Dear Friends,
Every year at this time, the nostalgia hits hard. There is a certain sense of purpose, rhythm and ritual that comes when Summer transitions to Fall. It feels like just yesterday I was picking out my favorite binders, a new bookbag and the best outfit possible to stroll down the halls on the first day of school. I was always full of hope for the new start and the possibilities for all that I could be. While I don’t know if any school year ever lived up to those great expectations that my heart and mind conjured at the start of each school year, my hopeful spirit never failed to embrace the newness and all the possibility that came along with it.
As the clock turns towards Autumn and the school busses roll down the streets, I hope we can pack our spiritual backpacks with all the tools we need—not only tools to make it to class, but eternal tools that will allow us to meet the moments of our lives with wisdom, grit and grace. Even if we are out of school, the learning never ends.
To all who are going back to school, to all those who support them and to all of us who still get some kind of glimmer of newness and excitement as August turns to September, have a great school year!
Love,
Cheryl
Sunday, August 18, 2024
Dear Friends,
I am aware that disappointment is a very real part of the human experience. In many instances, disappointment is merely the precursor to more difficult emotions such as heartache, grief, depression, fear, despair, and loneliness.
All of these feelings are real and, often, appropriate. This week, 36 families in the Kibera Slum lost every single one of their possessions in a fire. My 98-year-old mother lives daily with depression, fear, and loneliness. In the Sudan (which happens to be the worst humanitarian crisis on the planet), more than 100 people are dying daily from starvation. A few weeks ago, a 16-year-old boy from Bedford, New York was the victim of death by suicide.
Our sacred literature declares that those in pain will find comfort, that those who mourn will see the dawn of a new day, that those who are void of hope will find life-giving purpose. But when? How? What do we say to the 16-year-old before it is too late? What do we say to the mother of a starving child? What do we say to a husband or a wife whose spouse is losing the battle with some disease?
The answers are not simple, particularly in the face of seemingly unmanageable emotions. Perhaps we start with simple declarations. Time is time. Our lives are short. To love is to risk loss. Love is never far. You are not alone. God is. You are forgiven. Practice resurrection.
Sometimes life is really hard. Sometimes it is less so. Circumstances are real. But what if, by faith in God and the people of God, circumstances (and the feelings that go with them) do not have the last word? That would be good news. I am going to choose to believe in that good news one day at a time.
See you on Sunday.
Love,
Carter
Sunday, August 11, 2024
Dear Friends,
This week I felt the pendulum swing on summer. For the first time since mid-Spring, I felt the sunset coming earlier. We are certainly not in autumn yet, but this week is the first week that I truly knew it is around the corner. These next few weeks are a liminal season – an in-between shoulder season that is bridging the end of the summer season with the new rhythms of Fall.
There is a deep spiritual resonance about liminal seasons. In fact, the great spiritual thinkers across time have honored these times as holy. It is a forced time for us to see the things that we are leaving behind and to notice the new things on the horizon. It sounds poetic and meaningful on the surface, but it also summons all the doubt and chaos lurking below the surface.
As we round the corner on a new school and program year, I hope you take the time to notice where you have been this summer, not just geographically, but spiritually. Where has your summer brought you consolation? Where has it challenged you? Where has grace met you in the moment? Where have you felt that God’s love is beyond time or season?
One of the blessings of the Talmadge Hill summer has been the voice of some talented guest preachers. This week we welcome Rev. Brigitta Remole. She is the former pastor of Wilton Congregational Church where she served for 11 years as its first senior woman pastor. In addition to WCC, she has served several churches in the Pacific Northwest in both Seattle and Portland. She has a degree in social work from NYU, a Divinity degree from Yale and a strong passion for ceramics. And, most importantly, she is the dear sister of Eric Remole. We look forward to having her preach on Sunday!
Love,
Cheryl
Sunday, August 4, 2024
Dear Friends,
I love the Olympics. The first Olympics that I recall was the 1976 Olympics where Nadia Comaneci, representing Romania, scored perfect 10s in the Gymnastics competitions. I not only witnessed athletic excellence watching her compete, but I learned about Romania, international politics and rivalries in a way that had me far more engaged than any third grade history lesson ever could. Seeing her as one of the final torch carriers in Paris last week brought a flood of memories back about why I loved the Olympics so much.
Most of the Olympic athletes compete at the highest level of international competition even when it is not an Olympic year, yet somehow the allure of a host city, an Olympic torch that travels from Mt. Olympus in Greece to the host city, and a gathering of athletes from 204 nations competing in a diverse array of 32 sports from swimming to archery allows the world to collectively experience the spirit of sport and competition on a whole other level.
What is this spirit of the Olympics? Does it relate to our spiritual life? I say it’s all spiritual! Witnessing the thrills of victory and the agony of defeat, cheering on athletes at the top levels of competition, and feeling both great joy at a hard won victory and deep compassion for athletes whose Olympic moment wasn’t what they had hoped for, bring out the deepest corners of the human spirit. Likewise, watching athletes using the best of their God-given potential and understanding the many ups and downs they endured to have their Olympic moment is what all of our spiritual journeys are about. Simone Biles, the great U.S. Gymnast, said that her Olympic competition has “taught me a lot about who I am…[and that] I always have more to give."
It is also fun to be a “fan”, especially when your Olympic fandom only has to last for a fortnight. Being a fan invokes a sense of awe and wonder and it triggers joy. When athletes perform something that seems totally inconceivable, we become vicariously a part of that amazing thing. This very notion is also central to faith. Our spiritual practice and Christian legacy is also full of inconceivable acts and stories from ancient history, yet we have the privilege of being part of these miraculous moments centuries later.
In a few weeks, our own Ali Truwit will be in Paris for the Paralympics. She continues to amaze all of us with her resilience and athleticism in the face of adversity. We are all fans and we look forward to cheering her on at the end of the month. Stay tuned for more details.
I hope you find some time this week to enjoy some of the Olympics and that you see the spiritual journey in it all. Even Snoop Dogg, the rapper turned NBC Olympic Commentator, noted that in the brief moment that he carried the Olympic torch he “was a symbol of peace for a moment in time.” That is something we can all aspire to whether we are carrying a flame from Mt. Olympus or simply allowing the inner flame of our spirit to shine peace for our families and friends.
Love, Cheryl
Sunday, July 28, 2024
Dear Friends,
Having returned from a full month in Africa, I have a number of images lodged in my brain.
— A young girl who won the 100 meter race for her 6th grade class. She had no running shoes. She ran across a field littered with rocks in her socked feet. Her victory smile was radiant.
— A young girl with a congenital heart condition. The condition was not diagnosed at her birth. In the United States, the problem would have been easily fixed. Now she will be lucky to live another 10 years.
— A mother who makes $3-4 per day washing clothes. Next to her one-room house is an open sewage ditch. When it rains, the house is flooded with sewage. She needs a retaining wall which she cannot afford.
— A jazz band from one of our schools in the Kibera Slum. A boy is playing the bass … another on saxophone … another on keyboards … and a girl on drums. They beam with pride.
What does it all mean? What is God teaching me in/through these encounters? Well, the lessons are endless. Perhaps at the end of the day for sentient beings, every encounter is fraught with lessons. There is simply so much to be taken in.
Here are a few conclusions. I am grateful for running shoes, and other shoes that protect my feet. I am grateful for doctors. I am grateful that sewage doesn’t run through my house when it rains. I am grateful for every child born into poverty who has the courage to smile. I am grateful for children who are in love with their musical instruments.
Some of the above images make me sad because I am acutely aware that my privilege is nothing more than an accident of birth. For a brief moment, my sadness gives way to gratitude; but then in a flash it returns to sadness. For it is my unsettled heart that beckons me to hand out shoes, build retaining walls, and set the stage for a world committed to serious transformation.
Be grateful. Be satisfied. Be sad. Be inspired.
Carter