The View from Bolton Street

When my new friend John Seeley invited me to church in October 1992, it was "sure, why not?" At Memorial, I was welcomed, fed (at coffee hour), invited to lunch the day after my first visit, and said "yes" to serving on the Stewardship Committee and to serving as one of the money counters after church.  

Like many other gay men of my generation, I had learned that the secret to professional success was to work harder than anyone else, to gladly accept a tenth of the credit due, and to have no visible social life. Memorial changed all that for me, and after 30 years, I remain very grateful for life's many riches that Memorial has given me, or "Fed me" if you will.

I am richer than I ever imagined from the love and friendships that I have been given by this community.  Sunday worshippers know me from the altar where I am frequently the verger, a chalicist, a reader, a crucifer, or an acolyte.  On Sunday nights, I am one of the three leaders in the Taizé service. Memorial paid staff know me as the one who handles payroll. Memorial pledgers and donors know me as the person who records donations, assists online donors to make Realm work for them, and provides reports as requested and year-end tax documents. The Vestry knows me as the Treasurer. And John and I will always be grateful to this community for the time when 200 Memorialites showed up at church on Sunday morning, the hottest day of the year, July 21, 2013, to witness and celebrate our wedding, less than two weeks after the law was changed (and we sent out no invitations!).

There are so many ways to give to Memorial. Volunteer service on Sunday morning, taking a walk with Anthony around West Baltimore, handing out Halloween candy on the church steps, and bringing a can of food for the basket on Sunday. Now is our Stewardship season and now is the time to think about how we can give, taking into consideration our available time and resources.

We value Memorial and want to help keep the lights on, the mechanical systems working, the roof patched, the staff and clergy salaries paid, and our outreach programs working. John and I will make a pledge to Memorial's 2023 Stewardship campaign so that we can continue to benefit from the riches offered by this community, because we know that we and the other members are the only ones who will provide that support.

The View from Bolton Street

When I was about seven, I begged my mom to let me go to Memorial on Sundays. My attendance for three years up until that point had been inconsistent, as I only attended on the Sundays when I was being watched by a family friend. I attended Sunday School alongside her son. I made friends there. The stories were presented to me in a way I understood. My mom agreed (In hindsight, I think she was just happy that I was interested in church at all), and the following Sunday began my adventure as an official member of the congregation. 

Twenty years after I first stepped through Memorial’s doors, I heard about the Youth Minister position. At first, I wasn’t going to apply. I was already working full time and doing an internship. Things were settling into a post-covid “normal” for the first time since my college graduation. I had only just started to become a part of the congregation again since I started college. And, most of all, I was terrified. I had babysat before and did plenty of events with kids when I was at Disney, but to help bring an entire program back after covid and learn to run it was a new venture entirely. One that, admittedly, I didn’t think I could handle.

So, what changed? I kept thinking about it. I thought about my time as a kid in the Youth Group. The trips we took, dinners with our leaders, learning to read music and sing today, and just generally being excited for Sunday mornings. The more I thought about being able to be the person who gave a new generation that sense of community, the more I knew I had to  go for it. So, I did, and here I am!

We’ve done good work since we started. From the events that we’ve put on, to swapping between in person and virtual, to getting Sunday School started up again. Watching the youth start to become more comfortable as things become more permanent and routine has been wonderful! I’m very proud of us, and I do mean us, because I certainly could not have done this alone. Memorial’s community has helped me with supplies, space, assistance and guidance as I continue to find my footing in all of this, and I thank you all so much for that.

There is still work to be done. There will always be work to be done. We owe it to the next generations to ensure that they have somewhere safe and encouraging to go whenever they need it, not just on Sunday mornings. But, that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t reflect on and celebrate everything that we’ve done up until this point.

Twenty-one years may have gone by since I first walked through the doors at Memorial, but it’s clear that this is still the same uplifting community that it was even then.

The View from Bolton Street

1 Peter 4:10

10 God has given each of you some special abilities; be sure to use them to help each other, passing on to others God’s many kinds of blessings.”

In April, Bill Roberts, our Senior Warden sent me a text asking if I had time for a brief chat. I replied, “of course” and I waited for Bill’s call. Well, you know, usually when the Senior Warden asks if you have time for a brief chat, that really means will you agree to join a committee. Guess what? That is exactly what happened. Bill asked if I would join the Sabbatical Planning Committee. 

Let me be upfront and tell you my process for deciding whether to join a committee or answer the call to serve at Memorial whether it’s Senior Warden (immediate past Senior Warden), Chalicist, or any other manner of service. I always first ask myself this question, “How can I get out of this?” Yes, you read correctly. I ask myself the question and I look for ways I will be able to say NO. Whether it’s saying I’m over-scheduled to accommodate weekly or monthly meetings, or I’m over-committed on several other parish committees, etc. The natural tendency is to lean away from this type of stewardship, the kind that involves our time and our full involvement. I’m no different than anyone else if we are honest with ourselves. There can be something scary about stewardship that is not financial. We can control our monetary contributions, but we are not sure what is fully involved in joining a committee. Well, invariably, I never find the answer I’m looking for, so I say yes to serve. I say yes to using my special abilities and talents to help the parish move forward.

This stewardship season, we are all called to say yes. Yes, to a text message from the Senior Warden asking if you can chat. Or yes, to Becky asking if you can help with the Altar Guild, or yes to participating in any number of Memorial ministries. While your financial pledge is vital to support the various programs and operation of the church, your intangible pledge of your time, abilities and talent are equally important for the well-being of our community of faith. So, take time to think about how you will respond “yes” when you get the call to serve.

“Stewardship is about being grateful, responsible stewards of the gifts we receive from God. The tradition of giving back to God and to the church comes from the Biblical practice of “tithing,” which means to give back a tenth of our earnings to God (Numbers 18:26). The Episcopal Church sees stewardship as more than simply contributing money to the church; it’s also about contributing time and talents and volunteering for ministry and mission. It’s about reaching out to build relationships from a perspective of abundance instead of scarcity.1”

1The Episcopal Church. (n.d.). What We Do – Stewardship. Retrieved October 10, 2022, from https://www.episcopalchurch.org/what-we-do/stewardship/.

The View from Bolton Street

$5.00, $1.8 billion, it’s just money.

In 2018, when Michael Bloomberg donated $1.8 billion to Johns Hopkins University, I

compiled for The Sun a list of his gifts to Hopkins.

The first was given a year after he graduated. It was for five dollars.

Now if anyone among you were to pledge $1.8 billion to Memorial Episcopal, we would be
happy to receive it. We would run to the bank with the check. But what you may not understand is that if you were to pledge five dollars, we would still be happy.

We would be happy because you’re making a pledge of financial support, in whatever amount,
would show that you see yourself as part of this community, that you share our values and

concerns, and that you want to be a part of our work going forward.

So when we invite you to consider making or renewing a pledge in support of our common work
here, we’re not trying to guilt you into contributing money. We want you to see yourself as one
of us, a partner and participant in all we do for ourselves as a congregation, and for the larger

community around us who are hungry for what we can offer them.

The View from Bolton Street

Tom Casey has worshiped at Memorial since the late 70s, when he joined the choir as a member of the tenor section and met his wife, Beth at the time, a member of the soprano section. They married at Memorial in 1981 and have been active and involved members of the congregation ever since. Tom, an architect, is a Senior Associate at Hord Coplan Macht and is Chair of Memorial’s Building and Grounds Committee. He writes this week with an update on the church’s construction project. He can be reached at tmcdcasey@aol.com

An Update from Your Buildings and Grounds Committee

Nearly three years ago, a former longtime Memorial member approached our Rector with an idea: if the former member launched us with a substantial donation, could we figure out a way to air condition our sanctuary so that Memorial’s good works could take place 52 weeks per year?

This unexpected and wonderful gift launched a capital campaign, Memorial Makes Room, which has raised funds to provide air conditioning for the sanctuary, replacement of the old cork floor in the sanctuary with a new one, enhanced sanctuary lighting, and replacement of the glass doors. You may have noticed that the lighting piece of Memorial Makes Room is already finished.

When we began the Memorial Makes Room campaign in early 2021, we were on track for a construction start date that fall. However, the project was paused in November 2021. Because of the difficulty in fitting 21 st century equipment in our one hundred sixty-year-old building, we have had to revise the proposed mechanical system to be used for the air conditioning in the sanctuary. Current construction market conditions with supply chain issues and labor shortages have also played a role. Patience in times of difficulty is something we have all had to exercise.

Our proposed new system has been submitted for a permit with Baltimore City. Recently, the City requested that the Engineer provide a form showing compliance with the International Green Construction Code. We are waiting for the Engineer to provide the form, once that is submitted we expect a quick turnaround on the permit which will allow us to proceed.

Once work begins, the mechanical and flooring parts of the project should take around eight weeks to finish with the doors following. If all goes well, the next update in the Wednesday e-news will be letting you know that the project is complete.

The View from Bolton Street

Steve Howard is a vestry member and has been a member of Memorial since 1995. He is a partner in True Chesapeake Oyster Co.  He and Monty live around the corner from the church, next door to Linden Park Apartments.

This past Sunday we read from Jeremiah 8: 

“My joy is gone, grief is upon me, my heart is sick. . . . The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved."

This coming Sunday, we read from Jeremiah 32: “For thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land.”

We have gone from despair to hope, in just one week. The people of Jerusalem have had their thinking turned on its head.

Some people despair about Baltimore City. The murders. The violence. The overdoses. And for five days we had to boil our tap water. But we at Memorial see hope. We see courageous people who persevere and overcome obstacles. And we gather every Sunday to remind ourselves of hope.  We gather to support and encourage the medical professionals who have been fighting a novel coronavirus for the past 32 months. We gather to support those who are educating the next generation.  We gather to support those in our congregation who do justice, day in and day out. A smile. A warm welcome. The cheerful willingness to handle a chore. All of these things offer hope to the beleaguered. And they allow us to participate, indirectly, in the marvelous works of others.

When I had been attending Memorial for just a few months, the rector asked me to join the stewardship committee. I was astonished and said, “Don’t you want someone who has been here longer? Who knows more people?” And he replied by saying that I was the right person, that the committee needed someone new, and besides, working with the group would be a great way to meet people. Who was I to argue? I had always thought of leadership positions as a reward for past service, and here was a church turning my thinking on its head.

I realized that Memorial was a place where new people could dive in, test their skills, demonstrate their skills, and build their capacity. There was no need to sit on the sidelines; Memorial was a place of doers. And a year later, I was also co-leading the Sunday morning Rite 13 youth group.  

When we feel beleaguered, is it perhaps because we have failed to allow others to participate in the work? What a great joy it is to say,  “WE have done . . .” instead of, “I have done . . . “.

During the sabbatical, we all need to step up and do the rector’s job. Those of us who have been around a while need to astonish the newcomers by asking them to participate in a new way. And newcomers, if they can accept the crazy invitation, or better yet, volunteer before being asked, they will have their lives changed for the better. I guarantee it.

Questions: When has someone turned your thinking on its head? Where in your current life do you need your thinking turned on its head? Who can help with that?

The View from Bolton Street

Stacy Wells currently serves as Memorial's Junior Warden (for the 2nd time around) and manages training development at the Federal Aviation Administration. She lives in Bolton Hill with her kids, Nate (15) and Mary Anne (13.5). You might see her being dragged around the neighborhood by her two pups - Beatrice (Bea) and Bennett (Benny). Her favorite role at Memorial is singing in the alto/best section of the Choir.

"Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly"

This statement is part of the Collect this coming Sunday’s service. Wow - what a neon sign that I need at this moment! 

Over my 20 years at Memorial, I have rotated between the roles of the lost sheep and the shepherd. (Thanks, Pastor Ken for your preaching this past week!) But I constantly feel called back to Memorial and to serve this community. Why? For me, Memorial is one of those heavenly “things”. It is a space where I find the thin spaces and holy moments. 

Homecoming Sunday started more like a moving sidewalk for me, than a holy moment. Grab potato salad and coleslaw for the potluck (no, it wasn’t homemade and that was weighing on me, but…); pick up the teenagers and drive the three of us the 3 blocks to church because it was pouring; choir warm-up; make notes for the welcome; check-in with a variety of folks on service logistics; give welcome; get to the back of church for Introit; try not to run into the alto in front of you while reading the hymn music (Justine, maybe we can sing the 1st two verses in unison? #askingforafriend); read the first reading (thank goodness there were no hard to pronounce places or names). All that to say, I was more focused on the logistics and to-do list than being present in the moment. 

... and then the choir’s Anthem - Keep Your Lamps Trimmed & Burning. It was at this point that the moving sidewalk came to a screeching halt and the world stood still. The music flowed and filled the space. It was a warm hug; a deep breath. 

For me, that was a heavenly moment. Sunday, it was the music that touched me. Other times, it is being able to connect with someone in an unexpected way. No matter what the situation, what I have learned over the years is that I need to recognize when I’m getting caught up in those earthly logistics or I’m going to miss those heavenly things. So, why not just sit back and keep watch for those heavenly moments? As with most things, it takes a village to run Memorial. And it takes a community to create those heavenly moments. I like to think Bill (our Senior Warden) and I, the Vestry, the Clergy, the staff, and the service volunteers are working to create a space where you can find your heavenly, holy moments. I hope we are serving you well.

Where have you experienced those heavenly moments? Be sure to remain present enough to recognize them when they occur.

The View from Bolton Street

Jesse Milan, Jr. JD is president & CEO of AIDS United, a national organization focused on ending the HIV epidemic in the United States. He and his husband, Bill Roberts, live in Ellicott City. They pass many other churches along the way to make Memorial their parish home. 

“So if you consider me a partner, welcome him as you would welcome me.” (Philemon 1:17)

Welcoming and breaking bread with the stranger is a theme Memorial is exploring this year. I’ve been asked as chair of our Worship Committee to write on that theme for this week’s e-news message to you.  This is my first epistle in this role, and I’m moved to do my best to emulate Paul, the author of this week’s Epistle to the church in Philemon (verses 1-21).  In his letter, Paul urged Thomas to welcome Onesimus, a man Paul mentored as a son and who would soon arrive as a stranger in Thomas’ territory by saying, “So if you consider me your partner, welcome him as you would welcome me.”  

I’m not Paul, but I do think of myself as a long-time partner with you in many ministries. I’ve served as your Senior Warden, as director and choreographer of our musicals, I’ve served in diocesan roles, and in my monthly reoccurring role as an usher.  These all started for me some 24 years ago when I was a stranger at Memorial. 

In my first visit to Memorial, I sat in an aisle seat. During the recessional hymn, the late Barbara Swain, a member of our choir gave to me as she marched by the most welcoming and radiant smile I had ever received from anyone in church.  She even winked at me.  I knew in my heart I was being welcomed to Memorial. 

I came back the next week.  And I’m still here. 

Some twenty years later, while walking on the street near my office in DC, I heard a voice call out my name.  Jesse!  It was Barbara’s son Ben, a life-long member of Memorial who I have known since he was about 10.  There among strangers on a DC street, Ben opened his arms and gave me a great big hug.  He is truly Barbara’s son, but he is a son of Memorial as well. 

Memorial is ready to smile or wink at, or open our arms to any and every stranger who might come through our door --- be they “joining us for the first time, or for the first time in a long time” (the welcoming line of our sojourning Rector who is off on month two of his three-month sabbatical). But the smiling or winking, and in the COVID pandemic our virtual or socially distant hugging do not and should not have to be done only by the Senior Warden, the usher, the priest or deacon, or by anyone with an assigned Sunday role. They can be done by you. 

At a service last month, I watched from my usher’s perch in the back of the church as a Memorial member stepped into an adjacent row to help a visitor find the correct hymnal to use.  My heart sang as I watched that stranger return that gesture with a smile of gratitude.  That welcoming gesture might be the first step towards that visitor/stranger coming back and joining our flock. 

This Sunday we celebrate our annual Homecoming service --- the traditional start of our new program year at Memorial. We named it Homecoming Sunday because we welcome back all who have been away for the summer, and all who might be returning from their sojourns to other places, other churches, or other Sunday pursuits. This year we welcome back also all returning to church from their pandemic routines.  

But this Sunday and every Sunday, we welcome especially to our parish home anyone who is new to Memorial’s doors.  

Who will be their welcomer?  It does not matter who.  My wish and my prayer are that the welcomer is you.  

Please welcome him, or her, or they as a partner as you would welcome me. They might arrive on any given Sunday. And when they do, I know from my own first weeks as a stranger at Memorial, that a smile or a wink might be all it takes to make someone new feel that Memorial can be their home. 

Amen.  

P.S.  I can still see Barbara’s smile. 

The View from Bolton Street

Remember those times as a child when your parents forced you to do good deeds for others? 

Growing up in the Berkshires in the 1960s, my grandparents lived next door to us. Mom was always volunteering us kids to get the paper and mail for Gramma and Grampa, to weed their garden, or carry in and unload their groceries. As they and we aged, the tasks grew more demanding, time-consuming and even gendered: the girls would wash the kitchen floor or dust the living room; the boys would cut the grass and whack the weeds. We weren’t allowed to complain. 

Paul’s letter to Philemon helps me understand why thinking back on these forced tasks makes me smile more than cringe. An important outgrowth of being forced to volunteer my time and talent to my elders was that those early morning tasks invariably morphed into something much more pleasant: a few hours learning to sew (Gramma) or whittle wood (Grampa); a chance to listen to stories, ask questions, and lean into the deep love that flowed so freely from them to us. This love that grew between our grandparents and my siblings and me was immense. To paraphrase Paul, helping and being with our grandparents refreshed our hearts, due to the joy and encouragement of our Gramma and Grampa’s love. 

It’s funny - when you volunteer, forced or not, you start out thinking you’ve got work to do. Before you know it, benefits you never expected come flowing back.

Memorial Church runs on this engine! 

Did you admire the flower arrangements on Sunday’s altar? A volunteer designed and arranged them. Want to help? Let Alice know!  Did you read the e-news reflections last week and the week before? Volunteers John and Kathleen wrote them! Would YOU like to write a weekly reflection before Grey returns from sabbatical? It’s easy: just volunteer! 

Memorial’s Sabbatical Committee is working hard to create a memorable Homecoming Sunday on September 11. Want to help ensure the day’s success? Welcome visitors at the door!  Offer to bring a side dish to share after church! Step up for a stint cooking hotdogs! Lend your grill to us!

In 1960s rural Massachusetts, my mom understood that time and attention offered by her kids to their elders helped sustain the health and grow the happiness of Gramma and Grampa as well as the big hearts of my siblings and me. 

So it is with Memorial Church in 2022 -  with just one full-time and a few part-time employees, we depend on our members’ generosity of time and talent to keep our focus on justice, and Jesus at the center of our community. 

As the program year begins soon, please consider refreshing your own heart by giving some of your time to Memorial Church. 

The View from Bolton Street

It’s for dinner

Over the past year, we have heard a great deal about the baking of bread, the processes, the craft to master, the therapeutic and meditative benefits of baking while isolated during the pandemic. We have been encouraged to think of it as a metaphor for the work we do in this parish. 

But the point of baking bread is not the satisfaction in mastering the technique or the therapeutic comfort of occupying oneself in isolation. The point of baking bread is to feed someone who is hungry. Bread is for a meal. 

We know that Jesus spent a great deal of time at the dinner table, and this Sunday, you will hear him advise in Luke’s Gospel on how to throw a dinner party: “Do not invite your friends or your brothers or you relatives or rich neighbors, in case they might invite you in return, and you would be repaid. But when you give a banquet invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed because they cannot repay you.”

Baking bread is to feed the hungry, and in this parish, we know who the hungry are the hungry for food, the hungry for housing, the hungry for education, and the hungry for justice. Just as we invite people to come to the altar to be fed at the Eucharist, the preview of the banquet to come, we are called to go out where the hungry are, to offer them what they crave, what they so badly need. 

On Homecoming Sunday, September 11, we will come together after more than two years of isolation, to greet, celebrate, and to be fed again. And to be reminded why we came here and what we are here for.

We do not bake those loaves just for ourselves.