Dear Trinity,
This coming Monday is a holiday in the United States. While it’s not a liturgical holiday, as with many of our holidays, we carry it into our liturgies and orient many of our plans around it. It has been on my mind a lot this past week because it provides us an opportunity to pause and reflect on life, faith, and the gifts of this one precious life.
As a young child growing up in Northwest Lower Michigan, I remember driving a few hours north to the Straits of Mackinac with my parents for the annual Walk Across the Bridge. It began about 60 years ago as a small dedication ceremony and quickly became a tradition for tens of thousands of Michiganders. For my family, it was especially meaningful because my parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents all worked in labor trades. My parents were deeply involved in their local labor movement, and hard work was as natural as the air my brothers and I breathed. My maternal grandfather didn’t make it past elementary school, and my maternal grandmother barely made it out of middle school. They were farming families later replaced by factory and labor trades.
My family's stories and experiences shaped my understanding of the dignity of honest work, the strength found in community, and the importance of caring for what we have been given. These values, and our faith tradition as Episcopalians, remind me every day that our labor is not just about providing for ourselves, but about honoring God by respecting others' contributions and stewarding our gifts for the good of all.
I cherish the work ethic my family instilled in me; even though I ultimately chose a different kind of labor, that ethic has remained with me. It has helped me in more ways than I often realize, and it has sometimes also gotten in the way of older practices our faith ancestors have lifted.
One of those practices is etched into the creation story, called “the Sabbath.” One of the most fundamental principles of our faith is that labor is a part of life, but so is rest. When we fail to rest, or allow the people who labor on our behalf to rest, the world becomes out of balance. Priorities skew, dishealth becomes normative, and we bring those values into our church work instead of the other way around.
Honoring the Sabbath does not always require grand gestures or long lengths of time away; sometimes it means making space in our everyday lives for a “sacred pause” to wonder and ponder the awe of it all. It could look like turning off your phone for an hour to spend time in silence or prayer, taking a walk outside, sharing a meal with loved ones, or setting aside a few moments to breathe deeply and offer thanks for what you have. Maybe it means lighting a candle with your family before your meal, reading a favorite passage of scripture, or simply allowing yourself to rest from daily chores without guilt. However you observe it, giving yourself intentional time to rest is a way of remembering that our worth comes not just from what we produce, but from being the beloved of the God who created all of it.
During my first few months among you, I have had the privilege of meeting with several of you who have offered what I call “Holy No's to asks to serve on particular committees or teams. It’s actually a really great conversation for me as a priest to have, because I truly believe that a “No” is just as holy as a “yes.” People have lots of reasons they need to say no: timing, over-commitment, competing priorities, low trust in x, y, or z.
That space between the ask and the answer is a deeply holy and vulnerable space where, if invited in, the Holy One can whisper, or sometimes remind you of what you already know: that you are enough and this “thing” will not live or die because you are either on it or not. That’s what discernment is all about. Practices such as prayer, quiet reflection, and conversation with trusted friends or spiritual mentors can help you listen for God's voice as you make these decisions. I encourage you to take time with these practices, trusting that they can empower you to respond faithfully and with confidence.
But if all of us say “No,” Rev. Jodi, who will be left to say “Yes?” That is a great question, and my default is to trust that the same God who inspired those saints to plant this church over a hundred years ago is still breathing new life into our bones and preparing those who can say “Yes.”
So, as you rest from your labor this weekend and perhaps enjoy extended time with your family and friends, savoring these last moments of summer, my prayer for you is that you will reflect on what Trinity means to you and what you have to offer for the good of the whole. In particular, in the coming weeks and months, we will be seeking more folks to assist with various programs, ministries, and committees, as well as opportunities to participate in our outreach efforts to help alleviate food and housing insecurity and improve access to education.
As you pray and listen, I invite you to contemplate where you are being called to say “Yes,” whether in these areas or somewhere else where your gifts may be needed.
Let us pray.
Almighty God, you have so linked our lives one with another that all we do affects, for good or ill, all other lives: So guide us in the work we do, that we may do it not for self alone, but for the common good; and, as we seek a proper return for our own labor, make us mindful of the rightful aspirations of other workers, and arouse our concern for those who are out of work; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. Collect 25, Book of Common Prayer, page 261.
In peace,
Jodi+