Are You a Fair-Weather Messiah Parishioner?

I will always be grateful to our previous rector Father Gary Adams. He had to deal with several divisive groups, including members of the John Birch Society, a new Book of Common Prayer, ordination of women as priests and a dramatically changing inner city Santa Ana. He laid the ground work for social justice in the parish by welcoming the Episcopal Service Alliance program for the homeless and poor and the Santa Ana Neighborhood Organization, a grass roots community organizing program sponsored by the Jesuits.

My first couple of months at Messiah back in 1981 I experienced the sudden departure of several parishioners. My priority that first year was to visit every single parishioner in their home. But some were grieving the loss of Father Gary and could not imagine the parish without him. People I never had the chance to say hi to left the parish.

Certainly with my 30 years here we have some strong personal bonds and a lot of precious history. I know that there are a lot of feelings moving in your hearts as we both experience big change in our lives in relationship to this congregation. My advice to you is be faithful. We have almost 130 years of history. I grieve that this congregation is my dream of what a church should be and I have to leave you and worship at another parish.....so far that has not been an attractive thought. You get to stay here. This is a very special place and a healthy spirituality requires commitment to some community.

At the adult education class I offered on September 11, we reflected on the Four Pillars of Essential Christianity according to Ron Rolheiser. I share some of his thoughts about community from his book Holy Longing.
The grounding, earthiness, and necessary pain that only real involvement within a concrete, parish-type family can give you. In parishes, as we know, we do not get to pick who we will be standing beside as we worship and celebrate various things together. A parish-type family is a hand of cards that is randomly dealt to us, and precisely to the extent that it is truly inclusive, will include persons of every temperament, ideology, virtue, and fault. Also, church involvement, when understood properly, does not leave us the option to walk away whenever something happens that we do not like. It is a covenant commitment, like a marriage, and binds us for better and for worse.

Accordingly, if we commit ourselves to a church community and stay with that commitment, we will, at some point, have the experience that Jesus promised Peter would befall every disciple: Prior to this kind of commitment you can gird your belt and go wherever you want, but after joining a concrete church community, others will put a belt around you and take you where you would rather not go. And Jesus is right. What church community takes away from us is our false freedom to soar unencumbered, like the birds, believing that we are mature, loving, committed and not blocking out things that we should be seeing. Real churchgoing soon enough shatters this illusion, and gives us no escape, as we find ourselves constantly humbled as our immaturities and lack of sensitivity to the pain of others are reflected off eyes that are honest and unblinking.

We can be very nice persons, pray regularly, be involved in social justice, and still not be fully responsible. It is still possible to live in a lot of fantasy and keep our lives safe for ourselves. This gets more difficult, however, if we start going to a church, most any church, especially one that is large enough to be inclusive. To be involved in a real way in a church community is to have most of our exemption cards taken away.

I will be praying all of you through these days of transition, remembering the goodness of God that has blossomed in this congregation, and trusting that a new good shepherd will be coming to you.

Faithfully,
Brad

The Parable of the Trapeze

As we move into the interim period between rectors – take a moment to reflect on the Parable of the Trapeze.  Sometimes I feel that my life is a series of trapeze swings. I’m either hanging on to a trapeze bar swinging along or, for a few moments in my life, I’m hurtling across space in between trapeze bars. Most of the time, I spend my life hanging on for dear life to my trapeze-bar-of-the-moment. It carries me along at a certain steady rate of swing and I have the feeling that I’m in control of my life. I know most of the right questions and even some of the answers.

But every once in a while as I’m merrily (or even not-so- merrily) swinging along, I look out ahead of me into the distance and what do I see? I see another trapeze bar swinging toward me. It’s empty and I know, in that place in me that knows that this new trapeze bar has my name on it. It is my next step, my growth, my aliveness coming to get me. In my heart of hearts I know that, for me to grow, I must release my grip on this present, well-known bar and move to the new one.

Each time it happens to me I hope (no, I pray) that I won’t have to let go of my old bar completely before I grab the new one. But in my knowing place, I know that I must totally release my grasp on my old bar and, for some moment in time, I must hurtle across space before I can grab onto the new bar.

Each time, I am filled with terror. It doesn’t matter that in all my previous hurtles across the void of unknowing I have always made it. I am each time afraid that I will miss, that I will be crushed on unseen rocks in the bottomless chasm between bars. I do it anyway. Perhaps this is the essence of what the mystics call the faith experience. No guarantees, no net, no insurance policy, but you do it anyway because somehow to keep hanging on to that old bar is no longer on the list of alternatives. So, for an eternity that can last a microsecond or a thousand lifetimes, I soar across the dark void of “the past is gone, the future is not yet here.”

It’s called “transition.” I have come to believe that this transition is the only place that real change occurs. I mean real change, not the pseudo-change that only lasts until the next time my old buttons get punched.

I have noticed that, in our culture, this transition zone is looked upon as a “no-thing,” a noplace between places. Sure, the old trapeze bar was real, and that new one coming towards me, I hope that’s real, too. But the void in between? Is that just a scary, confusing, disorienting nowhere that must be gotten through as fast and as unconsciously as possible?

NO! What a wasted opportunity that would be. I have a sneaking suspicion that the transition zone is the only real thing and the bars are illusions we dream up to avoid the void where the real change, the real growth, occurs for us. Whether or not my hunch is true, it remains that the transition zones in our lives are incredibly rich places. They should be honored, even savored. Yes, with all the pain and fear and feelings of being out of control that can (but not necessarily) accompany transitions, they are still the most alive, most growth-filled, passionate, expansive moments in our lives.

We cannot discover new oceans unless we have the courage to lose sight of the shore. --Anonymous

So, transformation of fear may have nothing to do with making fear go away, but rather with giving ourselves permission to “hang out” in the transition between trapezes. Transforming our need to grab that new bar, any bar, is allowing ourselves to dwell in the only place where change really happens. It can be terrifying. It can also be enlightening in the true sense of the word. Hurtling through the void, we just may learn how to fly.

From the book Warriors of the Heart by Danaan Parry. www.earthstewards.org,
Copyright Reprinted by permission

Updated Transition Timeline

Fall 2011 – Winter 2012

Discernment/Search Committee will:

  • Revisit Profile
  • Send information packages to candidates
  • Review candidates resume, biography, and sermons
  • Interview candidates by phone and/or in person
  • Conduct site visits of candidates and/or visits to their parishes
  • Select qualified candidates and present to vestry

2012

Vestry will:

  • Review finalists
  • Interview finalists
  • Call the final candidate
  • Conduct negotiations
  • Complete agreement
  • Make announcement to parish
New rector arrives

Upcoming Adult Education Classes

The Apocalyptic Literature
The Rev. Carolyn Estrada
October 2 - 30

“Where the Wild Things Are”
A discussion on Shame and Guilt
Dr. Linda Barnhurst
November 6 - 20

Compassion
Karen Goran
December 4 - 18

Hispanic Heritage Lunch & Program

Sunday, October 30

  • 10:15 a.m. Bilingual Eucharist
  • 11:30-2:00 Luncheon
Wonderful Latin Food and Musical Program

Adults:  $10
Children:  $5

Blessing of the Animals

Saturday, October 8, 10 AM

Bring your favorite pet to the church patio for a Blessing liturgy, photo with your pet, and special pet treats too!

Parish Halloween Party

Friday, October 28 at 6 p.m. in the Parish Hall

All Saints Day

Tuesday, November 1st



12:05 Eucharist Followed by festive lunch in the Parish Hall.

Please sign up at coffee hour, so we know how much lunch to prepare.

Family Nature Hike

Sunday, October 9 at 2 pm.


Join us at Crystal Cove for a hike, picnic, and enjoy lots of cool, fresh air! Bring food, drink, and your walking shoes. Sign up at coffee hour so we know who’s going and can organize carpools.  Cost - $15 per car.

September 25, 2011 - Cov Davis

15th Sunday After Pentecost

Exodus 17:1-7 Philippians 2:1-13 Matthew 21:23-32

In the wilderness, the people were so thirsty and so furious at Moses that they cried out, “Is the Lord among us or not?” Moses protested to the Lord, “What shall I do with this people? They’re almost ready to stone me!” But God promised Moses he would be with him, standing in front of him on the rock at Horeb.. And Moses struck the rock and the water gushed out. Yes, the Lord is among us. And Paul says to the people of Philippi that it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure. This is God’s promise, and here at Messiah it’s fulfilled.

Messiah is especially blessed by the beauty of our old red-frame building, its stained glass, its wood. Many of us have felt God’s presence here from our very first experience of walking in the door, have felt intuitively that this is a “thin” place, a much prayed-in place. We sense that God is among us, here, especially, in this place.

But more than that. If Father Brad hadn’t had a vision of a church filled with all the people of God, Messiah’s soul could have died, moved to the suburbs, this building sold to be used as a restaurant or a movie theater, horror of horrors.

Instead, by much work and inspiration by Fr. Brad, and all our assisting clergy over the years, we have a living, breathing congregation that represents God’s creation, black and brown, and white and all the shades in between; young and old, English and Spanish-speaking, gay and straight, and all varieties of political belief. This is a glimpse of heaven, this wonderful mixture of people; this is how God intended the church to be. The people are the church and in this glorious kaleidoscope of God’s creation that we have here, we show that God is indeed among us. Ultimately, we have this treasure because Fr. Brad really believes that all people everywhere, not just at Messiah, are children of God. Lots of churches have different ethnic groups using one church building, but Messiah isn’t like that. Fr. Brad & Carolyn have succeeded in building one congregation worshipping often together, and spending more and more time together in picnics and beach parties and book clubs and supper clubs, retreats and blessings of the animals; more and more of the myriad functions of the parish are integrated into one congregation. The egg toss at the picnic in June (I hope that you got to see it) was a perfect example of the beautiful conglomeration of people that is Messiah.

But Fr. Brad didn’t just wish this mixture of people to happen, he worked hard, with the guidance of the Holy Spirit, to make it happen.

Years ago he had to fight to get a gay man, Michael Kehtel, seated on the vestry. He has had a conscious policy of having people of every description in visible leadership roles in the church at every level. And now, over and over we have said that this inclusivity is what we love about Messiah.

Actually, if we are honest, Messiah has some elements of all kinds of religious belief as well, despite the fact that we have extraordinary preaching in this church. We’ve all heard Carolyn’s fantasy of the church reciting the creed, and people standing and sitting, rising and falling depending on whether they believe each phrase. People in Messiah aren’t afraid to admit that they’re not quite sure of this or that aspect of the faith; we, most of us, are working on it, a work in progress. This isn’t a place where doctrines are pushed down our throats. Instead, we are encouraged to use our God-given brains to think, and probe, and question, in classes on an incredible range of topics over the years. Members of Wednesday’s Women and Men Seeking God aren’t given canned answers to questions, but are challenged to ponder the mystery that lies at the heart of creation and in our inmost souls. God is at work here, in this place, in this questioning and in the answers. We struggle, as with the people of Philippi, with working out our own salvation, but not as Paul says, with fear and trembling, but with joy and peace. And we all rejoice when the celebrant says, “Wherever you are in your journey, you are welcome here at Christ’s table.”

Jesus calls us to love God and our neighbor, but Messiah has shown us who our neighbor is. Hands Together, the Noah Project, the Morning Garden for homeless mothers and children, & the Literacy Center have changed the lives of thousands of people for the better in this area of great need. Bishop Bruno chose Messiah as the place for the Archbishop of Canterbury to visit because it best exemplifies out of the whole diocese the place where God is at work. And Messiah does this, not with a huge endowment, but with Fr. Brad’s vision of justice and lots of people (led so well by Glenn Howard) working with intelligence and effort. God is here.

We walk, always a wonderful mixture of people, into this neighborhood carrying the huge cross on Good Friday. We process singing, volunteers creating their own prayers at the stations. An incredibly moving experience, the church, the body of Christ, doing God’s work in the streets. Or we worship at Morning Prayer in the choir stalls at 6:30 am on Wednesday mornings, or give each other the Eucharist around the altar during Advent and Lent, or learn to meditate in Karen Goran’s Tuesday night group. Or experience God alone in the pews in the middle of a service, or on a retreat. Or find God in this community itself of like-minded souls, or through the arts, through poetry, or drama, (even a sword fight!) In so many different ways we can meet God here….

But especially, we meet God in our worship, in our music. The liturgy is the beating heart of Messiah. Often I find myself with tears in my eyes; God speaks to us through the music. Our choirs love Jim Gilliam and Jim Vaskov and Miguel Conniff and love to sing. Many of us are sometimes tired on a Sunday morning, turn over and go back to sleep. The choirs keep coming, Sunday after Sunday, year after year. They are our treasure, our unsung heroes. We forget to thank them. And do you realize the great variety of music which Jim Gilliam has chosen for us? Music to suit all our tastes, perfect to fit this congregation with our eclectic nature. And we can choose the meditative eight o’clock service with soloist and organ, or the slightly rowdy ten o’clock, but if you want even more energy and passion, you can experience the twelve o’clock service. Messiah shows forth the whole world of God’s musical magnificence in the liturgy and in our concerts.

Messiah is a place with a world full of ideas and people, but also with action. Our members have gone to Mississippi, to Kenya and now to Nicaragua, protested against apartheid, brought Archbishop Desmond Tutu to Messiah, supported AIDS Walk and gays.

In 1990, 21 years ago, I was sent on a stewardship call to Chad De Leeuw, whom I had never met. Out of that encounter grew Sts. Aelred and Hildegard, our ministry to the gay community in Orange County. Chad was a deeply religious person who had lunch with Fr. Brad once a week for years. Do you love the statue of Christ the Good Shepherd, which is in the Upper Room? Did you know that, before he died, Chad had it carved in Europe as a gift for Messiah? Aelred and Hildegard worked, mostly because we could get away with being radical in 1991 because we were little old ladies. The simple message chanted in the parades: “2, 4, 6, 8, Jesus loves us, Gay or Straight” is what we taught, all these years here, and at convention, working to help create the change in attitudes that resulted in our lesbian Bishop Mary’s election. And we do real evangelism at our booth at the Gay Pride festivals among people who haven’t had the benefit of experiencing a place like Messiah, and still need to be told that God loves them as they are, as God made them.

And now, Vicki Tamoush is following in the Messiah tradition of social justice by founding Interfaith Witnesses earlier this year. I went on July 24th with Vicki and Biff Baker to walk in silent witness at the La Mirada mosque, which had been vandalized. Over fifty of us, including the 89-year-old former mayor of La Mirada walked with signs proclaiming our different faith traditions and desire for peace. Friendly motorcycle police escorted us; the grateful mosque leaders served us food afterwards. It was a very satisfying way to be able to stand up for freedom of religion in America.

In so many different ways Messiah sends us out as God’s hands, feet, and voice into the world.

So, finally, God is at work in Messiah. Let it be your work, too. You are part of it when you make a pledge. Why pledge? Why not just put your offering in the plate? The church has a light bill, a water bill, a gas bill, just as you do. What if you didn’t have any idea what your income was going to be? How could you plan? The church (which is us) needs us to pledge so that the church (which is us) can plan how to meet its expenses, which are all laid out in black and white in the annual meeting in detail.

How do I decide how much to pledge? Some time ago I gradually worked up to the traditional tithe, ten percent. (Though I was a bit shocked to discover that someone I know pledges fifteen percent, so don’t consider ten percent a maximum!) I take it off the top, first of the month, God comes first. And I epledge, so I don’t forget. But in these tough times, don’t worry. If something unforeseen happens, you can change it. Easy. When my ex-husband died and my pension was cut, I lowered my pledge, no questions asked, no problem.


So, come, join us for breakfast, send in your pledge card, and rejoice that God has brought you here, to this holy place, the testimonial to Fr. Brad’s thirty years of ministry.