Tag Archives: church-going

God’s Goodness Within

22 Nov 2025 By in Autobiographical, Religion Tags: , , , , 4 Comments
Interior view of All Saints' Cathedral in Milwaukee, showcasing wooden pews, arched ceilings, stained glass windows, and an organ in the loft.

In this stewardship talk I gave on November 2 at my church, All Saints’ Episcopal Cathedral in Milwaukee, I reflect on the meaning of church-going, a practice that has dwindled among Americans.

My name is Susan Barsy, and I appreciate this opportunity to reflect on the meaning of worshipping here at All Saints and to say why giving to the church is fundamental to our life of faith.  I’ve come up with a single phrase to describe the nature of my love-affair with All Saints, why I have made it my spiritual home, and that phrase is “God’s goodness within.”

This year, someone suggested that I try keeping a gratitude journal.  To be honest, it seemed kind of hokey, but, given that 2025 has been a wee bit demoralizing, I decided to give it a go.  The results were truly remarkable.  At first I struggled to recall the ephemeral gifts that came my way each day, but, once I got the hang of it, my stingy acknowledgements of life’s blessings widened into a flood.  The birds in the yard, my mother’s face when she looked at a tree turning color, a recipe that turned out when I needed it to: my thanks-giving grew encyclopedic.  It was colorful and ever-changing: goodness alive!

Plus, as a narrative, the contrast with my other journal couldn’t have been more startling.  My other journal (which I’m very proud of, by the way) is a well-written account of disappointment and perplexity, my shortcomings, and situations I’ll never understand!  Thank goodness for the gratitude-journal, with its snapshots of a benevolence pulsing through nature and human affairs.  I suppose my two journals are a complete statement of the human condition: one part keyed into goodness, the other part enmeshed in the bewilderment “out there.” 

As Christians we acknowledge God as the source of all goodness and blessings.  This church, which our forebears sacrificed to establish, is a holy sanctuary where God’s goodness dwells.  It may sound mystical, but I believe in the sanctity of this place, a consecrated space where we draw nearer to God and learn of God’s goodness anew.  When I’m in church, my consciousness of God and my place in creation is strengthened, through the readings, the thoughtful and affecting sermons, and the hymns we sing.  And, of course, your company uplifts me!   At All Saints, I can practice what I believe to be a true Christianity, for it is a place where every seeker can find refuge, renewal, absolution, and solace; where we become one body; and where we are all acknowledged as equal and precious in God’s eyes.

For “God’s goodness within” has a personal meaning, too.  God’s goodness is not just in this temple, but in each of us.  When one looks at the triptych that surmounts the high altar, one’s eyes are naturally drawn to the figure of the crucified Christ.  It’s easy to overlook the symbol of the Dove, the Holy Spirit, crowning the scene.  Each of us has gifts of the Spirit that are ours to cultivate and enjoy.  Worshipping here, learning from the sermons, and being inspired by the actions of this congregation, powerfully encourages me—even frees me—to respect the gifts I’ve been given and to take on the work it has been given me to do. 

To be honest, for decades I believed that goodness was a more or less automatic element in society.  Recently, I’ve grown concerned about where goodness comes from, because it suddenly seems to be in terribly short supply.  There’s nothing simple about goodness or Christianity.  The proper care of our souls is a lifelong endeavor, a ministry that is old and new every day.   At the moment, nothing is more urgent than nurturing the goodness inherent in God’s creation, in one another, and in ourselves.  There is a circular logic to my vision of the church, which, by sustaining, we realize God’s loving hope for all mankind.  

If you’re participating in this service, either here in church or remotely, you are already launched on your faith journey.  You’re already aware of the truth of what I say.  As Advent approaches and with it the start of the new liturgical year, it is customary to consider our role as All Saints’ stewards.  I hope that as you reflect on what you have to give to the church, you will see your offerings as foundational to our life of worship, and as a deeply rewarding means of growing God’s goodness in dark times.    Thank you.

I Am Bound

12 Sep 2022 By in The Inner Ocean Tags: , , , , 1 Comment

A bend in the Concord River

I realized only today that the word “religion” means being bound.  That’s startling, because I associate religion with boundlessness, with access to transcendent experience and possibilities.  Instead religion is a limit, a binding of oneself, mainly in a spirit of reverence, although in many cultures religion is a coercive belief system that one has little choice but to conform to.

Furthermore, there is a curious double meaning in the word religion, for “being bound” means “being tied,” whether literally or figuratively (as a slave is bound to a master). But “being bound” also means heading in a certain direction, advancing toward a specific destination (as in “bound for Rio” or “bound for the Olympics”).  Taken altogether, religion is a thing that both limits and orients and propels.

It’s noteworthy that reverence is the impulse central to religious practice and identity.  A reverential spirit leads us forward in exploring spiritual mysteries, but reverence also entails obeisance, an acknowledgement or conviction that there exists something greater and more enduring and ineffable than ourselves.  That conviction or faith corresponds to the evidence everywhere that reason can’t cover all cases: that in our souls and voices, and in the created world, we discern wonders and mysteries that no amount of intellection and tinkering can mimic or explain.  Thus, even a seeker after religion is religious already.

Organized religion is just one manifestation of religion, but it is important as a reservoir of value and thought, bringing together communities of believers and giving their instinctive faith and wonder a vocabulary and form.  As mass society eclipses older cultures built upon the rock of creative individuality, so too modernism is eclipsing many once-flourishing religious venues that existed for feeding spiritual fires and strengthening souls.  We may still be votaries, more likely to travel alone because our bonds are loose.