering social blindness and deafness to the experience of people of color; quieting the Gospel of Jesus and amplifying the agendas of scientific and economic advancement; and centering whiteness in everything from our religious imagery to our church structure. That is why the Episcopal Church has been leading us in a wide-scale effort of racial repentance, reconciliation, and healing. Our Presiding Bishop, the Rt. Rev. Michael Curry, explains this ongoing work well in this brief video.

St. Martin’s has been at the effort for a while, most recently laying out a framework to be even more intentional about how we learn, embody, and advocate racial justice and healing. This 400th anniversary does put the work in a long and painful perspective, however, and it invites us anew to take a hard look at how we engage with our own individual and collective history around racism, and how we participate in healing the racial wounds in the Body of Christ.

This program year, St. Martin’s will offer several opportunities to engage in the ongoing work of Becoming Beloved Community. I encourage you to make time to participate, bringing your insights and stories to the effort.

Here is a look at what lies ahead:

  • Sunday, Sept. 29 Parish Forum (9:15 a.m.) – Finding Ourselves in the 400 Years: What the Spirit is Saying to the Church about its Legacy of Racism. Featuring a short film by Katrina Brown and a discussion of local racial history by diocesan historian, David Contosta.
  • Wednesdays, Oct. 9-Nov. 6 (7 p.m. to 9 p.m.) Beginning Beloved Community Workshop. This five-week series, developed in 2015 and 2016 by St. Martin's parishioners and staff, provides an introduction to the individual and collective work of racial understanding and healing central to our Becoming Beloved Community efforts. Recommended for all parishioners and ministry leaders. Learn more and register here.
  • Wednesdays, Jan. 8 -29, (7:30 p.m. to 9 p.m.) Wellspring-led discussion of the book, Waking Up White, by Debby Irving. The author writes: "My hope is that by sharing my sometimes cringe-worthy struggle to understand racism and racial tensions, I offer a fresh perspective on bias, stereotypes, manners, and tolerance."

In addition to these educational offerings, committees of parishioners and staff will continue to follow the recommendations of our Becoming Beloved Community Strategic Plan, by working on the following this year:

  • Developing a process for recruiting, hiring, and retaining people of color onto our program staff.
  • Creating a training process for parish ministry leaders to build leadership skills grounded in racial justice and healing. This will be developed this year, and formally launched during the 2020-21 program year.
  • Strengthening our public witness against racial injustices in our community, led by our Community Engagement Committee.
  • Engaging all our parish committees and outreaches in the work of Becoming Beloved Community.

The Becoming Beloved Community effort at St. Martin’s is overseen by the Vestry, the clergy, and the Becoming Beloved Community Team, a committee of parishioners whose mission is to support the implementation of the BBC Strategic Plan. It is led by Justina Barrett, The Rev. Carol Duncan and The Rev. Barbara Ballenger.

To learn more about the parish’s Becoming Beloved Community efforts and find resources for engagement, visit the racial justice page under Community Engagement at StMartinEC.org.

Blessings,
The Rev. Barbara Ballenger
Associate for Spiritual Formation & Care

Thursday, September 12, 2019

Timber, Awe, and Wonder

"...the awe and wonder come from a deep intuition of the sacred gift of the tree."
Photo taken in the woods. There is bright green ground cover. One tall, thick,
moss-covered tree stands in the foreground, lit from the back and right side
by the sun rising through the trees at a distance to the right. The photo is
awash in the greens and pale yellows of spring or early summer.

On vacation I care for a small forest in the Maine woods. My idea of a perfect vacation day is forestry in the morning and books in a hammock in the afternoon. My favorite tool is my Stihl MS 271 chainsaw, 50cc’s of throbbing, purring power for felling and processing trees destined for our wood stove.  

Holding a chainsaw calms me. The growl of the engine muffled through ear protection, the vibrations running up through my hands and arms, the smell of fresh, tart sawdust kicking off the chain onto my jeans - focus my scattered mind and engulf me into the moment.  

When an 80 foot tree that is two-and-a-half feet thick is almost fully severed and just on the edge of toppling, time freezes and my ears perk up for the cracking of wood that presages the fall. Will it go the direction I intend or will it totter toward me? The thrill is electric and the shout of, “Timber!” is part relief and part triumph when its massive bulk plummets away from me.  

The tree thunders to the ground and strikes the earth like a massive drumstick on a bass drum. “Wump” is part noise and part feeling in my feet. My response is awe and wonder. I am not impressed by the act of felling the tree. No, the awe and wonder come from a deep intuition of the sacred gift of the tree.

For one hundred years or more that tree was growing and processing sunlight, rain, and soil into a massive stalk of wood fiber and generation after generations of leaves and seeds. From a sapling it developed into a tower of grace and beauty that sheltered the birds and squirrels and insects. The storms it witnessed. The winter weight of snow it bore. The stories if could tell.  

Sacred. The sacred gift calls out a prayer. The sacred gift calls out awe and wonder and in turn the prayer and these feelings change forever how we walk on the earth. Because we know she is sacred.

Blessings,
The Rev. Jarrett Kerbel
Rector