On Sunday, December 2, 2012, over three hundred members of Old South Church in Boston gathered to wrestle together with questions that go to the core of our work: What is the heart of our mission? Where is our treasure? What does God demand of us?
Dear Old South Church,
Happy Thanksgiving, Old South Church!
Dear Old South, as you gather around tables on Thanksgiving—or, even if you find yourself alone—here is a prayer you might send up to the Author of the Universe, Master of the whirling planets, source of life and love.
A Prayer of Thanksgiving by Howard Thurman
In Your presence, O God, we make our Sacrament of Thanksgiving.
The time is fast upon us. The air is crisp; the leaves crunch under feet; the sun hangs low in the sky. Scarfs and gloves, in hiding since last winter, are found. Apples for pies are at the ready; a large squash awaits preparation. Cooks consult their recipes while fall flowers add vibrant color to the table.
Friends,
The events of the last week have been challenging ones for Old South. Although Boston was spared the worst effects of Hurricane Sandy, our building was damaged by high winds and our magnificent multi-colored roof lost some of its slate. Thankfully, no one was hurt, and the damage can be measured in mere dollars.
Christian Baptism is a big deal. At Old South Church in Boston baptism is an especially big deal. To old time members and first time faces we tout our historical relationship with these living waters. We remember that this church was born out of a commitment by courageous Colonists who sought to break down barriers to the waters of baptism. We revel in the baptism of Benjamin Franklin.
Three is a very fine number. It is the first odd prime number. We perceive white light in the three hues of red, green, and blue. Genetic information is encoded in DNA and RNA using a triplet codon system. The galaxy is comprised of three main morphological classifications: ellipticals, spirals and lenticulars. Anthropologist Georges Dumezil divides prehistoric Indo-European society into three classes: priests, warriors, and commoners. (I know my prehistoric class!) Old South is in its third century and ministering from our third building.
Old South Church is porous ... permeable to and with the world. Our Doors are opened wide. Our Sanctuary is free and open to the public seven days a week. Indeed, today’s sudden, drenching outbursts of rain swept umbrella-less pedestrians under the shelter of our Portico and into the Sanctuary. And then there is our Prayer Box. Like the Wailing Wall we provide a sacred crevice through which visitors are welcome to slip pieces of paper on which they have penned petitions, thanksgivings and confessions.
Below are a handful of prayers I took from the Prayer Box today.
Dear Old South Church,
Yesterday, 150 of Old Southers—an intergenerational assembly sporting a marvelous and mad assortment of headgear—departed Festival Worship and promenaded to the Women's Memorial on Commonwealth Avenue to pay tribute to Old South Church member Phillis Wheatley, on the occasion of her 259th birthday. Once arrived at the statues of Phillis Wheatley, Abigail Adams and Lucy Stone, we addressed Phillis, singing We Shall Overcome and Happy Birthday, delivered her mail and celebrated with cupcakes. Surely Old South has started a new tradition.
On Sunday evening we will do a bold and new thing: launch Evening Worship, our fourth weekly worship service. It is no small feat to design, staff, and launch a new service. It requires imagination, experimentation, adjustment, programming, ushers, musicians, refreshments, set up and break down, PR, recruitment and enough demographic information to make an educated guess as to whom we might attract and at what time. We've done the lion's share of our work of preparation. We are ready.