[Editor’s Note: Yet another check-in from one of SUMC’s newest friends!]

I am grateful in 2024 for love and family.

I had a close relationship with my mother and older sister. Both passed away last year, the last two people who had known me my entire life. Trying to celebrate the anniversary of their passing has been very difficult. As tears alternate with smiles, I am so grateful for the memories of time spent with them, the happiness in our voices when we called each other to catch up. Shared experiences are all the more special because we were there for each other. Most of all, I felt and was a part of their love.

Thank you, God, for having these people in my life.

-Dottie Keene

First off, thank you to all who have contributed to the Lenten devotional. You have helped me start my days during Lent in a Christ-centered way!

I have wanted to pay that forward, but have had a stubborn case of writer’s block until I stumbled across Rob’s LentBlog writing prompt: “For me, celebrating Lent is different from Advent in this way.”

Never to be one who excelled in blindly following instructions, I’d prefer to argue their similarities.

While Lent certainly feels more somber, both are a time of waiting and preparation. And who can argue that at the end of this period of waiting arrives a great, unimaginable gift: at Christmas, the joy of the birth of a child who would change the world. At Easter, the resurrection of the divine who would save the world from sin. The gift is the same: Jesus Christ.

For most of you who know me, I have long been captured by the tenets of Advent Conspiracy: Spend Less, Give More, Worship Fully, and Love All. Each year, the Outreach Commission leads the congregation in an effort to steer away from the more commercial/consumer aspects of spending and focus more on giving by reaching out to the least, the last and the lost. To me, when we share with others by praising God through sacred hymns and carols at Musketahquid or Sudbury Pines, we truly Worship Fully!

My Lenten rituals have become an annual tradition as well. Eating healthier and giving up sweets are my sacrifice to God. In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul says, “Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit?” Sadly, for much of the year I treat the temple more like a tavern — maybe not so much with excessive alcohol, but not the quality and quantity of nourishment that it was designed for.

Both seasons demand sacrifice. For me, planning and attending Advent Conspiracy events are somewhat of a sacrifice and can be a bit stressful for me and my family during the hectic holidays. Eating healthier and giving up sweets and especially soda and my favorite –- sweet tea! –- is truly a sacrifice … and not without some stress.

Okay, so maybe the ways I celebrate Advent and Lent are completely different. Yes, Advent is outwardly focused, and for Lent my focus is inward. But both deliver me to the same place. I cannot think of a single Advent Conspiracy event where my soul has not received more than it has given, and where I have not therefore been drawn closer to God. And each year during Lent, each time I walk by a cookie tin, or a bag of M&Ms while checking out at the store, I am reminded of why and for whom I am abstaining. And by consuming less, I am weighing less — but truly given more in a healthier walk with God.

So, for me, the gift IS the same during both Advent and Lent, a feeling of Joy on a closer walk with Christ!

-Brad Stayton

[Editor’s Note: Another check-in from one of SUMC’s newest friends; again with a response to one of our Lenten Devotion writing prompts…]

“At this point my life, here’s a change that God may be calling me to accept and act upon:”

…taking time out to care for myself better.

For a large part of my life, I have spent much of my time caring for others … as a wife, mother, daughter, friend, in law … I have given of my time and talents for the greater good, and have (mostly) not regretted doing that.

I feel that God is tapping me on the shoulder now and telling me to slow down, rest and reflect, and then build on other relationships that are still for the greater good –- and are ones that make me an even better person.

Thank you, God, for leading me and helping me to see new perspectives.

-Dottie Keene

When Bill was dealing with Alzheimer’s, I never knew what the next day would bring. It
was very important to me to know that I could handle it well.

One of Bill’s favorite things to do was go for rides in the car, to see places and animals. We traveled many roads to towns around Stow, going to feed ducks, geese, swans, alpacas and horses.

Our very favorite place to drive to was Track Road in Stow, which goes beside the Assabet River. It’s a wide, slow flowing river with ducks, geese, swans, cygnets in the spring, and beautiful plants and shrubs along the banks. We’d also see the Straubs!

The river has bends in it that do not allow you to see what’s around the corner or what’s coming. These bends were my symbol for this journey. My prayer was always to ask God
to be with me around the bend, to help me do well with what I couldn’t see coming.

It was a comfort to know that God would always be there — then and now.

“He Leadeth Me”, #128 in the Methodist hymnal, took on special significance.

-Jody Avery

For most of his working life, he was a manager for a large apartment building near the home he shared with his mother. He knew all the long-term tenants well and, when invited, shared morning coffee or a noontime sandwich. He heard stories of their lives, of their children’s lives, of their challenges and their joys. It happened occasionally that in his thirty-five years there he would have been the only person invited into a tenant’s home.

It also happened occasionally (more often than should be expected, he told me), that one of the residents would die without anyone to make final arrangements. On these sad occasions, he took it upon himself to make sure that none of the residents would leave this world without someone attending at their burial or the internment of their ashes. He would gather everything he could about the person, filled a manila folder, and filed it away in a cabinet on the off chance that a family member might find their way to his office door or that a Christmas card might arrive in the mail with a return address. When he retired, he transferred the files to his own basement. They are still there. He only told me about the files because he was concerned about what would happen to them when he passed away.

This attention to the memory, legacy, and dignity of these people was a kindness that went unnoticed and unrecognized. But unnoticed and unrecognized kindnesses are still kindnesses. Such acts of charity, or love, or respect, still are important and still contribute to the well-being of others.

In Lent we are invited to reflect upon our lives. We are encouraged to make changes, to leave behind old habits and adopt newer, more holy ways of living. We are asked to dedicate ourselves again to the tasks, the work, the life to which God has called us.

As we engage this sacred time, may we be more mindful of acts of kindness quietly offered by others and may we find our own simple ways to honor, to bless, and to enrich the lives of those around us. Mother Theresa said, “Not all of us can do great things but we can do small things with great love.”

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

[Editor’s Note: This item is a response to the “Embracing the Uncertain” writing prompt: “Here’s a hard time in my life (this year, or any year) that I ended up being grateful for…”]

My neighbor is getting a divorce. He’s consumed with the welfare of his kids, where he’s going to live, how change needs to happen, struggles with focusing on work, where to find supportive friends –- basically how to navigate the divorce transition process. It’s all he can talk about.

I remember a book club friend being the same way. It was all she could talk about each month.

I went through that time too.

It’s been over 10 years since I went through a divorce, and I vividly remember that stage of my life. Not knowing whether I’d stay in the house with the kids and if I could even afford it. The heartbreak of knowing that I wouldn’t get to see my kids every day. The financial struggle of changing from two wage earners to now two households.

And, trying to figure out who my true friends were.

The first year was brutal -– so much change and so many tears as I had to say goodbye to my young ones every other weekend. Plus, the ongoing divorce battle.

The second year became slightly easier as we found a rhythm and I was able to stay in our family home for consistency for the kids.

The third year, I still mourned the loss of the marriage, yet I was moving on.

Now many years later, I feel grateful for leaving an unhealthy marriage. We are all better for it. My ex remarried to a woman who seems to balance him. My kids had two households to learn that there are different ways to be. I felt the bands of oppression cut off so I could enjoy life again.

I am grateful for the support that I received from SUMC. Pastor Joel navigated the difficult conversation between my ex and I when I told him that I wasn’t happy in the marriage. Pastor Joel continued to share good advice as I moved through the difficult times.

I am grateful for the church member who saw me crying in my car after church one day and hopped in to talk to me. She was an angel, and I don’t know who it was. I was so distraught, I couldn’t remember.

I am grateful for the Thomans, who have provided support during the rough times in my life.

I am grateful for having a safe and welcoming place to go to on those Sundays when I didn’t have my kids.

Divorce is sad, tough, depressing, and all-encompassing.

Yet, more than ten years later, I am happier, stronger, and in a loving relationship that supports my growth.

I made it through; my book club friend made it through; and I will do what I can to support my neighbors navigating this time.

-Wendy MacKenzie Pease

Having just read the forty-page “United Methodist Revised Social Principles”, I thought I would take a crack at using the Bible as a related text to interpret its meaning … and I wondered how it could be condensed in Twitter to clarify my understanding.

Here goes:

[1] Love God
[2] Treat your neighbor as yourself.

For Lent, I’ll give up the rest for now.

-Dave Jacob

[Editor’s Note: one of SUMC’s newest friends has checked in, this Lenten seasons, with responses to several of our Lenten Devotion writing prompts. Here’s the first in a series…]

“Here’s a blessing-in-disguise that God has given me this year:”

…the ability to reconnect with friends. I have received extra notes and cards and emails over this last year, many when I least expected them and needed them the most. I feel like God has been sending me angels to lift me up and keep smiling and appreciating the many people who have crossed my path. Thank you, God, for new friends and hearing from old friends – showing me the connections and love of life we all have.

-Dottie Keene

“⁴Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! ⁵Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. ⁶Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. ⁷And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
⁸Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. ⁹Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.”

Philippians 4:4-9

I love these words from Paul the Apostle. It’s a special set of Bible verses for my family. It reminds me to not worry about things; but instead, to pray. When I read the word “lovely” in verse eight, it reminded me of a short story my sister Kim shared with me a while ago. This is what she wrote:

A kitchen windowsill. At first glance, the placement of it appears to be rather ordinary wedged between the sink and a window. The Bjornson home kitchen windowsill, however, was quite different. Growing up, our family did not have a lot of money, so our home’s decor could never keep up with the latest style. Our living room couch was functional but was designed using scratchy wool-like fabric speckled with outdated rust and olive-green flowers. The kitchen windowsill, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. My mom always had a knack for craftiness and a green thumb. Her kitchen windowsill was a menagerie of loveliness. Unlike the outdated couch, the windowsill housed beautiful bud vases filled with freshly picked flowers from our yard. As soon as a flower wilted, a new one replaced it. Amongst the vases lived miniature angels, gnomes, and other figurines who in most houses would have been dust collectors, but in my house, came to life as the sun glistened through the window overlooking the sill. On special occasions, my mom would add a birthday candle in the dirt of one of the small potted plants or tie a ribbon and place it on a flower with a well-wish note beside it. A Bible verse was always propped at just the right spot to be read by whoever was lucky enough to get dish duty. And if that dish washer happened to be wearing rings, a decorative dish or tiny bowl was there to safely secure them until the dishes were done.

My mom became “Nanny” to five grandchildren. A favorite activity would be to pick flowers on a walk to put in Nanny’s vases. Dandelions and violets were readily available for picking on many spring and summer days. Whoever thought that weeds could look so lovely? But on the kitchen windowsill, everything looked perfect. After my dad died, my mom tucked a note on the sill in his beautiful script with four simple words: “I Love You, Bev”. This sat on her windowsill until the day she died over nine years ago. When packing up the pieces from her kitchen windowsill and carefully wrapping the bud vases, my sister, cousin, and I vowed to carry on Mom’s menagerie of loveliness. Her kitchen windowsill reflected what was most important in her life. The beauty of nature, the love she had for her family and friends and her Lord and Savior were all carefully woven into her windowsill. She found joy in simplicity. She took the ordinary and made it extraordinary.

I just love how Kim weaves together the tidbits of love that were displayed on my mom’s windowsill. Kim, my cousin Sarah, and I have continued to adorn the sills above our kitchen sinks in the same way my mom did. Right now, my windowsill has a small bud vase holding a tulip, a short note from a friend, a Snowbaby which Natalie bought me for Christmas, a little bowl that holds rings and earrings that come off during dinner prep, small plants, hanging decorations that we’ve brought back from various trips, a homemade glass snowflake, and wooden snowflakes handcrafted by Chris’s dad. It’s a simple but busy shelf —- one that brings me joy each morning when I brew the coffee and each night when I thank God for the day. Like Kim says, it’s “a menagerie of loveliness!”

I pray that during Lent that we can all remind ourselves to take some quiet time to let the business of our lives go and give ourselves a chance to find the simple tidbits of joy and loveliness in our lives and across our memories. I hope to share these little joys with others and rejoice in God’s gifts in my life. Oh, yes, and turn my worry into prayer!

-Kristen Straub & Kimberly Smith (Kristen’s sister in PA)

It’s a beautiful church to attend
Just a place to call my own
But within it is the greatest joy
That I have ever known,

Every threshold is a crossing
Into life, divinely new
Every door – a happy hour
That my heart goes passing thru
On the floors are magic carpets
Full of memories – bright and gay
All walls are arms that hold me
And protect me night and day.

Thru the windows comes the sunlight
Shining down from above
Just to warm the soul within me
That has given birth to love
Every room is richly furnished
with utter happiness
That is mine because I’ m conscious
Of the riches I possess.

So I am grateful for the blessings
My two eyes alone can see
For my church is truly Heaven
That is here on Earth for me.

-Lyn MacLean

[Author’s Note: “… I wrote this by changing and upgrading the wording
that would fit our church … that was my Mother’s in the early nineteen
hundreds. It didn’t involve the church so I made many changes.”]

[Editor’s Note: This morning’s post, by SUMC’s relatively new friend Dan Cetrone, was written originally on the morning of February 15 — the day after the Kansas City Chiefs’ Super Bowl victory celebration rally was interrupted by gunfire that resulted in one person being killed and twenty-two others being injured, including eleven children.
It seemed appropriate to include these thoughts in this space as a follow-on to Kim Prendergast’s call to action yesterday, regarding gun violence and tomorrow’s showing of the film Triggered. (You’re invited to scroll down in this blog feed until you find that post, and read it again. If for some reason that doesn’t work, click on “Sudbury UMC Lenten Devotions” at the top of this page, and scroll from there.)
Dan’s thoughts are from the heart; they’re impassioned; and they obliquely reflect one particular element (“red-flag” laws) of the work being done to design gun-control legislation. Also, they are very different from our usual Lenten devotion; but, in the context of that post-Kansas City moment of shock, their tone and style do make a lot of sense. -RH]

I am very angry and deeply saddened by the recent mass shooting yesterday, at the KC Chiefs Super Bowl win celebration. We, without a doubt, have a serious problem in America which is mental illness in many forms. Some are driven to kill other innocent Americans for no reason at all. This clearly is an enemy of America and Americans from within our borders and not from a foreign enemy! We need God’s guidance in these troubling times in our nation and we need a solution to stopping this enemy that clearly is plaguing our people, our country. Maybe we all need to unite in this effort and wholeheartedly pray to God for His help, before many more seriously sick or just plain evil people kill other Americans or themselves for that matter! May our heavenly father God bless America!

-Dan Cetrone

Lent is a period of reflection. It marks a shift in a pattern in the world around us, well-known at this point. The familiarity of coming out of winter once again and heading into spring is a comfort. Daylight rests with us a little longer each afternoon. Ice on the pond retreats farther and faster from the mouth of the brook that feeds it. The tight gray nubs at the end of tree branches have become buds, and they grow fatter in the stretching sunshine and warmer temperatures. The sun itself is higher in the sky during daily commutes and no longer causes what helicopter traffic reporters called a solar slowdown.

Inside we move plants to catch the changing path of the sun on counters and bookshelves. Some families note the passing of twelve months by marking the height of each child on a doorway. Kids and adults alike may be surprised and pleased at the growth in the younger members of the family when they compare marks and dates from the same month in the past.

If we look closely we will note each of these occurrences, inside and outside, every year. At other times changes will make us recollect what things were like just last year (“We never saw the sun until after Easter. It rained or snowed the whole month of March.”) The memory of a death, accident, or job trouble may be a sad bookmark of a time during this same period in the past.

Reflection at the time of Lent requires close observation of what is happening around us. It may yield the view or memory of another event. Noting what tracks are in the snow near the bird feeder might tell us what animals are coming around more often now than last year. We become more connected to the world. Whether it is in a desert or the backyard, contemplation of the smallest parts of life around us brings to us the most elemental existence.

Pondering the changes we observe from one anniversary of a cycle to the next might be discomfiting. Driving by our old house to see our spring flowers once again may be upsetting; the people who bought it last year at this time have already started big renovations. Our little house full of memories from decades past is gone for good. This season may carry rapid shifts from what we enjoyed in the past. We have to remember change is what moves us forward. We would tire of endless reruns.

To respect Lent, to value the small and important changes in each cycle, observe and contemplate the Earth as it is and how the seasons slowly change it. After a period of meditation we might be able to appreciate and celebrate even better what we have and where we want to go.

-David Downing

I have to admit that writing a devotion for others to read is something I do not like to do. It seems that I have to much to do (sometimes way too much) to focus my thoughts for a Lenten Devotion. I did say a little prayer and asked God to help me on sharing my thoughts.

The older I get, the more frustrated with what life seems to hand me. This is not only personally but also with what is happening in the community and beyond. Perhaps you can also relate to this!

I believe, more than ever, we as a society need to focus on others more. We need to be thinking about, praying about, and doing all we can to help youth and children learn about Faith. My generation needs to be focused on how we can be the catalyst to bring children and youth to God. We need to help the young people of our Church have Hope, Love and Understanding about what it means to be Christians and followers of Jesus.

One of my favorite Bible verses is John 3:16. The Contemporary English Version is:

God loved the people of this world so much that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who has faith in him will have eternal life and never really die.

I hope that I have given you something to think about!

-Donna Mills

In Lent’s quiet, where prayers flow,
We share a bond, through hymns we know.
I place my phone upon the hymnal,
Recording moments, almost ritual.

These enduring songs, through airwaves fly,
From my voice to you, under the same sky.
In every note, our connection’s clear,
A shared faith, drawing us near.

This practice, our unique tie,
In every hymn, our spirits fly.
Dad, with me, in every tune,
Our connection strong. Precious gift.

-Christie White

[Writer’s Note: “Apologies to anyone anticipating the last rhyming couplet, but I just couldn’t bring myself to end this poem with the word boon!”]

PART TWO

22 Chorus
Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world. (John 1:29)

23 Air (Alto)
He was despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. (Isaiah 53:3) He gave His back to the smiters, and His cheeks to them that plucked off His hair: He hid not His face from shame and spitting. (Isaiah 50:6)

24 Chorus
Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows! He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him. (Isaiah 53:4-5)

25 Chorus
And with His stripes we are healed. (Isaiah 53:5)

26 Chorus
All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way. And the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all. (Isaiah 53:6)

27 Accompagnato (Tenor)
All they that see Him laugh Him to scorn; they shoot out their lips, and shake their heads, saying: (Psalm 22:7)

28 Chorus
“He trusted in God that He would deliver Him; let Him deliver Him, if He delight in Him.” (Psalm 22:8)

29 Accompagnato (Tenor)
Thy rebuke hath broken His heart: He is full of heaviness. He looked for some to have pity on Him, but there was no man, neither found He any to comfort him. (Psalm 69:20)

30 Arioso (Tenor)
Behold, and see if there be any sorrow like unto His sorrow. (Lamentations 1:12)

31 Accompagnato (Soprano or Tenor)
He was cut off out of the land of the living: for the transgressions of Thy people was He stricken. (Isaiah 53:8)

32 Air (Soprano or Tenor)
But Thou didst not leave His soul in hell; nor didst Thou suffer Thy Holy One to see corruption. (Psalm 16:10)

33 Chorus
Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of Glory shall come in. Who is this King of Glory? The Lord strong and mighty, The Lord mighty in battle. Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors; and the King of Glory shall come in. Who is this King of Glory? The Lord of Hosts, He is the King of Glory. (Psalm 24:7-10)

34 Recitative (Tenor)
Unto which of the angels said He at any time: “Thou art My Son, this day have I begotten Thee?” (Hebrews 1:5)

35 Chorus
Let all the angels of God worship Him. (Hebrews 1:6)

36 Air (Alto or Soprano)
Thou art gone up on high; Thou hast led captivity captive, and received gifts for men; yea, even from Thine enemies, that the Lord God might dwell among them. (Psalm 68:18)

37 Chorus
The Lord gave the word; great was the company of the preachers. (Psalm 68:11)

38 Air (Soprano or Alto) (or Duet and Chorus (Soprano, Alto and Chorus)
How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of good things. (Isaiah 52:7; Romans 10:15)

39 Chorus (or air for tenor)
Their sound is gone out into all lands, and their words unto the ends of the world. (Romans 10:18; Psalm 19:4)

40 Air (Bass) (or Air and Recitative)
Why do the nations so furiously rage together, and why do the people imagine a vain thing? The kings of the earth rise up, and the rulers take counsel together against the Lord, and against His anointed. (Psalm 2:1-2)

41 Chorus
Let us break their bonds asunder, and cast away their yokes from us. (Psalm 2:3)

42. Recitative (Tenor)
    He that dwelleth in Heav’n shall laugh them to scorn; The Lord shall have them in derision. (Psalm 2:4)

43 Air (Tenor)
Thou shalt break them with a rod of iron; thou shalt dash them in pieces like a potter’s vessel. (Psalm 2:9)

44 Chorus
Hallelujah: for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth. (Revelation 19:6) The kingdom of this world is become the kingdom of our Lord, and of His Christ; and He shall reign for ever and ever. (Revelation 11:15) King of Kings, and Lord of Lords. (Revelation 19:16)

PART THREE

45 Air (Soprano)
I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that He shall stand at the latter day upon the earth. And though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God. (Job 19:25-26) For now is Christ risen from the dead, the first fruits of them that sleep. (1 Corinthians 15:20)

46 Chorus
Since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive. (1 Corinthians 15: 21-22)

47 Accompagnato (Bass)
Behold, I tell you a mystery; we shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. (1 Corinthians 15: 51-52)

48 Air (Bass)
The trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption and this mortal must put on immortality. (1 Corinthians 15:52-53)

49 Recitative (Alto)
Then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.” (1 Corinthians 15:54)

50 Duet (Alto & Tenor)
O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law. (1 Corinthians 15:55-56)

51 Chorus
But thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. (1 Corinthians 15:57)

52 Air (Soprano & Alto)
If God be for us, who can be against us? (Romans 8:31) Who shall lay anything to the charge of God’s elect? It is God that justifieth, who is he that condemneth? It is Christ that died, yea rather, that is risen again, who is at the right hand of God, who makes intercession for us. (Romans 8:33-34)

53 Chorus
Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, and hath redeemed us to God by His blood, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing. Blessing and honour, glory and power, be unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever. Amen. (Revelation 5:12-14)

He is risen! … He is risen indeed!
Happy Easter.

Two years ago … or about a thousand — our perception of time is a curious thing — it was the time of COVID-without-vaccines-yet.

There were a pile of things that we didn’t know if we would ever do again. One of the questions we asked ourselves was … will we ever sing together in an enclosed room again?

To an extent, science has come through in the clutch. Considering some of the activities that, with good ventilation, vaccines, and a residual sense of “maybe a mask might not be a bad idea anyway”, we can now take part in, again … for me, that first year of COVID-19 is a bit like junior high school. I remember that it happened; but it does possess a bit of that sepia-toned-memory-from-long-ago quality.

I remember just enough to know I would prefer not to re-live it, thank you.

Well, not all of it. There were things we did, in place of our previous usual routines, which did yield some positive results. Notably, there are a lot more “don’t-take-this-for-granted” activities in my day-to-day life now.

One of those is: leafing through the hymnal.

For the first six months of COVID, gathering as a choir to rehearse on Thursday nights was not an option. We were all pinned to our homes; remember that? So Kevin and I went to work devising activities which could serve as a proxy — which could serve as a way to keep our music program going in some form, while we hoped and prayed that the virus would one day be controlled by vaccines or other modern miracles.

Zoom to the rescue.

On Thursday evenings, we would open up a Zoom room to whomever wanted to gather and do a little group research about hymns from the ol’ hymnal. Kevin and I took requests from our regular Zoom-visitors: what are your favorite hymns? We’ll find some information about them and present it on a Thursday evening: who wrote them, how they’re constructed musically, where the poetry of their lyrics came from, any interesting bits of history concerning them.

After several weeks — and, not coincidentally, after the killing of George Floyd — we saw an opportunity. As interesting as it had been, to investigate Old Favorites … they had mostly been written by (as we quip in the choir room sometimes) dead white Europeans, or their ancestors.

So, “Social Justice Hymnody” was born. The idea: let’s investigate hymns that have come to our hymnal from, oh, say, anywhere else in the world than western Europe and the American colonies. So we looked at hymns drawn from music of the Korean peninsula, of the south Asian subcontinent, of Native Americans … and of course we looked at African-American spirituals: the music borne of the slave trade.

Since then, any time I open the hymnal, my eyes go directly to the bottom of the page, where the information about “who wrote this, and when?” is listed.

As we approached the end of SUMC’s Palm/Passion Sunday service … and as we proceeded around the parking lot during SUMC’s Good Friday “Stations of the Cross” service … we sang one song over and over again. That song could arguably be Holy Week’s “Silent Night”, for all the usage it gets at this particular time of year. And I was more keenly, consciously aware than I had been (which before COVID had been not at all):

“Were You There?” is an African-American spiritual.

It says so right there on the bottom of page 288, and has said so since the current Methodist hymnal was published in 1989. But I had not focused on that at all, until our Thursday nights on Zoom.

It makes sense: musically, it’s not so complex that it couldn’t be taught by rote. Lyrically, all you have to do to create a new verse is change the end of the sentence “Were you there when…?”

And “Were You There” utilizes a system of coded language in its lyrics — like most, if not all, African-American spirituals. It tells the story of Jesus’ crucifixion; but underneath this narrative is a metaphor likening Jesus’s suffering to the suffering of slaves. Slaves could easily see an analogy between Jesus’s suffering and their own predicament; it’s been hypothesized that this is why there are many more spirituals about Jesus’ death than about His birth.

For some stupid reason, I had never put that together.

I just hadn’t thought about it.

There are lots of things that, until relatively recently, I just hadn’t thought about. An awful lot of them involve the persistence of systemic racism in our country and our world — and its continuing effect on people of color, four hundred years on. Economically, politically, and as we have seen very recently in Tennessee, personally.

Me, I’m a white guy brought up in an affluent town surrounded by affluent towns. This lack of awareness, sadly, has been common in such places; and I’ve been a part of that, much as I wish I’d not been.

Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:34)

For many people, Easter and spring are nearly synonymous — they’re times of renewal, and of beauty rising out of the cold, barren earth. I hope that this moment can also see a certain amount of “rising from the ashes” in the realm of how humans of privilege treat other humans who, even yet, do not enjoy that level of privilege. It can be accomplished. But it’s not going to be an Easter miracle. It’s not going to happen unless we do the work.

That COVID-era Zoom class, that “Social Justice Hymnody,” might seem like a very limited-scale version of doing the work. Raising our levels of awareness is merely a first step — but it is a step. As John Wesley may have said, and as our choir has sung:

“Do all the good you can, by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, so long as ever you can.”

It’s a start.

As is Easter.

See you in the morning.

-Rob Hammerton

If there’s one thing I missed receiving when virtues were being handed out, it’s WAITING. If an idea comes to my mind, especially something that improves my life or the lives of my family, I want to “make things better” right away.

Some of the experiences I’ve had – either trying times where there was absolutely nothing I could do to hurry things along, or in anticipation of a fun occasion – still come to mind occasionally. A joyful moment was watching Kristin walk down the aisle with her Dad, even when a guest didn’t remember that the mother of the bride really wanted to have a clear view.

But there are other moments of waiting … for instance, when my late husband was undergoing a procedure that seemed like it would never be done. And then, lo and behold, a friend came by and waited with me!

Saturday, the day before Easter, is a Day of Waiting … a day of awaiting the miraculous resurrection of Jesus. For us, we know the outcome … a joyous celebration of God’s gift of life everlasting to all who believe. It seems to me, some years, like time standing still, a little like holding one’s breath. Yet every year, faithfully, we experience the joy of God’s priceless gift of the resurrection.

May God again reassure us with the knowledge of this great gift, given to us out of God’s never failing love for us!

And (a little early) Happy Easter, everyone!

-Nancy Hammerton

[Editor’s Note: here’s a response, by an educator we know well, to the writing prompt, “My favorite scripture verse is…”]

I couldn’t easily bring to mind a favorite scripture verse but as I thought more, the story of how Jesus blesses the children surfaced in my mind. I turned to the Bible to find the verse where “Jesus Blesses Little Children” and that led me to read all three Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) where it is mentioned. My favorite of the three: Mark 10:13-16.

¹³Some people brought their children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them, but the disciples scolded the people. ¹⁴When Jesus noticed this, he was angry and said to his disciples, “Let the children come to me, and do not stop them, because the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these. ¹⁵I assure you that whoever does not receive the Kingdom of God like a child will never enter it.” ¹⁶Then he took the children in his arms, placed his hands on each of them, and blessed them.

I chose Mark’s version because it is the one in which Jesus takes the children in his arms. He touches them in all their germy, gooey, splendor and BLESSES them. He’s not afraid to get dirty or be near them. Children are unpredictable and ask hard questions. They tell it like it is and don’t hold back their true opinions and feelings. Children need support and boundaries. Jesus takes it all in stride and takes it on! Not only did Jesus tell the kids to come to him, but he BLESSED them. He recognizes that they are wonderful and special, just as their caretakers do, with their sticky hands, need for attention, and many questions. Jesus takes the time to see the children and even reprimands the adults when they try to brush the children away to the other corners.

In this passage, Jesus also supports the caretakers of the children! Those “some people” that brought their children to Jesus were most definitely tired, exhausted, and probably had forgotten to eat at least once that day because they were busy keeping their children safe, fed, and loved. They knew they needed to get out of the daily grind, so they packed up the kids, and traveled a distance on the chance that Jesus was willing to take on their children for a few minutes. I also thought it was interesting that in the Matthew version, Jesus “went away” abruptly, it seems, after he blesses the children. I’m guessing that he recognized that children require a lot of energy, and needed a break!

I also really like Mark’s passage because Jesus reminds us to receive the Kingdom of God like a child. He wants us to be curious and learn about our world like children do. He wants us to show our emotions and share our feelings. He wants us to be open to new experiences and eager to get our hands dirty to help others.

Let us be like Jesus and scoop up those children in our congregation and bless them! I see the congregation at SUMC do this with my children every Sunday, and it means the world to me. Let us embrace the newest little ones and their unpredictable cries! They are our future and the Kingdom of God belongs to them.

-Alison Condon

[Editor’s Note: here are some thoughts in answer to the writing prompt, “my favorite Sunday ritual is…”]

There’s a little bit of a difference waking up on Sunday mornings. I’m, by nature, an early riser – much to the displeasure of almost everyone I’ve lived with, I’m afraid! I’ve done my best to keep quiet, and reading used to be an easy fix to the “what to do” problem.

Then, I had a husband who loved to sleep late, so turning on a light to read wasn’t too sensible. Then, a cat, who figured dancing on the stillest head was a way to start some mornings; so I moved into the living room to read and closed the bedroom door before Toby danced on Greg’s head. Most of the time, the head-dancing cat followed, anyway.

Then we had a baby, and two cats, and then a dog and a house, and routines were gone even if I was silly enough to try to have one.

Through very sad circumstances, were introduced to SUMC, and before I knew it, a routine was set. I had a place to go on Sunday morning, with a thing to do that I hadn’t really realized how much I missed. There were folks who welcomed me and mine, and it was very quickly a second home for me.

One thing Gram taught me when I was too young to remember the start, I could always be heard. There was this prayer … Jesus taught us. The Lord’s Prayer. I could say it in my head any time I wanted to, or needed to, and from that, I could go on. “Our Father, who art in Heaven”. The very first word included me in the company of all of us … And then my aunt sang it, and I started singing it in my head more often than not. In my head, but I was heard … and it was okay that I wasn’t as kind as Gram, and that I didn’t have the beautiful voice of Joan; I was heard and I knew it. I was accepted and loved even if I was a pain in the neck kid or an unruly teenager or any of the other things that got the self-doubt flowing. Jesus taught us all to pray, because we all need to do so.

And here’s the personal thing for my head to wrap around … I grew up saying the prayer we all share every Sunday morning just a little bit differently than we say it here. “Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors” was what I was used to; but what I heard the first time here was “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us”. I was surprised that there was the glitch in my thinking, but there it was. I had to decide to say it one way or the other, and for whatever reason, it took a while. It wasn’t until recently that I was reminded of how what is ingrained in my thoughts now as comfortable … took a while to be that way.

There’s been a lot to try to get comfortable with in the last few years, and there are things I hope we never get comfortable with. I do know, though, that the Lord’s Prayer is a place to start and even with a change in wording here and there, the lesson is the same. God’s will be done. This is my favorite ritual, to say this prayer with all of you, and to hear a different wording here and there in my ears as we pray together and still know that we are all guided by the same God even though we aren’t all the same.

Thank you, my friends, for being folks I can share the Lord’s Prayer with.

-Cindi Bockweg

“As for the things that you have learned and received and heard and noticed in me, do them, and the God of peace will be with you.” (Philippians 4:9)

---

We pray for the hungry,
And then we feed them.
That’s how prayer works.

We pray for the lonely,
And then we enter into their lives.
That’s how prayer works.

We pray for the naked,
And then we clothe them.
That’s how prayer works.

We pray for the stranger,
And then we welcome them.
That’s how prayer works.

We pray for the despairing,
And then we give them hope.
That’s how prayer works.

We pray for the grieving,
And then we comfort them.
That’s how prayer works.

We pray for an end to gun violence,
And then we admit that we are a soul-sick people;
We repent of our colossal failure to value life;
We stop making excuses;
We demand that we change hearts and minds,
And we act.
That’s how prayer works.

(-Rev. Dr. Charlene Rachuy Cox, a Lutheran pastor, May 2022)

-submitted anonymously

[Editor’s Note: as supportive as I am of the recycling activity, I don’t often recycle Lenten Devotions blog posts. This one, though, originally published in 2021, seemed particularly topical, given the hard times that trans people are going through in this moment in American history. And, coincidentally, it seems a legitimate response to three of this year’s LentBlog writing prompts: “Someone I need to support is…” and “Here’s an act that I can do today to honor God…” and “Here’s a story about a time when (a person or a community) ‘showed up for [someone] in a meaningful way…”]

A few years ago I had the opportunity to spend an August pre-season band camp week with a high school band out in western Massachusetts. I was expecting the usual: lots of sweat and sunblock; lots of learning of notes to play and places on the field to stand; and the relatively rare chance to hang out and in fact collaborate with my good friend the band director.

I got what I expected. Holy heck was it hot out there on the parking lot. But what I also got was … a moment that I will never, ever forget.

That moment involved an example of what I can only call quiet, collective, unconscious heroism.

A few framing questions:

Who are some of the most put-upon people who are younger than college age?

High school band kids.

What was the problem that had recently earned this particular high school some very dire headlines that it absolutely would not have wanted?

Bullying.

What was that “starred thought”, that catchy and useful phrase, which was offered to us by our college band director (the fellow who taught and inspired both my high-school band-director friend and me, all those years ago)?

“Band is a place for everyone.” Very often, band is the most helpful place to be, for those kids who feel like they have no other place to be.

So, back to the parking lot, and the rehearsal room, and the auditorium, and my work with the kids who played the brass and woodwind instruments, helping them learn and perfect their parts for that year’s halftime show.

There were about thirty of them, if I recall correctly. Small band, big sound. And my band director friend had given me a tiny heads-up about one of them. Not a behavior thing; not any kind of neuro-atypical thing (por ejamplo) that would have any impact on the rehearsals we were going to run.

But that flute player, the only blonde one? What was her thing? Not much, really … only that she was going through everything a high-school kid goes through when they’re working out a new gender identity.

Okay, I said. Truthfully, the only things that I really needed to know about these kids were: what’re their names and can they play?

I’m embarrassed to tell you that I cannot at this moment remember that flute player’s name. But, at the time, “oh yes,” my band-director friend said, “she can definitely play.”

Okay then.

The week began … it progressed … and it neared its ending. All the flutes could play the notes, and hit their drill sets, and move and play together quite well indeed.

And then it came time for the “friends and family show”. That’s when the pre-season camp’s work is done; the show is on the field in some condition or other; and the band would now like to show parents, and friends, and anyone else who happened along, the fruits of the labor.

So an impressively large contingent of parents, and friends, and former band members too, gathered on the edge of the parking lot under the shade … and waited for the Mighty Marching Whatevers to make their entrance from the band room across the way.

In the band room, the band and gathered and made a big circle, so everyone could see everyone else. One last pep talk from the director and instructional staff. If this had been an athletic team, it would have been: one last “defense on three; one, two, THREE…”

In this case, though, the band was led by its fine director through an exercise that she had been introduced to at a professional development activity of her own, some years before.

Ordinarily I am wary of these “team building activities”, these “ice breakers”. They can be anywhere from inspirational to an utter waste of time. And even the useful ones can end up being, well, just kind of “meh”, if there’s not buy-in from the participants.

This one was interesting.

First, the kids all counted off — one, two, one, two, all the way around. Each group would have a role to play; then those roles would be reversed and we’d play again.

The first group stood facing away from the center of the circle, eyes closed. (To be clear, they had been well-prepared for this; it was not a surprise. Also, they had just spent a week getting to know each other very well. These were important factors.)

The second group then walked slowly around the inside of the circle, stopping at each outward-facing person and doing one of three things for them, each of which signified something specific about the band camp week just finished.

It’s been awhile; but I think the idea was something like: gently placing one hand on the person’s head meant “I’ve been pleased to meet you for the first time, this week” … gently tapping fingertips on each shoulder meant “you and I were friends before, and are better friends now, after this week” … and gently pressing hands down upon each shoulder meant “I’ve come to care about you, this week”.

Yeah … in the wrong metaphorical hands: very squishy. Very “I’m OK, You’re OK”. Heaven help us if the participants don’t take it seriously. And in these days of being very very careful about physical contact, it could have been anywhere from risky to just plain wrong.

But in the case of this particular band, I thought as the exercise began, it might just be interesting.

The exercise finished, my band director friend gave her charges one last word of advice — “have fun” — and the band collected its instruments and flags and began to head out the back door toward the parking lot.

And I noticed that my new blonde flute player friend had tears streaming down their face.

I looked at my band-director friend, near whom I happened to be standing, and pointed at our blonde flute player, and asked a question with my face only.

My band-director friend smiled. She’d been watching specifically during that exercise.

“Every single person pressed down on the shoulders.”

I had gotten to like that band, that week. They had just the right sense of “band hype” without being fake about it; they actually seemed to enjoy working hard to accomplish something; they always made sure no one felt left out, on or off the field.

But from that moment — a moment which I really, really doubted they’d planned in advance — a moment that the entire band collectively may not even have realized they’d created — I really, really, REALLY liked that band.

It was a moment of quiet, collective, unconscious heroism.

Again, I’m willing to believe that they might have had zero collective understanding of what they had collectively done — but for all they knew, they might have turned a kid’s life around. Maybe even saved it, conceivably.

Do people really think I’m okay? that flute player may have been wondering.

Or are they all just humoring me?

Are they all putting on a good show when they’re really lying to me?

Before that afternoon, that flute player may have had no very good idea what the answers to those questions were.

They did now.

And even if they didn’t have answers to those questions regarding the entire rest of the student body who weren’t in that band … they knew what these forty-odd kids’ answer was, individually and collectively.

We’ve got your back.

Those kids played a heck of a show that afternoon.

-Rob Hammerton

To help churches in the New England Conference to grow in membership instead of shrinking, the Conference has recommended that churches start by creating a group of leaders to understand “real life evangelism” (not our concept of evangelism of someone standing on a corner and shouting that the end is near or a weird preacher on TV). The Conference recommended as a start: Unbinding the Gospel, by Martha Grace Reese.

The book says that very few Christians, including pastors, can articulate why they are Christians. I took that as a challenge. Here is my attempt to try to state why I am a Christian…

Why Am I a Christian?

I am a Christian because God loves me. I understand that He also loves all of you who are reading these words.

God, Spirit, Creator of the Universe, the most powerful being loves me and you! Returning that love, I love The Almighty Spirit, The Three in One.

My ideal is to be like the Jewish rabbi who lived two thousand years ago and died on a cross. Well … I do not want to die on a cross. I do want to share Him with others and help them know the joy of following Jesus and being a Christian. I have a long way to go. With you, dear reader, and other Christians’ help, I can move in that direction.

I am a Christian because of loving people at the Sudbury United Methodist Church who, like me, are struggling to understand how to be a follower of Jesus in our day and age. … You help me know the joy of living in company with other Christians.

So, I thank you for your support and prayers and I challenge each of us to help each other and strangers to know the joy of being associated with Christians who support and love each other.

-John McKinney

“Spring is sprung,
The grass is riz,
I wonder where the flowers is?
The bird is on the wing,
To me this seems to be absurd,
I always thought the wing was on the bird.”

This little ditty brightens my day when spring days get longer, and the air gets warmer. It’s a wonderful memory of my mom, whose 95th birthday would have been a few weeks ago. She was a lover of cultivating and raising flower gardens, an appreciator of fine music, and a faithful pilgrim on the Christian journey. And she had an amazing memory for all kinds of poetry, songs, Shakespeare, Spanish and trivia.

Once, while in a competitive game of Trivial Pursuit, she was asked, “what is engraved on the tablet of the Statue of Liberty?” Mom recited the entire Emma Lazarus poem. Afterward, I said, “Mom, there isn’t enough room on that little card for that answer!” She just looked at me with a sly smile and we both laughed.

Sadly, my smart, funny, trivia-loving mom fell victim to the cruelty of dementia in her later years.

Like other diseases, dementia can be a long and painful road. For the patient and their family, it presents a series of highs and lows that may last many, many years. Just like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates, you never quite know what you are going to get.

During one visit, mom told me that she had just seen Jon Bon Jovi and she shared the conversation she had with him and Chris Christie. I didn’t know she knew anything about Bon Jovi, but I bet she would have liked their song “Livin’ on a Prayer.”

During another visit, she asked me who I was. I explained that I was her daughter. Realizing that she didn’t recognize me, she looked at me with the saddest eyes and said, “That must be very hard.” It was.

Then there was the very last time that I was able to take a walk with her, circumnavigating her memory unit. “Look everyone,” she cried, “this is my daughter.” She introduced me to all her friends, then passed away a month later.

Our Lenten journey is so much more than the forty days and nights we observe in the months of late winter and early spring. It is more than the passage through snowy days to the vernal equinox into budding trees and new blades of grass. It is all the journeys of our lives, relived over and over in vastly different ways, with the people we love, in varying circumstances. The journeys we take through cancer, chronic illness, homelessness, dementia, acute anxiety, addiction, depression, long COVID, losing a job, dropping out of school, or any painful and confusing challenge life offers. The journeys that test us, change us, form us, and strengthen us.

We are a gift to one another, walking together, not always knowing where, but accompanying each other through those highs and lows with God as our constant companion. God never fails us and never leaves us. Instead, God sees us through all that life throws at us to the promise of spring and the resurrection hope that we have as Easter people.

-Leigh Goodrich

Last Sunday at church I saw examples of what has been true of SUMC for all the years I have been a member: we love and value our children!

To watch Zack and Donna Mills in the parish hall, both before and after worship, helping the young members of our congregation to learn about Jesus through hands-on activities is a joy — knowing that Donna and Zack may never know exactly the impact of what they’re doing, but having faith that God will work through their efforts to keep our kids growing in their love of Jesus — a gift that is priceless and lasts a lifetime.

There was a concert after coffee hour, a time for our young people to participate by their music and their visual art as well. It was a joy to see the number of grownup folks who made attending a priority! Their words of appreciation afterward will stay with our kids, affirming their worth and demonstrating our commitment; a promise made, in some cases, at their baptism, that we as a congregation will support them no matter what — whether there be only a few or a well- attended confirmation class.

Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and don’t forbid them.” It’s why we’re hurrying to get the nursery upstairs over the narthex ready by Easter, a space with a window overlooking the sanctuary so they can see what’s happening. It’s not a question of whether it’s a couple of kids or twenty (and wouldn’t that be wonderful!). Every child is worth the effort and the cost.

Jesus wants EVERY child to come to him.

What a gift for each of us to have a hand in making that happen!

-Nancy Hammerton

From A New Zealand Prayer Book (He Karakia Mihinare o Aotearoa):

The night is dark.
Let our fears of the darkness of the world
and of our own lives rest in you.

The night is quiet.
Let the quietness of God’s peace enfold us, all dear to us,
and all who have no peace.

-anonymous

Many of you know that I have been an elementary school teacher for more than three decades, teaching every grade from first- to fifth- over the years. One of the soft, yet crucial skills that experienced teachers develop over the years is “reading the room” to see what students need, in order to help students develop both academically and socially. I have learned from the greatest colleagues, by watching how they have made this growth happen. Now, as a gray-haired “old lady teacher,” I consider it my duty to do the same for any younger colleague who might ask me about how to approach a particularly tricky student situation.

Earlier this winter, I noticed that two students in my room — who ordinarily had played very, very happily together — were showing outward signs that they were frustrated with each other at recess. Teachers and families alike can vouch for the pandemic’s inevitable effect on the social skills and social practice of students, regardless of where they attended school or how old they were. While we teachers have been working overtime to provide social emotional learning and support in these last few years, students have also been doing their part by working very hard to practice their social skills. So, one morning after this little rift became outwardly apparent to me, I made myself more available by sidling quietly over to one of the two students who was looking dejected. I commented on the weather, and asked her about her weekend. Then, I said, “You know, I am surprised that I don’t see you playing with ‘Anonymous Student’ today. I had to wipe my glasses when I saw you over here on the bench.” Then, I asked a curious question, which is the secret tool that every teacher has in her tool box: “So, how are things going?”

The girl visibly inhaled and exhaled. I saw her get just a little teary, but then she gained her composure. “Mrs. Murphy,” she intoned. “I do like ‘Anonymous Student’, but lately I feel like she is a ‘hold on tight’ friend.”

“Tell me more,” I said, leaning in to show I was listening to the sentences which were to come, even though I could predict them with one-hundred-percent accuracy. My earnest student told me a familiar story. Girl meets girl and they become fast friends. Exclusive friends. Accidentally at first, but then, proudly. After a while, one girl decides that she’d like to invite another girl into the mix, but the second girl wants the Exclusive Rights to their friendship, and objects. Chaos ensues. Without a little teacher involvement, the curtain on the friendship might fall in a heap, leaving two unhappy actors with no more roles to play. I’ve seen this play begin many times before, and now I can recite the lines in my head.

“Well,” I said, “Clearly you are a great friend. So great, in fact, that ‘Anonymous Student’ doesn’t want to lose you! That is the good news. But let’s discuss the bad news. I understand that you would like to play with others. But can you pretend to be ‘Anonymous Student’ for a moment? Can you put your feet in her sneakers and see how she might be seeing things? She has this wonderful friend, who is her only friend. Can you see how she might feel, if you say you want to play with another person, too?” My adorable student’s eyebrows raised. I thought I saw one side of her mouth turn up into a little smile, just for a moment. “I think I have a plan to turn the bad news into more good news,” I told her. I explained it in brief to her, to let her know I wasn’t going to ignore her situation, and that I would help her.

For the next few weeks, during my regular “class meeting,” which is the name I give to our social competency learning time, I suggested that our class was ready for an amazing challenge. I challenged them to see if they could widen their social circle. I explained that spiders have it right when they weave multiple silken strands together into a durable and beautiful web. “If they only had one strand, they couldn’t catch any flies,” I quipped.

Our class made a list of ways we could get to know our class members even better. I challenged the class to play with someone completely new and different at our next recess. The class was kind enough to humor their teacher, and invite students to play who ordinarily ran in different social circles. I took pictures of toothy grins playing with new friends, and I shared them at our next meeting, praising their efforts. In the next few weeks, we played “finish the sentence” games, and I noted the sentences which caused the class to all talk at once, over the answerer. After every student had completed one sentence which they had drawn from a bowl, I pointed out those popular sentence starters, which they could use to start a conversation with a student who was new to them. “So now you know how to start the conversation, and you know it will be a good one,” I said. “Try it out at recess, and tell me how it works.”

Over the next several weeks, I reminded students of our goal — which I have found has the surprising effect of making that goal float to the top of students’ consciousness. Every few weeks, I gave students a “privacy folder” — much like the voting booths in our small New England towns — and an index card. “Write the names of four or five students in this classroom with whom you are friendly enough to play or partner during work time,” I urged. In the privacy of my empty classroom after school, I tallied the students who got a mention or two — or four. Early on, I looked to see who did not get a mention, and made sure to buddy that student with another likely future friend for work projects, or give the two students a special errand or job. Sometimes, when students got their index card and voting booth, I asked for the names of three students with whom they might talk or play, who were still not as familiar as their other classmates. I changed the desks so they would be geographically near, or I made sure they were science partners. In brief, I did what I saw my amazing now-retired colleagues doing, when I was a young, green teacher: they watched students, took mental notes, and used that data to improve students’ skills. They knew that a picture is worth a thousand words.

A few weeks ago, as the first buds appeared on the trees on our back playground, I asked students to list four or five of their friends on the now-familiar index card. When I tallied, I got confirmation of what I had been seeing: every student got a few mentions, at least. No student had a monopoly, however. The web had become strong.

This past week, “Anonymous Student” was uncharacteristically absent. My original friend bounded up to me on the playground and asked if that student was just going to be late, or whether she would be absent all day. When I told her that I believed the absent student was sick, and wouldn’t be there all day, my friend exclaimed, “Oh, too bad!!” I smiled and told her that I was so happy that she and “Anonymous Student” had forged a strong and flexible friendship, which couldn’t be pulled apart, and I reminded her about her many other new friends. She gave me a little sideways grin, flipped her long brown hair, and zoomed across the playground to another girl. I watched them, feeling happy that my little plan had worked. The next day, when “Anonymous Student” returned, I watched again, as they both held hands on their respective swings. It was a sweet sight.

Why do I tell this long story in a Lenten devotion? Well, I think that instead of giving up something during Lent, we Christians might take on more friendships in Christ’s name. We might invite someone new to join our Coffee Hour circle, or stand and talk with someone new at a Lenten dinner or after service. I realize that I could also use a regular refresher while I am at church, as I tend to enjoy my own familiar single strand. Teachers are not immune to doing the same things their students do, after all. In widening our social circles at church, and in putting ourselves in others’ sneakers, we might accomplish more than just gaining new friends at church. We might just make a holy spider web, and hold the church tightly inside of it. A stronger church.

I hope you will join me during this Lenten season in making new friends, who are increasingly worshiping with us in the pews, instead of accidentally giving up the chance to get to know new friends. Maybe you might even invite some of your own friends to church, to make our web even stronger still. After all, we’re in this web together.

-Kristin Murphy

[Mother’s Note:

“When reading through the Lenten writing prompts with my kids, Alex immediately had an answer for this one — ‘what is your favorite part of the Bible?‘ He was so confident! We wrote a draft together and edited some phonetically spelled words like ‘anamools’ and ‘cuoot’ so it would be more readable.

“First grade is all about independence with writing with less focus on spelling. This fosters confidence with expressing ideas and I see how Kidbury at Sudbury UMC has done the same thing with the Bible. My kids are getting a great Christian education. There are craft projects reminding us of God’s presence in our lives all over our house: Alpha and Omega sun catchers, a disciple ‘ship’, pictures, and a ‘do justly, love mercy, walk humbly’ poster, to name a few.

“Noah brought the animals because ‘they keep us alive.’ I think this translates to: ‘We can eat Alex’s favorite beef chili because the cows were on the Ark!’ His recollection doesn’t include the dove and rainbow yet, but he gets that God so loved us that He saved us. With Kidbury and Zach, Alex’s ‘favorite guy’ at church, we’ll get there!”]

-Alex (& Alison) Condon

[Editor’s Note: The following is a response to one of our Lenten Devotions writing prompts: “a wound brought me closer to God. Here’s the story…”]

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At first, I couldn’t make out what was disrupting my sleep … what is that pounding? Someone at the door at … what time is it? 1:15 AM? Adrenaline is running through my body and my hands are shaking as I hastily throw on some jeans and run down the stairs on wobbly legs, fearing … and yet knowing … what’s on the other side of that door: two police officers informing me that my son has been in a very serious accident. “He’s been rushed to the Trauma Unit at UMass Memorial.” They offer no other details, but urge us to get there ASAP (as if we needed any urging).

I instinctively grab my Bible (is this the end? Will this be goodbye?) and Chip and I jump in the car to drive the agonizing twenty-five minutes to Worcester. We don’t talk much.

“He’s lucky to be alive,” we are told, as we are ushered into a trauma room where my unconscious, bloodied and broken boy lies connected to machines. His face, grotesquely distorted by swelling and bruising, is barely recognizable, but this is my precious son, who I love beyond measure.

“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son.” (John 3:16)

I can’t imagine making the choice willingly. What an unbelievable sacrifice, God.

Hours go by as we sit beside him, praying for God’s Grace and Mercy to restore this beautiful life that He created.

“He is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think.” (Ephesians 3:20)

God’s got this.

I occasionally look up at the TV that is playing across the other side of the Trauma Unit, and notice that my son’s dramatic crash has made the morning news. I see the mangled remains of his van, its contents scattered everywhere. The weight of it all is crushing.

“The Lord is near the broken-hearted and he saves the crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18)

Thank you for holding us in the palm of Your Almighty hand.

I somehow want to make sense out of this senseless situation.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.” (Proverbs 3:5-6)

Thank you that this is not mine to figure out.

I feel sick.

“Casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7)

I know that you love my son even more than me [how is that possible??], and that you will make all things work for good.

This became an all-too-familiar, yet never less-terrifying scenario, as it repeated over the course of several years. Traumatic brain injury is a savage, stealthy destroyer. And yet God, in his amazing way, reached me in my despair to create a new thing in me. I cannot understand how a person without faith can navigate tragedy successfully. While I felt at times that I could not go on, I know now that God was lovingly growing me in faith –- a precious gift for which I am grateful. His promises carried me through when the bottom fell out, over and over again. My relationship with my Lord and Savior is now far deeper as a result.

What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear.
What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer.

A privilege indeed. And for that I give joyful thanks Every. Single. Day.

-Leslie Bell

Fritos, Cheez-its, popcorn, Cape Cod Potato chips, Doritos — and let’s not forget pretzels with a little ranch dip — the list goes on and on, ad nauseam (no pun intended) — these are all my culinary downfalls (as far as snacks are concerned).

The way that I was always taught to address the Lenten season was to give something up — not something frivolous or of little consequence but something that truly would make me stop and think about Jesus’ forty days in the desert and his suffering on the cross for our sake. So: my go-to choice for giving something up was, naturally, always, salty, savory, crunchy, snacks. And sometimes, I would even go so far as to vow to give up snacking between meals altogether.

But as I grew older these promises evolved into something else. For instance, if I gave up snacks altogether, I rationalized that if I never stopped eating during the day, the snacks weren’t really snacks but just extensions or continuations of whatever meal they succeeded or preceded. So, my whole day was just one big feast of sorts. In retrospect, not really a good way to observe Lent.

And if I gave up these salty snacks per se, and substituted them with, say, an apple or some carrots or something, I’d become grouchy, hungry, and begin to feel sorry for myself.

And although I hate to say it — abstaining from these wondrous savory snacks rarely made me feel closer to God or more cognizant of Jesus’ suffering. In fact, I’d find myself not thinking about Lent at all but just counting down the days until when I could bury my head in a feedbag of nacho Doritos to satisfy my hunger.

This type of Lenten sacrifice works for many people and that is a great and wonderful thing. We should be trying to draw ourselves closer to God and Jesus during Lent — and if this works, then run with it, by all means. But if this practice doesn’t work, what do we do try to get closer to God and the spirit of Lent?

I have a suggestion: instead of “giving something up,” why don’t we sort of “jump in with both feet”? In other words, instead of abstaining during Lent, why don’t we take something on? Add something to our daily routine to become closer to God. There’s lots of ways to do this — maybe read a morning devotional or a passage from the Bible, volunteer somewhere, or endeavor to do something that will benefit someone, or even attend a few extra church services (imagine that!).

For me, I am finding that devoting a little extra time daily to think about the blessings and grace that God has provided me, brings me closer to God and makes me more aware of Jesus’ presence. And the concomitant spiritual boost that it gives me makes me more cognizant and aware of the sacrifices that Jesus made for us.

I know lots of theologians may not agree with this line of reasoning, but it’s working for me. I am becoming closer to God and Jesus — and I find myself embracing the Lenten season rather than trying to dodge it.

-Tom Gero

Hot Cross Buns! Hot Cross Buns!
One a penny, two a penny.
Hot Cross Buns!
If you haven’t got a penny,
a ha’penny will do.
If you haven’t got a ha’penny,
then God bless you!

They are not quite sure where and when hot cross buns were first created, but it may have been by a monk named Brother Thomas Rodcliff at St. Alban’s Abbey in England, in the 14th century.

The buns from his recipe, called Alban Bun, were distributed to the poor people who lived around the abbey, on the Friday before Easter starting in 1361.

Every part of the buns, according to Christianity by Ina Taylor and Ina Turner, is symbolic. The cross on the top shows how Jesus died. Spices inside remind Christians of the spices put on the body of Jesus. Sweet fruits in the bun show how blessed we are as Christians.

The Elizabethan people took them very seriously. Queen Elizabeth I passed a law limiting their sales any time but Easter. But people wanted them more often, so started baking them at home.

They were first referenced in print in Poor Robin’s Almanac in 1733, as a street cry used by bun sellers, calling “Good Friday comes this month, the old woman runs, with one or two a penny hot cross buns.”

-Lynn Cunningham

Wouldn’t it be nice to see a hummingbird right now?

I ask this question the night before we’re being hit with the biggest snow of the winter to this point.* “Yes, please! It would be amazing to see a hummingbird right now,” is the response I suspect that most of you are yelling! As I pondered what to write for this year’s Lenten devotion, I kept coming back to these small but mighty flying creatures. In past years, I’ve written about the great blue heron and its significance and symbolism in my life, so it makes sense that I share a story about how the tiny hummingbird has found a special place in my heart.

I’ve always been fascinated by hummingbirds, and my late mother-in-law fancied them quite a bit, so I most definitely notice when they arrive for a split-second visit on my porch. Typically, when a hummingbird comes close by, you can hear the soft hum of their wings, which beat sixty times a second. They visit flowers and quickly move onto the next, often flying away and returning later to discover where more nectar is hiding. The little winged beings sup from 1,500 flowers and eat approximately seven hundred insects each day. I’m in awe of the exquisite and extraordinary lives of hummingbirds.

I find that so many of us are like the hummingbird —- we go, go, go. We move so fast and try to cover as much ground as possible before we take an opportunity to restore. I’ve never seen a hummingbird perching on a branch to rest their wings, but I know that they, like us, must rest their little bodies (the average weight of a hummingbird is less than a nickel!) and energize for tomorrow.

When hummingbirds make a brief, yet marvelous, appearance in my life, they remind me to pause and remember that I’m a child of God whom He wants to serve and help others. I remember that my life shouldn’t be all about the go go go and the do do do. It must be about powering up my wings to do the work God wants me to do; but first I have to stop and pray and ask for His help in knowing what that is. I need to restore, to re-energize for tomorrow.

During the spring of 2021, months after my nephew Ryan passed away from leukemia, my sister’s back porch seemed to be surrounded by hummingbirds. Her friends placed huge colorful flowering planters all over her deck, and as the orange, red, and purple flowers flourished, many little winged creatures came to visit my sister.

She spent a lot time on her porch grieving, praying, and reflecting on her life and Ryan’s passing. There were times when she had multiple hummingbirds flying around her at the same time … it was almost as if Ryan was there to help restore her soul.

A flock of hummingbirds is referred to as a glittering, a shimmer, or a tune. God must have known that my sister needed to be “glittered” with Ryan’s presence and envision the shimmer of heaven’s wonder. Now, when I am blessed by a hummingbird visit, I say “hi” to Ryan, ask God to look over my mother-in-law, and remember to power up my wings in Jesus’ name.

After all, even thin, fragile wings can cover just as much ground as the massive wings of a great blue heron. We are small but mighty people who can do big things. Power up, but remember — especially in this Lenten time of reflection — to restore for tomorrow.

-Kristen Straub

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[*Editor’s Note: this post was written at the very beginning of March, and held for publication until this morning. Hence, the reference to massive imminent snowfall. In case you wondered.]

Wednesday night is my bowling night out with the guys. Two weeks ago, I was running late and decided to stop by KFC in Hudson on my way to the bowling center in Worcester. It was cold and rainy and as I pulled into the parking lot; I was approached by a man, Jonathan, who asked if I could give him some money for food.

He was clearly miserable, cold and wet and I decided to invite him into KFC with me and said I would share a meal with him. He was reluctant to come in but finally he agreed.

The staff was ready to throw him out, as I’m sure they had done many times before, but I asked him to order whatever he wanted and to find a seat and I would bring the order over. He ordered an eight-piece family dinner for $30 and asked if that was OK. I didn’t know you could spend $30 on a meal at KFC but we did!

When I brought the food over, he was ready to go but I insisted we sit together and eat.

He didn’t say much but sat quietly and ate most of the meal.

We went our separate ways after the meal.

I hope Jonathan felt some sense of belonging if only for a moment.

It was the best $30 I have spent in a long time.

-Dave Jacob

“And let us consider together how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another –- and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” (Hebrews 10:24-25)


It’s been a full three years since our world was flipped upside down and shaken. The COVID pandemic by now has touched all or nearly all of us in some way. Some lost family or friends. To some, the change to a “stay at home” work environment was a loss… a loss of friendships, or even just conversation. And, sadly, business owners suffered financially.

But as I sat in church last Sunday, I couldn’t help but think how much effort was put into keeping our church open, to continuing services both in-person and online. So that we had a safe place where we could gather to see fellow church-goers, if even though wearing a mask. A place where we could go to find peace among the chaos. To hear familiar music. A place to clear your mind and recharge for the coming week of turmoil, hate and sad news throughout the world.

As we begin to get back to normal –- well, a new normal –- I’m so very thankful we had, and still have, a wonderful place, our safe haven, to go to and recharge. My sincere thanks to all that made it happen.

-Jeff Lance

This past Sunday, our Choir presented an anthem entitled “Saint Patrick’s Lorica”.

The term lorica is used in a number of Old Irish prayers. They all arose in the context of early Irish monasticism, in the 6th to 8th centuries. … The allusion is probably to Ephesians 6:14, where the Apostle bids his readers stand, “having put on the breast-plate of righteousness”.

We thought you might enjoy reading the text — separate from the musical setting.

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I bind unto myself today
The strong Name of the Trinity
By invocation of the same
The Three in One, and One in Three.
His bursting from the spiced tomb;
His riding up the heav’nly way;
His coming at the day of doom:
I bind unto myself today.

I bind this day to me forever
By power of faith, Christ’s Incarnation,
His baptism in the Jordan River;
His death on cross for my salvation;
Confessors’ faith, apostles’ word,
The patriarchs’ prayers, the prophets’ scrolls;
All good deeds done unto the Lord,
And purity of virgin souls.

Christ be with me, Christ within me
Christ behind me, Christ before me
Christ beside me, Christ to win me
Christ to comfort and restore me

Christ beneath me, Christ above me
Christ in quite, Christ in danger
Christ in hearts of all that love me
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger

I bind unto myself the Name,
The strong Name of the Trinity
By invocation of the same
The Three in One, and One in Three.
Of whom all nature hath creation;
Eternal Father, Spirit, Word:
Praise to the Lord of my salvation,
Salvation is of Christ the Lord.
Amen.

-the SUMC Music Staff

A few years ago, I had the privilege of traveling to Ireland for 10 days. Ireland is a special place —- beautiful scenery, a spoken language that is musical to the ear, and some of the most interesting people I’ve encountered in my travels. It has, in some cases, the feeling of mystery.

As the trip went on, my friend and I found ourselves in Dublin. Since I was becoming short of the local currency, I was glad to see the size and bustle of the city, thinking it had to be easy to get some. We were standing back from the edge of the sidewalk, debating which way to walk to find a bank. Not far off, I noticed a man watching us, a nice looking, youngish man, quite tall, wearing a green jacket and a pointed hat, although it wasn’t close to St. Patrick’s Day. I wondered why I hadn’t noticed him before.

Just as we took a step toward him, he came over to ask if we needed help. We explained that we needed some place to get the local currency and asked if he could give us directions to a bank. He began to give us directions and then, seeing our comprehension was somewhat lacking, he said, “Here, I’m going that way, I’ll show you where it is.”

The light changed and we crossed the street to a narrow cobblestone lane. I hurried to keep up with his long legs, as he walked beside me. All of a sudden my toe caught in a crack in the pavement and I started to fall! It happened so quickly that I had no chance even to put out my hands to break my fall. Suddenly I felt my arm being grasped, breaking my fall and saving me from injury. The young man helped me up, concerned that I might have been hurt, but even my knees had escaped without a scratch!

After a moment, we started on together, this time a little more slowly. Pointing out the bank, he came in with us to show us which line to stand in. As we turned to thank him, he was gone…

My friend asked me, “Who was that fellow? Was he a leprechaun? How did he happen to be here at the right moment?”

It reminds me of a quote in Hebrews 13:2, which says, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels unaware.” However, in this case, WE were the grateful recipients of help from … an angel? As one of my aunts used to say when she couldn’t figure out something, “Well, it’s just one of the mysteries.”

-Nancy Hammerton

O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good,
for his steadfast love endures forever. (Psalm 136:1 (NRSV))

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing,
give thanks in all circumstances;
for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 (NRSV))

Give thanks to God. This message repeats throughout the Bible. Just in case we missed it. Just so we don’t forget.

I find that moments of shared thanksgiving can be especially heartfelt. They seem to magnify the feelings of gratitude and reinforce the bonds between those sharing in the prayer. For example, at a recent Lenten supper, Heather Josselyn-Cranson began the evening by having us sing the Johnny Appleseed Grace. It is a joyful and carefree tune, which appeared in Disney’s “The Legend of Johnny Appleseed” in 1948, and goes as follows:

Oh, the Lord is good to me,
And so I thank the Lord,
For giving me the things I need;
The sun and the rain and the apple seed.
The Lord is good to me.

Heather recounted that as a young camper, she and her fellow campers carefully omitted the word rain. We shared a chuckle and were soon off to the serving line feeling like happy campers ourselves — hungry and ready to be fed.

Another grace that most of us know is:

God is great, God is good,
And we thank him for our food;
By his hand we all are fed;
Give us, Lord, our daily bread.

This prayer is often shared with young people, which is a blessing in itself.

Another “thank you” that I love is:

This is the day that the Lord has made;
let us rejoice and be glad in it. (Psalm 118:24 (NRSV))

I first memorized this verse as an adult, while teaching a Sunday School class for second graders. Our music instructor was warmly greeted each week for a ten-minute singing session. He would play piano, leading old favorites and teaching soon-to-be favorites. The musical rendition of this verse was the new song one spring and faithfully practiced each Sunday. Eventually the young voices were able to not only sing it, but sing it in a call-and-response (echo) version that was haunting in its beauty. Once again, the prayer’s impact was magnified by its being a group experience.

I’ll close by sharing a prayer that was part of the morning exercises in my first grade class many years ago in North Bennington, Vermont, and which was followed by a hand-over-the-heart Pledge of Allegiance to the flag of the United States of America. I still know this prayer and often use it as the start of longer, and more complicated, adult prayers. It serves as a way of centering my thoughts and focusing on God. The words may be simple, but it covers the basics.

Thank you God for another day,
For time to rest and time to play,
For pretty things that my eyes may see,
For people to love, and who love me. Amen.

Giving thanks for all of you!

-Sandy Burns

I’m very fortunate to live in the woods, surrounded by beautiful trees and shrubs.

In the spring, watching new little leaves and tiny buds grow into mature leaves and flowers is a continuing, joyful experience.

In the summer, the fully-leafed mature trees tower over the house and provide cooling shade during the hot summer months.

In the fall, the gorgeous red colors of the sugar maples and the yellows and browns of the other maples and oaks provide a wondrous beauty (and lots of leaves to rake!).

And in winter, what is there to look at? The tall, green beautiful pine trees that have been there all along! As we look at our world, the ever-present pine trees can get pushed to the back of our vision when more showy, more beautifully colored trees are present.

God can be like the pine tree — ever-present but not always as important in our lives as He should be. Let’s not let the busyness and shiny things in our lives keep us from needing and seeking our ever-present Lord.

-Jody Avery

[Ed. Note: the writing prompt is “Here’s a story about a time when a person ‘showed up for me’ in a meaningful way…”]

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When my mother died, I went to Florida for her funeral, assuring my family I would be fine on my own. It was just as the first fall week of school was beginning, and I assured Rob and Kristin that Nana would tell them definitively NOT to come, to go and teach (something I have since regretted).

So Kristin decided to write a piece about her grandmother and asked me to read it at her service.

It’s a beautiful, loving tribute to a grandmother whom we didn’t see very often because she lived at a distance, but she always kept a close connection to Rob and Kris by sending them picture postcards of animals or something a child would connect to, always with only a “Love, Nana,” and they adored her. The last sentence in Kristin’s loving tribute to her beloved grandmother was something like “…even though I will miss Nana, I know she is safe in heaven with God.”

So when I arrived in Florida, I told my sister that I would like to read what Kristin had written at Mom’s service. My sister said nothing for a moment, and then said, “Well, Pastor probably won’t allow you to.” (I forgot to say that this was a Missouri Synod Lutheran Church, a lot more conservative, shall we say, than our United Methodist Church!) Finally, she agreed to take what Kristin had written to Pastor to get his approval. The next day Pastor reluctantly agreed to my reading it, but I was to leave out the final sentence which said something like “I’m sure I will see Nana again when I get to heaven,” or something close. Being who I am and tired to boot, I said, “What!!!” Well, in his mind, that was not theologically correct, so I must not say it.

On the afternoon before the funeral, my sister and I were banished to the “library” until someone told us to come into the sanctuary. By now, I was getting a little anxious as to how I would be received, given that my sister and I have a tenuous relationship, and heaven only knows what she could have told all her friends about me. I remember saying to God, “surely, you’ll help me???” Well, as I stood looking out the door, who should I see coming but a wonderful former member of SUMC who some of you will remember: Kris Brown, now also living in Naples. I was stunned! She told me that although she never read newspaper obituaries, for no reason she could put her finger on, she had read them the day before. There she saw my name, and knew she would attend.

She asked me what she could do for me, and I said, “Stand next to me at the collation,” which she did. But guess what: everyone came up to me with heartfelt sympathy and could not have been more lovely. Thank you, God!!

Oh, and Kristin’s piece? I read it all the way through —- including the last sentence.

-Nancy Hammerton

[Author’s Note: “I read through the writing prompts Rob sent for us, and was grateful for the list… I always have a really tough time starting when I am unsure.”]

What I am thankful for hit my eyes at the exact same second our newest family member hit the door, signaling the “need” for relieving himself outdoors instead of indoors. I’m sure you’ve heard doggy tales!

Our Benny is adorable. He’s still relatively small, so he’s very much in the learning phase.

We got him from a shelter, the same one we’ve gotten two dogs before him from. They have all been mixed breeds and lab has been part of the mix. We’ve been so fortunate with our puppies; they’ve all become loved members of the family very quickly. I have always been a dog lover; I cannot remember a time when there wasn’t a loved dog in my life, even if when I was little that dog lived a thousand miles away.

Then, I got a little older, ten, and our little family of three — Mom, my brother and I — met Jim and within months Mom and Jim were married and Jim was Dad in a heartbeat and Dad thought if we were getting a house, we needed a dog. So, Dusky entered the family. And, I watched Dad with Dusky, and my suspicions were confirmed. Dad didn’t say a lot of words; he walked the talk. I watched him with Dusky and I knew he loved me.

We were on our second dog by the time I was a young adult, and picking my own apartment was cool, but I missed the greeting at the door when I got home, even if it was MY apartment because I was all grown up! The coolness didn’t last quite as long as I hoped it would, but Sammy was always at home when I went back for a visit, so in addition to hugs from Mom and Dad, I got jumped on and I loved it.

Greg, Heather and I got our first house when Heather was four, and I knew I needed a dog the same way Dad did. It was just a fact. Greg wasn’t quite as sure of that fact as I was, but Heather sold him with a bat of her eyes, and Ollie was our find at Buddy Dog. He was also adorable, and more work than I remembered Mom and Dad handling, but soooo worth it. He was near me all the time, day in and day out; if I was at home, he was near. If I drove to the grocery store we would ride together and I would tell him what the rest of the plans for the day were or work it out with him in order to figure them out. If I said the word “ride” he was always the first to the door, as was our next in line, Jess. Jess was also my constant companion, but in a slightly different way.

After Jess came Magic. Magic was more independent than Ollie or Jess, and the car was NOT her thing at all, so I got used to a different reality as I drove, and often at home, also. And, even though she was quite happy soaking up the sun outside without me, she was also very happy to put all fifty pounds of her sleepy self in my lap in the evenings and we settled down at the end of every day like that until she got so strong as she jumped out of my lap she started leaving bruises while pushing off. I had to move her spot to be next to me instead of on me, and we were good together.

And, then, like Ollie and Jess, Magic showed a sign of illness. Unlike Ollie and Jess, she had a couple more months with us before she couldn’t be comfortable anymore, and we said goodbye. It had been pretty exhausting, just keeping her fed and getting her in the car against her will and getting meds that were working well into her by trickery and letting her outside one or two times a night. It was like having another baby, but with the knowledge she wouldn’t be growing; she was dying.

The thing that made sense to me at that point was to get another dog; but slightly older than a puppy, because I didn’t see me as capable of getting a puppy house broken in the winter, especially at night, as I’d like to be; and I was pretty sure Greg and Ayden would appreciate not being told to take the puppy out, also. So, I signed up at shelters, and specified housebroken dogs when asked. Sterling Animal Shelter wrote back in a few days, saying they were expecting a few young dogs in a week, but they had this one puppy left from a litter of twelve if I was interested.

I wanted to be able to say “no” about the puppy. I told Greg and Ayden. Greg had sort of agreed with my original thought about the middle of the night stuff, and Ayden had tried not to tell me how much he thought puppy was the way to go, but I had slight hopes the idea had jelled a little more and that one of them could say “we should wait until next week”. Neither of them said any such thing. So, I pointed out that the nighttime stuff was theirs. They still said “puppy”. A couple of other points came up and it was like there was just no point in not meeting this puppy. It was just the way it had to be, so I told the shelter we’d be there the next day to meet “Patch” as he was called then.

It seems that Magic got word to Patch, because Patch took one look at the three of us, and headed straight to Ayden, kissed Ayden’s face, just like Magic had eight and a half years ago; and we had a new twelve-week-old puppy, whose name had changed by the time we were in the car on the way home.

So, Ayden and Greg took the puppy outside in the middle of the night, I am on call a LOT more in the evening than I was prepared for, and Benny and I are doing ride-alongs daily as he becomes my next car buddy.

We didn’t expect to lose Magic so young. I wouldn’t have traded Ollie for any dog on the planet and then came Jess who was her own self at the same time she healed my heart from its loss. Life is that in so many ways.

I am so grateful for this puppy who drives me bonkers because he knows the thing to do is to knock at the door seventeen times a day to get the treat and the praise which he follows by melting my heart by climbing in my lap in the evening and keeping me warm. I am so grateful for the gifts that God sends me at the exact same time I am being driven a bit bonkers, often by those gifts! I am in my sixties and I am still learning and still open to learn, and it keeps me warm and I hope that continues for the rest of my life, even when I am declaring that sixteen times a day would be better than seventeen!

Gratitude is a lifelong thing to learn, I do believe.

-Cindi Bockweg

The Lenten Devotions writing prompt said, “My favorite scripture verse is…”

And I went immediately and aggressively to the book of Matthew, the sixth chapter. That’s right in the middle of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. In particular, I am happy to (ironically) wave Matthew 6:5 around: “And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others…”

I’ve been known to make a fuss about the people who love to get within reach of a TV camera and make absolutely sure that you know they’re the best, most devoted, most passionate Christians you’ll ever meet.

Whether they’re making a fuss as pundits on cable TV news shows pontificating about current events … or they’re televangelists extolling the value of their highly Christian characteristics, so that their viewers may be inspired to send them yet more money (to fund their rather glitzy lifestyles, as it has turned out, rather than, ya know, helping the poor) … more often than not, I feel like Jesus might have been suggesting a New Beatitude: blessed are NOT the fuss-makers, for they have totally misinterpreted the Scriptures, if they’ve read them at all.

All of which, you might suggest to me, is a heck of thing for me to say.

For openers, the first half of Matthew’ sixth chapter reads like a guidebook for “How to Lent”: “So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others…” … and then the aforementioned “whenever you pray…” … and then, most Lent-ly, “whenever you fast, do not look somber, etc etc, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by your Father who is in secret…”

So let’s put together a Lenten Devotions blog, splash it all over Facebook, like! subscribe! share!, and post loud graphics all over the place when you’re freshly in need of writers!!

(Jesus might shake his head sadly. Lent ought not be a high-intensity PR moment, yeah?)

And all this talk of “do what you do, but don’t make a loud flailing big deal of it because that’s not the point” is similarly a heck of a thing for a church musician to say — at least the kind of church musician who is seen every Sunday standing in front of a set of singers and quite literally flailing.

Ah, but the church musician comforts himself — and actually does believe what he’s saying, in spite of what it looks like to folks in the pews and watching the livestream — by knowing in his heart that the job he is doing consists not of self-aggrandizement but of community encouragement: offering the most useful musical assistance possible, via conducting gestures and such, to the assembled volunteer singers, that they might do the best possible job of presenting praise to God through song.

That song, of course, hits the ears of the assembled congregation on its way to God’s ears; the whole thing can appear to be a performance, but we in the Chancel prefer to refer to it all as a presentation. At the very least, I never take an individual bow after an anthem is finished, and neither does our the Choir. What it’s not all about is us.

Which leads me to a memory from nearly thirty years ago, when I was starting out as a graduate music-education student at Boston University. One of the requirements of that particular experience was to participate in one of the University’s large ensembles; the one that made sense for me was the Wind Ensemble. The conductor of the ensemble was a gentleman named Malcolm W. Rowell, and twice a week he drove two hours from his home in Amherst to conduct a BU Wind Ensemble rehearsal, and then drove two hours back.

I learned a ton about conducting from him, those two semesters in 1995 and 1996. Partly I learned that major-league conductors have to know the musical score backwards and forwards. I’ve joked that Mr. Rowell knew the third percussionist’s part, the second bassoonist’s part, and the baritone saxophonist’s (me) part better than the players did; except that it wasn’t a joke. “I believe you’ll find,” Rowell would purr knowingly, “that in bar 47, that is an A flat.” Uhh, oops, I’ll be darned, he’s right.

But the memory that kicked loose as I considered Jesus’ advice about comporting, or conducting yourself, whether it was Lent or any other time, was from the day we were working on a particular march. It was a composition named “Rolling Thunder”, by the great American march composer Henry Fillmore. In it, all the instruments are playing at the upper limits of what they can achieve technically — woodwind players’ fingers flying, as they tend to in most marches anyway; and the trombone section playing a fast-moving melody that one would think impossible for instruments with only slides and not keys or valves to change from pitch to pitch. And the whole thing goes fast. Ferociously fast! If you close your eyes while listening, you can easily imagine that the thing must be a visual riot, as close to a musical Road Runner cartoon as can be created. (A video of the University of Michigan Symphonic Band playing “Rolling Thunder” is here, for your reference and enjoyment.)

But while the BU Wind Ensemble was playing it, Mr. Rowell stood on the conductor’s podium, right arm outstretched, conducting baton resting gently in his right hand … barely moving. And it wasn’t as if he was uninspired, or uninterested, or uncaring of the musical result of the moment, or doing very little mental work to lead the group. He was just not making a giant show of himself.

He was providing, for the band, a visual understanding of how fast the tempo ought to go … occasionally lifting his left hand to give some instrument group or other a cue as to when to play after having not played for a moment, or to emphasize where a cymbal crash ought to be especially intense … occasionally lifting a pair of eyebrows to mark a significant musical moment … but otherwise not drawing a whole lot of attention to himself. He was giving us the musical information we needed, and otherwise not being a distraction to anyone.

From a band-concert-audience perspective, he and the back of his tuxedo were almost completely still. It was the band that was doing the work.

(Incidentally, if you watch the the Michigan band video linked above, you’ll see their conductor, Michael Haithcock, making rather small conducting movements himself. Still, in 1995, Mr. Rowell made Haithcock’s conducting look big by comparison. Remarkable!)

I also seem to recall that when the piece was over, Mr. Rowell would extend a mere index finger in the direction of whatever soloists should stand and be acknowledged, and twitch it just a bit to say “okay, stand now” … and then he would move quietly to the side of the stage, extend his arm toward the Wind Ensemble as if to say, “they did all that work” … and take the tiniest of head-bobbing bows.

I haven’t always succeeded in emulating these bits of wise conducting technique in my times in front of the Choir, or whatever other groups I’ve been able to conduct. Partly this might be because in a lot of those volunteer-ensemble situations, micro-miniscule gestures aren’t as helpful as being visually obvious; or at least I comfort myself by thinking this.

So I continue to work to not make such a big deal of myself. Most times, a conscious thought is required. A little smaller there, Rob. And only when the Choir knows the piece well enough that I don’t really have to look like the person on the tarmac flapping her or his arms, telling the jumbo jet pilot when to throw on the brakes so he doesn’t pile through the airport terminal windows.

Matthew chapter six, fella. It’s not all about you.

-Rob Hammerton

I watched him carefully. His breaths at times raised his now-concave chest up and down dramatically. When he had as much air in his lungs as he could manage at this point, his ribs were so close to the surface of his body I feared they would break through soon. On his back in bed, his right arm was over his eyes as if the little light in the dark room was blinding him. The shape of his open mouth reminded me of his father’s when he fell asleep, head resting on the back of the chair, while watching television in the family room. His long legs had raised him to close to six and a half feet tall when he had been able to stand. The two bent matchsticks with socks on the ends lay in a jumble partly outside of the blankets near where I sat in my chair. He used to complain with a big grin that his friends who visited him would grab one of his feet in greeting. But he had peripheral neuropathy. The squeeze to him felt like an electric charge flowing through his extremities. He would stiffen and arch his back in pain.

I wanted to wake him to talk about something, anything. He had had no interest in talking for the last week or so, though. The jokes and laughs were long gone. He either slept or tried to come to grips with dying when awake. I wanted to make his death easier than I had his life for the previous thirty years.

He was three years younger than me. We shared an older brother. I am only twenty months younger than my older brother. The two of us shared a bedroom for close to ten years. We watched the same television programs. Our classrooms in elementary school were often next to one another. I got along with his friends because we were close in age, but I didn’t horn in on my brother when he had a friend over.

Three years is an eternity when you’re in elementary school, however. I didn’t want my baby brother anywhere near me when I had a friend over. Often our disagreements quickly became physical, until he became taller than I was. And when he got into middle school, he and his own friends became cutting with sarcasm about the music I listened to and my driving. I returned the “favor” by laughing in his presence when he told our parents about difficulties he was having. He hit middle school when I hit high school, and I had graduated by the time he made it to high school. There was neither time nor opportunities for us to become close.

Things turned in the 1980s. I became sick enough to require frequent hospitalizations. I was touched that when he got as close as Chicago on business travel from California, he often flew on to the east coast to see me in the hospital. We would talk as only siblings can about what it was like to grow up in a house with our parents. Our phone calls often included a lot of laughter. But there was always that rock at the pit of my stomach. I deeply regretted being a jerk to him. I felt it was my fault we had so little time to be close when he became the one to be in the hospital and I was the traveler. I still feel this way.

Many people have pointed out to me there was nothing in my relationship with my brother that was unusual. I need to forgive myself, they say. I’d like to. I’ve made progress. However, the rock is still there, and it isn’t getting any smaller. My parents have both died. Other family connections are thin.

I have a table right outside the bedroom door at home. On it is a photograph of my brother. I say hi to him on occasion. I tell him I miss him. I hope I am a more compassionate brother and friend now. For others, I don’t want the rock they carry to be one of a pile in the pit of the stomach. I wish it to be a semi-precious stone they are proud to carry in spite of its burden.

-David Downing

That spring, in quick succession we experienced a number of life-defining events.  I was approved for ordination in the UMC. I interviewed at a suburban Boston church for the role of associate pastor. I graduated seminary. I was ordained and I received a call from the District Superintendent saying the bishop was appointing me to Sudbury UMC.  We prepared to move from our small studio apartment on the seminary campus to the four-bedroom parsonage on Drum Lane.  I was told to expect some church people to show up at the seminary one Saturday morning in late June to help us move.

You did show up. There were at least five trucks and 20 people. Within two hours all our worldly possessions were packed in the trucks, driven the 20 miles west, unpacked and put onto shelves and into cabinets. The other students at the seminary snuck peeks out their windows and later told me they had never seen such a thing. Most expected to rent a trailer themselves, get a TripTik (remember those?) from AAA, and find their own way to their first appointment.

Over and over again, in the six years I served as the associate, you showed up for one another and for the community. You showed up for the youth when I asked for volunteers to go on work team weekends. You showed up for 7:30am Bible studies.  You showed up for one another in covenant groups for years on end, as you met to talk about your lives, your children’s lives, books you might read together, and ideas you were working through.  You showed up and together produced music to lift the rafters of the church and our spirits also.  You showed up for difficult discussions about the best way to do ministry in our community and beyond.  You showed up, sometimes in silence and usually carrying a prepared meal, when hard or terrible things happened. You showed up for games of rounders, for teaching Sunday School, for fixing the parsonage plumbing, for folding and sending the newsletter… You showed up.

This commitment to and habit of showing up for one another is a church’s superpower. This consistent presence and engaged caring for one another is the best living example and clearest reflection of God’s love for us. This season of Lent, let this be our continued aspiration in ministry: to find ways that we can show up for one another as God has always shown up for us.

-Avis Hoyt-O’Connor
Associate Pastor, Sudbury UMC, 1989-1995

When I think about fasting, I immediately think of physical fasting. Perhaps this stems from my first exposure to Lent being friends giving up chocolate or sweets. But as Pastor Leigh described in her sermon a few weeks ago, a Lenten fast is not necessarily a physical one. Instead it may be a “giving up” of behaviors that don’t support one’s faith. I considered some of the examples she brought up, such as fasting “negative thoughts about neighbor” or “fear … about people who don’t look, or act, or think…” like me. My initial reaction is to think I am above that. I love everyone. I know that everyone I meet is a child of God. But as I go through my daily life, particularly in stressful environments like the veterinary hospital where I work, or during a chaotic commute on the Mass Pike, I can easily lose that sentiment and find maintaining my “children of God” mindset to be a challenge. It can be hard, at times, to prevent quick judgments from forming in my mind.

But I can carry with me the intention to love like Jesus loves and bring myself back, again and again, to thoughts of loving kindness and compassion rather than judgment. I can remember that people of all backgrounds and means, from those who struggle to get by to those with considerable privilege, suffer and experience times of hardship. I can bring this to my mind when someone treats me in a less-than-polite manner as a counter to my initial judgment. I can give that person a break. I don’t have all the details and it’s strange, really, that judgments come so readily when I have little sense of what someone may be going through when our paths happen to cross. I recall a saying: “Be kind. For everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” It’s definitely easier to be kind to people who are pleasant or follow societal expectations for “good behavior”. But, God loves all her children, regardless of their imperfections, social awkwardness, or curt manner. I can offer everyone a smile or a kind word and pray that they find relief from whatever it is that burdens them and that I might find the willingness to accept people as they are.

So, my fast this year is to replace (or, at least, to promptly follow) judgment with loving kindness and try to keep this in the forefront of my mind as I move through my day. The season of Lent is a reminder to be more intentional about my thoughts and actions as I attempt to be a small light in our sometimes dark, often trying world. So I hope I can remember to take at least a moment throughout my day to allow God’s spirit to meet me in the midst of my worldly troubles as I seek to emulate the goodwill and love that God freely offers to all Creation.

-Kate Moser

[Ed. Note: here’s an item recently posted at the Daily Stoic website.]

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“We are so busy. We think we’re supposed to be. We think that’s how we get better. We think that moving is the only way to move forward.

“You might think that Marcus Aurelius could relate. After all, he headed an entire empire! He had books to read, writing to do, laws to pass, cases to hear, troops to lead. So yes, he was a busy man. He, like us, was pulled in many directions. He had ambitions, worries, hopes, and dreams.

“Yet when he speaks most beautifully, it’s of moments of quiet and calm. ‘If you can cut free of impressions that cling to the mind,’ he said, ‘free of the future and the past —- can make yourself, as Empedocles says, “a sphere rejoicing in its perfect stillness.”’ Have you ever had a moment like that? If you have, you know how special it is. You know what kind of insights you were able to access, what kind of happiness crept in, what kind of peace you were able to feel. Marcus wrote that having that stillness allows us to ‘concentrate on living what can be lived (the present moment).’ Only then, he said, ‘can you spend the time you have left in tranquility. And in kindness. And at peace with the spirit within you.’

“You deserve moments like that. Moments where you watch the snow fall. Moments where you sit quietly with a book. Moments where you look out the train window, not on a conference call, not checking email, not wondering how long until you arrive in the city, but a moment to check in with yourself, to think about your life and what you want to do with it. Moments with loved ones. Moments where you are grateful, connected, happy, creative, in the zone —- doing whatever it is that you do best.

“When the Stoics talk about stillness, they aren’t talking about some abstract notion. They are talking about maybe the most important thing you can be doing in your life. They are saying that all the ‘work’ you are doing, all the thoughts you’re expending trying to get ahead, trying to force a breakthrough, are pointless.

​”The real way to charge ahead is to slow down. To clear your mind. To rejoice in perfect stillness, free of the future and the past, fully present and locked in. You can do it. You deserve that.”

-submitted by Meg Fotakis

“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” (Matthew 7:12)

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I am remembering a book written by a young friend that is called 1,000 Mitzvahs: How Small Acts of Kindness Can Heal, Inspire and Change Lives [by Linda Cohen]. It might also be true that small acts of kindness can change the world!

So, I am trying to practice a small act of kindness by smiling at people I pass by. I smile at strangers walking down the street or in the grocery store. They might think “what she smilin’ about?” But usually it makes them smile. And then they will make someone else smile. That could improve the day and the life of a lot of people.

I am also chatting with fellow shoppers at the store, agreeing with their choice of a certain brand, or that I like their scarf or their earrings. It usually makes them smile!

And I am trying to be a more patient driver, and slow down to help someone who is trying to pull out of their driveway or a side street. It might make them smile and then return the favor to someone else.

But sometimes I am having a bad day and I hope someone will try to make me smile.

-Lynn Cunningham

I recently heard that it’s just as hard to lead a hopeful and vivacious life as it is to lead a fearful and morbid life. The only difference is hope and vitality are just nicer.

Life is hard no matter what so why not choose hope? Hope gives us meaning and momentum.

My hope is renewed when I sit in church on Sunday morning. The rhythm and pattern of the service, the music, the deep breath-in lead by Leigh — they center me. When I’m centered and thoughtful, I’m less fearful and feel more confident about my hopes. I like to look out a sanctuary window at the tall, green pines; and at the cross on top of the steeple when I enter. I like to hear the voices of those around me when we recite the Lord’s Prayer together. Praying in unity really lifts my hopes as I figure each voice is lifting up their hopes to God. I hope my prayers somehow strengthen someone else’s hope and I receive others’ prayers to strengthen mine.

So join me in working to lead a life with hope and vitality. I’m still working on it and when I get there I can vouch that it really is waaaaaay nicer.

-Vikki Jacobson

Three years ago when COVID hit and we had to quarantine, I had to be extremely careful because I was in the “elderly” category and have several health issues that put me at risk. Since I like to send cards to friends and had no way to purchase them, I resorted to the Current Catalog. They carry every type of greeting card you could need, whether it be sympathy cards, get-well cards, or birthday and anniversary cards.

As I looked through all of their selections I came across a card that was blank on the inside so that you could write a note for anything. The poem on the outside caught my attention, and I want to share it with all my SUMC family because each time I try to order it again it has been out of stock. I think this is a perfect prayer for our Lenten season.

I said a prayer for you today.
And know God must have heard. I felt the answer in my heart, although He spoke no word.

I didn’t ask for wealth or fame,
I knew you wouldn’t mind. I asked Him to send treasures, of a far more lasting kind.

I asked that He’d be near you,
At the start of each new day. To grant you health and blessings, and friends to share your way.

I asked for happiness for you,
In all things great and small. But it was His loving care I prayed for most of all.
-Unknown

Blessings to all of you in this beautiful Lenten season,

-Judy Aufderhaar

“Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you.” (Matthew 7:7)

For many years, as one of the teachers of middle school Sunday School classes, known for a while as the “Grapple Group” here at SUMC, I stressed to the students the promise that God is, and will always be, with us. I also used as a mantra during those years, “Seek and ye shall find,” as a starting point for those who had yet to discover the presence of God in their lives.

This was an important message for me to share because I have felt the presence of God so powerfully in my life, and I hoped that all of the youth in the class would also someday experience the presence of God in their lives if they had not already done so. Even though I have had a number of awe-inspiring encounters with God over my lifetime, and even though we are encouraged to witness to others how God has been in our lives, I have been hesitant to share my “God experiences” with others. On Sunday, February 19th, Pastor Leigh addressed some of the reasons why people, like me, hesitate to share such personal experiences – accusations of being under the influence; emotional; or the most troubling, that we might be accused of “making it up.” Well, Pastor Leigh’s sermon has emboldened me to share one of my experiences, one that was fleeting, yet profound for me.

This spiritual experience occurred a few years ago in the basement of our house. I was exercising on an elliptical machine, a funny contraption that simulates the aerobic exercise of running without jarring the joints as sometimes happens when running on hard surfaces. It was, and is, my practice to pray during my exercise sessions. It is a quiet time, with no distractions. One day, while straining on this machine, I turned my head to the right to take a deep breath, when suddenly I felt a momentary, instantaneous flash of something profoundly beautiful. It was as if God was sharing with me, viscerally, at that instant, what God’s kindom is like – astonishing peace, harmony, love, and beauty. Perhaps this experience was, for me, a liminal glance into what many of us refer to as “heaven,” or perhaps what God’s kindom on earth could be like.

I don’t know where this flash came from or why it happened, other than to recognize and accept it as an instance of God being with me that day and responding to my praying during that exercise session. I wasn’t praying for anything in particular. Rather, I was simply seeking to grow closer to God, my creator, the source of my life. This moment was something that I cannot describe in greater detail. It was more of an instantaneous flash and a sensation of “knowing,” rather than a visual experience which could be described with words. No matter what it was, I feel blessed to have experienced it.

So, there you have it. I have shared with my friends at SUMC one of my blessed personal experiences with the Divine. For those who have never had similar spiritual experiences, I can appreciate the skepticism. However, I can assure everyone that I was not under the influence; I might have been tired but not emotional; and most importantly, that I did not make this up. Through my own, very real, experiences (experience is one leg of the Wesleyan Quadrilateral, by the way), I am convinced that if we seek the presence of God and pay attention to what is happening around us, we will find that God is with us in every moment of our lives. For this I am truly grateful. Praise be to God!

Loving Creator, we thank you for your promise to be with us, always and forever. May we stay alert to see your presence in the ordinary events in our lives. Amen.

-Trey Burns

It’s a coincidence – or maybe the moving of the Holy Spirit! – to see the question “How can I be in solidarity with the poor?” as an option for our Lent Blog this year, as this question resonates with a class I’m teaching this Spring. The class is grounded in Liberation Theology, a way of thinking about God and humanity, and a way of reading the Bible, that puts us in greater solidarity with the poor.

Liberation theology arose in the middle of the twentieth century, largely in Central and South America. As you can tell from the word “liberation,” this thinking centers on the concept of freedom: freedom from systems that marginalize and oppress, freedom from sin, and freedom from a paralyzing sense of fate that prevents us from making life better for everyone here and now. Oscar Romero, who was martyred by government soldiers while leading worship for his support of the poor in El Salvador, is one of the more famous enactors of liberation theology.

Why would anyone kill an archbishop who supports the poor? We see the answer in comparing a liberation theology perspective to a more traditional (but less Biblical) Christian perspective. Often, people assume that the hope Christianity provides to the downtrodden is a hope in heaven: “things may be miserable for you now, but after death you’ll be rewarded.” While the hope for heaven is not a bad thing, this sort of “pie in the sky by-and-by” thinking mostly serves to retain the status quo. Putting one’s hope only in heaven serves to keep the rich wealthy and keep the poor lowly.

By contrast, liberation theology proposes that God wants all people to have what they need for a full and healthy life here and now. Under liberation theology, people are called to work for equality and justice on earth, with faith that God supports this work. You can see how this might lead to danger: people who hold wealth and power are often not eager to share those things with the poor, and they even resort to violence to prevent such a sharing.

Liberation theology calls us to be in solidarity with the poor by working with them to provide all people fair wages, equal opportunities, and the resources they need for health and wholeness. Liberation theology calls us to love the poor just as God does, and to desire their benefit as much as God does.

So how can we be in solidarity with the poor? We might try:

• Reading the Bible through the eyes of the poor… what do the scriptures mean to people without enough to eat, or without a home?
• Supporting policies which help the poor by voting, contacting Congress members, writing letters, sending e-mails, protesting, donating… You name it!
• Praying for the poor, actively and often.
• Befriending and being with the poor, by volunteering for and talking with them.

In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus says “Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.” Let us look to be in solidarity with these heirs of the kingdom, and let us work with them to bring about God’s kingdom here and now.

-Heather Josselyn Cranson

What do you do first thing in the morning? Perhaps you get out of bed and make a cup of coffee or think about your to-do list. But what if before you even got up, you said this Bible verse: “This is the day that the Lord has made. Let me rejoice and be glad in it.” Even if you may be feeling stressed, overwhelmed, disappointed or worried, this is a great way to start the day.

Sometimes we just need to stop, relax and rest. Take a deep breath and reflect on what is really important. This could help us gain a new perspective and accept circumstances we cannot change. It is a time to be in God’s presence.

Special opportunities I have had to stop, reflect, and rest have been on day-apart church retreats. In past years at SUMC, I enjoyed Lenten retreats, women’s retreats and especially the yearly weekend family retreats at Geneva Point on Lake Winnepesaukee in New Hampshire. But you can stop, relax, and rest any day, any time. Just sit quietly and see what happens.

Recently, I found the following, which I must have written on one of those day-apart retreats. It speaks to me to this very day. I hope it resonates with you as well.

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