March 21, 2025

HTML Teresa's Note - March 21, 2025
͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌     ͏ ‌    ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­ ­

Dear friends and members of University UMC:


I returned yesterday from a quick trip to Baton Rouge with my husband, Paul. It was a spontaneous decision when we discovered some of our favorite musicians would be playing a concert there - the jazz fusion band The Yellowjackets and jazz vocalist Kurt Elling. They are all phenomenally gifted and the concert was electrifying. Music has always been a part of our world. Paul grew up with a father who was not only a United Methodist pastor but also played organ. My father was a band director and both my parents played in the Corpus Christi symphony. Knowing the powerful gift of music and being cheerleaders for young musicians, we were crushed to hear the news earlier this year that the executive order regarding Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion resulted in the cancellation of the U.S. Marine Band’s concert featuring young musicians of color. In preparation for the concert, young people across the country submitted audition tapes and were selected for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to play alongside the U.S. Marine Band. This collaboration would capture the very best of the human spirit, but it was canceled when the executive order ended DEI initiatives and the Marine Band members were instructed to stand down. 


I thought this story ended there. But there was more to the story. One evening recently my father texted my brother, my sister, and me letting us know that 60 Minutes covered this story. The concert happened–not as originally planned, but it still happened. The cost of the young musician’s travel arrangements was covered by the generosity of others. Retired U.S. Marine Band musicians also traveled to play with the gifted young people. Rodney Dorsey, a Florida State University music professor and conductor, had originally been asked to conduct the concert and he still conducted. My father shared how this story conjured up a wide range of intense feelings for him. Anger at the devastating effects of canceling Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion initiatives. Heartache for the young people caught up in this decision. And also, joy through tears to see people rising to meet this situation with healing and hope. If you haven’t already seen this story, I encourage you to do so. I share it in the spirit of offering some good news. The concert that would have been played in front of an audience of hundreds has now been seen by over a million people and is growing by the day.


Below you can find the link to this story and an inspiring quote by one of the young musicians, percussionist Rishab Jain. This Sunday in worship we continue the sermon series “Everything [in] Between” and we’ll look at the story from Luke’s Gospel of Mary and Martha. In the past, I’ve often asked, “Are you a Mary? Or are you a Martha?” But I’m learning there are better questions to ask. What if we are both? What if we can find peace living our lives in between? You’ll also find below a writing by Rev. Sarah Speed about Mary and Martha and here is a prayer at the start of your weekend:

A Prayer

from A Sanctified Art

Sabbath-taking God, there are days

when I rush around like the world

depends on me, days where I work

until my mind or hands turn to jello.

I know that’s not what you want for

me, but I hustle and bustle all the

same. Teach me again that I do not

have to earn my worth. Teach me

again that it is good to rest. Teach

me again that love is not conditional.

Teach me again. Amen.

What a joy to be your pastor!

Teresa

Advancing Racial Equity Through Collaboration

Musicians of color make up less than 21% of orchestral musicians. Equity Arc levels the playing field by developing new pathways that empower BIPOC instrumentalists to pursue their passions.

Wildfire

a poem by Sarah Speed

I can picture it—salty sweat, accumulating in her bangs. The scent of toasted sesame seeds, crushed oregano, sumac, and cumin. Flour on her hands, painting streaks of white in her hair when she ties it back. The sweet date she samples—the way it stretches and clings to the back of her teeth, leaving the taste of honey in her mouth. I can picture Martha in that kitchen, plating meals, eager to see their eyes close. Their heads

nod. To hear the swell of approval that rises from their lips. And I can picture her sister. Brows scrunched. Fingers fidgeting, wishing for a pen, for paper, for a way to write it down. I can see her mouth part like a fish in the air, questions forming and reforming on her curious lips. I can see her lean in, knees tucked, eyes bright. I can see her imagining the world he dreamed of.

And I can picture how, for generations, this story of two brazen women in scripture, a story of two women so close to Jesus, may have felt like an untamed wildfire. I can picture the way we put these women in boxes. I can imagine how people saw their full hearts, their untamed energy, and decided to label that as good and bad, better and worse. I can imagine how Martha’s questions were interpreted as nagging, or the interruption interpreted as needy.


I can picture how it happened, but what if it was all more beautiful than that? What if these sisters discovered a ministry of cooking? What if they discovered the faithfulness of learning, the kind of friendship that allows

you to ask questions, or something in between?

I can imagine it. Can you?

Sarah Speed is a founding creative partner of A Sanctified Art

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