God says, in Ezekiel, “I’ll breathe my life into you and you’ll live.”

It’s not hard to be discouraged at this time. Our days are filled with dire reports of sickness and death. Our futures are even more uncertain than they were at the beginning of this Lenten season. When I first wrote my thoughts on the “dry bones”, I mentioned political turmoil (that remains true); global warming (that continues); and disparity between rich and poor (that might narrow slightly when trillions of dollars are shared).

All these factors make us feel like dried out, scattered bones. Our times are definitely “out of joint”. Life is at “sixes and sevens”. We are disconnected physically with family and friends – like bones scattered around a desert of fear and uncertainty. The metaphor can also apply to our individual thoughts which are often strewn in a jumble of confusion and doubt. Having it “all together” is a desirable situation.

During the 1980s, I was certified by the state of New York as a family care-giver for mentally ill clients. One day I answered a call from a social worker who thought she was quizzing a client. After I answered her questions, she remarked “You seem to have it all together”. When I identified myself, she said “Oh, I should have realized that you were not one of our patients.” I didn’t know whether to be flattered or upset.

The point was that God had allowed me to “be together” (rather important for the task at hand), and I believe that God is guiding many folks today to “be together” in their willingness to reach out and help others – either electronically, or from a six-foot distance, or with precious hands-on work done in health care, food distribution, equipment production and all manner of services.

God is, indeed, breathing new life into us as individuals and as a society. We at Newbury Court have been extremely fortunate to have a dedicated staff who are attending to our needs while we strive to obey the “lockdown rules”. The important thing is that we remember that we are interconnected – that the dry bones can, indeed, be connected as the spiritual teaches. We can become “together” as individuals and as a society with the help of our God who breathes new life into us, and helps us truly live!

-Janet C. Johnson

[Editor’s Note: the following is a communication from Tiger Lee, a regional general manager of the Overseas Adventure Travel company, which is associated with Grand Circle Travel.]

 

“On January 23, 2020, I was supposed to be looking forward to celebrating the Spring Festival – the biggest holiday in China – with my family and friends. Instead, I was under lockdown in my Wuhan home with my wife, Mengxing, and 6-year-old son Haoqian. And that is where I remain today.

“Even though the lockdown continues, today I can tell you that the signs indicate we will not be here much longer. Our confirmed cases of coronavirus number in the single digits. The temporary hospitals are empty and the doctors and nurses are finally able to take breaks. The government sent 30,000 medical personnel to Wuhan to help treat the 50,000 cases in the city. So far, 35,000 of those patients have been discharged.

“Today, I have hope that by the end of the month, the cases will be down to zero, and the lockdown will come to an end. But on that day in January, Wuhan did not feel like a very hopeful place.

“My family and I had actually chosen to quarantine ourselves two days before the government officially announced the lockdown. We were about to leave Wuhan to visit my parents in Yichang City, but we couldn’t be sure we didn’t have the virus. We decided it was better to stay where we were. It was the right decision, as the millions of people who evacuated Wuhan to avoid the lockdown were responsible for spreading it.

“In the beginning, the government didn’t want to cause a panic. As we know now, it was a huge mistake. But my wife had a friend who worked in the hospital. She told my wife that something was happening. There weren’t enough beds for the people getting sick, and even the doctors and nurses were coming down with it. She told us to be very careful, and to take action.

“I’ve been in the travel business since 2002, and worked as a tour guide during the outbreak of SARS. For half a year, China had no visitors, and many people died. I didn’t know whether this virus was a rumor, but we decided it was better to be prepared. We bought masks before anyone else was wearing them. Wuhan is a city of roughly 14 million people, and very crowded. We wore masks in busy places and on public buses. We warned our families to avoid large gatherings and parties. It took a while to persuade them, but they listened.

“We did everything within our control: we wore masks when nobody else did, and avoided going to crowded places – like panic-buying at the supermarket with too many people. So my family didn’t suffer the tragedy that many others suffered. Today, my whole family is safe.

“Over the weeks since the lockdown began, we’ve developed a routine. I like to cook, and had no choice but to cook at home. Preparing our three meals became my responsibility. We had rice and flour to make bread and dumplings. People could still go out on the street in the very beginning to go to the supermarket, but we made the decision not to and made do with what we had in the pantry and refrigerator. It lasted two weeks. At that point, we weren’t allowed to leave our residential area, but I put on a mask twice a week to get food. Now, the government is delivering food to us, so the situation is much better. At first, we only had vegetables. Now, we’re excited to see fruit, too.

“Haoqian gets up every day and goes right into his own routine. I don’t even need to tell him what to do at this point. He studies online and does homework – the government runs classes online, free of charge. We’ve had to find some interesting ways to keep him active: I convert our dining room table into a ping-pong table, and move the furniture from the living room to play badminton and soccer. Sometimes he sits on the balcony and looks through the window, where he can see the playground with a seesaw and swing. I know that’s the place to go if I let him out, but we can’t.

“Soon, I hope we can go out and play there again – we are headed in the right direction. I’m thankful that the government took action, and I appreciate all they’ve done – but we could have done better, sooner. I hope other countries will pay attention from what we’ve learned. The first thing I do when I wake up is read the news and look at the numbers.

“As more and more Americans are heeding the warnings to stay in their homes as much as possible, my message to you all is that you can get through this – by focusing on the things you can control. If you do need to go out, avoid crowded places. Use sanitizer and wash your hands.

“Never get bored with your life under lockdown; find something new to do, or create something with what you have. People always say, ‘I wish I had more time to do something.’ I’m using the extra time during my lockdown days to learn a new language online.

“Obviously the situation in Wuhan was as extreme as it gets – and we are almost on the other side. Until we get there, I am thankful for the safety of my family, and the support of my friends and associates at O.A.T.

“Above all, the smiling faces from my family keep me in good spirits during these days. That is what’s truly important.”

Prayer: O Breath of Love: Where there is panic, let there be calm.
 Where there is leadership, let there be wisdom. Where there is healthcare, let there be fortitude. Where there is research, let there be breakthrough. Holy Spirit, breathe into our trembling and troubled souls the assurance of your presence so we may remain a people of faith, hope and love.
 Amen.

-submitted by Nancy Hammerton
[Prayer adapted from a prayer by Rene Wilbur, New England Conference Lay Leader]

Jesus – in his short time on earth – had a very interesting resume. He was a child scholar and church custodian (he did a pretty good job of cleaning out the money-changers from the temple, although I do wonder if he actually cleaned up the tables he turned over?). He healed the sick, raised the dead, and shouldered the sins of the world to make us all whole.

But much of what is written about Jesus in the gospels is about his time as a teacher … or some might say, a coach. It is clear to me that Jesus genuinely loved the time he spent coaching not just his disciples, but the ordinary folk whom he met along his journey. And he took a bunch of misfit peasants, fishermen, tax collectors, zealots and a thief – and turned them into an amazing team that helped him change the world.

One of the many wonderful things about being a dad has been my privilege to coach both of my kids’ sports teams. And although I gave up baseball to focus on running in high school, baseball has always been a passion – and I truly understand why it is called the “nation’s pastime.” Coaching is pretty easy when the kids are young: you focus on the basic skills, make practices fun, and stay resolutely fair with playing time.

But early on, you spend most of your time herding cats, and trying to keep kids focused and not kicking dirt in the infield or picking daisies and turning cartwheels in the outfield. As the skill level ramps up, it gets more fun, more competitive and you start to rely more on other dads (kind of the apostles of little league) helping out – and over the years it morphs into this remarkable community of folks with a common purpose and identity.

I am, by nature, an intensely competitive lummox – who likes to win as much as the next guy. While we made practices and games fun, we always worked hard to hold kids accountable, stressed teamwork and sportsmanship and let our players know that not everyone gets a trophy in life for just showing up. I judged the success of my season by how many of my players came out for baseball the next year. While I certainly made mistakes over my coaching career, and there are a few instances I wished I could have a rewind on, I would not trade a single season. And while I enjoyed the challenge of helping a solid player excel, I treasured the opportunity to help the weaker players improve while having fun, developing a love of the game and being part of – and more importantly, proud of their place on – the team.

Of all the soccer, basketball, baseball and softball teams I have coached over the years, to this day my proudest moment was watching one of my weaker players, David, make a catch of a routine fly ball in right field for the third out when our opponent was rallying – in a playoff game, to boot! The thrill of David’s accomplishment was palpable: the joy on his face, indescribable. Perhaps equally as heartwarming was the way all of his teammates mobbed him as he came off the field, sharing in his great moment. Later that game, he had what I think was his only hit of the season. Amazing what a little confidence can do! I am convinced that he couldn’t have been happier if he’d been drafted by the Red Sox.

I think this kid may have played one more season of baseball before moving on to other things. After that season was over, I received a letter from his mother thanking me for “the amazing change she saw in her son … his spirit, his desire, and his excitement.” Where, in previous years, “he was defeated before even stepping onto the field, this year he was happy to go to practices and came home happy too. You held him accountable and you were his biggest cheerleader … you woke him up.” I still smile when I think of that moment of triumph in that young man’s face and will forever cherish the letter from his mom.

Unlike the remarkable team of Jesus and the Apostles, none of the teams I coached changed the world. Heck, we never won a town championship and most teams I coached didn’t ever venture too far into the playoffs. Of the hundreds of kids I coached over the years, less than a handful are still playing high school ball (and those are undoubtedly just remarkable athletes who would clearly excel despite the season(s) they played for me). Unlike Jesus, I can’t turn water into wine (or better yet, beer!), or even turn a clumsy kid into an all-star shortstop who bats .350. But every season, on every team, there is always a David – just waiting to wake up.

-Brad Stayton

“But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:21-23)

 

“Lockdown”

 

Yes there is fear.

Yes there is isolation.

Yes there is panic buying.

Yes there is sickness.

Yes there is even death.

But,

They say that in Wuhan after so many years of noise

You can hear the birds again.

They say that after just a few weeks of quiet

The sky is no longer thick with fumes

But blue and grey and clear.

They say that in the streets of Assisi

People are singing to each other

  across the empty squares,

  keeping their windows open

  so that those who are alone

  may hear the sounds of family around them.

They say that a hotel in the West of Ireland

Is offering free meals and delivery to the housebound.

Today a young woman I know

  is busy spreading fliers with her number

  through the neighbourhood

So that the elders may have someone to call on.

Today Churches, Synagogues, Mosques and Temples

  are preparing to welcome

  and shelter the homeless, the sick, the weary

All over the world people are slowing down and reflecting

All over the world people are looking at their neighbours in a new way

All over the world people are waking up to a new reality

To how big we really are.

To how little control we really have.

To what really matters.

To Love.

So we pray and we remember that

Yes there is fear.

But there does not have to be hate.

Yes there is isolation.

But there does not have to be loneliness.

Yes there is panic buying.

But there does not have to be meanness.

Yes there is sickness.

But there does not have to be disease of the soul

Yes there is even death.

But there can always be a rebirth of love.

Wake to the choices you make as to how to live now.

Today, breathe.

Listen, behind the factory noises of your panic

The birds are singing again

The sky is clearing,

Spring is coming,

And we are always encompassed by Love.

Open the windows of your soul

And though you may not be able

  to touch across the empty square,

Sing

 

-Brother Richard Hendrick, a Capuchin Franciscan; shared online on Friday, March 13.

 

-submitted Anonymously

In the Gospel of John, after his resurrection, Jesus tells Peter “… when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.” That feels like the whole world’s experience this Lenten season.

Usually during Lent, we can each choose the Lenten fast that seems most appropriate. We choose what we will leave behind in order to spend more time with God. This year, we have all been taken to a fast that we did not wish to choose. We are fasting from church services together on Sunday mornings, from fellowship at Wednesday soup suppers, from hugs and handshakes, from shopping for pleasure and dinners with friends. We often choose to fast from things that are not important or event detrimental in large amounts, to curb our own addictions to social media, or chocolate, for example. But this year we are fasting of necessity from things that are good and beneficial, but that the coronavirus has made impossible.

Jesus told Peter that he would not have a choice in where he would be taken later in his life. Indeed, Christian tradition tells us that Peter was killed for his faith. But Peter could choose how he would meet his fate. Like Peter, we can’t choose to avoid our fast from social proximity. But we can choose what to do with the time and space that isolation provides. We can choose how we will meet the challenges of these days.

Alongside of the frustration, and sorrow, and depression, let us choose trust in God. Alongside the grief at missing concerts and sporting events and school functions, let us choose to encourage one another. Alongside the worry about what the future will bring, let us choose hope in God’s reign.

-Heather Josselyn Cranson

Jesus changes everything.

This was one of the major themes of the speaker, Curtis Zackery, at the youth’s winter retreat at Camp Berea in early March. His talk on Friday night was about Mark 2:1-12, where Jesus healed a paralytic after his friends lowered him through the roof. The paralytic’s friends knew that if they could just get their buddy to him, Jesus would change everything. It worked. Jesus proclaimed the man’s sins forgiven and healed his paralysis. Jesus changed everything.

One of the gospel passages in Lent tells of Jesus’ encounter with a Samaritan woman (John chapter 4). The woman was a local pariah, yet after her encounter with Jesus, she felt accepted and embraced by God. More than that, she went from being the shamed outcast to being the person who brought news to her village that the Messiah had arrived! Jesus changed everything.

Wouldn’t it be great if we had that kind of encounter with Jesus; a moment that we could point to definitively when everything changed? Both of these stories involve a transformation from broken to whole after meeting Jesus. For the paralytic, it was physical. For the Samaritan, it was emotional. In both cases, the change was almost instantaneous.

Those kind of miracles do happen. Jesus can change a life in an instant, but for most of us, the transformation is much more like that of Nicodemus, the Pharisee who went by night to meet Jesus in John chapter 3. He talked with Jesus, who told him that to enter the Kingdom of God is to be “born again” of the Spirit. To be born is to see and experience everything for the first time. To be “born again,” then, is to see and experience everything as if it were the first time, this time with the eyes of Christ.

Again, an encounter with Jesus changed everything, but for Nicodemus, it was not instantaneous. We meet Nicodemus two other times in John’s gospel. In chapter 7, Nicodemus very tepidly speaks up in defense of Jesus when other Pharisees push to have him arrested. Pointing out that the law does not judge people without giving them a hearing, Nicodemus gets rebuked by his peers who say to him, “Surely you are not also from Galilee, are you?” The implication is that the thing he said was ignorant; Galileans were the contemporary equivalent of so-called “rednecks” in the modern day. Duly shamed, Nicodemus gave no response. After Jesus’ death in chapter 19, however, Nicodemus and a disciple of Jesus went together to retrieve, wrap, and entomb Jesus’ body.

Nicodemus went from being Jesus’ opposition to being his disciple, but it took time, and it took courage. No doubt it also took a great deal of prayer, reflection, and fasting. This is why Lent is forty days, and it’s why Lent happens every year. Seeing the world with new eyes may take time and courage. It may also require a great deal of prayer, reflection, and fasting. Whether it is instantaneous or gradual, though, there is no doubt that an encounter with Jesus changes everything.

It is my prayer for you, for myself, and for the world that our intentional spiritual time in Lent would open our hearts to the Holy Spirit so that we might all have an encounter with Christ that changes how we see the world, how we see each other, and how we live our lives; an encounter that changes everything.

Keep the Faith.

-Zack Moser

Holy God,
    infinite and eternal,
    constant and patient
    everlasting, and the beginning and ending of all things …


This is a season of waiting …
    for the fast to end,

    for signs of spring to unfold,
    for palm branches and foot washings and worship at dawn.

This year, we are focused on different things – more things – in this season of waiting …

    for the time when distance and isolation will no longer be required,

    for the rescheduling of things that must be done in person,
    for life to return to normal,

        though we know we even trust – it will never be the same.


This year, we wait with a kind of desperation …
    for paychecks that may not come,
    for test results,
    for the cure.


This year, we wait for gifts of the soul we find ourselves in aching need of …
    forbearance,
    courage,
    hope.

In our waiting …
    You accompany us,

    You are with us,

    You are always with us.

Your Spirit calls down through the ages in the voice of your Beloved who beckons to us …
    to sit and wait while he prays,

    to stay awake and remain and pray with him,

    to wait and watch and wait some more.


And it is enough. It is enough …
    to be this vulnerable,

    to re-learn what it is to be church and love neighbor,

    to wait and watch and pray with Jesus

        for the morning.

What a morning it will be. Amen.

-Rev. Jill Colley Robinson, Vermont District Superintendent
(Scripture: Psalm 130:5-6)

If you see your fellow Israelite’s donkey or ox fallen on the road, do not ignore it.  Help the owner get it to its feet. (Deuteronomy 22:4)

 

One of my Mom’s expressions was “Watch what you ask for – you may get it!” Now and then I have been known to wish for some time at home. A day would be a vacation of sorts, I thought.

After several days at home because of the coronavirus pandemic, I have started coming to grips with confinement, and seeing it with new eyes. For many of us, though it seems long already, it will eventually stop, leaving us to try to remember how to start our cars.

But not all of us will be that fortunate, especially home bound folks. For them, this not the “new normal” it is for us. This is their “normal” – largely confined all the time, yet with the added stress of hoping their home aides will still arrive, still remain healthy.

Last Sunday afternoon, I decided to call some of our homebound folks to see how they’re coping with COVID-19. I wanted to let them know they’re not forgotten. Recently, I spent some time calling half a dozen folks in our congregation whom I thought would like a little diversion on a Sunday afternoon. I’m delighted I did! What a great afternoon I had! Every one of them was delighted I called, clearly longing for someone to chat with, and thanking me multiple times for getting in touch.

One lady reminded me that we first met when she substituted for my teacher daughter, as I stopped by the classroom to bring work home to Kristin. We talked about her life as a single mom and teacher, working hard to make a life for her children. Her daughter, sheltering at home in New Hampshire, has been trying to get food delivered to her – difficult, as markets have ceased delivery. Even a favorite nearby restaurant has stopped delivering. (If you know a Wayland restaurant that will deliver, please let me know. She’ll have food; her daughter will be relieved.)

Another person was glad of my “company” and in a 15 minute conversation, I got to know more about her interesting life than I had in several conversations at church.

One of our homebound members was struggling with some additional medical issues, so I also spent time talking with her caretaker, realizing caretakers are just as “homebound”.

And on it went — lonesome folks, grateful for a little relief to carry them on, in days to come.

So what did I learn on Sunday afternoon? Something I had not expected: as much as everyone was happy to have a call, I benefited as much as they did! Now, before whining about being in, I remember that eventually I’ll likely have my “wheels” back. It made me wonder if I could be as strong, as cheerful, and non-cranky as they were, patience not being my strong suit. But most of all, it made me HAPPY!

So I invite YOU to call someone you know who lives alone, who would just love to chat and feel remembered and valued. Listening to their fears and concerns, giving them something to laugh about: that’s a priceless gift — for both of you!

-Nancy Hammerton

Again Jesus began to teach by the lake. The crowd that gathered around him was so large that he got into a boat and sat in it out on the lake, while all the people were along the shore at the water’s edge. He taught them many things by parables, and in his teaching said: “Listen! A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow. But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root. Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants, so that they did not bear grain. Still other seed fell on good soil. It came up, grew and produced a crop, some multiplying thirty, some sixty, some a hundred times.” …
Then Jesus said to them, “Don’t you understand this parable? How then will you understand any parable? The farmer sows the word. Some people are like seed along the path, where the word is sown. As soon as they hear it, Satan comes and takes away the word that was sown in them. Others, like seed sown on rocky places, hear the word and at once receive it with joy. But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away. Still others, like seed sown among thorns, hear the word; but the worries of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth and the desires for other things come in and choke the word, making it unfruitful. Others, like seed sown on good soil, hear the word, accept it, and produce a crop—some thirty, some sixty, some a hundred times what was sown.”  (Mark 4:1-8, 13-20 (The Parable of the Sower))

 

Often when we seek to understand the parables spoken by Jesus, we focus on the easiest or the clearest interpretation. A closer look can often reveal other meanings relevant to our faith. The primary speaker at the Central Massachusetts District Resource Day last year, the Rev Dr Albert Mosley, the Chief Mission Integration Officer of the Methodist Hospital System in Memphis and formerly President of Gammon Theological Seminary, offered such an atypical interpretation of the Parable of the Sower. I will try to boil down his thoughtful and inspiring sermon into a short devotion faithful to his theme and relevant to God’s presence among us and God’s acceptance of all people.

You know the story: the farmer goes out to plant his fields. He spreads the seed by hand, doing his best to keep it on fertile ground. But inevitably, some of the seed falls on the path, where the birds eat it. Some falls on rocky and shallow soil, where the roots of the seedlings are too short to sustain the plants in the hot sun. Some falls among thorns that choke out the seedlings. But some of the seed falls on good ground, where it takes root, grows and produces a bountiful harvest.

Jesus interprets the parable to his disciples by comparing the seed to the word of God, the poor soil conditions to situations in the lives of people that prevent them from internalizing the word, and the good soil to people who hear and retain the word and reflect it in their lives. This obvious interpretation of the parable focuses on the seed and the soil: the word of God is most likely to flourish when heard by advantaged and righteous people with accepting minds.

But if we focus on the sower, we receive a different message. The sower casts his seeds on all soils with little regard to where they fall. Likewise, Jesus directed his ministry to people in all conditions who were willing to listen. God loves and accepts people in all situations, including the marginalized, the poor, the oppressed and the sinner. Even more importantly, God, the sower of grace, offers grace to people in all conditions, not just to the fortunate and righteous.

We are beneficiaries of a sower who is among us and who isn’t concerned where the seeds fall. How can we, and the church, be judgmental and exclusive when God extravagantly casts grace on everyone? We should be casting seeds of love, care and acceptance to all people, and especially to our brothers and sisters in Jesus Christ.

Prayer: Dear Lord, we thank you for your unconditional love. Help us to prepare ourselves to be fertile ground for your word. And may we not falter in the acceptance of all your children in whatever condition they may be found. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

-Richard Morris

Every day they continued to meet together in the temple courts. They broke bread in their homes and ate together with glad and sincere hearts,… (Acts 2:46)

 

Dear Friends,

As we enter a new Lenten season, I want to share with you two thoughts from two different people. I want to ask you to begin with reading Acts 2:46: “And day after day….” Encouraging sincerity of the heart, re-charging with simple meals and loved ones, fellowship, the Bible, and may I suggest adding classical music into your “bag of tools” to re-charge.

Two sentiments I want to share are copied and pasted from two amigos. The first expressed that “I had a dream that my Mom came to wake me to say… ‘This has all been a Dream.’” Can you ponder and absorb that sentence? I found it simple and yet profound. The visual of a loving mother waking a young child peacefully from slumber. This thought is soothing to the author as life is very difficult for him. One can relate to that wishful dream if one has empathy for the author in regards to that this life is not what God intended.

The second, copied from Steven Osborne: “What does music mean?” Steven Osborne, an intermediary for me with expressing how profound classical music can be in one’s life. The post on his website states: “Last year I gave a lecture at St. Magnus Festival called ‘What does Music Mean?’, an attempt to explore the mysterious and wonderful phenomenon of that shared silence which can build up in successful concerts.”

I humbly ask you to contemplate both sentiments from two different people with Acts 2:46 as your lens. My hope is to provide an up-building and refreshing moment for you during Lent.

Sincerely,
-Meg Fotakis

Lent was never part of my religious observance. I worshiped with my family in a nondenominational, Baptist-leaning church where we looked forward in February and March to Spring with the beginning of new life and the celebration of Easter.

I have, however, been reading about the significance of Lent as the 40 days set aside for prayerful reflection, fasting, confession of sin and growing into a closer relationship with God in preparation for Easter. It has been compared to the 40 years of the Jewish people wandering in the wilderness preparing to enter the promised land and of Jesus spending 40 days in the wilderness being tempted by Satan and preparing for his ministry.

At the end of “40” comes blessing and the fulfillment of God’s plan. The Jewish people entered the “land of promise” and Jesus completed his work of salvation for us through his death and resurrection.

In this life, I believe that God allows for periods of time when it feels very much like being in the wilderness with little direction and little sense of God’s purpose in our lives. It’s these times as well as at Lent that bring us closer to God and stronger in our walk with Jesus. For me, it has been the past year and a half when I have dealt with major surgery, periods of slow recovery, downsizing of my job, and having to find meaning in life as I approach retirement. It has not been easy, but I believe that Jesus has always been with me and provides hope in this life and in the next.

Ultimately, Lent culminates in Easter. Jesus comes alive and provides new life for us now and in the future.

Though not considered an Easter hymn specifically, one of my favorites is “I Know That My Redeemer Liveth”. The words are as follows:

 

I know that my Redeemer liveth,
And on the earth again shall stand;
I know eternal life He giveth,
That grace and power are in His hand.

I know His promise never faileth,
The word He speaks, it cannot die;
Tho’ cruel death my flesh assaileth,
Yet I shall see Him by and by.

I know my mansion He prepareth,
That where He is there I may be;
Oh, wondrous thought, for me He careth,
And He at last will come for me.

REFRAIN:
I know, I know that Jesus liveth,
And on the earth again shall stand;
I know, I know that life He giveth,
That grace and power are in His hand.

 

-Jackie Kessler

Many of you are aware that my daughter, Cecelia, is a senior in High School, currently knee-deep in the college application process and days away from celebrating her eighteenth birthday. It has been decades since I was in her position, and the teen world today feels light years away from my reality at her age.

As she has contemplated her future over the past two years, we’ve had many conversations about what is to come, and I’ve had the pleasure of watching her navigate the unwritten rules of how to position herself to launch into adulthood. I have watched her mature during this long period of waiting… waiting… waiting. I have watched her learn the direction in which she will point her sails next year.

Make no mistake; being seventeen and wondering about one’s destiny is not to be equated in any way with the actual trials Jesus faced during the events we remember in Lent. Even a whiff of a suggestion of this feels heretical to me. Cecelia and I have reminded ourselves that the chapters she writes over these next several months are not capitalized or underlined in her autobiography. Her greater timeline is not about her, but about her place in helping others in the world, and she is well aware of the many advantages she has, through accident of birth, which makes the waiting a minor issue, and which highlights privilege – sometimes uncomfortably – in this country and in the world.

It has been a few weeks since I wrote the first draft of this Lenten blog entry. I like to “age” my writing, reading it later, with the hope that another look later on will be worth two “looks” right away. This particular time away from the draft was a time of profound and serious “firsts” in our country, punctuated by waiting that is infinitely more dire than waiting for a virtual “fat” envelope to arrive.

Since I first wrote this blog, I have waited five days in a room, separated from my family, until a person connected to my school community was able to be tested and confirmed negative for COVID-19. Our family has waited with the rest of the world for news from around the globe detailing the lives and livelihoods of its citizens. We have waited to find out which activities will be canceled, waited to find out when our schools will be closed, and waited and wondered about our lives in the near future. I still wait for the time when I can collect all of my third graders under one roof again and see my extended family face-to-face. Our disappointments, however, seem trivial in the face of the hospital scenes described on the news. We continue to wait in suspended animation, holding our collective breath.

For all of these reasons, I have come to view Lent differently this year. I think about Jesus, who knew His fate, and I wonder what he thought about during His time of waiting between Palm Sunday and Easter. Think about Mary, at Jesus’ feet as he was crucified, and I wonder how she made sense of her place in the terrible events unfolding before her. I think of the Disciples, falling asleep in the Garden as they waited. There is so much waiting in Lent. Holy waiting. Painful waiting. Waiting that this year is highlighted for me.

The Good News of Easter is a reminder to everyone who waits in this life that we are not alone as we wait. While waiting for medical test results, God is there. While waiting for physical or emotional healing, God is there. While waiting for the next footfall in life’s journey, God is there. Even if we cannot hear His footsteps, if we drown them out with our own preoccupied din, or if we look for – but cannot find – His footprints, God is with us.

Sometimes we may want to wait alone and we do not want to discuss with others where we are about to go in our lives, or from what precipice we strive not to fall. While we are allowed to have that privacy, let us not also push away God, who will sustain us all of our lives.

-Kristin Murphy

I have two coffee mugs that were given to me thirty-nine years ago next month. On April 1, 1981, a Wednesday, I gave birth to a son, just 23 weeks into what had been a tricky pregnancy. He lived for only four hours and I was inconsolable. Two girls from our church’s middle school group, Missy and Sara, came to visit a few days later with these mugs. They sat and cried with me, and for a few moments it seemed like I might be able to crawl out the black hole I was living in, but after the girls left I fell back into it. Easter was less than three weeks away, (April 19th that year!) but my mood was definitely more like Good Friday.

While I was in the hospital hoping and praying for the miracle of hanging on to my pregnancy long enough for our baby to have a chance at survival, Joel brought me a notebook and a Bible. I spent my days filling that notebook with summaries and reflections on children born to – and given up by – mothers. Sarah, Hagar, Hannah, Moses’ mother, Mary, and others were my sisters, and I cried with them as Missy and Sara cried with me.

Finally, as Good Friday approached, I realized that God was crying with me as well. God knew better than anyone the pain of giving up a child, not just once but twice. First, when he sent Jesus from his heavenly home to be born of a human mother, and then again as he died in agony on a cross, God voluntarily took on that sorrow. But the story doesn’t end there. Good Friday comes and goes, and Easter takes its place. God and Jesus are reunited. Finally, I felt comfort in the knowledge that someday I will be reunited with my baby, too, as will my Bible sisters be reunited with theirs. How this will happen is a mystery. With Ezekiel, when God asked him, “Can these bones live?,” we say, “You know, oh Lord!”

I keep those two coffee mugs tucked away in my kitchen. Missy and Sara will never know how they have become a reminder for me of the comfort they brought me that day, and of the resurrection hope they bring to me whenever I see them.

-Wendy Guillemette

[Editor’s Note: Hi everyone … Rob, your humble Lenten Devotions blog editor here … with, not a pause in the Lenten Devotions, but a slightly different approach to them. Last year and this year, my resolve was to let the writing speak for itself, and not to jump in with “Editor’s Notes” or similar, every time I thought it would help, or explain things, or whatever. And, sure enough, the writing has more than spoken for itself.

[But a lot of the things which you have read, and which you will read between here and Easter Sunday morning, will have been written in a time before COVID-19.

[Now, here, in eastern/central Massachusetts at least, let’s just say there’s quite a different focus than there was in the week or so leading up to Ash Wednesday.

[Or is there? Lent is a time of introspection, among other things; aphoristically we try to decide what to give up for Lent (even as we may be going about that process for reasons that have deviated somewhat from what may have been intended originally!) … and boy, have we given up a lot this Lent, and have we ever been forced to consider differences in our lives and changes we have to make right now, for public and personal health reasons.

[So … are the readings out of date? Or are some of them more relevant now? Are the readings mere nostalgia? Or are some of them reminders that, COVID-19 or not, some things still apply, thanks very much? You can be the judge. I’ve had feedback that suggests that people have gotten a lot out of this series, this year and last; and I humbly appreciate the feedback – and I trust that people will continue to do so. There are a lot of remarkable writings waiting in the wings, scheduled for the appropriate days.

[There are, in fact, still days which are waiting for their writers … so if you feel so inclined … and if (this is not meant to be a toss-off joke OR an insensitive remark) you have more spare moments than you did a month ago! … and you feel so moved, by all means jot some thoughts down and send them my way, and we’ll turn you into a published author yet! Many of the most effective and affecting “LentBlog” writing has been done by people who don’t list WRITER as their occupation on their income tax forms. Just about all of us, in fact.

[So here’s a piece, which you can read by clicking or tapping on the hyperlink below, which wasn’t written for this Lenten Devotions collection but may just be the thing, for this moment, a moment in which several large regions of the United States have been “locked down”, a moment in which we’re all trying to figure out what next?, and a moment in which many of us are beginning to wonder if any good can come of all this.*

[It’s written by a good friend of mine for her own blog. She’s a professor of music at the University of Delaware (some of you will have heard me speak of her in various contexts). We were drum majors together at UMass a few years ago, during which time, at one point, she looked at me and said, “I’m not really a practicing Jew. I’m a rehearsing Jew.” So, while she’s not of this specific denomination, she very often says and writes things that transcend such distinctions and demarcations.

[This blog post of hers does feature one teeny-tiny word that the FCC would flag; but if you can see past that (or even if you can’t), I think you may appreciate her thoughts in this moment.

[Here’s the link: https://sarvblog.wordpress.com/2020/03/17/benefits-of-our-worldwide-time-out/

[Again, thanks for reading; thanks for considering contributing to our writings; and as best you can, please stay healthy and in touch.]

-Rob H.

_________
[*Well, one other thing you can do is watch Sudbury UMC’s pre-recorded worship service, beginning tomorrow. As our staff reported in its recent eMail message, “you will be able to watch it on Sudbury TV on Comcast channel 8 or Verizon channel 31. You can also log in to their website at https://www.sudburytv.org to view it at your convenience through their ‘Video on Demand’ option. A listing of program schedules can be found on the website.” This particular week, Pastor Joel speaks to the question of whether any good can come of all this…]

Reading: 1 Samuel 16:6-13 – Do Not Look on His Appearance

Prayer of Confession: “Gracious God, we confess to profiling one another. … When Samuel sized up Jesse’s sons by their appearance you reminded him that ‘God looks on the heart.’ Though David’s heart was imperfect, you saw that he was capable of both righteousness and wrong. Do we trust in the capacity of all people to glorify you? Or do we approach each other assuming or suspecting harm? Forgive us, O God. Heal our reliance on superficial impressions by giving us your grace; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.”

Question: Have you ever realized your first impressions of a person were wrong?

 

“You never get a second chance to make a first impression.”

The statement is rarely untrue. It has happened to me a couple of times: a couple of my summer band clinic teaching colleagues struck me slightly the wrong way at first, but in the intervening years of working alongside them, I have grasped why they struck me that way; and they’ve come to be among my favorite people in that role.

There was one teaching instance in which I desperately wanted to be on the positive end of that phrase, as I related to a bunch of new students … and I experienced a harrowing moment of first-impressionism from them that had nothing to do with their personalities or abilities, and it made me Very Very Nervous, and more than a little upset with myself. Not so much because of how I’d behaved, but instead because of what I thought I might have been revealed to be, deeper down.

In this case, it wasn’t necessarily that my first impressions of a person or persons were wrong; that’s not the right word… oh, how do I explain this, other than diving right in? By diving right in:

I’m a middle-aged white guy. I grew up in a town that was a bit diverse, but not very. I did attend a university whose student body looked like the United Nations if you walked past the graduate research building, but which often looked a lot more white than not. And the towns in which I taught (and currently do my church-music-making) were and are, well, not wildly diverse.

In the late 1990s, I worked as one of the instructors for a summer band program for Boston high school students, sponsored by the Boston Police Department, which met at Madison Park High School in Roxbury. The Crosstown Band consisted of about thirty high school kids from the city: two were white, one was Asian, two were Latinx, and the rest were African-American. It was the first time I’d gotten to spend extended time as (nearly) the only white guy in the room.

At the time, I mused, hmm… this must be what it’s like to be a minority. Because mathematically, I was.

And when the three white guys who were the instructional staff chanced to venture across the street from Madison Park, to grab a bite to eat … it was really obvious: we were in the minority, all right. We certainly didn’t have to imagine that people were taking a good hard look at us.

But still: Greg and Dave and I were in the minority, but we weren’t Minorities. Let’s just say that we didn’t get the same kind of good hard look as a lot of people of color get, when they pop into the supermarket in a predominantly-white part of the world. No indeed.

And at the time, I simply didn’t get it.

Now, one of the things about me, which I would like one day to wake up and discover is much better now, is my ability to quickly connect names and faces. Or lack of ability. I’m great at remembering faces; but attaching names to them very often requires more than just “hi, I’m so-and-so”, one time. I have a couple of colleagues who possess a supernatural level of ability in this area; not me.

So, in the first few days of my Crosstown Band experience, whenever the kids were holding their instruments, I was in pretty good shape: “oh yes, that’s Andre the trombone; that’s Maria the trumpet.” But at lunch? No instruments… no clue.

Bad enough that on day three I was still struggling. Far worse, I felt, after a cheerful start on Monday, that as I drove home Wednesday afternoon, all I could think of was … without their instruments, I was having a devil of a time telling some of them apart.

“They all look alike to me” …

That’s the poisonous phrase that historically has been invoked by white persons who have looked over (metaphorically or actually) at African-American persons, and implied that there was no point in thinking of them as individuals; that they weren’t worthy of the time and attention that one would devote to a full individual human.

Oh heck no!

I recoiled from this realization. Partly because as it happened, every one of those band kids (as is typical of band kids) was absolutely an individual – with a personality as big as the room they were playing in. I liked them all a ton, from the get-go. And yet early on … some of the ones that, um, didn’t have the same color skin as I had … remained an identification mystery to me.

But mostly, I recoiled from that realization because, as Jeff Lance wrote about earlier this week in this space … after having believed I was the 1990s version of “woke” … I suddenly felt like wasn’t as actively anti-racist as I wanted to be.

Now, to be clear, by Friday afternoon, I was up to speed, and certainly so was the Band (kids could play a little bit!). But that had been a very uncomfortable Wednesday afternoon and evening for a fellow who had grown up in a pretty white part of the world, but who had dutifully sung the (now-uncomfortable) Sunday School lyric “Red and yellow, black and white / They are precious in His sight” as a little kid. Who had grown up certain (thanks to his Sunday School teachers, and lots of other role models) that the lyric was true.

And had had that certainty suddenly and uncomfortably challenged. By his own facial-recognition software’s shortcomings.

I’ve had twenty years to calm down from the experience. I’m not quite calmed down yet; and it may be just as productive to keep hold of that memory and not be entirely calm about it yet.

As John Wesley mused, we’re “going on to perfection.” I’m not there yet. But I aspire.

-Rob Hammerton

“From one ancestor he made all nations to inhabit the whole earth, and he allotted the times of their existence and the boundaries of the places where they would live, so that they would search for God and perhaps grope for him and find him — though indeed he is not far from each one of us.” (Acts 17:26-27)

Prayer of Confession: Dear Lord, thank you for all the things you have accomplished using us to create a special holy place that we call the Sudbury United Methodist Church.

 

The Bible is both a book of faith and a book of history. Our congregation is made up of people of faith with history. Many of us have a lot more history than others! As we are using our time in Lent to grow closer to our Lord by reading the Bible, it would be advantageous to also read of how our church became a holy place in Sudbury.

You can read or download and read, the history of SUMC by visiting Sudbury UMC History online or obtain one of a limited number of copies from the church office.

-Lyn MacLean

“But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him, for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart’.” (1 Samuel 16:6-13)

These words were spoken 2,500 years ago. But yet to this very day, the vast majority of us still have an inclination to treat those who look “different” from us as inferior. And leaders establish policies that hinder the powerless.

As Methodists, we are taught to love all God’s children. But do you treat all equally? Do you still have “negative” first impressions of those that look different?

Our Social Justice Commission has been reading the book, How to Be An Anti-Racist. One key takeaway that anyone who reads to book has is that it’s not good enough or acceptable to just claim you are not a racist, and therefore not part of the problem. To make real progress (more efficiently than what has been done in the last 2,500 years) we must be “anti-racists”. As God’s servants, we must be pro-active in calling out those who are racist. We need to work against policies that are unfair to the poor, the powerless, those who may “look different” or live in a certain section of town. We at SUMC have the opportunity to have our voices heard. We are stronger together than we are individually. Through our Outreach and Social Justice programs we CAN make a difference. Through letter writing efforts to our leaders in government and through financial and volunteer support to key organizations, we can make a positive impact. On a smaller scale but equally as important, calling out those who make hateful remarks on social media, or unfollowing them so as not to help spread their hurtful messages.

During this time of Lent, let us open our hearts and minds, and reflect how we can be a better person in the eyes of God. One that does not look at a person’s outward appearance, but at one’s heart and what they are capable of.

Peace and love,
-Jeff Lance

Inward reflection
Fasting also means praying
The Lenten Season

-Zack Moser

[Editor’s note: this piece was originally published on Saturday, on the author’s blog. It’s been edited to account for SUMC’s understanding of its own programs and people, i.e. we don’t need quite so much exposition.]

Well, I think I know how TV talking heads feel, now.

Ya know – the evening news comes on, the camera swoops in (never used to swoop in, when I was a kid, but whatever), and there are two news anchors, tailored suit, primary-color dress, well-coiffed, serious but inviting.

“Good evening everyone.”

That’s what they say first. And what is being said inside their heads (probably… I assume… come to think of it, I do have a former student whom I could ask about this) is: “everyone whom we presume and pray are out there, watching their televisions… watching our specific program… we hope…”

But they look into the camera in such a way that we are convinced that they’re looking at us, talking to us, and knowing that we’re listening.

It’s a skill.

Fortunately, this past Friday night, that skill was not required of me, so much as it was asked of the gentleman running the session.

You’re aware, perhaps, that all over the country, indeed all over the world, precautions are being taken to try to slow down the spread of a virus. (“Oh,” says my dear reader, “I am aware and then some, to the point that I am a walking talking definition of the word paranoia, but prithee continue as if you need to explain.”)

So, large-group gatherings are postponed, canceled, not spoken of in polite society. For heaven’s sake, they cancelled March Madness. That’s how big this is.

You may also be aware, that my work (as an SUMC staff member) kinda involves crowds.

As a church musician, every Thursday evening, I get together with our church choir. Over the course of my nearly two decades in that job, the choir has been ten, twenty, thirty strong. And our choir room is just not that big. We sing, so we breathe on each other.

And every Sunday, even during the summer when the choir is officially given a couple of months to take a breath, I interact with a couple hundred people or more. Morning service, hello howdy handshake hug; coffee hour afterward, hello howdy handshake hug. In retrospect, when I consider how many other non-COVID-19 contagions are out there, not to mention germy door handles, it’s remarkable that I haven’t gotten sick more often.

But now, all around us, school districts are closing (they also deal with crowds, and not always with crowds of people who are well-practiced in conscious hygiene). And since the schools in the town where I do my church-gigging have closed down for two solid weeks at least … we have been advised to do the same.

For me, this is a first. Growing up in this church, I recall the senior pastor being housed in the parsonage located right next to the church building – so even if the snow is falling at seven inches an hour, he or she could make it to church, so there would be an opportunity for worshippers to worship. Even though Pastor Joel lives in the Drum Lane parsonage, on snowy Sundays, he gets there. On a couple of specific recent very-snowy Sundays, we’ve held services that featured congregations small enough to fit into the chancel – please don’t sit on the organ or the altar, but other than that, welcome in! – but as the Bible says: where two or three are gathered…

So now they’re telling us it’s a bad idea for two or three or several dozen to gather.

What to do?

Well, clearly, don’t hold services for several dozen people on Sunday morning, at least for the next few weeks.

No services.

So there are those of us who will definitely will miss it. And not just those of us on the payroll. No indeed.

Every Sunday, our choir sings and belly-laughs in equal measure. Every Sunday, go away from the sermon having learned something, genuinely. Every Sunday, I look forward to seeing friends, checking in, commiserating, celebrating.

And: we have a congregation that mirrors the current trends – all ages, but a great many older members. Who, we are told, are particularly at risk for severe illness and death as a result of contracting COVID-19. So, best not to expose them to the risk of exposure.

But, for them as much as anyone and arguably more, the church community represents a great majority of their connection to other people, their social interaction, their feelings of utility (through our Christian-education programs and community outreach and all the rest of our activities). So if we shut down our church’s activities entirely, and they’re encouraged to stay in their homes … and if they’re not necessarily comfortable with (or conversant in) social media and other forms of electronic communication that would otherwise help keep them connected and such …

Important, then, to maintain some connection.

So, this project emerged: after numerous conversations of past years in which the opportunities and challenges of broadcasting our services out into the world via cable-access TV or the Internet or whatever mass-media option may one day exist but doesn’t yet … Nature has forced our hand, at least in the short term. So, we’re doing that. This week, next week, and the week after, we’ll have a pre-recorded Sunday worship service available on-demand. Thanks to our town’s cable-access TV organization, we’re doing this thing.

This past Friday night, about a half-dozen of us, including Pastor Joel, Kevin, and me, gathered in our Sanctuary to pre-record the first of these services.

It was weird, but good. Or it was good, but weird. Both, really.

It was weird to be conducting a Sunday-morning worship service without a congregation. There is a certain energy, obviously, that was missing here. In a similar way to holding basketball games without spectators, or a presidential-candidate debate without a studio audience. There’s a give-and-take, audible and not, in our usual gatherings that was missing on Friday night. We expected that going in.

Pastor Joel makes a funny in the middle of the sermon, and no laugh. Musicians sing a little “We’ll Understand It Better By and By”, and at the end, not even an “mmmm” from the absent congregation. (We don’t require applause; we don’t require any particular reaction at all, really, but it’s still odd.) Liturgist says “let us pray”, and the seven people in the room read the printed prayer together, but it’s not the same as when two hundred people read it in a Collective Voice.

But, as I noted at the beginning of all this, this is how it is when Rachel Maddow or Bob Costas or name-your-talking-head sit in a television studio somewhere and say what they have to say. Apart from an unseen off-camera production assistant chuckling at a funny turn of phrase, there’s no one there to react. The only sounding board in the room is a literal one: the back wall.

They have to assume that there’s someone out there, in another place, who is reacting and, to whatever extent, interacting with them. It’s not easy; but it’s their training … or at least they’ve made their peace with it. They do their thing, and, I assume, they don’t think consciously about the people they’re addressing.

So, I didn’t expect to feel quite the way I did, as I sat at the piano, or toted my bass guitar, or helped speak the congregational responses into my microphone.

My imagination went to work. As I sang, or played, or spoke, I found myself (or I found a tenth of the back of my mind) keeping the potential audience in mind. No – I was keeping the potential congregation in mind.

And not in the way that a televangelist probably does. Your average mass-media preacher accepts that thousands, millions of people are watching, but he or she can’t possibly know them all.

Friday night, I was thinking of this choir member who sits a few feet away from me in the alto section … or that couple who usually sits about two-thirds of the way to the back of the Sanctuary with their two completely adorable children … or this pillar of the church who usually sits up front and all the way over by the windows … or this particular young acolyte who is a stellar candle-lighter even though she’s hardly four feet tall …

… and I was imagining that they might be watching on Sunday afternoon (specifically 2 PM, when the recording is available). They could well be watching, and participating in, the service we were conducting in that moment.

Further: as befits my “weird but good, good but weird” thought at the beginning of this … I found that I was doing my best to connect with those people, in whatever small way, as if they were watching and participating right then.

Maybe it was wishful thinking.

Or maybe those news anchors actually have those senses, too, but they’re too professional to let anyone know, in the moment.

On the other hand, they’re reading the news, and keeping people out there connected to information they needed to have, sometimes in order to stay safe in various ways. Not unimportant, most times; but …

Friday night, we were doing our little bit to help keep people safe; and to maintain a more personal connection; and to keep communicating the Good News.

-Rob Hammerton

I used to run with a local track club and genuinely loved the weekly long runs in the woods surrounding Walden, Flints Pond and Fairhaven Bay. Our leader, Bruce Bond, led just about every weekly run I can ever remember for well over a decade. I swear Bruce knew every single trail in these woods as well as exactly how long it would take to connect these various paths to bring us back to our starting point right on schedule. We typically ran for 90 minutes and nearly every weekend’s route was different – except for the fact that we would invariably return to the Walden parking lot within 60 to 90 seconds of the prescribed finish time. Bruce would vary the course not only for the sake of variety, but also to account for trail conditions such as mud in the spring, ice and snow in the winter and shade in the summer… often having to revise our route in the middle of the run, due to the conditions. Somehow Bruce could amend his mental calculations, consult the trail map seemingly tattooed to his cerebral cortex and still get us back home within seconds of the specified finish time. Over time, my friendship with Bruce grew – as did my love for running in the idyllic woods around Walden – and we went on to meet nearly every Thursday (and many a Tuesday) to run during the lunch hour for over fifteen years… until my hip needed to be replaced and a bunch of my other original equipment started to become less than reliable.

I fondly recall a particularly mild and sunny Valentine’s Day (quite unusual for mid-February in New England – and even more extraordinary that this absolutely gorgeous day would fall on a Saturday). I was so psyched to hit the woods for a nice long run – but everyone I called was either out of town or had plans. Finally, around 3pm, I gave up on finding a running partner and decided to drive to Walden by myself. Kathie reminded me that we had an early Valentine’s dinner reservation – and I was not to blow it! On the ride from our home in Watertown, I decided I could warm up, run one of my favorite ninety-minute trail runs, stretch, drive home and get showered and easily make our 6:30 reservation with at least 60 to 90 seconds to spare. There was only one problem: of the hundreds of trail runs I had done at Walden (and the dozens of times I have run this particular course), I was always with Bruce – and quite honestly I rarely paid much attention to where I was going, when he was leading. Out the back of the Walden parking lot, up Pine Hill, past Sandy Pond and into Codman Forest went great: the flawless weather and my proclivity for pushing the tempo when I run alone had me working up a pretty good sweat. This was turning into one of those really memorable runs. I remembered that to get to the “Three Friends Trail” I should keep the stone wall of “Stone Wall Trail” on my left side and… why the heck is this the third time I have run by this stupid stone wall that I have religiously kept on my left side!?!?! Then, after a couple more miles with nary a stone wall in sight, I had the realization that I don’t ever recall seeing a train station when I was with Bruce. By now I’m getting pretty tired, my pace is starting to slow and… how in the world am I running by this stupid train station again?!?!? And, despite the fact that we are in the middle of winter, it certainly seems like it’s getting dark awfully early.

Well, to make a long story not painfully longer, I did finally make it back to my car. However, my ninety-minute run turned into two hours and forty-five minutes, and I was completely spent! For those of you who are good at math, I clearly did not make it home with those extra 60 to 90 seconds to spare. No, we did not make our reservation. Yes, Kathie was a tad bit cross. And no, suffice it say, our first born male child was not born nine months after this particular Valentine’s Day.

Too often, my life is much like the Sunny Valentine’s Day story. While I have made a habit of trusting God, often times I take Him for granted and neglect to pay attention. And despite His guidance and the fact that I truly love the path on which He accompanies me and has set before me, there are times when I go off on my own and really screw things up. And yes, regretfully there are times when I keep making the same mistakes over and over again. Left to my own devices, my choices can result in darkness and I can no longer find my way on my own. But despite all of my failings, and no matter how often I disappoint God, He has not and He will not desert me.

During Lent, I believe it is important to reflect on those times in our lives when we go off on our own and become lost. But more importantly, Lent is a great time to pay attention to the guidance he has given us and to delight in his direction. And finally, as an Easter people, let us rejoice in the fact that God never gives up trying to lead us back to the right path!

-Brad Stayton

[*Author’s note: yes, the title ‘Bruce Almighty’ is a rip-off of a 2003 film of the same name]

Reading: Exodus 17:1-7 – Is the Lord Among Us or Not?

Prayer of Confession: “Gracious God, we confess that our memory is short. … In the face of uncertainty, when it feels like the numbers and resources are shrinking, we are quick to forget how much you have blessed us through drought and harvest, through famine and feast. When life is hard and the world’s chaos seems particularly painful, we are inclined to stomp our feet and pout, ‘Is the Lord among us or not?’ Forgive us, O God. Heal reliance on tangible things by filling us with your grace; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.”

Questions: Can you remember a time when you felt alone and forgotten by God? … Do you have any symbols, like Moses’ staff, that recall God’s faithfulness?


“Is God here with us or not?” are the words (in The Message) spoken by the bewildered, wandering Israelites. I’m certain that every person has experienced times when he or she asks “Where are you, God? I am hurting and frightened, and I long for assurance that things will be okay.” Usually things ARE eventually okay, but that doesn’t seem possible when one is in the midst of trouble – in the valley of despair.

Several years ago, one of our retired pastors here at Newbury Court lost his wife the day before he was scheduled to preach at chapel. He was given the chance to postpone his participation, but he chose to talk that day about the words in Psalm 23 about going through the valley. The emphasis on the word “through” was very meaningful and has been a comfort to me. This important fact is that God IS with us and does lead us through all sorts of frightening and seemingly hopeless situations.

God was always with those thirsty Israelites, and God is with us even if we do not see any sign of help. It does come usually through other people who minister to us and who pray for us. We have gone through the valley and come out from the shadow.

I remember times of feeling very alone and frightened. One was when a doctor told me that I had thyroid cancer. I received great support from neighbors (like Dick Harding) who prayed with me and for me. God was very definitely walking through the valley with me in the ministry of those neighbors. After a thyroidectomy (no cancer) visits from SUMC friends also helped me through the valley. God used used their kindness to refresh my spirit just as He used Moses and his staff to refresh the thirsty Israelites.

My “Moses staff” is my collection of photo albums which preserve the likeness of the many people who have been God’s presence throughout my times of being in the valley and then emerging into sunlight.

-Janet C. Johnson

Reading: Exodus 17:1-7 – Is the Lord Among Us or Not?

Prayer of Confession: “Gracious God, we confess that our memory is short. … In the face of uncertainty, when it feels like the numbers and resources are shrinking, we are quick to forget how much you have blessed us through drought and harvest, through famine and feast. When life is hard and the world’s chaos seems particularly painful, we are inclined to stomp our feet and pout, ‘Is the Lord among us or not?’ Forgive us, O God. Heal reliance on tangible things by filling us with your grace; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.”


Life has many ups and downs. We can experience the joy of friendship, the birth of a new child, a family member who graduates, a marriage, enjoyable vacations, and other fun experiences. However, at other times we struggle to find joy in our lives due to any number of challenges – loss of a family member or close friend, relationship struggles, addictions, physical, emotional, or mental illnesses. It can be hard to believe God is among us and caring for us during these difficult times.

In this passage from the book of Exodus, the Israelites are wandering in the desert and eventually camp at Rephidim, a location without water to drink. The Hebrew people complain to Moses about this issue. Moses cries out to the Lord and the Lord answers his prayer by providing drinking water for the Israelites. Unfortunately, our prayers are not always answered in the manner we would like. Our struggles don’t always disappear. It may cause us to ask why a loving God would allow these things to happen to us or our loved ones. Has God abandoned us? No. Then why do bad things happen to good Christians?

The author of Romans reminds us that “All things work together for good for those who love God” (Romans 8:28). My former Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Forewood, used to say, “in the end, all will be good and if it isn’t good right now, it isn’t the end.” So perhaps if it isn’t the end, as difficult as it can be sometimes, we should ask ourselves, “how is God using me in this struggle?’ and ‘what joys has God provided me?” If you are struggling now, reach out to a friend or a Stephen Minister for prayer and support; and remember, God is with you.

-Jim Empfield

Reading: Exodus 17:1-7 – Is the Lord Among Us or Not?

Prayer of Confession: “Gracious God, we confess that our memory is short. … In the face of uncertainty, when it feels like the numbers and resources are shrinking, we are quick to forget how much you have blessed us through drought and harvest, through famine and feast. When life is hard and the world’s chaos seems particularly painful, we are inclined to stomp our feet and pout, ‘Is the Lord among us or not?’ Forgive us, O God. Heal reliance on tangible things by filling us with your grace; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.”


One of the joys of travel is to see, taste and experience the best and worst of other cultures, other civilizations. Here’s one for the record books:

A few days ago I was leafing through some photos I’ve collected in multiple travels. One of them stopped me in my tracks: it’s a large print showing an overwhelming image I brought back from Estonia, one of the Baltic republics, adjacent to Russia. Like its neighboring nations, Lithuania and Latvia, during World War II those three small independent nations were brutally overrun and gobbled up first by Germany and then the former Soviet Union. These occupations persisted for decades.

What fired my despair was one image. It shows a few toys: two soft teddy bears, a plastic figure of a small cat, a blue porpoise, and two fresh roses. This small memorial display sits at the base of a big marker, just a rough, lichen-encrusted boulder. The seemingly peaceful scene actually marks a terrible piece of history. It’s where Nazi invaders had set up a separate, special concentration camp for children (probably Jewish children).

Worse, it was not just a prison camp for kids. According to our guide, the Germans essentially milked these young children of fresh blood, blood that would be used in support of German soldiers fighting the battles of Europe.

It was a stark reminder of how cruel and inhumane we humans can be when driven by hatred. We still have a lot to learn.

-Bob Cooke

Reading: Exodus 17:1-7 – Is the Lord Among Us or Not?

Prayer of Confession: “Gracious God, we confess that our memory is short. … In the face of uncertainty, when it feels like the numbers and resources are shrinking, we are quick to forget how much you have blessed us through drought and harvest, through famine and feast. When life is hard and the world’s chaos seems particularly painful, we are inclined to stomp our feet and pout, ‘Is the Lord among us or not?’ Forgive us, O God. Heal reliance on tangible things by filling us with your grace; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.”

“Gracious God, we confess that our memory is short….”

That really is a daily fact in the life of this particular Christian woman!!

Now that I’m a bit older than young, I have the advantage of it not being a surprise to anyone!

It wasn’t so when I was 24, though, and that’s when short term memory problems became a sudden fact of life for me. I had an infection that traveled to my brain and the consequence of that infection was that I was in the best and worst time of my life, all at once. I had given birth to the most precious baby, and all of the sudden life I thought I had some plans for, was on a trajectory I hardly recognized!

Greg and I needed a LOT more help than we had figured on. My mother dropped everything, and came for a lot longer than planned. I had an emergency C-section, and thanks to a series of events I will not take up space with here, I had experiences that became my proof that God doesn’t ever leave us alone.

Which is not to say that there weren’t times I really wanted to be left alone! Mom can attest, I had no concept of time, when things were going okay in the two months I was hospitalized. I couldn’t, for the life of me, get that when she took my precious baby home for a little while. At times I was calling her asking why she wasn’t back in my hospital room before she’d had time to get to our apartment to get a nap and fresh clothes, and other times I had little idea they’d been gone at all. Greg would come and visit after work, long after standard visiting hours and I remember so many times waking up, seeing him dozing in the chair near the bed, and going right back to sleep, knowing things were okay. But, strangely, one of my most vivid memories of my recovery was wishing Gram would stop asking if I’d taken a sip of water recently. I thought if she handed me the glass one more time, I may have a reaction that would be something neither of us would recover from.

Gram had always shown through action that doing what good she could was her way of doing what God wanted. She knew she couldn’t do all that Mom had been doing for weeks, taking care of all the details of a newborn, on top of all the medical decisions that she and Greg had brought to the rest of the family as my infection worsened. I was pretty clueless as to the responsibilities they were dealing with. All I knew, when I finally knew anything at all, was that I wanted to be out of that hospital and at home and to start being Mommy. So, I finally got home and there was Gram, telling me I needed water. Because she knew, that was something I needed that she could provide and it was good for my whole being. It got things going in my body and got me moving to get across that living room to the bathroom. At first, I was grateful for her reminders.

It dawned on me pretty quickly, though, that it was a struggle to remember if I had taken a sip recently or not. And, pretty soon, Gram’s gentle prodding became something I was not grateful for. I wanted to drink water without being told and I wanted to remember doing it and I didn’t want to be anxious every time Gram opened her mouth to ask me the same question.

And, then one day, I got up off the couch and walked all the way to the bathroom, that was a good 10 feet away, and had no one even see me doing it, much less holding on to me while I walked. And, I knew that huge things had happened and I was walking across that room, thanks to the obvious and easily seen and appreciated things. There was that little thing, that wasn’t so obvious, though, and it was just as important in a very real way. Gram didn’t do surgery, she didn’t plan my baby’s day for 2 months, she didn’t bring in a paycheck, but she kept reminding me, so quietly and with a smile at times, but a stern set in her eyes at other times, that I needed to drink that water. And that helped me to walk. And it’s always been a back to life moment in my memory. Dear Gram, always a helper. Always, my proof that what little I can do, makes a difference.

Always, He has water for us to drink and a path for us to follow. We don’t always have it in our recent memory, and we don’t always like it, but we are never alone. I’ve been fortunate enough to have learned that. My memory has improved a lot, but it’s nowhere near wonderful. I don’t walk as straight or as strong as I once did. But, wouldn’t trade a thing I’ve learned. I am never alone, and even if I resent it from time to time, it is what keeps me walking the path I should be on. Thank God!

-Cindi Bockweg

Reading: Genesis 12:1-4a – Go to the Land That I Will Show You

Prayer of Confession: “Gracious God, we confess that we like to be comfortable. … When you asked Abram and Sarai to leave all that was familiar, they obeyed you and went where you led them. Meanwhile, we idolize nation, home and even church buildings. Too often, we look with suspicion on those who are strangers among us. Crossing borders, risking the unfamiliar, welcoming changes – these things require more faith than we can muster. Forgive us, O God. Heal our reliance on things familiar by filling us with your grace; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.”

The Bible contains many stories about refugees seeking to escape famine, oppression and persecution. Abram and Sarai migrated to Egypt because of a severe famine in their homeland. The Israelites, led by Moses, fled from Egypt to settle in the promised land. Joseph took Mary and the child Jesus to Egypt to save Jesus from being killed by Herod. In most cases, the refugees in these stories were hospitably received at their destinations.

Many scripture passages throughout the Bible instruct the Jew and the Christian to treat aliens, or migrants, with kindness and mercy. Here are a few:
• When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the citizen among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God. (Leviticus 19:33-34)
• Thus says the Lord: … And do no wrong or violence to the alien, the orphan, and the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place. (Jeremiah 22:3)
• Do not oppress the widow, the orphan, the alien, or the poor; and do not devise evil in your hearts against one another. (Zechariah 7:10)
• … I will be swift to bear witness … against those who oppress the hired workers in their wages, the widow and the orphan, against those who thrust aside the alien … (Malachi 3:5)
• For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me. (Matthew 25:35)
• For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Galatians 5:14)
• So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God. (Ephesians 2:19)
• Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it. (Hebrews 13:2)

The United Methodist Church addresses the plight of migrants in its 2016 Book of Resolutions:
• Migrants rights are human rights. It is tragic when migrants, whose rights have already been violated in their home countries, find their human rights also violated in their foreign host countries. (#6025)
• Christians do not approach the issue of migration from the perspective of tribe or nation but from within a faith community of love and welcome, a community that teaches and expects hospitality to the poor, the homeless and the oppressed. … (#6028)

The immigration laws of our country were originally intended to treat refugees and asylum seekers with such respect and dignity. However, our refugee policies and practices have not kept up with the surge of migrants flowing to and through our southern border, driven by increased levels of violence and abuse by gangs, police and security forces in their home countries. Few if any of the increasing number of migrants and asylum seekers are offered a real opportunity to present their cases. The vast majority are eventually deported back to their countries of origin, with little or no consideration of the serious harm that may await them.

The organization Human Rights Watch recently reported a first-of its-kind study in El Salvador that found 138 cases of repatriated Salvadorans killed since 2013. More than 70 others were beaten, sexually assaulted, extorted, tortured or went missing — “the tip of the iceberg.”

Migrants and asylum seekers who are abused and maltreated in their own countries, and then during their journey northward and at the southern border, must feel abandoned and hopeless and wonder why God seems to have forsaken them.

This unjust situation and the policies that cause and sustain it need to change, both in the countries of origin and at the southern border. They are completely unaligned with what God expects of us, as indicated throughout the Bible. The dry bones of our country’s immigration laws and policies are lying in the middle of the valley, waiting for new life.

Prayer: Gracious God, we confess that we are failing to love our neighbors who suffer from violence and poverty, both in this country and elsewhere. In our zeal to protect and preserve our own privileges, we turn a blind eye to their suffering. Show us how we can help eliminate the situations in the origin countries that cause so many to seek asylum elsewhere. And help us to be more neighborly to those who look to our country in that quest. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.

-Richard Morris

Reading: Genesis 12:1-4a – Go to the Land That I Will Show You

Prayer of Confession: “Gracious God, we confess that we like to be comfortable. … When you asked Abram and Sarai to leave all that was familiar, they obeyed you and went where you led them. Meanwhile, we idolize nation, home and even church buildings. Too often, we look with suspicion on those who are strangers among us. Crossing borders, risking the unfamiliar, welcoming changes – these things require more faith than we can muster. Forgive us, O God. Heal our reliance on things familiar by filling us with your grace; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.”

Question: Do you more value comfort or risk-taking change?


“Starred Thought: ‘It takes ten years to build a band program. It takes just one year to destroy one.’”

That piece of advice, offered up by my college marching band director, rang in my ears as I began my first rehearsal as director of the athletic bands at the College of the Holy Cross, quite a few years ago now.

Having recently wrapped up several years of association with the athletic bands of Boston University and UMass-Amherst, I carried with me lots of examples of great ways to do things, that really worked, and that those bands were really enthusiastic about … and I could have been very tempted to drop all of them onto the Holy Cross bands all at once.

Which, of course, would have been the kiss of death.

The last thing any new leader ought to do is to charge in and knock over an organization’s existing list of traditions. “There’s a new sheriff in town” only works in wild-West towns with tumbleweeds and swinging saloon doors. Come to think of it, isn’t it true that half the Westerns ever written have been about the pushback against that statement?

Where did they get the phrase “run out of town on a rail” anyway?

And the Holy Cross Crusader Bands had … shall we say … a lengthy list of traditions. Nearly a century’s worth of Things We’ve Always Done This Way.

So, over the course of the four years in which I got to direct this group, yes: I did change things. Not everything: many of the songs in the Band’s repertoire revved the crowds up; and some of them stayed in the book but were played less and less and then not at all. A couple elements of the pregame and halftime show announcements stayed exactly as they had for years … until the third and fourth years, when they appeared in gradually different forms and then quietly went away. Some new rehearsal techniques were introduced, and then expanded upon. The process we used to choose our football halftime repertoire … and our drum majors … changed a bit. And I held my rationales for changing those things, and a few others, at the ready… just in case anyone asked about them. A few people did. Most of them got the joke, as it were.

Some of these changes were absolutely planned from the very beginning. Some evolved as the “situation on the ground” suddenly called for them.

As it turned out, the changes very rarely made any of the Band’s “stakeholders” squawk too loudly. By the end of my four years there, I genuinely felt that the Band’s output and image had been tweaked effectively, and to positive effect.

But if it had been done in the manner of a bull in a china shop, or with the “my way or the highway” philosophical underpinning… the Band members might well have voted with their feet. The Band might have gone from forty-five members to thirty to twenty or fewer, in a heck of a hurry. Happily, it didn’t. My personality, in any case, was not that of the brash “new sheriff” … but it was a chance to test the theory of speaking softly and treading lightly.

That theory, I think, was borne out by an eMail from a Holy Cross band alumnus who had marched during my first two years there. I had just announced my resignation from the directorship (no scandal: but Holy Cross was a part-time job, while my full-time public-school teaching job was, well, full-time; and it turned out that I couldn’t do both of them well simultaneously, and I had to go with the one that was going to fund my mortgage payments).

This fine gentleman replied to that announcement, in part:

“You were always very good at putting things in perspective for us. You could always balance the traditionalists (those who wanted to play one song at the same EXACT minute of every football game because we always had) and the reformers (those like me who wanted to completely redo things to make them ‘better’). That’s not an easy job for a new director … especially one coming to a band full of traditions.”

So do I value comfort or risk-taking change? … Yes. But in conjunction with “reading the room”.

-Rob Hammerton

Growing up in a working class family in the city wasn’t easy in the mid-twentieth century. But then what did I know? Didn’t everyone go through the same things my family did: working paycheck to paycheck; alcoholism; parents arguing daily; any big weekend night, if it could be afforded, was a trip to the neighborhood bar, maybe for pizza? For all of the family faults, my younger brother and I attended church weekly, without our parents. Sometimes we went with neighbors until we were old enough to walk to the nearest church ourselves. Our folks didn’t attend with us, but to their credit, insisted that we go every Sunday. Obviously there was history that was not understood until much later in our lives.

But that early church-going had a tremendous impact on my life. One of the lessons I learned in church school was the importance of Bible study. I didn’t always appreciate the constant repetition at the time of looking up verses and stories, but I learned about Jesus and his teachings, especially through his parables. Although it was tedious at times, those stories and many verses were absorbed. They taught me to look beneath the surface of vulnerable folks, forgiving them and loving them, as children of God. Just like me!

People are not perfect, even those in the church! What I was able to see though were those who had a sustaining relationship with God, while also experiencing discord in their lives. What was it that enabled them to move beyond the unpleasantness, the misfortune, the guilt, the despair and to then embrace a trusted solace in God? That’s what I wanted! The day to day is hard but I’m a child; I will become an adult and can live my life just the way I want it to be!

Adulthood brought other realizations. Life is a series of choices. Some may have privileges that make expectations easier to attain. Others have to tough it out. Some don’t have a core of strength within and may flounder. But God is with each of us as we tread the path on our separate journeys. It can be much easier, if we unload our pretenses and let God accompany us for the long haul. It’s worth taking that risk!

-Caryl Walsh

One of my passions is Celtic music. The song below is based on the tune “Danny Boy” and the words were written by Brendan Glass. Although not a Lenten hymn per se, I think its message is quite appropriate to Lent.

As you reflect on the words of this song, think about who the you in your life is and on what occasions you personally needed “to be raised up” or affirmed.

 

“You Raise Me Up”

When I am down and oh my soul, so weary;
When troubles come and my heart burdened be;
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence.
Until you come and sit awhile with me.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
And I am strong when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up . . . to more than I can be.

There is no life—no life without its hunger
Each restless heart beats so imperfectly;
But when you come and I am filled with wonder,
Sometimes, I think I glimpse eternity.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
And I am strong when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up . . . to more than I can be.

 

Who has raised you up? Has it been your spouse, child, a co-worker, friend, or God? Or has it been a combination of these? Have there been times when you were discouraged and someone affirmed you? Are there times when someone listened to your concerns and understood? Has someone “walked with you” through a time of crisis? Have you felt the power of prayer “raising you up” as you dealt with a concern? As scripture says in 1 Thessalonians 5:11, “Therefore encourage one another and build up each other.” So today and in the coming week, thank someone who has listened, supported or affirmed you. But most of all thank God for God’s never-ending love and forgiveness.

-Jim Sweeney
(former SUMC member, now living in Plymouth, MA)

Reading: Genesis 12:1-4a – Go to the Land That I Will Show You

Prayer of Confession: “Gracious God, we confess that we like to be comfortable. … When you asked Abram and Sarai to leave all that was familiar, they obeyed you and went where you led them. Meanwhile, we idolize nation, home and even church buildings. Too often, we look with suspicion on those who are strangers among us. Crossing borders, risking the unfamiliar, welcoming changes – these things require more faith than we can muster. Forgive us, O God. Heal our reliance on things familiar by filling us with your grace; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.”

Question: Which relocations in your life (new home, new job, etc.) came with the most risk, reward, or loss?


In September of 2017 my wife and I ran a mid-size consulting firm advising the healthcare industry on various operational and marketing issues. Though we had clients all over the US we were based and happily living in Arlington, Virginia, outside Washington, DC.

One day, with no warning, my wife got a call from our largest client, who wanted to make her the proverbial job offer she could not refuse. The only catch – she had to be located in Boston. Since I could run our consulting firm from anywhere, within two weeks we were temporarily living in a hotel in Burlington. I was managing the business, while getting our Arlington home of 15 years ready to sell, while my wife started her new responsibilities.

This was definitely not the plan. In fact we had been starting to consider relocating our headquarters outside Washington to a less expensive area in the southeast. All of a sudden I found myself contemplating even higher high costs, even more congested roads, and an impending New England winter. I have to admit that I had a few conversations with the Almighty asking what was s/he thinking.

I didn’t have to wait long for the answer. In mid-October my mother, who still lived with my Dad in the house I grew up in in central Connecticut, made the decision to refuse further medical treatment for a long term illness she had been battling for years. She passed away on November 2, 2017, leaving her husband of 64 years – my Dad – alone.

My heritage is Scottish. My 86 year old Dad had been the clan Patriarch for many years. I am the eldest son of the eldest son of the eldest son of an eldest son. In my family that means something. Duty and responsibility for the clan – the family – above all. I now had the duty and the privilege to be sure my Dad was cared for. I handled my Mom’s estate, arranged for sale of the family home of 55 years, and took over management of my Dad’s finances and ensuring his healthcare. All of this required spending many days in central Connecticut, ninety minutes from our new Boston area home. Typically I’d make the trip once or twice a week. I started calling him by phone on days when I couldn’t be there in person, to be sure I didn’t miss anything.

I remember thinking “Aha!, this is why I was suddenly sent (called?) to live in New England – to be nearby to help my Dad deal with the death of my Mom and to take care of logistics.”

But then, as the logistics settled down and the weeks turned into months, I realized that my daily 5:30 pm phone call check-ins and weekly all day visits with Dad were spent talking about life, my Mom, family and family history and traditions, and, for the first time ever, our respective faith journeys. I was getting to know my Dad as he always had been but I never really knew.

It turns out that where I had thought God put me here in New England at this time to provide logistical support for my Dad, it was so much more than that. God’s plan was really to give me a great gift – one that I will always treasure.

My Dad passed away on January 9th. Now I am the clan Patriarch. By God’s grace I had just over two years to really get to know what that means. I only hope I can match Dad’s example.

-Scott Pickens

Reading: Genesis 12:1-4a – Go to the Land That I Will Show You

Prayer of Confession: “Gracious God, we confess that we like to be comfortable. … When you asked Abram and Sarai to leave all that was familiar, they obeyed you and went where you led them. Meanwhile, we idolize nation, home and even church buildings. Too often, we look with suspicion on those who are strangers among us. Crossing borders, risking the unfamiliar, welcoming changes – these things require more faith than we can muster. Forgive us, O God. Heal our reliance on things familiar by filling us with your grace; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.”

Question: Do you more value comfort or risk-taking change?

 

For many years I wanted my own “comfy chair” and more specifically the time to sit in it. Working, child care, and then parent-care precluded the search for the ultimate comfy chair. Then all of a sudden life changed and I had the time to shop, sit and proverbially take the weight off.

 

Having your own chair is different from sharing room on a couch. In a chair you are entitled to take total jurisdiction over the space without having to compromise on your personal need to sprawl. Yes, it’s delightful but there are some downsides. First, “comfy chairs” are notoriously difficult to get out of, and they also promote unplanned dozing. And after a long comfortable period of time of reclining, rocking and/or swiveling, a bit of guilt may set in.

If you happen to be watching the daily news you may start to feel a little “uncomfortable”. Or perusing the newspaper you may come across another headline about the climate or immigrant crisis, or the front page may include yet another photo of gun violence. After a while, I find that all the personal comfort that surrounds me has not taken “the weight off”. And I recall,

”Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” (2 Corinthians 1:3)

Am I giving up my comfy chair? Absolutely not! Do I need to regularly push myself out of my comfortable zone to get on with comforting those in need? Absolutely!

-Moira Lataille

Reading: Genesis 12:1-4a – Go to the Land That I Will Show You

Prayer of Confession: “Gracious God, we confess that we like to be comfortable. … When you asked Abram and Sarai to leave all that was familiar, they obeyed you and went where you led them. Meanwhile, we idolize nation, home and even church buildings. Too often, we look with suspicion on those who are strangers among us. Crossing borders, risking the unfamiliar, welcoming changes – these things require more faith than we can muster. Forgive us, O God. Heal our reliance on things familiar by filling us with your grace; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.”

Question: Which relocations in your life (new home, new job, etc.) came with the most risk, reward, or loss?

The words (in “The Message”) that struck me about the Genesis 12 passage are “You’ll be a blessing… … I’ll bless those who bless you”.

When I married a young minister in 1954, I spoke the words of Ruth as part of my vows. “Wherever you go, I will go; Your people will be my people, and your God my God”. That vow was difficult to keep when it came time to move from one parish to another. One older wife in our conference didn’t move. She remained at her teaching job and commuted on weekends to her husband’s church.

In 1961, I cried bitter tears at having to leave other young mothers whose children had been my children’s playmates and with whom I had formed deep friendships. In 1970, I was again extremely upset to have to leave Connecticut just when I was in the final stages of preparing for a teaching career – in a school just a block from our parsonage. Four years later, after acquiring New York State permanent certification, we moved to New York City where my teaching credentials were invalid. Fifteen years later it was time to move again – this time for medical reasons – to our little house in the Poconos where we had ten years together before my husband’s death in late 1999, I moved to Newbury Court in 2001. Each of the departures has been difficult, but the new locations brought immensely enjoyable fellowship and service and deep friendships which have lasted through the years.

Although I was surely not as gracious as Abraham had been (I wonder how Sarah felt about the move), I realize that rich blessings were bestowed in each of the locations to which we traveled. It would take pages to recount the memories. Some were not so happy but most were. Hopefully, I have been a blessing as was promised to Abraham. I have tried to be of service, and am deeply grateful for the kindnesses shown to me. The warmth of our SUMC family has sustained me through many challenging situations. Hopefully, the words to Abraham have also been true in our lives. That the blessings you have bestowed upon me have resulted in God’s promise, “I’ll bless those who bless you”. Thanks to God for caring about us – even when we don’t appreciate the need to move to a new location – whether it’s physical or emotional or perhaps even spiritual!

-Janet Johnson

This is perhaps the most important question we could ever ask, as eternities hang in the balance depending on our answer. It seems like such a simple question, but as followers of Jesus, it is imperative that we know who our savior is, both for our own walk and for our evangelistic witness.

Over the past few months, I’ve used this question to frame my personal devotional times. I found that I often pictured Jesus as a European, bearded man with a lamb over his shoulder. And while some of these may be true (not the European part!), I saw that the second person in the Trinity is far more complex than this.

As I read, I created a list of Jesus’ myriad characteristics, with scriptural references, that I now share with you. This list is by no means exhaustive or to be skimmed through quickly. Rather, my prayer is that this would be a jumping off point to see, love, and worship our savior more deeply. That as we take the time to slowly meditate on our savior, we will grow in awe of Him.

And I believe as we learn more about who He is and have our minds opened to His grandeur, it will cause us to worship Him more and love others more effectively.

• ALIVE – Luke 24:5-6, Acts 7:55, Romans 8:34, Ephesians 1:20, Colossians 3:1
• BETTER ADAM – Romans 5:15-19
• BREAKER OF CHAINS – Psalm 107:13-14
• BROTHER – Hebrews 2:11, Romans 8:29
• CORNERSTONE – Isaiah 8:14, Isaiah 28:4, Psalm 118:22
• CREATOR – John 1:3, Hebrews 1:2, Colossians 1:16
• DOOR – John 10:9
• FOUNDER (of salvation) – Hebrews 2:10
• FOUNDER/PERFECTOR (of our faith) – Hebrews 12:1-2
• FRIEND – John 15:13-15
• HEAD/GROOM (of church) – Ephesians 5:23
• HEIR – Hebrews 1:2
• HIGH PRIEST – Hebrews 10
• I AM (YAHWEH) – John 8:58
• IMMANUEL – Matthew 1:23
• JUDGE – Acts 10:42, 2 Corinthians 5:10, John 5:22, Revelation 19:11
• KING – 1 Timothy 6:15, Revelation 1:5, Revelation 17:14
• LAMB – Revelation 5:6,9
• LION – Revelation 5:5
• LORD – Romans 10:9
• LOVE – 1 John 4:8
• MESSIAH – Luke 2:11
• PHYSICIAN – Luke 5:31-32
• PROPHET – Deuteronomy 18:15,
• PROPITIATION – 1 John 2:2, Romans 3:25
• SERPENT CRUSHER – Genesis 3:15
• SERVANT – Philippians 2:3-10
• SERVANT (suffering) – Isaiah 53:3-12
• SHEPHERD – John 10:27-28, Luke 15:4-6
• SINLESS – Hebrews 9:13-14
• SON OF GOD – Mark 1:1
• VINE – John 15:5
• WORD OF GOD – John 1:1-4

-Eric Y.

Reading: Genesis 3:1-7 – The Fruit of the Tree in the Middle of the Garden

Prayer of Confession: “Gracious God, we confess that we crave what we don’t need. … Our neighbor has a newer car, newer clothes, a newer house. The church down the street has a bigger congregation. Iraq has oil, Indonesia has gold, the Congo has cotton. The grass is greener on the other side. Like Adam and Eve, we crave the fruit that is off limits. Forgive us, O God. Heal our hunger for things that will never satisfy by filling us anew with the bounty of your grace; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.”

Question: “Are you more a “grass is greener on the other side” person, or are you more a content person?”

 

In 1997, I graduated from the Tuck School of Business at Dartmouth College. My classmates are amazing people; I felt lucky to be accepted to the school. After graduation, many went to Wall Street, well known consulting companies and to big companies. Now they are leaders and have huge houses, gigantic retirement savings, fancy vacations and kids in private high schools and colleges.

One classmate, Paul Ollinger, went to Facebook when it was a small start-up. As he says, “he hit the lottery” and was able to retire at 42 years old. For the next six months he traveled, spent time with his family, wrote a book about business schools and volunteered. Then he became bored.

Imagine, having enough money to never have to work again and being bored. Apparently, it’s a thing.

He took a “time out” and thought about what he really wanted to do. And, this came to him quickly. For as long as he can remember, Paul wanted to be a comedian.

Now, this guy is funny. He was our class graduation speaker – I’d say valedictorian, yet he says that he didn’t have the grades for that. I don’t know how he did at school – we didn’t have class ranks or grade point averages. Our goal was to graduate. At graduation and every reunion since, Paul regales us with stories to keep us laughing. If you have a chance to see him in person, go for it.

So, in this journey, he set out to be a comedian and, in the process started a FANTASTIC podcast called “Crazy Money”. It’s not about making money, it’s about the psychology of money. And, I’m an avid listener.

The guests on Crazy Money range from people who made millions and lost it, to highly regarded professors who research happiness or incomes around the world. He interviews authors and other comedians. Paul has a great way of asking guests personal information and getting them to be candid.

I’ve learned some important life lessons from this podcast:
• $70,000 seems to be the breakeven point for the earnings/happiness ratio. People below that income level struggle to pay for necessities. After that, money allows you to do fun thing and have more toys that can give fleeting happiness but not fulfillment.
• Relationships are the key to happiness. Carve out time for important friends and family.
• People who work too many hours seem unfulfilled.
• Fame and fortune are not as important as how you spend your day.
• People have complex relationships with money.

Yet, the biggest takeaway for me – “the grass isn’t greener on the other side”. I’m blessed.

As I tell my kids, we are some of the richest people in the world – even though it feels like I tell them we can’t afford what they want, I make a fraction of some of my classmates and didn’t retire at 42!

And most importantly, I control my time. When my kids were little, I made the conscious decision to work from home around their school schedules and spend time with them because they grow up so fast. Yesterday, in the middle of a work afternoon, two of my teen’s friends needed rides home. Between phone appointments and email, I drove them home. I recognize that in a couple years, their last-minute need for a ride, interruptions, loud noises, rap music and mess will be gone, and I’ll miss them horribly. Even though I strive each day to grow my language translation company to be better and bigger than the rest, I work life in around it.

God must have sent me the “Crazy Money” podcast to remind me of the good life I have!

-Wendy Pease

Reading: Genesis 3:1-7 – The Fruit of the Tree in the Middle of the Garden

Prayer of Confession: “Gracious God, we confess that we crave what we don’t need. … Our neighbor has a newer car, newer clothes, a newer house. The church down the street has a bigger congregation. Iraq has oil, Indonesia has gold, the Congo has cotton. The grass is greener on the other side. Like Adam and Eve, we crave the fruit that is off limits. Forgive us, O God. Heal our hunger for things that will never satisfy by filling us anew with the bounty of your grace; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.”

Question: “Do you tend to be content with what you have, or do you have interest in acquiring the latest thing?”

In Genesis 3, the serpent is an excellent salesman who influences Eve to buy the “latest thing,” the fruit of the tree in the center of the Garden. But what if craving to know good from evil reflects the desire to become more fully human? What if the story of Adam and Eve is not the story of Paradise Lost, but of Paradise Outgrown, as interpreted by Rabbi Harold Kushner, rabbi emeritus of Temple Israel in Natick, in his book How Good Do We Have to Be? A New Understanding of Guilt and Forgiveness.

Prior to eating fruit from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, Adam and Eve are just like other animals: naked, eating whatever was available, not making any difficult decisions, and not aware of death. But eating the fruit gives them a conscience, a sense of morality, knowledge of what leads to human flourishing and what doesn’t. In moving “east of Eden,” they must now use their conscience to make difficult decisions, ones often with no clear “right” answers. Those choices now lead to a spectrum of feelings from joy, gratitude, and love, to shame, guilt, and other spiritual and emotional pains. They are now able to be fully human, to be creative, courageous, and compassionate and to learn to make different decisions as their conscience guides them towards God.

As humans, we can reflect on our actions and speech to help us sort through our feelings rather than operate on autopilot. Rather than raiding the cookie jar or making a trip to the mall, both of which feel good in the moment, we can dig deep to understand our underlying beliefs about ourselves and about how the world “should” work when we experience jealousy, craving, desire, rejection, fear, and anger. We can discover whether our hunger for the “latest thing” is really a yearning for security, acceptance, and love or the Spirit calling us in new directions that expand our sense of neighbor love.

An age-old spiritual practice, “The Examen,” advocates reflecting on our feelings at the end of the day by asking, “What am I grateful for?” and “Where did I struggle?” By writing the answers to these questions in a journal, we can put the day in balance, develop gratitude, and ask God for guidance and healing.

We can use our conscience to channel our cravings to become more fully human; not to be content with who we are today, but with who we can become, persons who take on more and more the mind of Christ, persons who reject violence in all its forms and use the situations of life to become more compassionate, more filled with the fruits of the Spirit. Because we know that God forgives and accepts Adam and Eve in their full humanity by clothing them before sending them out into the “real” world, we know that God doesn’t expect us to be perfect, but accepts us as we grow in response to God’s love for us.

-Karen Lubic

Prayer of Confession: “Gracious God, we confess that we crave what we don’t need. … Our neighbor has a newer car, newer clothes, a newer house. The church down the street has a bigger congregation. Iraq has oil, Indonesia has gold, the Congo has cotton. The grass is greener on the other side. Like Adam and Eve, we crave the fruit that is off limits. Forgive us, O God. Heal our hunger for things that will never satisfy by filling us anew with the bounty of your grace; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.”

Question: “Do you tend to be content with what you have, or do you have interest in acquiring the latest thing?”

 

I have been struggling with the very first prompt for the Feb. 26 – March 3 week because “either/or” questions are impossible for me – there is always a complexity behind the question. If I HAD to choose one, it would be to identify as “a more content person”, but that implies a static situation when, in fact, the lives of people who are part of my very inclusive notion of “family” plus decisions, experiences and guidance over the years have created the person that I am now (and I certainly hope that I will continue to grow and change and challenge).

There are three major examples of decision making that might help illustrate how I have incorporated some basic values into my internal self. The first example took place more than sixty years ago when both my father and George’s father were offered exciting new opportunities that would have meant a step up the corporate ladder in terms of money and prestige, but each would have required a move from Connecticut. In both cases, each set of parents decided that the impact on the family from a major upheaval was not worth the enticement of a new job and life elsewhere. If either family had moved (one to Texas and the other to New York City), it is highly unlikely that George and I would have ever met and our now sixty years of growing together would not have been part of each of our life stories. We are grateful that our parents chose to look at the ramifications for all when they must have wrestled with their decisions.

After George and I were married, I enjoyed my work as a computer programmer (at the very beginning of the computer age) while George was in graduate school and then when we moved to the Boston area and George started his job at Polaroid. When our oldest daughter was born, I was able to chose to stay home with our children and did so for twelve very happy years, filled with volunteer activities and friendships. By the time our then youngest was in second grade, I began to work at Wellesley College, my alma mater, on a permanent part-time basis, which was perfect for me – the best of both worlds.

But then I was offered an exciting, more than full-time job that would have carried with it prestige and visibility. All of a sudden, my choice to work part-time and to not have a “real” career led me to question the decisions that I had made and to wrestle with the offer. George was supportive of me no matter what my decision was, but he pointed out that I would not be able to spend the time with the kids that I treasured or to continue with important volunteer activities. I have already written about this situation in an earlier Lenten book and the impact that the sermon that Gwen Purushotham preached helped me see what was truly important to me and to decline the offer. I never regretted this decision and am glad that I had to spent time wrestling with it.

My final example dates back to 2001 when Polaroid went under. George worked at Polaroid for his entire career and had many opportunities to grow and to lead in the various jobs that he held in the company. By then, our oldest three kids had finished college (a second mortgage on our house made that possible), but our youngest was in high school. I was working at Wellesley full time as the registrar, a great job. We met with a financial advisor to determine next steps for our family, and whether we could manage financially if George did not seek out another high pressure (but fulfilling) job. We made the choice to eliminate the pressure of seeking a new job and this opened up an amazing opportunity for George and for all of us.

One of the great gifts from this major change in our lives was that George was able to spend time with my aging parents and would go to Connecticut once a week to take them out to lunch. He could respond when Pastor Dick Harding called to see if he could help with Joe and Muriel Plonko when it became apparent that they could no longer stay in their home. George had known Joe from when both of them had worked at Polaroid and he and Joe developed a special relationship (one of his happiest memories is spending time with Joe as they sang old hymns together). And he was there for our wonderful family friend Ruby Jackson as she grew older and eventually moved from her home into Newbury Court. These were all precious experiences for our “family”.

So for me, being able to learn from the lives of others and to take time to make considered choices means that I know that I am fortunate that there are choices to be made and that I have a reservoir of examples to help guide me. Perhaps that means contentment.

-Ann Hamilton

On a very cold day I am trying to gather my thoughts to think about Lent. Winter season is not my favorite time of the year. I don’t like the cold, long dark nights, and the feeling of being cooped up.

Living in New England all of my life, I can’t say that I have a favorite season. I rationalize that Spring and Summer are probably the best times. Spring days do seem to “wake up” the landscape, trees and flowers. Birds and butterflies return to our yards. It is like an artist painting a scene and we see beautiful colors and we smell freshness in the air.

Spring and Lent is also a time to reflect about my Faith. We are taught that Jesus is the Son of God. My vision of Jesus is a person who is kind, a gentle soul, who loves us no matter what. At times, I believe that I don’t deserve the love and understanding of Jesus. I get angry or upset at many things. I ask myself, what difference does it make, especially when I see unfairness and injustice.

The Season of Lent gives you and me an opportunity to recharge our faith batteries by praying and studying. I will be praying that God will see and hear my concerns for our church, town and country. Maybe God is not only waiting to hear my prayers, but yours as well!

-Donna Mills

Every good teacher knows the importance of lesson plans. These plans clarify your objectives and goals. They list what you want to accomplish and how you will do so. Armed with your lesson plans, you feel prepared to teach the class. However, you must often be prepared for the unexpected. You must be flexible enough to respond to that “teachable moment” because sometimes, the most effective lessons are taught not from what you planned but from an interruption.

So too it is with our lives and our faith journeys. We plan our lives; we think we know what we want and how to get it. But our plans don’t always go as expected. We might experience a job loss, a move away from family or friends, a health issue, or relationship problems and suddenly we are in the midst of a situation we neither planned nor wanted. We have to throw the lesson plans out the door and respond to the present situation with faith. And it is how we do so (our attitude) that makes the difference. We can choose to be negative or we can be positive. The Lord can use even our difficulties to teach us. This may not be our lesson plan; but it is God’s lesson plan.

In difficult times, we may feel alone and vulnerable and cry out as the psalmist:

“Hear, O Lord, and answer me,
for I am poor and needy.
Guard my life, for I am devoted to you.
You are my God; save your servant who trusts you.

Bring joy to your servant
For to you O Lord, I lift up my soul.
You are forgiving and good, O Lord,
abounding in love to all who call on you.
Hear my prayer, O Lord.”
(Psalm 86:1-6)

Hear my prayer, O Lord! How many times have we all said this. But sometimes we just complain or try to solve the situation on our own without acknowledging our need for God’s help. Are you willing to give your concerns to God in prayer? We have a powerful source of strength to lean on—a God so loving, caring, gentle, forgiving, and powerful that it is beyond our comprehension. Who are we to think that we can solve all our problems by ourselves? Why do we barge ahead without turning to God in prayer and without trying to discern his will for our lives?

We can purposely choose to turn to God and to a caring Christian community for support. We cannot go it alone, nor are we expected to. On our faith journeys, through good times and bad, we need to share our experiences, even our deepest hurts. In sharing, we can provide others with a lifeline of support and hope. We can continue to plan and to dream; but when our lesson plans are interrupted, help us to learn and grow from the unexpected as we step out in faith.

-Nancy Sweeney
(member of SUMC from 1973-2016; now living in Plymouth, MA)

Prayer of Confession: “Gracious God, we confess that we crave what we don’t need. … Our neighbor has a newer car, newer clothes, a newer house. The church down the street has a bigger congregation. Iraq has oil, Indonesia has gold, the Congo has cotton. The grass is greener on the other side. Like Adam and Eve, we crave the fruit that is off limits. Forgive us, O God. Heal our hunger for things that will never satisfy by filling us anew with the bounty of your grace; through Jesus Christ our Savior. Amen.”

Lately, I have been reading scripture as presented in The Message (The Bible in Contemporary Language) by Eugene H. Peterson. It is intriguing that in this version of Genesis 3:1-7, Eve is told that if she eats of the fruit from the middle tree, she will “know everything”. She disobeys God and does eat the forbidden fruit. As the story unfolds, “knowing everything” is not exactly helpful.

Trusting God, and the unfolding of our own lives, might be more beneficial to all concerned than knowing exactly what WILL happen. If one could “know” the not-so-good events that will be part of one’s life, one might go into a severe case of “what’s the use” and make little effort to gain strength and ability to cope. In other word s to “give up” – to stop trying.

Perhaps forcing Adam and Eve to leave their paradise of having every need met was actually best for their growth as human beings. Perhaps having everything or “knowing everything” forces one to work toward improving things to at least a tolerable level. Perhaps working together with others in need (physical, emotional, financial, spiritual) and asking God’s guidance in those endeavors makes us all stronger and more caring, and less conscious of our own unmet (and possibly unnecessary) wishes and desires.

As strange as it sounds, I have always been grateful to have been raised in a family with average (sometimes below average) means. As the song states, “We had enough, but not too much to long for more”. This prepared me well to be a pastor’s wife raising four children in the ’50s and ’60s. We had enough. Looking back that seems almost miraculous. I do not remember wishing for “greener grass” – just hoping for grass comparable to that of our parishioners. Most of the time that was provided. That’s why my autobiography is titled “All I Have Needed”.

“Knowing everything” might get one into a lot more trouble than relying on the love of God which is expressed through the wisdom and kindness of others. It is in community that we grow and are strengthened. I am convinced that God works through all of us to guide and support each other.

-Janet Johnson

Sequels are hard.

It’s rare that a follow-up movie, or TV show, or musical, or book, lives up to the effect of the original that it follows on after.

Which is a heck of a thing to write, for the fella who is in charge of this second SUMC Lenten Devotions Blog.

But the thing is, this year’s Devotions aren’t just the second. They’re only the second set to be published as an online thing.

This effort, thanks largely to the efforts of Nancy Sweeney, has been going on year after year after year… so in that sense, no worries about sophomore slump.

After Easter last year, I waited for an appropriate amount of time, and then mentioned to the Worship and Music Commission that I was looking ahead to leading the online-devotions effort again this year, and (speaking of sequels:) again they looked at me with a mix of curiosity and concern, and said, “…Really?”

“Yes,” I confirmed.

Partly I said this because before last year, I had talked about doing it for more than just a one-shot. Must keep one’s promises.

But partly, as I discovered, the process of collecting the writings and then reading them ahead of time… was revelatory.

We have people in this congregation who can WRITE. And some of them wouldn’t have marched up to anybody and declared “I… Am A Writer… Admire Me!!” But they hit it out of the park. Go back and experience some of last year’s again. You’ll see.

Maybe that’s the best thing about the writing from last year, and (spoiler alert) from this year as well: some of the most affecting and insightful writing has been done by people who don’t write for a living. It’s coming from them, but guided by the Holy Spirit; and I’ve learned not to underestimate that.

(And yes, paid advertisement here: I’m still looking for a few more writers… I have most of Lent covered, but there is still room for ANYONE who wants to contribute something. I joked with Zack Moser, our chief of Christian education and youthful activities and such, that I’d happily accept anything from haikus to novels. He promptly threatened to have our youth take me up on the haiku offer! … last year we had a few submissions that were “only” a paragraph or so long, and ya know… sometimes brevity is the soul of wit, and other good things.)

So, again, this year we’ll produce paper copies (by request only — saving trees), but the main location of the Devotions will be this online blog space. It will make them accessible to anyone, anywhere. And, as people cheerfully noted last year, it will force you not to “read ahead” in the Lenten Booklet: because each morning in Lent starting tomorrow, one Lenten Devotion will be posted here.

It’s a different sort of journey to Easter. And it will be different from last year’s too! … I hope you’ll find it worthwhile.

-Rob Hammerton, 2020 Lenten Devotions Editor and Webmaster!

When I hear this hymn, it is always with a trumpet cheerfully announcing to all who will listen. The trumpet is clear, bold and in unison with the chorus of singers. When we sing this hymn, it is the reappearance of the word “Alleluia” after a forty-day absence during Lent, and to me it only seems fitting that a trumpet announces its return!

“Christ the Lord is risen to-day, Al-le-lu-ia!”

My dad played the trumpet and would often play along with this hymn in our sanctuary. I’ve heard him play this song countless times, both at church and in the living room. He loved playing it because you could play “realllly loud” (as he would say) and it was acceptable to do so without fear of the volume being inappropriately loud.

“Earth and heaven in chorus say, Al-le-lu-ia!”

Heaven and earth are united and singing together, much the way the musicians, choir, and congregation are when this hymn is sung. It is a celebration after the uncertainty, fear, and darkness of Jesus’ crucifixion.

“Raise your joys and triumphs high, Al-le-lu-ia!”

This hymn is always joyous to me. It encourages us to put the dark parts behind us and remember the teachings of Jesus! Jesus triumphed over the greed of the money counters, cared for the least of us, and fed the multitudes when they were hungry. He got his hands dirty. Maybe today he would be swinging a hammer with a Habitat crew and welcoming the family to our church on a Sunday morning.

“Sing ye heavens, and earth reply, Al-le-lu-ia!”

It reminds us of how we are connected to God in Heaven and that we are heard through our prayers. God calls to us, He is first, and we should respond and be thankful.

The message of emerging hope makes this hymn a favorite for me. On the other side of the 40 days of Lent, I’m looking forward to hearing this hymn! Is it one of your favorites too? “…Thus to sing, and thus to love, Al-le-lu-ia!”

Praise the Lord!

-Alison Condon

Holy Week is the high point of the Church Year. During Holy Week we move from the pageantry of Palm Sunday to the solemnity of Jesus’ Passover meal with his disciples, from the sorrow of Jesus’ arrest to the agony of his crucifixion, and from the pathos of Jesus’ entombment to the bewildering joy of his resurrection. It is a moving, wondrous, and exhausting week, which brings us to the heart of God’s love for us.

At the end of Holy Week is the Triduum – the Three Days. The Triduum lasts from Thursday evening until Sunday – while this might seem like four days (Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday), if you count 24-hour periods and begin on Thursday evening, you’ll see that it all works out. Christians have historically celebrated the Triduum as one continuous commemoration. In other words, when our foot-washing ceremony finishes on Thursday evening, we’re not really done. That celebration continues on Friday, as we pray at the foot of the cross. Our Friday services don’t really conclude, either – the Triduum worship continues on Saturday night at the Easter Vigil, when we first celebrate Christ’s resurrection and sing our alleluias. That service, too, doesn’t really end, but flows into the Sunday morning celebrations of Easter Day.

Many of us have grown familiar with foot-washing services on Maundy Thursday, or services that remember Jesus’ words form the cross on Good Friday. Adventurous United Methodists have also begun celebrating the Easter Vigil, the dramatic recitation of God’s work on our behalf, culminating in Christ’s resurrection from the dead; this is one of the oldest services of worship in Christian history. But Holy Saturday remains a cypher for many of us. What is the meaning of this day? What are we supposed to do on Saturday, in between Good Friday and Easter Sunday?

On Holy Saturday, Jesus rested in the tomb. On this day, between his death and his victory over death, Christ was still and silent. Jesus observed the Sabbath commandment to rest even in death. Holy Saturday calls us, too, to rest. For those of us who use Saturdays to catch up on laundry, on dishes, or on other chores, Holy Saturday is a challenge. Our busy culture has taught us to justify ourselves by doing, doing, doing. But on Holy Saturday, we are called to rest with Christ, to pause in between death and life. Let us listen to God’s word to us on Holy Saturday:

Be still and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10)

Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I wil give you rest. (Matthew 11:28)

Be still before the Lord and wait patiently before God. (Psalm 37:7)

So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested from all the work that had been done in creation. (Genesis 2:3)

Let us, like Jesus, observe Holy Saturday with rest, in preparation for the joy of the resurrection on Easter Sunday.

-Heather Josselyn Cranson

I first attended a Good Friday service last year. I had come for Ash Wednesday a number of years and other services through the years including the wonderful soup suppers. But last year I left myself wondering why I never found myself at one of the Good Friday services sooner. I had been in the confirmation process and I was really excited about getting confirmed. I always love coming into worship on Sundays and singing hymns and listening to a sermon; it’s the highlight of my week. So I came with the rest of my family on a rainy Friday evening to a service that was being held in the brand new chapel. We were going to read and pray on Station 14 … we were reading Matthew 28, which was the resurrection of Jesus.

After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.” So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.” (Matthew 28:1-10 NRSV)

Matthew 28 was a story that made me smile. It made me so happy and grateful that Jesus gave his own life on the cross for us. This is what Lent is all about: Jesus, and how all of us were saved because of Jesus.

After reading the verse again, at the time of this writing, I’ve seen that it had a connection to when I preached on Jeremiah 1:4-10 NRSV. The tenth verse of Matthew 28 tells us also to not be afraid, very similarly to the Jesus story in the Garden of Gethsemane. Well, it’s very similar because the Garden of Gethsemane is earlier in Matthew.

Memories from the Stations of the Cross will be a memory I will cherish forever and I will always look forward to the service.

-Anthony Vert

Some years ago someone at a meeting used an off-color expression that was a common one in my mother’s wide vocabulary. I felt her presence in the room as we all laughed and I told the person that I hadn’t heard that expression since before my mother’s death. I didn’t say that the next day would be the anniversary of that sad day. After the meeting ended and we went our separate ways, I felt as if a weight had been suddenly slung onto my back again. For much of the rest of the day, I felt the heaviness of my own body; I felt tired and short tempered. I woke in the night and could think only, “March 4th”, “the anniversary of a day that changed my life”.

This was now some years ago, but still, at times I will think that I might pick up the phone to call my mother. Then I remember and I am back at least for a moment to the place where I just heard the news. The path of mourning is winding and we can get lost along the way. We think we are back “on the right track” and then someone uses an expression that our loved one used and we feel the sudden burden of sadness. We carry on and then we see an empty chair and our lives feel suddenly empty. We stop to browse through a drawer filled with stuff and we find instead it is filled with memories and mementos that then fill us also with either great pain or abiding peace and we cannot anticipate which. We go along the road and we find that we have circled back upon ourselves and all the emotions are still raw and untidy. The journey of mourning is long; there is no easy by-pass route to the other side.

When I was a child, my family was not very religious and though we attended church on Easter and then sometimes on Palm Sunday I didn’t really understand the story told during Holy Week. Now I am so grateful for that part of the story. I am grateful for the recognition that in Christ, God came among us, and that in Christ, God was willing to suffer all of what we suffer. I am grateful for the disciples and the women who stumbled and bumbled their way through their grief. I am grateful for Peter’s denial, for the disciple’s sleepiness in the garden, and even for Judas’ betrayal. I am grateful too, as the story unfolds to hear of Mary, Mary and Salome’s fear, for Cleopas and his companion’s confusion on the road to Emmaus, and for Thomas’ doubt. The faith offers to us the assurance that because God, in Christ, was willing to enter the human story there is no place in this wide world where we are outside of God’s presence. When we feel our heart torn out by the death of one we love, God is there. When we are in the midst of grief that makes us feel muddled and mixed and mired down, God is there. When we feel the first springs of hope, like tiny snowdrops, God is there.

Lent is a season for introspection, a time for settling down and placing before God the weight of the burdens we carry, forty days when we might reflect upon Christ’s death and the deaths of those we love, a time to circle back toward our grief, so that when Easter comes we might know the full blessing of Christ’s resurrection. As you come to the close of this Lenten season, your heart may not yet have caught up with the hope offered in the story of Easter but the promise still is there, just under the surface of the messy spring soil, waiting for the warmth and light of the summer sun.

-Rev. Avis Hoyt-O’Connor (Associate Pastor, SUMC, 1989-1995)

Picture yourself standing in front of Home Moravian Church in Salem Square around 5 AM, along with between five and fifteen thousand other worshipers, (depending on the weather), waiting for the sunrise service to begin, as it has been done since 1771.

The front doors of the church open, a Bishop of the church steps to a platform with microphones and announces, “The Lord is Risen!” and the congregation responds, “The Lord is Risen Indeed!”

Thus begins a most meaningful, beautiful and historic service. The first half of the service is in front of Home Church with declarations of faith and hymns accompanied by brass bands. The service then moves up Church Street about seventy yards to God’s Acre. It amazes me that thousands of people can move in reverent quietness, accompanied by brass bands playing hymns antiphonally.

God’s Acre on Easter morning is a beautiful sight, not to be forgotten. Each grave has flowers at the headstone placed there by family or members of church circles. Unlike some cemeteries, it was planned on a grid pattern so there are straight rows of squares, with ten rows of ten graves in each square. Each grave stone is the same size and shape, signifying the equality of death. All the grave stones face east in anticipation of Christ’s coming again. There have been more than seven thousand burials in God’s Acre.

There are sidewalks among the squares, and this is where the worshipers stand for the second half of the service. As the worshipers file in, seven brass bands numbering around three hundred and fifty members, from the thirteen Moravian churches in the Winston-Salem area, play antiphonally and gather behind the speaker’s stand. The east side of God’s Acre is a hill. It is an unforgettable moment when the sun first begins to rise over the hilltop: seven brass bands play, and thousands of worshippers raise their voices with a Moravian hymn affirming the Resurrection of Jesus Christ!

Some background information follows:

Starting on Palm Sunday, there is a church service every night of Holy Week, reading from the Passion Week Manual, following the life of Jesus during that week. On Sunday night, it is the Acts of Sunday, etc. Friday night there is also a Lovefeast (because they are held on important days of the Moravian Church year). Unlike our Christmas Lovefeast, this one has no candles and the mood and music are quite somber.

In 1771 and after, the brass band would play on Salem Square early in the morning to awaken the townspeople to come to the sunrise service. Nowadays, the many band members board buses around 1 AM and the buses go to different parts of town, stopping at corners near members’ homes to play hymns. We would always get up to listen to the band play at our corner. There are funny stories told of visitors to Winston-Salem being awakened in the middle of the night by a band playing hymns and thinking that the Second Coming might be occurring!

The logistics of the service are impressive. Hundreds of Boy Scouts hand out programs for the service to people attending. Women of the churches cook and serve a breakfast of ham, eggs, sugar cake and coffee to all the band members between their early playing and the sunrise service. Many church members serve as ushers to help guide the attendees into different entrances to God’s Acre.

It is my hope that you might attend the Moravian Sunrise Service if you are ever in the Winston-Salem area at Easter.

-Jody Avery

Not all idioms are appropriate all the time.

Today’s example: “familiarity breeds contempt.”

Throughout this particular Lenten season, SUMC’s music community has been gently introducing our congregation to new things!, in conjunction with Pastor Joel’s Lenten programming, which itself has been gently introducing us to Lenten traditions from all over the world, at least some of which have probably been new to us.

On the music side, these new revelations have included pieces of music in lots of different languages! … which, if we’re being honest, sometimes cause our choir singers to need a deep breath and a trust fall … especially that Ethiopian chant on March 10. (Trust us, though: you want to venture over to YouTube, search for “Ethiopian Orthodox Worship Music” and experience the items that come up.)

On the other hand, there have been (and will be) posts on this very Lenten devotional blog that celebrate familiar Lenten and Easter hymns of our church. And why not? In all our liturgical seasons, there are musical expressions of worship that feel very much like home.

Here’s why we bring this up:

On many Holy Week Wednesdays of the recent past, we’ve introduced (or re-introduced) people to musical works as part of the Tenebrae service tradition. One of them is the amazing “Lecons de tenebres” of the 18th-century French composer Francois Couperin – it’s a piece that you might not go away humming, but it’ll stick with you in other, deeper ways.

That piece will make its return in future Holy Weeks. Tomorrow night (Wednesday, April 17), though, we’ve found a service of Tenebrae lessons that – it’s not hyperbole or “PR” to suggest – involves all your favorite Lenten hymns!

At 7 o’clock, in the Chancel, Heather Josselyn Cranson, Donna Watkins, Kevin Murphy, and an ensemble of singers will present a “lessons and carols” interpretation of the Passion story, utilizing Luke’s Gospel and an array of hymns that you will in fact go away humming.

Because they’re familiar. And that’s perfectly okay too.

-The SUMC Music Staff

How do I feel singing Hallelujah on Easter?

Joyful!

I love singing. I’ve loved singing in the Methodist church all my life. Easter is the climax of the church year for choir. Christmas music is great. But in my opinion the best sacred choral music is done at Easter. Being part of a joyful sound surrounded by fellow choristers – my choir family – my choir team – we’ve worked hard together for weeks to be able to create and share sheer audible beauty reflective of God’s creation. Hallelujah! Pure joy.

Easter of course is about the resurrection. Personally I don’t get hung up on the literality of the resurrection story. For me it’s about how with service and sacrifice – sometimes total sacrifice – good can overcome evil. THIS is the good news. Evil winning is NOT inevitable. Jesus showed us that with love, work, service, and sacrifice good can triumph more often than not. Hallelujah! Pure joy.

Easter happens at the beginning of spring. When I was young I could tolerate winter pretty well. Lately not so much. Easter brings more light, more warmth, new growth. Hallelujah! Pure joy!

Jamie and I became part of the Sudbury UMC family at Easter time. What a wonderful church family you have been. Hallelujah! Pure joy.

-Scott Pickens

As they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go to the village ahead of you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there, with her colt by her. Untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, say that the Lord needs them, and he will send them right away.” This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet: “Say to Daughter Zion, ‘See, your king comes to you, gentle and riding on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’ The disciples went and did as Jesus had instructed them. They brought the donkey and the colt and placed their cloaks on them for Jesus to sit on. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!” “Hosanna in the highest heaven!” When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred and asked, “Who is this?” The crowds answered, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.” (Matthew 21:1-11)

Joy! That’s what the crowds of people felt as they waved palm branches on that special Sunday long ago and welcomed Jesus to Jerusalem. “Hosanna!” they cried, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” When we make the Lord more than a Sunday experience, when we take time during our week to pray, to read from the Bible, to study His word with others, to ask for His constant help and guidance in all that we do, we can experience a new strength and joy. It won’t mean the end of all our trials and tribulations. It won’t make our un-Christian actions and feelings disappear overnight, but it will give us a new perspective to deal with them.

Jim and I have a daily practice of praying together and reading a devotional from The Upper Room each morning either before we arise or at breakfast. This time spent together and with God has become very meaningful for us. Of course, we are retired and so it makes this routine easier for us than for those of you who have hectic mornings getting the kids off to school or day care and yourselves to work. But find a time that works for you – maybe in the evening.

During Holy Week, I love the joy of the Easter service, celebrating Christ’s resurrection. But attending the Maundy Thursday and/or Good Friday service is also a special part of Holy week for me.

So during this Lenten season, I hope you have been able to find a quiet time each day to have fellowship with God. Then if you find this a meaningful experience, continue it throughout the year. May your joy and peace grow!

-Nancy Sweeney (SUMC member 1973-2017; now living in Plymouth, MA)

“If anyone sins, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous, and he is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the whole world.” (I John 2:1a-2)

How does Jesus atone for our sin? For two thousand years, most of the answers to that question proposed by Christian teachers have fit into three broad categories: The Victory Theory, the Ransom Theory, and the Moral Influence Theory. Which one feels right to you?

During the first four hundred years of the Christian faith, teachers like Athanasius and Augustine saw Jesus’ atoning death and resurrection as God’s victory over the powers of sin and death. Since humans were enslaved by sin and death, a battle had to be fought to liberate us. On Good Friday, Jesus fought that battle nonviolently by willingly surrendering to Satan’s forces. His resurrection on the third day, however, defanged and defeated the finality of death and secured an everlasting victory for all people in all times and places. Easter hymns like “Up from the Grave He Arose” and “Crown Him with Many Crowns” musically celebrate the “Christ the Victor” theory of atonement.

After a thousand years of uncontested acceptance, “Christ the Victor” was challenged during the eleventh century by Anselm of Canterbury. Matters of honor and dishonor were urgent concerns in Anselm’s medieval and feudal world. Since justice had to restore honor, Anselm taught that Jesus’ death was not a battle with Satan but the just restitution owed to God whose honor had been offended by human sin. Since humanity had insulted God, Anselm reasoned, a human being had to pay with his life. But since no human life was perfect enough to provide acceptable payment, a divine-human life was required to settle the score. Through the incarnation, the manifestation of God in human flesh, a suitable substitute was offered on humanity’s behalf to God. In hymns like “Nothing but the Blood” and “O Sacred Head, Now Wounded,” echoes of Anselm’s “Substitutionary Atonement” theory can still be heard.

Though he probably didn’t intend it, Anselm’s understanding of Jesus’ punishment in humanity’s place generated a tidal wave of medieval devotion to the cross. In monasteries and churches across Europe, monks, clergy, and lay worshipers pondered Jesus’ suffering in great detail and were deeply moved by his agony and pain. As a result, Peter Abelard began to teach in twelfth-century France that the cross represented the supreme example of divine love. By influencing the faithful to emulate Christ’s self-sacrifice, the cross saves us from our tendency to self-centeredness and sin. According to Abelard, an infinitely loving God requires no sacrificial satisfaction, and humans are not hopelessly enslaved to sin. Human nature is selfish, misguided, and in need of a compelling vision of love and forgiveness. Listen for echoes of Abelard’s “Moral Influence” theory the next time we sing “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross” or “Go to Dark Gethsemane.”

Is one of these atonement theories better than the others? That depends on how you define “better.” Teachers of each theory can quote several biblical texts to support their understanding of the cross and empty tomb. So if “better” means “biblical,” all three theories are well represented in the Bible. On the other hand, if “better” means that one of the theories makes more sense to you, or feels more compelling, or moves you to live more faithfully as a follower of Christ, that’s the vision to focus on in prayer as this year’s Lenten journey leads us through Holy Week to Easter Sunday.

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Prayer: “Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast, save in the death of Christ, my God.

All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to his blood.”    -Isaac Watts

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-The Rev. Joel B. Guillemette

To begin with, I am a lifelong Lent ignoramus. I grew up in a family that reliably attended a Methodist church, but equally reliably ignored Lent. The church we attended in southern California, the First Methodist Church of Alhambra (a Los Angeles suburb), was big, busy, relatively affluent/middle class, and welcomed maybe about 800 members. I was baptized there, attended Sunday school through the high school years, active in the youth fellowship program (about 100 kids involved) and, of course, attended some church camp programs in the nearby San Gabriel Mountains. I even met the wonderful woman who became my wife – Sue Cato – through that church, and we were married in that sanctuary in 1960.

But, Lent, not so much. I don’t recall much extra emphasis on special Lenten programs, no foot-washing, no ash-smudges on foreheads (that was for Catholic kids, not us). Giving up something for Lent? Nope. Lent must have slipped by while we were eagerly focusing on the Easter Bunny, coloring eggs, candies, etc. And, during my teen years, almost all of my friends and I focused eagerly on spring break – a glorious week off from school, and for those who had wheels, “Bal Week” was everything. Most of us got our drivers’ licenses at age 14, and everyone who could swing it headed for Balboa, a small beach community that is part of Newport Beach, CA.

So, during those years, there wasn’t much preoccupation with Lent, especially the giving-up-of-things. But that changed for me and mine once we moved East, coming to New England in 1973, when I was hired to become science reporter for the Boston Globe. That’s when we met serious emphasis on Lent, here at the Sudbury United Methodist Church, even encountering things like Maundy Thursday (wuzzat?).

And what’s most memorable about our first Maundy Thursday experience? It’s that the associate pastor at the time experimented with the occasion in Hawes Hall by pouring real wine into some of the paper cups set out for communion. That’s when my son, Greg, got a surprise, tossing down his cup of “juice” in one gulp, and almost erupting on the spot. He’s liked wine ever since.

So, onward and upward with Lent. There’s still much to learn.

-Bob Cooke

My family’s celebration of Easter when I was a child always included the traditional Easter egg hunt. My dad carefully hid the dyed hard-boiled eggs and more permanent eggs made of colorful pieces of cloth. My younger brother and I didn’t waste much time filling our baskets with found eggs. To be honest, though, I was never quite sure what eggs and a Bunny had to do with Easter.

Now, fast-forward 35 years to a new version of the Easter egg hunt tradition. Our “Saturday Night Live” covenant group for older parents of younger children marshaled our cumulative experience to present the best Easter egg hunt ever for our kids. And I was chosen to don the Easter Bunny costume and hop around the lawn of the Los Altos UMC where the hunt was held. The costume was complete with a fluffy cotton-tail, a big round smiley face and long rabbit ears.

The afternoon was quite warm under the California sun. Bunny assistants helped hide the eggs. Then we released the kids to go find them. As usual, the older kids grabbed most of the eggs before the younger ones figured out what to do, so the Easter Bunny had to hop around the lawn and help the little ones fill their baskets.

When all the eggs had been gathered, the temperature inside the bunny costume had risen substantially, and with great relief I removed the head. But before I could take a breath of fresh air, our three-year old son Charlie saw his daddy inside the bunny’s body and broke down crying and sobbing, “…the Easter Bunny ate Daddy … the Easter Bunny ate Daddy…” as he ran to Margriet for consolation. It took a while to remove the rest of the costume and convince Charlie that his Daddy was alive and well.

Centuries ago rabbits were a symbol of fertility and new life. Eggs were also an ancient symbol of new life, which perhaps caused eggs to be associated with bunnies during the springtime celebration of Easter, since the Resurrection gave new life to Jesus and his followers. That’s one possible origin of the association of eggs and bunnies with Easter.

There’s also a mini-lesson in Charlie’s experience with the Easter Bunny. Just as Jesus came back to life after his crucifixion, Charlie’s Daddy came back to life in his mind after being devoured by the Easter Bunny.

Of course, there’s a lot more to Easter than bunnies and eggs, and it’s easy to devote too much attention to the them and not enough attention to the resurrection of our Lord.

Prayer: Dear Lord, we thank you for your son Jesus whose resurrection gave us new life. As we celebrate Easter may the eggs and the bunnies remind us of the Risen Lord and the salvation he brought to us. In His name we pray, Amen.

-Richard Morris

Rob Hammerton suggested looking up the origin of the word “pretzel” as one of the Lenten devotion writing prompts. No sooner had I landed in Wikipedia that I knew exactly where I was being led (quite prompt indeed, Rob).

Nineteenth century German (brezel) suggests a pretzel is a kind of biscuit baked in the shape of folded arms. In Latin (brachitella) – with branches or arms. That led immediately to 1 Corinthians 12:12: ”The body is a unit, though it is comprised of many parts (branches?). And although its parts are many, they all form one body.” The body of Christ, the church, can only survive if each of its members – or parts – have different talents and gifts they bring to that body. Paul musta thunk this was an important message – as he also suggested it to the Romans, “Just as each of us has one body with many members, and not all members have the same function,” in the fourth verse of chapter 12.

As my parents and siblings have grown older and we have faced significant challenges, I have come to see my family in much that same light. My Dad, at 95, is slowing considerably, both physically and mentally – has had some heart issues and is now showing signs of dementia. My younger sister, Jen, suffers from chronic migraines and depression resulting from brain trauma associated with a car accident when someone ran a stop sign. To make matters worse, her husband was emotionally and financially abusive. By working together, Janet (who handled the timing and logistics) and I (who handled the legal and financial aspects) were able to rescue Jen from her husband and protect her remaining assets. Dad did what he could to help by offering financial resources, and we bought a house for Jen in the same town that Janet and Dad live. She has since regained her driver’s license and a better self-image – but still battles the migraines and depression.

We were so fortunate to grow up in a Christian home: Mom always helped us maintain a clear focus on a strong family. Now, Janet is the front line care-giver for both Dad and her twin sister, Jen – and rarely a day goes by that she is not called upon for something. Jen drives Dad to the routine doctor visits and takes him shopping at least once a week (which is great because it gets her out of the house). I continue to manage Jen’s and Dad’s financial affairs. However, being a thousand miles away, I physically cannot be the point person for Dad or Jen’s care (except on the several occasions each year when I travel to visit – and give Janet a needed break). Quite honestly, I don’t have the temperament to do what Janet does, day in and day out. And Janet is thrilled that she doesn’t have to deal with any of the financial or legal aggravations. And Jen is proud to be able to pitch in and help with Dad. So, like the pretzel, and like the body of Christ with the many parts, arm in arm and branch by branch we act as one to do what we can.

But sadly, sometimes our families tie us up in knots, not unlike the ancient German pretzel. Dad has become increasingly difficult and often times downright mean (especially to Janet – which is really a bummer considering she is the one who is always there for him, no matter what). So, Janet now leans more on me to vent when she gets the short end of Dad’s temper or rants. This, in turn, makes me feel like I am doing a better job of sharing the burden.

Do we always agree? Certainly not. Are we better at untying the knots that we make? Yes, and learning to work together better yet. Could we benefit by being more patient and understanding? Unquestionably! So, as I start my Lenten journey, I pray for more patience (not just in this, but all aspects of my life). And as we bring our branches and arms together to make our family pretzel, may we be more loving and Christ-like.

-Brad Stayton

[Editor’s note: with the author’s input, family names have been changed for the sake of privacy.]

“I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” (John 13:34-35)

In the Gospel of John’s account of The Last Supper, Jesus knows that his life here on earth is drawing to a close. Perhaps he was sad or maybe even angry, knowing that one of his own, Judas, will betray him. Someone whom he has befriended, taught, and shown the signs of God’s kingdom, someone who has been called and who has followed, but ultimately not believed, will conspire with and guide the Roman soldiers to arrest him. But rather than choosing bitterness or despair, Jesus washes the feet of the disciples, an act of love and service. He then gives them a new commandment, “to love one another. . . By this everyone will know that you are my disciples if you have love one another.”

About thirty-five years ago, a minister-in-training at the church where I was a member arranged to have a long, narrow table placed down the center aisle. She asked the congregation to gather around the table and offer each other the bread and cup. After each had been served, we held hands, and sang, “Blessed Be the Tie That Binds Our Hearts in Christian Love.” In that moment, I felt connected to my fellow Christians at the table and around the world as well to those who have preceded me and those who will come after. Today when I receive Communion, I am reminded that my congregation is joining with the great cloud of witnesses in affirming God’s love for us, a love so great that God sent God’s only Son. Truly God is present with us when we share the bread of life and the cup of salvation.

Prayer: O God, whose love for us never fails, teach us to love each other. Amen.

-Karen Lubic

The fall that I turned 26, I filled a dream of traveling through Europe with a backpack. I budgeted a thousand dollars a month for all food, youth hostels, activities and memories. Of my four months in Europe, about two weeks I spent in Germany, where bier and brezel became my favorite German words. Germans make great pretzels that you can find all over the country any time of the day throughout the year. As an inexpensive snack, I enjoyed them daily.

I’ve always had an affinity for pretzels – as a native Pennsylvanian, that might come as no surprise. The Pennsylvania Dutch who settled Pennsylvania brought their pretzel-making skills from Germany. (Side note: when they arrived and answered to where they came from, they answered “Deutschland” which means “Germany” in German. The immigrants got the nickname “Pennsylvania Dutch” since Deutsch sounded like Dutch.) In Pennsylvania, you find fresh pretzels at gas stations and street side vendors, and bags of different flavored pretzels everywhere. In fact, eighty percent of pretzels are made in Pennsylvania. And, Pennsylvanians consume twelve times as many pretzels than people who live in other states. April 26 is officially Pretzel Day in Pennsylvania.

It’s no surprise then, that while in Germany, the pretzels were a comfort food as well as a great big hug from home.

Did you ever wonder why the pretzel has such a distinct shape? In the early middle ages, Monks rewarded children with pretzels when they learned their prayers. The shape resembles arms crossing the chest while in prayer; the three holes signify the Holy Trinity; and the ingredients don’t include yeast, so pretzels can be eaten during Lent. (Another side note – the bakers liked the three holes since it made the pretzels easy to hang for sale in the bakery.)

In Luxembourg, on the fourth Sunday in Lent, boys give girls a gift of a pretzel to show their love. On this fourth Sunday of Lent, or the next time you eat a pretzel, feel the love of Jesus and a warm Pennsylvanian Hug from me!

(A final side note – as a translation company owner, I would be remiss if I didn’t give you the translation for pretzel so you can have a hug from home, no matter what country you visit. ENJOY!

Norway and Denmark: Kringle

Czech Republic: Preclick

Sweden: Kringla

Slovakia: Praclik

Polish: Precel

Spanish and French: Bretzel

Hungary and Croatia: Perec

Italy: Brezel

Servia: Pereca

Netherlands: Krakeling

China: 椒盐卷饼

Japan: プレッツェル

-Wendy Pease

In my house, both Passover and Easter arrive together each spring. For those of you who like to prepare a festive and lavish Easter meal, I can promise you there are far more dishes to clean up following a Passover seder!

I have come to understand that both holidays are profoundly tied together. Not because of the time of year; not because the Passover meal is memorialized as the Last Supper; and not because Moses ordered the Israelites to put lamb’s blood on their doors so the Angel of Death could pass over their first born and Jesus is like the Passover lamb, sacrificed for the world. Easter and Passover are alike because they are about the same thing: the dead rising to new life.

For my husband and his family, Passover commemorates and celebrates the resurrection, by God, of the people of Israel from Egyptian slavery. The Passover seder retells the story of the Jews’ exodus and liberation from Egypt, led by Moses. The story and the seder plate are chocked full of symbolism: matzo = poor person’s bread, the bread of freedom & affliction; maror = bitter herbs like the bitterness of slavery; charoset = apples like the sweet paste used by Jewish slaves to cement bricks; four cups of wine = the four expressions of deliverance; zeroah = shank bone, the lamb of paschal sacrifice. Lastly, baystah = egg, an offering, the sign of new season, new life and hope… like a pastel-colored egg in a basket.

Passover and Easter are celebrations of rebirth. The resurrected rebirth of Jesus is explicit in our liturgy. For Jews, the long-awaited liberation of the Israelites and their return to their ancestral land is the rebirth of a people from slavery and oppression. Both rebirths are joined at their cores, the celebration of the defeat of death and the life restored.

At a Passover table, just like at an Easter table, people gather, prayers are said, candles flicker, foods are prepared. Outside snow is melting, winds are warmer, buds are growing. Hopes are similar and bright. Paths are different, destinations the same. If you’ve never read or know little about the story of Passover, I recommend you bone up. A good synopsis puts a lot into perspective and I bet you’ll have a-ha moments. If not, remember that at this time of year, there are millions of people, outside of our church world and maybe right next door, who are hoping and praying for the same things as we.

-Vikki Jacobson

Reflecting upon more than eighty years of memories of Easter and how our family observed the holiday, I remember best the simple Easter gifts of my childhood. A small basket of candy and a new dress handmade by my mom were traditional. Added to that were the gatherings around the Sunday dinner table with family and usually the young pastor of our country church in Connecticut. I honestly don’t remember much about the worship service and its music. That was to come much later – especially in the last eighteen years when I have lived in Concord. Because I have been needed in the little choir here at Newbury Court, I have missed Easter services at SUMC, but I hear that Easter there is glorious. I believe that because “ordinary” worship services at Sudbury are usually glorious.

When I married a minister and produced four preacher’s kids, Easter was a bit hectic. Our children received even simpler gifts than I had received as a child. Always a book and maybe one big candy egg was waiting for them on Easter morning. Just as Santa didn’t have much emphasis at Christmas, the Easter Bunny was barely acknowledged in our household. Although spring is a good time for new clothes, we weren’t very enthusiastic about “Easter outfits”, so we wore new clothes a Sunday or two before Easter. Today my purple “Easter suit” is more than a decade old, and I continue to wear it either before or after the actual date. Another of my quirks is being uncomfortable with the idea of crowds of people who only come out for Easter, so for years I volunteered at the nursery held on Easter at the churches we served.

These situations are only based on outward appearances. I find deep meaning in devotional reading – especially during Lent, and such hymns as “Beneath the Cross of Jesus” (which we sang often at our Christian college) and “O Sacred Head, Now Wounded”. They make me aware of my own sinfulness and desperate need for God’s forgiveness and love.

My prayer comes from some of the words of “O Sacred Head, Now Wounded”:

O make me Thine forever, and should I fainting be, Lord, let me never never outlive my love for Thee.

-Janet Johnson

[Editor’s note: I’ve spent quite a bit of time in my life – personal and professional, in various moments – considering the idiom “honesty is the best policy”. I’ve occasionally suggested that my personal adjustment of that idiom might be, “honesty is the best policy … except when it isn’t”.

[After all, is it crucial to inform that stranger on the bus that, hey dude, your shirt is a lot louder, gaudier and attention-grabbing than it ought to be…? None of my business. Is it always helpful to answer the question “hey, how are you today?” with a multiple-paragraph summary of how I’m not that great today…? Do they truly want to know? Maybe so; maybe not. And there are those moments when people ask you about your job or your family or your whatever … and you tell them things that are technically true … but they aren’t the whole truth, are they? Because honestly … or not! … there are pieces of information that are on a need to know basis. Right? Have we not all been there?

[And then, weeks before Lent began, I set to work preparing the following offering for publication … and it got me thinking harder on the subject. And more honestly. -RH]

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The fear of the Lord is pure,
enduring forever.
The ordinances of the Lord are true,
and righteous altogether. (Psalms 19:9)

A truthful witness saves lives,
but a false witness is deceitful. (Proverbs 14:25)

The king said to him, “How many times must I make you swear to tell me nothing but the truth in the name of the Lord?” (1 Kings 22:16)

These three scriptures connect to telling the truth. Our family have used idioms throughout time to encourage truth-telling. When being honest, we might say: “call a spade a spade”. In other situations we’ve resorted to saying, “Let’s cut to the chase.” And lastly, when my Grandfather was dying and my Mom was in despair; his quick and honest response was, “Don’t be sad – you’re next on the chopping block.”

I find that idioms bring clarity to a troubling or difficult situation. Delving into the Bible to connect the past to these modern day idioms is an interesting activity.

-Meg Fotakis

Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts. (Colossians 3:16)

For most of my life, I have been a church choir member. At SUMC when I was very young, children joined the “Cherub Choir,” a group of preschoolers through second graders, urged to sing simple songs heartily, but not violently, by a saintly church member, sometimes assisted by a patient godly “goalie.” I remember sitting on tiny chairs next to an ancient upright piano, singing the likes of “Jesus Loves Me,” and the excitement of standing (probably on one foot and then the other) on the church steps to sing in front of the congregation.

As I aged out of Cherub Choir, I joined the Junior Choir. Mrs. Dahl and then Ms. Linton and then Bea Maier (we called her “Beattie” and she called us “Beattie’s Sweeties”) were my directors. The excitement of Junior Choir was [a]blue robes were part of the package; and [b] we remembered a lot more of the words to the songs. As my high school years approached, I was eligible to join the “High School Choir,” also directed by Bea Maier. I remember the High School Choir as one of the highlights of my week. Thursday became my favorite day, because of the afternoon high school choir rehearsal. My best friend, Nish, was in choir. Bea wrote new, holier words to the occasional pop song for us to sing, in addition to the regular sacred fare. We sang, we laughed, and once, several high school choir members rolled Bea’s car across the parking lot, a prank which she rightly took as a compliment.

Right around my Junior year, I realized that the Adult Choir at church had a cool thing going; I would listen to the scripture reading, and then I would magically hear it again – in the Adult Choir’s anthem. They also sang in parts, which sounded to me, well, heavenly. I decided that I wanted to moonlight as an Adult Choir member. As part of my arrangement with the Adult Choir director, John Harper, I kept my membership in High School Choir (along with my feathered hair, my comb in my back pocket, and my plastic bangle bracelets); but I added another Thursday night tradition – Adult Choir rehearsals. Ann Hamilton kindly drove me to and from the rehearsals until I acquired my own drivers license. I have been a part of SUMC’s choir for all of the years since, except for my four years away at college.

One constant truth of my choir membership at SUMC – through all of the choir directors and no matter the membership – is the indescribable feeling of singing sacred music with others. Sure, I was a part of my middle school chorus. Yet, the addition of God’s word in church singing produced a different, and better effect. Because I began my adult choir adventure before becoming an adult myself, I ended up learning a lot of scripture for the first time not by reading it in the Bible, but by singing the words to the anthems we rehearsed. Now, when I listen to the scripture of the day in service, I sometimes have a soundtrack in the background, audible only to me. Handel’s music runs through my head when I hear “I know that my redeemer liveth…” (Job 19:25), “For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given…” (Isaiah 9:6), “Surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows…” (Isaiah 53:4-5), and “…for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth…” (Revelation 19:16). When I started taking voice lessons as a young adult, I remember learning Mendelssohn’s “O Rest in the Lord”, from Elijah, to sing in church. (Psalm 37:7) Other sacred music pinned itself to me during different life events; Kevin and I sang “Be Thou My Vision” during our wedding. My father’s favorite hymn, “This is My Song”, washed over me at my father’s funeral as I held sleeping toddler Cecelia. I remember the choir singing anthems at many choir members’ memorial services, including one amazing rendition of Beethoven’s “The Heavens are Telling”.

A second thing that goes very well with sacred music is a side order of friendship. As a high schooler, I found adult choir members not only friendly, but … my friends. Mrs. Plonko impressed me, as she told me about cross-country skiing all around. Mrs. Hamilton and I chatted happily to and from rehearsals. Though my high school reality was quite different from the adults in the choir, we found that we had many things in common. I considered these adults as much my friends as my High School choir peers. I missed them if I had a school function that kept me away. And they told me that they had missed me, too. In quiet, weekly ways, God moved within and among choir members as we breathed in and out while singing together.

Today, I still enjoy that Friendly In-Joke Choir feeling. While Mrs. Plonko has long since joined the Angel Choir, I still laugh and learn with choir members each Thursday night and Sunday morning. I am widely regarded as the choir member Kevin and Rob cannot seat next to anyone, because I cut up too much, after a whole day of having to be a well-behaved third grade teacher! What, you say? There is merriment in choir? Cutting up? Laughing? Why … yes, and also poignant moments. Thoughtful times. A bit of serious discussion. Occasional language learning. Choir is only partly about the singing. It’s God’s word tied up in note-filled friendships of every age.

Though I am often exhausted walking into rehearsal, I am rarely exhausted walking out after singing and laughing with friends. I often find that the addition of choir in my week subtracts some of the wear and tear of the other activities. So, if you’re thinking that you don’t have time for choir rehearsals, consider this math.

We can always add more friendly voices to our singing, and we appreciate new jokes! There is ample on-the-job training and no prerequisite. Everyone’s mouth is moving during anthems, so nobody will know you sang the wrong note or word. I hope that God will call you during Lent or afterwards to try on Choir for size. I have found that it has been a perfect fit for me at every time in my life, and I hope to save a seat for you on Thursdays.

-Kristin Murphy

George Herbert (1593-1633)

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Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,

Though foolishly he lost the same,

Decaying more and more,

Till he became

Most poore:

With thee

O let me rise

As larks, harmoniously,

And sing this day thy victories:

Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

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My tender age in sorrow did begin

And still with sicknesses and shame

Thou didst so punish sinne,

That I became

Most thinne.

With thee

Let me combine,

And feel this day thy victorie:

For, if I imp my wing on thine,

Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

-submitted anonymously

You may have wondered what the origin of the word “sacrifice” is. It’s from Old French, with traceability to the Latin words sacrificium and sacer, which means “holy”. Lent, for me, is a time to reflect on what it means to sacrifice, or be holy:

To keep moving forward even when you’d rather rest.

To keep carrying the burden even when you’d rather let it go.

To keep loving and giving when you’d rather receive.

Often when we listen closely – in holy moments – we are called to be and do more than we feel capable, ready, interested. This Lent, I give thanks to Christ for helping me be okay with the daily sacrifices needing to be made, and for affording me the opportunities these holy moments – or sacrifices – present.

-Jamie Solak

Some years ago, my husband, Denis, invited me to come with him to a business conference in California. On Saturday, when he was free, we decided to go from Anaheim to Long Beach to see the Queen Mary, a ship he had sailed on, now berthed there and open to the public.

We asked the hotel people how to bus there. They had no idea and were no help: a bus? in LA? really?!? We finally figured out a route with only two changes.

On the third bus – a local transport – we found ourselves in a community of immigrant people. Suddenly, the bus stopped, the driver disappeared. I could see we were the only ones wondering what was going on. Everyone else was waiting patiently; no grumbling or frustration. After a few moments, we realized the bus had a lift for wheelchair access and the driver was helping someone come on board.

As we resumed traveling, it became clear that Saturday morning was for grocery shopping. And then something happened: as we watched from our front-row seats, a woman clearly in her nineties, clutching her empty shopping bags, began to climb on, helped up the steps by people behind her. Before Denis could stand up to help her, two other men were already on their feet, encouraging her up the steps and helping her into their own seats, all the while smiling and conversing with her. Two stops later, they helped her off, offering to walk with her to the market a few stores away, but she waved them off.

That scene has remained with me all these years later. It’s not because we don’t see someone occasionally being helped in Boston, but never in my experience with the community spirit of the people in that bus. It was the norm for them to help each other, to care for those who needed a little extra help, joyfully, with patience and understanding – no one shuffling around in their seat impatiently or muttering under their breath.

Sometimes, it’s not immigrant folks or people with fewer resources than we have that need our help. Sometimes, we are the ones who can learn from them what’s really important.

Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” (Matthew 25:40)

-Nancy Hammerton