Just thinking about this week’s Lenten programming sub-topic, generosity.

I can think of a comfortable number of people who have impacted my life whom I can easily call generous.

One does leap out at me.

He may have been best recognized, at least in his daily workplace, as the fellow who flew down the hall with what appeared to be a cape flapping behind him.

He wasn’t Batman.

He was, however, Francis J. Smith Jr.

We called him Il Professore.

Sorry: let me back up.

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In every school, there are a couple of teachers whose reputations precede them. Sometimes, they’re known for how strict they are. Sometimes, as in the cases of coaches or conductors, they’re recognizable to newly-arrived students because they had some reason to be present at those students’ prior schools.

In this case, neither of those applied. But we had heard of this mythical “Mr. Smith” — particularly those of us who took Latin at the Wayland Junior High School.

By the time his public-school teaching career was complete in 1999, he had logged four decades as a teacher of Latin and classical studies at Wayland High School — nowhere else — and during one of those years, he was named Massachusetts Teacher of the Year.

That was between 7:30 and 2 o’clock, Monday through Friday. Outside of “business hours,” there was more. To name just a little of it: he led a nationally-recognized Latin Club that routinely included more than a hundred student members each year. Each summer, he led fortnight-long educational trips to Italy — for students one summer, for adults the next.

And, lest ye perhaps think maybe he was just a big classical-studies nerd: for most of those four decades, he was the public-address voice of Wayland High School football.

Il Professore was easily identifiable during school hours. During passing time between classes, he could be found hurtling down the crowded hallway from his office to his classroom; sometimes pushing an AV cart loaded with classroom materials, sometimes riding it after a mighty push! And he was always moving at such a speed that the black academic robe which he constantly draped over his button-down shirt, Izod sweater, and chinos, extended out behind him — flapping like … well, like Batman’s cape.

He didn’t wear the robe out of self-aggrandizement. It was a slightly tongue-in-cheek display of his respect for his profession, and for his students. This is serious business, even if the robe’s zipper up the front was never zipped. It was only himself that he didn’t take too seriously.

I didn’t get to take courses that Mr. Smith taught until my junior year at Wayland High. But I was all over that Latin Club; by the time I graduated, I had accompanied two of the Club’s annual “Saturnalian Banquet” musical shows and written another. And then wrote two more within the next few years, including the thirtieth annual. At that one, I led the cast in a song whose lyrics I’d written as a tribute to their Latin Club’s fearless leader’s thirty Saturnalian efforts. Afterward, Mr. Smith waxed poetic about how generous he thought I was for doing that extra work; I shook my head at him and smiled: aw, man, look in a mirror.

His car — a classic Triumph TR-7, because why would such an elegant guy drive a Dodge Dart? — was always in the school parking lot. As early in the morning as I could possibly arrive, even for before-school meetings or rehearsals, that roadster was always over there in the far corner. Leaving school so late in the afternoon that the sun was a distant memory? Car still there.

If Mr. Smith wasn’t re-setting his classroom, or helping build a Saturnalia show prop, or offering extra help to a student, he was at his Language-Department-head desk, grading papers or prepping lessons or writing letters of recommendation for college-bound seniors — long into the dark hours. His teaching colleagues described him as a perpetual-motion machine. And he hardly ever took sick days away from school — he felt that he owed it to his students to be there, even on days when he looked like death warmed over.

We wondered if he had any kind of life outside school. In retrospect, with the exception of his lengthy marriage, we had to suspect that he felt that his life was his students.

And that commitment, that dedication, that unusual generosity (even for the field of education, which features people who routinely work past the terms of their contracts) … it all resonated deeply with us, his students.

He would burst into his classroom, look at his assembled students, and call out, “Good morning, scholars!”

He tells us we’re scholars. So maybe we are. So maybe we’ll try to act that way.

One of the things I learned from Mr. Smith that wasn’t in the classical-studies curriculum was: dig in and do the work, and find a way to love it when you do — and give of yourself till it hurts. Not because it’s an obligation, but because it’s a privilege. He didn’t tell us; in a more effective and lasting lesson than that, he showed us.

And even too-cool-for-school, too-hip-for-the-room teenagers will get that, if it’s demonstrated to them often enough — if it’s demonstrated on their behalf enough. And we responded in kind.

On the way from class to class at Wayland High School’s multi-building campus, if students passed the floor-to-ceiling Language Department office windows, without fail we would smile and wave to him, or tap cheerfully on the section of window next to his desk (which probably spooked his nearby teaching colleagues. Or maybe they were used to it).

Kids hung out in his office — if they needed academic help, if they needed counsel, or if they had no specific reason to be there. We knew he cared about us so hard, we couldn’t help but try to return the favor. Teaching was his job; but what he did for us, the way he felt about us, went a great deal further than that.

Il Professore had doctorate upon doctorate, we were sure. But he never allowed himself to be called anything but “Mr. Smith”. Believe me: I tried “Doctor Smith” after my first freshman-year Latin Club meeting — ya know, respect and all that — and he quietly murmured, so no one standing nearby could overhear: “oh, no no no no. No Doctor. Don’t let the robe fool you, Robbie.” I walked away knowing that (1) I had not been made fun of, and (2) he was going to be one of my favorite teachers ever, whether I took his classes or not. And (3) he knew my name already. Goodness.

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It occurs to me that I’ve been talking about Frank Smith (I never called him by his first name, either) exclusively in the past tense.

No worries. He’s by no means crossed the River Styx. (See, I did pay attention in class.) He’s very much still with us.

A few summers ago, I was being a turista on Cape Cod, and decided to pop in to the tiny little Visitor Information shed on Main Street in Chatham; figured I’d grab a current map and some brochures. And who, out of nowhere, was manning the kiosk as I poked my head in?

Il Professore.

“Robbie!” he called out, clambering around from behind the counter and administering a firm bear hug, with a nimble manner which belied his advanced octogenarian status, and which perfectly recalled his public-school-teaching propensity for dashing about. And apart from a few more gray hairs, he didn’t look a thing different, and I am not kidding about that.

He instantly remembered my name, and details from the last time I was his student, thirty years before. Asked how I was. Asked how my sister Kristin was doing (and I’m not even sure she ever got to take one of his classes; he just knew that too).

By the end of our conversation — which absolutely lasted at least half an hour, during which he would very briefly pause to hand a brochure to another turista visiting the information kiosk and then come right back to our conversation — he said, “well, if you’re around after today, why don’t you come over to the house tomorrow? We’ll have some breakfast.”

Goodness! Well okay then. “Mom, you come too,” he said, since my mother and I were being turistas together in Chatham that week. (By this time you will be unsurprised to know that he had recognized and enthusiastically greeted her, too, … three decades since the last time they’d been in the same room.)

As we walked away, I shook my head in wonderment: I get to be a former student of … and perhaps I get to call myself a friend?? of … this titan.

So, as bidden, we came over to the house the next morning. And he continued to remind me of the dominant impression I got of him — as a high school freshman; as an alumni contributor to Latin Club frivolity; as a decades-on former classical-studies student; as a Cape Cod tourist …

Generosity.

So, clearly I have a role model. How Generous Would Il Professore Be?

And, since, as far as I know, he’s still treading this good Earth, maybe there’s an off-chance he’ll get to read this not-brief piece of writing here. Great teachers deserve to have praise heaped on them by their former students.

Although he would probably accuse me of being far too generous.

I don’t think so; I think it’s simply telling it like it is.

I had a great teacher, though.

-Rob Hammerton

I want to thank Pastor Joel and Zack for the Children’s Time. I learn so much during that time.

I am sorry that I can’t recite the chapter and verse of very many Scriptures. The Scriptures are about places far away, in a time long ago. The people’s names are hard to pronounce. The lessons they teach are sometimes hard to interpret. So how can we make use of these lessons today?

When Jesus was in the wilderness for forty days, He had taken Himself to a place where He could refresh His spirit, talk with God, and test His conviction. Perhaps we can find God’s presence in the forest, too. In Japan, the people walk in the forest to help relieve stress. They call it “forest bathing”.

Jesus also resisted the temptation of comforts. Today, do we really know how much we can do without? Lent is a good time to find out. And after Lent, we can ask ourselves “do I really need all this stuff?” The Bible says to lay up for yourself treasures in Heaven.

The Scriptures say to give alms in private and you will be rewarded in Heaven. So always help your neighbor but don’t look for anything in return. And you may just need the help of your neighbor one day.

The Scriptures say that if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. This has a wide range of meanings for us today. It is so hard to forgive our enemies when they do things we can not tolerate, but we can pray for them.

We recently endured a terrible pandemic. We were not sure if we would live or die. I believe that God tried to save us all. I am very grateful to be alive.

-Lynn Cunningham

“Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated friends of nature -– the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.”

-Rachel Carson, Silent Spring

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Reads almost like a prayer, doesn’t it? When spring comes, either like a lion or a lamb, it’s a time of hope. Lent is the springtime and hope-time of our lives. It’s a time to grow our relationship with God and with our Earth.

This famous image, dubbed the Blue Marble, was taken on December 7, 1972 by the crew of Apollo 17. It’s one of the most reproduced images in history. I was captivated by this image, like millions. Fifty-four years later, I worry about our Blue Marble and the effects of climate change on it.

Now, and for all future Lents, let’s give up harming the Earth. Let’s do what we can in our own little world to help. I practice sustaining efforts, but I know I could do more. We can all become greener SUMC-ers. Try a digital detox; work on decluttering your house and responsibly get rid of your stuff; cook more from scratch, place a compost bucket in your kitchen. All easy to do.

Check out what the Methodist Church says about climate change and let’s further open our minds, hearts, doors to raise our consciousness even higher. Let’s thank SUMC trustees for steps they’ve taken and for their steps to come on this issue.

We all sang this hymn of grateful praise as burgeoning Methodists: “For the beauty of the earth, for the glory of the skies, for the love which from our birth over and around us lies…”

-Vikki Jacobson

Many of us feel that waiting is the hardest part of anything. It can be very hard when we are waiting on some difficult news, such as test results, phone calls from our kids, or even that final calculation of your tax return (prayers are helpful here).

I tend to spend that waiting time worrying or coming up with all the worst-case scenarios that might happen, or could happen, or — if the stars are aligned — are definitely going to happen … see, there I go again.

But Lent is a great reminder of how waiting can be a time for reflection and prayer, and a time to turn it all over to God who will guide us through any difficult situation. During Lent we are all waiting, waiting for the wonderful resurrection of Jesus! Interesting how knowing the outcome of Easter makes us all concentrate on the grace and joy and not on the death and suffering that preceded it.

Why, then, do we not allow the known ending of our story, where we all get to reside in the arms of Jesus in Heaven, to help us when we struggle with the daily waiting? No matter what the outcome, God will be there with us to help us through and to hold us up. We never have to wait alone.

During Lent, I plan to use the waiting time to help me find ways to pray, believe, and strengthen my relationship with Jesus, so that I can better rely on His comfort when more difficult waiting arrives. I know that waiting, in and of itself, is not bad; it is part of life, and many times can even be exciting. I will concentrate on the excitement of waiting, the times when we “just can’t wait until”, instead of the possible worry of waiting.

I will remember that if the waiting for Santa Claus is difficult because of the delight it brings, I can only just imagine what joy Easter brings for all of God’s children –- there is no comparison!

-Jen Rockwell

[Editor’s Note: Yesterday, Bob Canfield wrote about love, peace, patience, and humility. With all possible respect for the faithful servants of what we locals refer to as merely “the Registry” … sometimes patience is required of all of life’s participants. Sometimes simultaneously. We are certain that there is a specific Bible passage that applies directly to this story…]

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[Author’s Note: “We are very grateful that our move to Massachusetts has been such a great experience. We found our way to Sudbury United Methodist Church! But not everything was a positive experience. See the story below…”]

“How Do You Like Living In Massachusetts?”

When we moved from Cincinnati, Ohio to Concord, Massachusetts, it was an adventure. We were thrilled to live near our daughter and family, we liked our choice of retirement communities, we had friends in nearby suburbs… it was all good.

And with moving comes all kinds of tasks that get you jump-started into the new life. There are new doctors to find, a new church home, a new hairdresser, a new library card, new grocery stores, etc. But nothing is as daunting as getting a new driver’s license!

We took off one morning to find the Registry of Motor Vehicles. The first thing we noticed was that it was a challenge to find a place to park. The second thing we noticed was there was a line in front of the office that snaked around the building. Not good.

So we got in line and hoped it would go fast. It did not. We inched our way to the front door thinking that once your feet were inside, you were almost there. Not so. We immediately realized that there did not seem to be much organization. There were two lines to the desk but it was not clear whether one line was for driver’s licenses and one was for license plates… we needed both and we had paperwork to support our mission.

We had already been waiting for an hour but finally reached the desk. We explained what we needed and were given a number. “Sit over there and wait ‘til your number is called.” We did as we were told. As we sat and waited, we soon came to understand that the numbers didn’t seem to be called in any kind of order. The process was slow.

As I watched the “victims” go to the desk with their number and request, I also watched the employees who were there to facilitate their request. There was one employee who looked especially miserable. His body language was very negative. He did not seem to be having a good time being in his job at the RMV. “Please don’t give me to this person,” I prayed. And we waited.

Oh no, I got HIM! I stepped forward feeling a little nervous as I had watched him with his other candidates. Our conversation went something like this:

“Oh, you moved from Ohio?”

“Yes.”

“How do you like Massachusetts?”

“Oh I really like it.” (I left out that I had spent sixty-five summers in Massachusetts!)

“I HATE it!”

This was not going well. He asked for proof of my having a residence in the state. I gave him the letter from our retirement community director stating that we are paying residents. He immediately rejected it.

“You have to have something like a utilities bill.”

“We don’t pay for utilities.”

He was about to reject me, when I saw my husband several spaces down talking his way into getting a new license and license plates. I said to him, “Help! What are you using for proof of residence?” Fortunately he had a local bank statement with our new address. I grabbed it and ran back to my space to give it to Mr. Grumpy. Whew, it was accepted.

Then it was time to show that I could read. And then he asked me to step back to have my photo taken. I was so undone by this time I stepped back in the wrong direction. “No, not there.” Needless to say my photo reveals an expression of complete unhappiness that will be with me until I need to renew this license.

I do like living in Massachusetts … but perhaps we will find another RMV [branch].

-Lynn Stroud

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[Editor’s Note: Bible passages … … … found ’em.]

• Whoever is slow to anger has great understanding, but he who has a hasty temper exalts folly.
-Proverbs 14:29

• But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.
-Romans 8:25

• Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.
-Romans 12:12

[Editor’s Note: here is a devotion written for the online Lenten devotional series produced by the author’s high school. Students and alumni write. No, we here at the LentBlog do NOT consider that the author is cheating on us. :) ]

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Scripture: 2 Kings 5:1-15ab (NRSV)

Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man and in high favor with his master, because by him the Lord had given victory to Aram. The man, though a mighty warrior, suffered from leprosy. ²Now the Arameans on one of their raids had taken a young girl captive from the land of Israel, and she served Naaman’s wife. ³She said to her mistress, “If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.” ⁴So Naaman went in and told his lord just what the girl from the land of Israel had said. ⁵And the king of Aram said, “Go then, and I will send along a letter to the king of Israel.”

He went, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten sets of garments. ⁶He brought the letter to the king of Israel, which read, “When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman, that you may cure him of his leprosy.” ⁷When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes and said, “Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy?[e] Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.”

⁸But when Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had torn his clothes, he sent a message to the king, “Why have you torn your clothes? Let him come to me, that he may learn that there is a prophet in Israel.” ⁹So Naaman came with his horses and chariots, and halted at the entrance of Elisha’s house. ¹⁰Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, “Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean.” ¹¹But Naaman became angry and went away, saying, “I thought that for me he would surely come out, and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, and would wave his hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy! ¹²Are not Abana[g] and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them, and be clean?” He turned and went away in a rage. ¹³But his servants approached and said to him, “Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, ‘Wash, and be clean’?” ¹⁴So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean.

¹⁵Then he returned to the man of God, he and all his company; he came and stood before him and said, “Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel …”

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To me, the essence of 2 Kings 5:1-15 is faith, the faith of a child. A slave girl believed that the prophet in Samaria could cure her master of leprosy. Naaman, the Army commander, had doubts but was directed by the King of Aran to go to Israel to be cured. The King of Israel was unable to help, but a man of God, Elisha, told the King to send Naaman to him. The prophet sent a message to Naaman to go and wash seven times in the Jordan River to be healed and his body cleansed. Naaman resisted but his servants reasoned with him to do as the prophet said. He did so and was cleansed. The faith of a child caused this to happen.

Ron Burton was raised in Springfield, Ohio by his grandmother, a gospel preacher. They lived in an impoverished community and depended on others for food. He was ridiculed by his peers because of his small stature and poverty. He was the last one chosen for athletic teams and did not get into a football game for two years on the team. They called him “Nothing.” Opportunities were limited but Ron had a strong work ethic and perseverance. A coach encouraged him to build up his strength and endurance both mentally and physically by running seven miles a day. Taking that advice to heart was a strong act of faith. Ron began running seven miles a day and continued to do so for twelve straight years. The result was he became a high school All-American football player, a college All-American at Northwestern University, and was the first draft choice of all three professional football leagues, the NFL, CFL, and AFL. He was the first draft pick of the New England Patriots and played in the league for six years. He was elected to the College Football Hall of Fame. It started with his faith.

Ron had a vision and strong desire to help young people escape their environment of poverty, crime, and lack of opportunity. He wanted to bring people of all races together in a positive atmosphere. With a leap of faith, he purchased land to build a camp devoted to the development of youth using his entire savings and home for collateral against the counsel of his lawyers and advisors. What was once nothing but trees is now a beautiful camp that has influenced the lives of over 3000 young men. Two years ago, Ron Burton Training Village added a STEM program for young women. Campers with varied economic backgrounds come from all over the United States and spend five weeks being taught love, peace, patience, and humility. They are given all their clothing and shoes so there is no distinction because of economics. They run seven miles each morning. Ninety-four percent of the campers attend college, including scholarships to Harvard, Bentley, Northwestern, Stanford, all three military academies, and Stonehill College. Many lives have been changed. It started with the faith of a young boy who believed.

Lent reminds us to focus on love, peace, patience, and humility, as Christ taught.

“Heavenly Father, give us stronger faith like that of children.”

-Bob Canfield
Christian Brothers HS (Memphis, TN) Class of 1955

[Editor’s Note: lest ye believe that the Lenten Devotions, particularly those about prayer, this week, are always all furrowed-brow, serious, dour, drab affairs — not that they always are, but Lent has gained that reputation — read on …]

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Those of us who regularly sit through sermons, adages, tales, etc., might find it interesting to study wordage. And Pastor Joel told me he has a large photograph of mine adorning a wall in his office. So, here’s the rub:

I’ve noticed that before each pastoral prayer Pastor Joel offers on Sunday after Sunday, he always says “Let us pray.”

Fine. But I’ve been thinking, probably erroneously, that the words he strings together, while clear, can be misunderstood as “let us prey,” perhaps meaning grab some animals and drag them to church, something that might not be appreciated.

That did happen — sort of — decades ago when Pastor Shep Johnson’s golden retriever meandered down the aisle during a service. He (the dog) was, of course, quickly ushered out.

Or, as I’ve been thinking (which can always be dangerous), the weekly pre-prayer words might also be misunderstood as “lettuce spray.”

So, to resolve our current dilemma I persuaded a young girl working at nearby Small Farm, in Stow, to grab a watering can and sprinkle her veggies, especially the lettuce. She did so. The lettuce was thus dampened. And I have the picture to prove it.

-Bob Cooke

Why do we read the same scriptures every year during Holy Week and Easter? Is it because it’s a holiday and this is just what’s associated with it? Like watching fireworks on Independence Day, going on a date for Valentine’s Day, or counting backwards with strangers on New Year’s Eve? Maybe a little bit… but more importantly it’s about internalizing the story and recognizing our own stories as part of God’s Grand Narrative.

Stories matter to us. They shape us. They form and inform our identities. Stories of American heroes inspire national pride; underdog success stories inspire hope. Why do we keep souvenirs from people and events? It’s because those items tell a story that we want to remember. Even fictional stories help us learn about things like arrogance (see “The Tortoise and the Hare”) and responsibility (see Spider-Man). These stories shape our own stories, and our individual stories are, in turn, part of an even larger narrative, and we all have a grand narrative that governs how we see, interpret, and interact with the world.

To understand what I mean, think about the stories within Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. In this book/movie series, there is one overarching narrative, but there are also at least dozen individual stories that are woven together within it. Each individual story is unique with its own trials and triumphs, but they all recognize from within their own story that they are part of something bigger (namely, to keep Sauron from killing all the inhabitants of Middle Earth, but that’s not the point right now). That recognition affects and informs every action and decision because they know that what they are doing matters.

We re-read the story of Christ’s passion, crucifixion, and resurrection over and over so that Christ’s story becomes our overarching narrative. While we each have our own trials and triumphs that are significant, we are connected by a larger narrative – something bigger that affects and informs our every action and decision because we know that what we do and how we live matters.

So when Holy Week comes around, I implore you to come to the mid-week services if it’s at all possible. Come hear the story. Then go and tell the story.

Keep the Faith.

-Zack Moser

What do you do first thing in the morning? Perhaps you 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 reflect. Take a deep breath and think about 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. Lent is also a good time to stop, relax and reflect and to be more purposeful about prayer, worship, Bible or devotional reading, and doing something for others.

Some of the special opportunities I have had to stop, relax, and reflect have been on SUMC’s Lenten retreats, women’s retreats, and especially the yearly weekend family retreats held at Geneva Point on Lake Winnipesaukee in New Hampshire. But you can stop, relax, and reflect any day, any time. Just sit quietly and see what happens.

Recently, while going through my files, I found the following, which I must have written during one of those retreats. It speaks to me to this very day. I hope it resonates with you as well.

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Relax, relax. Let mind, body and soul relax.
Wander in your imagination to a quiet place.
Leave behind worries, burdens, the rush of life.
Slow down, relax, and be with God.
Smile, believe that life is good.
Believe that God cares for you, believes in you.
Do not ponder why bad things happen.
Just imagine light and love bursting forth like Spring.
Soak in the sunshine, the warmth, the compassion.
Imagine Jesus or peace or God’s Kingdom on earth.
Relax, relax; don’t worry.
Look around; see the beauty of nature unfolding.
Listen to quiet music; give thanks for family and friends.
We are together in faith, in sharing, even in silence.
Relax, relax. Let mind, body and soul relax.
You are in the presence of God.
Now and forever.

-Nancy Sweeney
45-year SUMC member, now living in Plymouth, MA

Some of us who live alone have spent a good part of the last two pandemic years coping not just with keeping ourselves safe but also with the isolation of staying in most of the time. For me, waving to my family as they stopped by, wishing it was safe for them to come inside while “cheerfully” seeing them off, made me feel not just alone but lonely. But, would I have missed them had they not come by: indeed I would have! Any contact with real, live people, especially with loved ones was, and is, a plus!

Before the pandemic I kept busy outside my home a good deal of the time and loved every minute of it. But until the pandemic vaccines became available, the fear of contracting COVID suggested it was safer to keep one’s distance from others. It was then that I began to realize just how different living alone with the freedom to come and go among lots of people is from staying in safely to avoid getting a nasty virus. It is very different from having no choice but to always stay home, due to ongoing disabilities which will not “disappear” when COVID is under control.

Being alone when one has the choice of going out among people which was once “normal” for most of us is different from being alone except for encountering neighbors walking the street, each masked and keeping a “safe” distance, even to the point of stepping well into a nearby driveway. That’s when it’s very easy to feel lonely, which compounds easily.

Being alone is not always something to complain about. Show me the mother of a two-year-old who wouldn’t like to be able to sit in a car, roll up the windows, adjust the seat to reclining, and shut out the turmoil, as shown in a recent automobile ad. Before the pandemic I was always rushing to make a deadline, trying to build in a little free time for myself but often having to shelve that notion. Now I have time to read a book during the afternoon! I have unearthed those knitting projects which never got finished. When I see the lovely view outside my window enticing me to just enjoy looking at it, I quickly make a cup of tea and sit down (which I can do because I don’t have a two-year-old!). Before the pandemic, I might have given it a quick glance and said, “That’s pretty,” while I rushed on.

But while there’s a lot that is enjoyable and something to be very thankful for, it doesn’t take away the desire and the need to spend face-to-face time with friends. That’s been missing. And, let me quickly add, I have no doubt many of you understand this need, too!

During this Lent, I have been thinking about Jesus’ life, and how He often departed from the crowds after speaking with and healing them. It was then that He went apart from everyone to be alone and pray to His Father. We who are routinely overbooked and don’t build time into our lives to be “alone” with God are forgetting Jesus’ example for how to live. To our detriment! If we never stop to catch our breath and reflect, we become spiritually empty and then wonder why we don’t feel God’s presence.

The days of Lent are useful for beginning to set aside time each day with God. There’s no “right” time. God hears us at any hour of the day or night. The Upper Room is a good place to start (copies are available in the rack outside the entrance near the O’Reilly Room). Don’t cheat! Read the short scripture passage recommended as well as the text written by writers from all over the world. What does someone from Africa or South America know about us? You’ll be surprised how connected we all are!

So, as Rob says, “stay connected” — not just to each other, but first and foremost to God! “It’s important!”

-Nancy Hammerton

Fingerprints are everywhere. Some of them are defined smudges, while most others go undetected, never noticed. We all know that every person’s fingerprint is distinctive. Every fingerprint has sixty-six lines, and no two people’s fingerprints are identical. It’s truly amazing to me that God has given every human being their own personal, identifiable stamp on this world. Fingerprints define our identity, our brand, and our purpose. They are God’s artwork.

A few weeks ago, Pastor Joel mentioned in his sermon that God’s fingerprints are all over our lives; He has a hand in everything that happens. And it really got me thinking about His fingerprints. Can I see God’s fingerprints? How do I recognize God’s fingerprints in my life? How do I identify God’s fingerprints versus those of others in my life?

I have learned to see God’s fingerprints by looking at my past experiences and seeing how God was at work within me. Knowing that He’s lifting me up gives me courage to be confident in placing my present and future in His hands.

This is sometimes difficult to do. After all, there are places that we despise seeing fingerprints. We don’t like fingerprints on any kind of mirror, glass tabletop, or shiny counter. Wanting to get rid of those marks, we wipe the surface clean and remove any evidence that someone has been there. But there is a place I want to see fingerprints and see them clearly. I want to see fingerprints on my heart, and I want them to be God’s fingerprints.

The next time you see me, feel free to ask me to see the charm on my necklace. I wear this necklace every day, close to my heart, as a reminder of my nephew, Ryan, who lost his battle with leukemia a year ago on this very day. Ryan’s fingerprint is engraved into the charm.

At the time of his passing, Ryan had deep grooves in his fingers as a result of his unbearable skin conditions, so his fingerprint shows thicker lines, like grooves, that intersect in various points. In the upper right-hand portion of Ryan’s fingerprint, these thicker lines meet to form a cross. Despite the tragedy Ryan and his parents and siblings faced, there is no doubt that God’s fingerprints were all over Ryan, working in him and through him to further His kingdom.

I ask God every day to leave His fingerprints on me, so that I can leave my fingerprints on others who need to feel His love and grace. Ryan’s fingerprint on my chest helps me strive to be the person God wants me to be.

So, the next time you see a fingerprint smudge on a window, your eyeglasses, a light switch, or a glass door, thank God for the loving touch He puts on you all day, every day. His fingerprints are all over your life. You can’t wipe them away.

Prayer: Dear Lord, we thank you for our identities, for giving us a unique stamp that is all our own. We want You to cover you with Your stamp, Your fingerprints, so that we can hold You closely and do Your will in this world. Amen.

-Kristen Straub

Hello SUMC … it’s LentBlog Editor Rob here, reporting in from just about the midway point of our current Lenten season, with a couple of thoughts about one of our upcoming Lenten-programming sub-topics: generosity.

SUMC’s Lenten devotional writing effort, whether it’s the current incarnation, this here online blog, or the classic paper-booklet version, has honestly depended upon the generosity of SUMC members and (on occasion) friends.

Annually, we make our appeal: write for the Lenten Devotions! It’s fun! It’s an opportunity to Be A Writer!

It’s also unpaid.

“For our purposes,” wrote¹ the etymological researchers of the University of Notre Dame recently, “we use the word generosity to refer to the virtue of giving good things to others freely and abundantly.”

Our Lenten (and Advent) writers have historically been very generous with their time and effort. As much as we advertise the idea that “you don’t have to be a Great Writer to do this,” it still is an activity which many people see as daunting — particularly when they also interpret the activity as requiring great knowledge of theology, which (I will attest) isn’t necessarily the case. So, time and effort, yes; but also a perceived revelation to the world about how many advanced degrees in theology they don’t have.

Like singing, devotional writing can seem a very vulnerable thing. So anybody who attempts it is indeed being generous of spirit, yeah?

“Generosity, to be clear, is not identical to pure altruism, since people can be authentically generous in part for reasons that serve their own interests as well as those of others,” continued¹ the Notre Dame researchers. “Indeed, insofar as generosity is a virtue, to practice it for the good of others also necessarily means that doing so achieves one’s own true, long-term good as well.”

Quite often during my four Lents as the compiler of these online Devotions, our writers have submitted pieces that express their thoughts about jobs they work at, projects they’re involved with, experiences they’ve had, or other topics which are meaningful to them. (I confess to writing a thing or two myself which has doubled as a gentle recruitment drive.)

Happily, they’ve utilized those meaningful personal topics in such a way as to amplify either the Lenten-programming theme of the moment or a Biblical passage that can speak to all of us. I’ve heard the term enlightened self-interest used in a slightly arched-eyebrow, “yeah but it’s not absolutely altruistic is it?” kind of way … so imagine my relief when I read the Notre Dame researchers’ conclusion¹: “And so generosity, lke all of the virtues, is in people’s genuine enlightened self-interest to learn and practice.”

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This Lenten season, I’m missing three people in particular. Not nearly so much in the I don’t have writing from them this time around sense as the I don’t get to see them, hear from them, reap the benefits of their contribution to the world sense.

In the last year, the SUMC congregation has seen several of its own — long-time members and friends — go to be with God. Of these, Pastor Hakyung Cho-Kim, Jackie Kessler, and Janet Johnson have populated our Lenten devotions with their wisdom, humor and vision in written form.

I have delighted in telling the story of how Janet would immediately reply to my LentBlog PR effort with the first of half-a-dozen small essays, always accompanied by an eMail note that said, in essence, “feel free not to use this if it’s terrible”; “this may not be what you’re looking for”, etc.

Which always made me chuckle, since [a] objectively it was never terrible, and [b] any devotion written by any SUMC person comes from a very personal place and who am I to label such things that way?

And then I would chuckle as a second item, then a third, then the rest!, would arrive in my eMail inbox. The Spirit had moved Janet, and she had responded with yet one more gem. And I would always get at least one eMail from someone else who had read Janet’s writing and had been especially moved by it.

In this year’s LentBlog PR pleas for writing, I have worked hard NOT to include the undeniably crass and guilt-laying sentiment, “we’ll be missing our usual pack of contributions from Janet, and Jackie, and Cho-Kim, so please help us out all the more!” — since I’m not heavily into guilt-laying. Guilt can be an effective recruiting tool in the short-term, but all the leadership clinics I’ve ever attended or taught have suggested to me that it’s a great way to poison the well.

And yet, here I am, eulogizing Janet anyway. I prefer to think of it as one more way I can remember her fondly, and appreciate what she did for the Lenten Devotional effort that much more.

===

All this is, similarly, to express my appreciation for everyone who has helped out with this cause. In 2019, I lamented the 2018 absence of a Lenten Devotions booklet and then volunteered to head up the project … and immediately several people smiled at me and said, “…ya sure ya wanna do that?” Lots of work, etc., and you’re a busy guy, and YES. That was my intention, and I knew very well that I was going to be beating the bushes and encouraging written submissions from people who were at least as busy as I was, with work and family obligations, not to mention other church-related commitments! But, well, I thought maybe I’d felt the Spirit move me, and ya gotta answer that call, right?

I haven’t regretted it.

All this is, also, though, to amplify my current LentBlog-editor condition: with just shy of half the Lenten season to go, I’m about to be out of written submissions to include in this space … to the tune of every day between this Wednesday and Easter Sunday is available!

Living on the edge, I guess.

So: if you’re feeling generous … please do consider jotting down a thought or two that may be occurring to you. Or let the remaining Lenten-programming subtopics rattle around in your head (“Generosity: the cycle of grace” … “Evangelism: sharing our stories” … “Service: finding our roles in church and the world”), and see what they inspire.

Thanks as always; and as always — keep in touch; keep the faith … :)

-Rob Hammerton

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¹https://generosityresearch.nd.edu/more-about-the-initiative/what-is-generosity/

[See, Zack, I can do the footnote thing, too. ;) ]

I have to thank my father for helping me to be faithful to the church. I remember the first time he dropped me off at Sunday School at the First United Methodist Church in Melrose. I had no idea where I was. There were many children seated in the room, and a lovely older lady stood up and was teaching us about God and Jesus. After a while, my father came to pick me up and take me to the sanctuary with him and my mom.

I loved my Sunday School and the lady in charge.

When I was in high school, my “Sunday School” class was just four or five students, and our teacher was an older gentleman who had great faith, and I still use a pocket prayer book which he gave to each of us at the last class.

I loved the youth group with Charlie Fowlie. Sometimes we wrote our own plays. I had a friend that I brought to youth group who was a bit wacky and creative. We had so much fun writing and practicing the plays. Often we lost track of time, and there was my father waiting for us across the street in his car to bring me home and anyone else who needed a ride. He must have been waiting at least an hour.

When I was married and moved to Sudbury, we tried a few churches, but the Sudbury United Methodist Church was where we felt welcome.

Thank you, Dad.

Yours in faith,
-Melody Karian

In 2018, a paper published in the British Journal of Psychiatry (BJPsych) wrote about the “escalating research focusing on the relationships between various dimensions of religiosity and mental health. To date, several thousand studies demonstrate positive associations between the two” (emphasis added). A study from 2019 in the International Journal of Mental Health said that religious education could improve mental health, reduce the impact of stress, enhance coping skills, and promote greater self-awareness and self-esteem. A study in 2015 published in the academic journal Psychological Medicine determined that regular religious/spiritual practices led to decreases in stress, alcoholism, and depression. To be clear, the major religious focus of each of these studies was Christianity in North America. Meanwhile…

According to the Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA) the pandemic has taken a considerable toll on the mental health of teenagers. Sadly, this is a demographic that was already under a disproportionate amount of stress, as revealed by a study published in 2019 by the International Journal of Adolescence and Youth, which documented years of increased feelings of sadness/hopelessness among adolescents, largely due to academic pressure.

Why bring this up?

It’s because, despite having been empirically demonstrated literally thousands of times that regular prayer, worship, and Christian community improve one’s quality of life, our spiritual health is easily disregarded amidst packed schedules. And while my main focus as a youth director is on how this affects teens, “not having enough time” is such a ubiquitous phenomenon among adults that GEICO makes fun of us for it in its recent Old West ad (where two enemies can’t find a time for a showdown that works for both of them). We’d like to pray more; we’d like to get to worship more; we’d like to build church relationships, but there’s just not enough time.

Lent is the season to push back. During Lent, we commit to intentionally finding and making more time for prayer, worship, and community for just forty days (and it’s just twenty-nine days at this point) so that we might rediscover the Image of God within ourselves and recognize the only true source of peace.

In Philippians, the apostle Paul calls this a “peace that surpasses all understanding,” but perhaps that is just a bit overstated. Perhaps we can achieve a small measure of understanding because of a truth that is made clear by all of the academic studies mentioned above. We were created for communion with God, and when we live into that truth we find peace, hope, and joy.

So for the rest of Lent, take your time. Take time to talk to God. Take time to listen. Take time to worship. Take time to rest. Take time to serve. And then…?

Then see what happens on Easter morning.

Keep the Faith.

-Zack Moser

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Links to research articles (all of which come from peer-reviewed journals):

[] British Journal of Psychiatry – https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6048728/

[] International Journal of Mental Health – https://ijmhs.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s13033-019-0286-7

[] Psychological Medicine – https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/psychological-medicine/article/religious-and-spiritual-interventions-in-mental-health-care-a-systematic-review-and-metaanalysis-of-randomized-controlled-clinical-trials/B26314DC89133A3FA4CC4220B6A5FBCF

[] Journal of the American Medical Association – https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jama-health-forum/fullarticle/2780778

[] International Journal of Adolescence and Youth – https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/02673843.2019.1596823

A thank you to the SUMC Community from Troop 65:

In late 2018, our SUMC came together to express overwhelming support for the opportunity to Charter as female Scouts BSA Troops when Boy Scouts of America opened the program to girls. In February 2019, SUMC’s Sudbury Troop 65 became one of the first female Scouts BSA troops in the country. What started with a group of nine scouts quickly grew to more than twenty young women who were learning scout skills and leadership lessons, earning merit badges and advancing through the scouting ranks.

In just three short years, Troop 65 has become one of the largest and most active female Scout troops in New England, with thirty-six scouts. And this week, Troop 65 celebrated the last of the “firsts” as we recognized the first Eagle Scout with a Court of Honor celebration.

In her remarks, our new Eagle Scout noted that we often talk about the principle of “Leave No Trace” as we strive to enjoy the outdoors but not have a lasting impact on the environment. She contrasted this with the idea that while we leave no trace, our pioneering female scouts are leaving a mark on our community as leaders, as mentors, and as good citizens.

As part of the Eagle Scout Charge, the scout recites these words: “I recognize that by this promise, and my acceptance of the rank of Eagle Scout, I am committing to live by a high moral standard for the rest of my life, and I ask that my community provide me with ongoing support so that I can best live up to my commitment.” For more than fifty years, SUMC has been part of the scouting community, providing support to help our boys – and now girls – develop skills and become leaders through Scouting.

Thank you to everyone at SUMC for agreeing to provide our young people with this ongoing support so they can leave their mark on our community!

~

A Scouts Prayer
by Lord Baden-Powell, founder of Boy Scouts

Our Father, make us Trustworthy, for there are those who trust us. Make us Loyal, for through loyalty we reach our highest ideals. Teach us to be Helpful, for through helpfulness do we forget our selfness. Make us Friendly, for there are so many who need a friend. Train us in Courtesy, for courtesy is the carpet on life’s floor. Make us kind, for kindness is the oil in the cogs of life’s machinery. Insist upon our Obedience, for victory comes only to him who obeys. Make us Cheerful, for cheerfulness is the green grass among the rocks in the path of life. Train us in Thrift, for thrifty habits brighten our future. Make us Brave; brave in the dark and brave in the light; but save us from becoming fakers in bravery. Help us to be Clean – clean in thoughts, in speech, and in deed. And may we remember that our bodies are Thy holy temples, and that any abuse thereof is to tamper with Thy Great Plans. Above all, O God, help us to be Reverent toward all things which Thou hast made for our enjoyment when we are in Thy great out-of-doors, among the trees, along the streams, and on the Hillsides. May we know it was Thee who made the waters to flow, the trees to reach heavenward, the mountains to endure to all ages. In all these things we ask that Thou wilt help us. And may we never forget the Scout Oath to which we all have pledged ourselves, so that through Thy help we may live these points of our Scout Law. Amen.

-Kim Prendergast

It’s not, strictly speaking, a Lenten poem. But it is included in The Poetry Foundation’s collection of St. Patrick’s Day verse. And its imagery might just manage to conjure an environment that is conducive to meditation and prayer. You can be the judge.

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“The Lake Isle of Innisfree”
by William Butler Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, did it make a sound?

…is how that old, old philosophical thought experiment goes.

Often enough, our prayer topics are nearby. May relatives find good health. May neighbors find relief from troubles. May our town, our state, our country find resolution to its challenges. And there’s a chance we’ll be able to observe the objects of our prayer concerns, and, well, see how we did. (Because, of course, in this particular place and time, we’re raised to be a bit results-oriented.)

Then there are the times when we pray about people and situations half a world away.

One evening in 1991, shortly after our military was dispatched to Kuwait, with the intention of pushing back Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein’s attempted invasion of that country, SUMC held a service of prayer for peace. I sat to the piano and accompanied Iva Brown as she sang Bette Midler’s song, “From a Distance (God is Watching Us)”.

In the spring of 2011, my social media feed was inundated with Japanese flags, following the earthquake and tsunami that beset Japan. We were all sending out good thoughts and wondering what we could do to help. For the first time in my life, I sent an eMail to someone and didn’t know if they were alive to send a response back. My friend Ryoko, whom I had met when she was an exchange student at Wayland High School and we were band-mates, quite quickly sent a reply back. I’m fine; my husband is fine even though he had to walk many miles home from work that day since the trains weren’t running; our little dog is just fine; we’re luckier than many.

And now … “Lord, protect Ukraine; give us strength, faith, and hope, our Father. Amen” is a Ukrainian prayer, one which the English composer John Rutter set to music last Thursday.

A couple of Sundays ago, three different members of our congregation sent prayer requests for the people of Ukraine up to the Chancel. Our lay liturgist didn’t condense them into one announcement; they were all read aloud, in full.

My social media feed continues to be populated by notes of concern for Ukrainians as their country is invaded, and as non-military infrastructure and civilian people are attacked. And my Facebook profile photo is a representation of the blue-and-yellow Ukrainian flag, and will continue to be for the foreseeable future.

I have discovered that a couple of people whom I know do in fact have ties to Ukraine, of one sort or another, where I had not previously thought I knew anyone who did. Actively, I have prayed for them, and for all Ukrainians.

But situations such as this one are large, and will not be resolved quickly or easily, and there will be immense human suffering, and it feels like (to paraphrase Humphrey Bogart) the prayers of one little person don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.

Which will not stop this little person from praying; but again, my American results-oriented-ness taps me on the shoulder and asks, *how ya gonna know whether those prayers did any good?* That’s a big war. God may indeed be watching us, and the old aphorism assures us that God works in mysterious ways; but our little tiny imaginations have trouble conjuring what those mysterious results are, or even if they are.

However … in the last few days, I’ve seen a few things. Like…

A video showing two Ukrainian refugee children entering an Italian grade school to be met with applause and Ukrainian flags and what looked like unconditional enthusiasm and welcome from their new classmates…

A video showing a Russian state television anchor’s wooden news broadcast being interrupted by a sign of protest held up in the background by one of that news anchor’s co-workers. That protesting co-worker was of course immediately whisked away to the police station inside the broadcast facility(!); but instead of being “disappeared”, somehow she was only fined thirty thousand rubles and released…

A video showing chalk art on the sidewalk in front of a Russian embassy, reading, “in a world of Putins, be a Zelensky.” Another video showing Yo-Yo Ma playing his cello on the sidewalk in front of a different Russian embassy.

And maybe there are other things going on: things that we can’t see because they’re not captured on video; things that we’ll never know about because they don’t make the news reports from journalists on the ground in Ukraine; things that will certainly not hold a place of prominence in Ukrainian or Russian or European-Union government reports. Maybe there are things going on — interactions, rescues, new friendships borne of desperate circumstances, whatever — that do constitute answered prayers.

Maybe we have to have faith that our prayers will be answered in ways which our five senses will not allow us to personally witness; in ways which our little tiny imaginations can’t conceive of — but which God can.

In our concrete, here-and-now understanding: not satisfying. It doesn’t look or sound like our prayers are achieving anything.

But that shouldn’t keep us from keeping at it.

So okay.

Lord, protect Ukraine; give us strength, faith, and hope, our Father. Amen.

-Rob Hammerton

It was a chance encounter at a grocery store one afternoon when I met an old friend. I’ll call him Bill. He and I attended the same church and sang in the choir together. Bill was a long time member of the church but had stopped attending.

During our brief visit, I told Bill we missed him and hoped he would join us again at worship. The next Sunday he was there. He made a special point to tell me, “I am here because you asked me.” Isn’t it interesting how a simple statement can impact someone, positively or negatively? Bill became a regular attendee again.

The past two years have been difficult for churches of all denominations. Restrictions because of the Covid-19 pandemic forced them to alter the way they operated and served their membership. Attendance in person was not allowed so churches adapted by using TV streaming each Sunday. Other activities were stopped or modified to protect members.

Now with the development of vaccines and other measures to control spread of disease, churches are allowed to expand activities and open services for worship. Although cautions are in place, many people are still hesitant to leave the comfort and convenience of home on Sunday morning. We need you! Our church staff has done a marvelous job of holding us together but we need to come together again.

The strength of any church is people joining together to do God’s work. Lent is the perfect time to rejoin us. I hope to see you in church.

-Bob Canfield

I have a student whose willingness to wear shoes wavers depending on his mood. At home, shoes are optional; but at school, they are required as per Board of Health. Sometimes wearing shoes to walk to the classroom or gym is no big deal and other times he kicks them off and throws them. No words are exchanged in these moments but the message is clear: “I’m not wearing shoes right now.”

So what to do? If I encourage him to put the shoes on again after collecting them from across the room, I’m usually met with a glance, a reach for the shoes, and another lob across the room. Yup, not ready yet. If he’s not going to willingly put on his shoes, it’s not going to work. Wrestling matches over shoes aren’t allowed. So, I wait with the shoes.

I watch him spin, tap on the wall, and play with his hair. He’ll look at me and come close with a smile, then dart away again. I stand still and wait. Pausing the business of the day is nice. I can breathe. I focus on the present and notice the artwork on the walls. Breathe some more. I remember the 2,000 things I need to do before the end of the day and panic. I take a deeper breath, and a few more. I try to go back to noticing the things around me that bring me joy: my cup of coffee, a green succulent plant on the window sill, the sun streaming in. It feels similar to praying, I notice –- I try to stay focused, say thanks, and express gratitude. I think about the hurt in the world and try to focus on the things I can do. Then I remember I forgot to take out the trash. It is hard sometimes. I re-center and try again adding a “please help me to…” part before the “Amen”.

When my student is ready to put on his shoes, he comes over to me, waits while I line up the right shoe with his right foot and the left with his left foot, slips his feet in, and off we go! Amen.

Making the time to pray is important, like shoes in school, but sometimes we aren’t in the mood. Prayer helps us be in fellowship with God. It goes better some days than others. The days it is hard are the days we need God’s fellowship the most. God will be there even when you lose track of the task at hand. That is okay. Keep showing up in prayer. We are striving for unattainable perfection, but showing up is good enough.

Yours in prayer,
-Alison Condon

Why did Nero “fiddle while Rome burned”?  Was he indifferent to the suffering of his people? Or was he ineffectual and unable to take action during a crisis?  And why do I feel a bit like Nero? Just another person involved in trivial activities while watching and waiting as the world is engulfed in political, social and real flames.

As an individual you can become actively involved by providing financial support to nonprofits, emotional support to the ill and needy, time and energy to social causes, and political support to environmentally and socially aware candidates.  Although I’ve contributed and supported various causes over my lifetime, I never feel like I’ve done enough to make a difference.  That’s when I pray.

Many years ago, realizing my faith was lacking the proper “prayer” component, I looked for help.  Thinking there was a secret to effective praying, I bought the book “Christian Prayer for Dummies”.  Needless to say, the book did not provide a clear-cut path for me to follow.  So I experimented with various approaches and venues coming to the realization there’s no wrong way or place to pray.  Typically, prayer for me is more of a conversation while walking or driving than an “on your knees” experience.  My God is accessible and a good listener. I try to reciprocate, although the listening part is difficult.  As I pray I like to imagine a huge web of mankind also praying to their God for peace, the safety of their loved ones, and the health of our vulnerable planet.

“And pray in the spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.” (Ephesians 6:18)

-Moira Lataille

This Lenten hymn is included in no fewer than sixty-three hymnals serving English- and Spanish-speaking congregations … but, mysteriously, none of those hymnals are in Methodist-church pew racks. Tomorrow morning, during service, our choir singers will present it as an anthem; masks or no, we thought it useful to publish the text (by University of Paris rector Charles Coffin (1676-1749)) here.

On Jordan’s bank the Baptist’s cry / Announces that the Lord is nigh. / Awake and harken, for he brings / Glad tidings of the King of kings!

Then cleansed be every life from sin: / Make straight the way for God within, / And let us all our hearts prepare / For Christ to come and enter there.

We hail you as our Savior, Lord, / Our refuge and our great reward. / Without your grace we waste away / Like flowers that wither and decay.

Stretch forth your hand, our health restore, / And make us rise to fall no more. / O let your face upon us shine / And fill the world with love divine.

All praise to you, eternal Son, / Whose advent has our freedom won, / Whom with the Father we adore, / And Holy Spirit, evermore.

-the SUMC Music Staff

COVID-19 has been a challenge for all of us. My own difficulties have led me to conversations with God.

I have an immune system that, although not officially “compromised,” has to be jump-started with an infusion every month. I don’t need any encouragement to wear a mask to protect me. Nevertheless, doing so has caused me frustrations, which have been compounded by poor hearing.

Hearing aids have improved the volume of a speaker’s voice for me. Hearing is not often a problem. Understanding is. Before COVID-19 I depended on reading the lips of anyone who talked to me. With masks, understanding someone who speaks fast or does not look at me when talking is practically impossible. When I have to ask someone, often more than once, to repeat what they have just said it grinds down my self-esteem a notch or two. We’ve all suffered from lack of in-person contact with people outside our family during the pandemic. Masks and hearing difficulties have made me feel lonely and aggravated to a dispiriting degree, as well.

I was whining and complaining to a friend about all this, mask-less over Zoom, of course. She told me COVID-19 had motivated her to go back to keeping a daily gratitude journal. She suggested I do the same. It wouldn’t change my difficult communications with other people, she said. It might, though, help me reframe what happens in a more positive light. My friend spends one of the last parts of her day writing down the positive things that she did, what others did for her, and descriptions of other events that brightened her day.

I kept a gratitude journal, myself, years back. Life intervened, though. My days were full, and I ended up skipping the journal to get extra sleep so as not to wake up so tired the next day. I wasn’t confident I could start again and keep it up this time. I thought I could, instead, fold in an oral gratitude journal to my nightly time of prayer.

I now mentally review my day every evening and then speak it out loud to God. I make it a point to focus on the positive things in life and offer thanks. Believe me, I’m not Pollyanna. Sometimes the positive is not in what happened at all (Vladimir Putin shelling a nuclear power plant, for instance) or it’s hidden to me at the time. I still whine and complain. I just try to look again at the events that stick in my craw, this time in a constructive manner. For instance, a student teacher I was supervising forcefully told me it was unrealistic of me to expect her to control her class because “the kids at this school are all spoiled” and “they only listen to you because you’re a man.” When I related this in my evening conversation with God I included mentioning her creative and rapidly improving skills in other areas. I feel I now have a more balanced view of her. I think it’s going to give me more patience in helping her down the line.

I feel these really are conversations with God. At the end of the day I can think about what I say in prayer and sometimes expand on my words and thoughts in unexpected ways. I make realizations. Maybe these are God’s side of the conversation.

I believe I’m more tolerant of other people and more conscious of others’ hardships. I can more often find the positive in the midst of the discouraging and disappointing, if it is there. Gratitude has made personal and societal burdens a bit easier to bear.

-David Downing

In Alabama, in the 1960s, the governor moved to regulate group protest: no more than two people could walk together down the street. So the citizens of Selma walked two-by-two in a line a half mile long to protest segregation.

Deep in my heart, I do believe that
We’ll walk hand in hand, some day
(“We Shall Overcome” (African-American spiritual))

And no president, governor, king or dictator of any country has the right to control the lives of other people. Now, people all over the world believe in this freedom, as witnessed by the courage and determination of the people of Ukraine.

When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom
Let it be
And when all the brokenhearted people living in the world agree
There will be an answer
Let it be
(“Let It Be” (Paul McCartney))

-Lynn Cunningham

The doc assured us (Greg and I) that she had confidence in her ability to do the job and in Greg’s ability to heal from this “procedure”, in better shape than if it wasn’t undertaken.

And, it sounded pretty amazing to think that this preventative measure was in existence for enough time and use that there was a standard but flexible protocol to it all.

Greg had had some symptoms, nothing he felt that was worth talking much about, until he was at work one day. He mentioned to a colleague that his head was bugging him, and the events began. A trip to the local emergency department, a CT scan and a discussion about a brain bleed; followed by another ride, this time into Boston for medical care. The tests were run and then the nurses began telling him he really ought to tell family what was happening.

So, by the time I had any idea what was happening, I also had a few assurances. We dealt with things one step at a time, with the aid of so many. Greg came home after his stroke, and had the knowledge that there was an aneurysm to fix, also. So, we asked for prayers and talked with doctors and informed loved ones and all that stuff.

He had the aneurism fixed the other day, and things went really well. It really is just astonishing that they could fix an aneurysm in his brain by heading to it from his thigh, and three days later he and I were heading to the store in the afternoon!

Which is not to say there was no pain, no doubt, no second guesses along the way.

I keep having these emotional dips, and some tearful times have hit, also. And, the thing that happens over and over is that some hymn line starts popping up in my head, and next I hear myself hymning (which at one point had me giggling in a tearful time, and then my dog and I had a conversation, but I digress, I think).

We have been blessed, in so many ways; I am cautious not to begin the list for fear of leaving someone/something off! The gratitude is there, though!!!

Amazing stuff is scary. And, once again, I have lived through proof that we are in Good Hands. And, for that I am thankful.

This season, after this last couple of years and in the midst of current trauma, it isn’t easy at times. It is dependable, though. We are in Good and Loving Hands.

-Cindi Bockweg

One of the words that people use to describe the Bible is “inspired.” I’ve heard folks use the phrase “the inspired word of God” to encapsulate what the Bible is. I think for many, the assumption is that the people who first recorded the words in our Bible were inspired to choose exactly those words. I’ve even seen pictures of people with quill in hand, looking at a dove that hovers over their heads. This dove is a symbol of the Holy Spirit, guiding the writing as it takes place.

There are a lot of theories about how the Bible was formed. Scholars know that the different books in the Bible were written at different times, by different people. Many of them began orally, as stories told and retold long before they were ever written down. In some of them, we can see traces of multiple stories with different viewpoints stitched together. And frequently, we can tell that the authors’ culture and time and worldview seem to have shaped the stories they told. This is part of what makes the Bible challenging for us to read — we come out of a different culture than the original authors did, so we have different assumptions.

I often wonder if we are limiting the ways in which the Bible can be understood to be inspired if we link that word exclusively with the origin of our scripture. Why must the inspiration we associate with God’s Word be limited to the time of its creation? I am convinced that the Holy Spirit inspires us when we read and listen to the Bible, too. How many times have we had the experience of coming across verses that seem to speak directly to us, that seem to address exactly the situation in which we find ourselves? How could books that are more than a thousand years old pierce our hearts in this way unless our reading wasn’t also inspired by God?

Whether we are reading a family Bible at home, or standing in church on Sunday listening to the gospel, or searching for a particular verse on our smartphones or computers, let us remember to pause and ask for God’s inspiration as we encounter these ancient texts. There’s a prayer that is sometimes shared before scripture readings in worship: “Lord, open our hearts and minds by the power of your Holy Spirit, that as the Scriptures are read and your Word is proclaimed, we may hear with joy what you say to us today.” Indeed — may God continue to open our minds and hearts, and inspire us to hear what God wishes to communicate through the books of the Bible.

-Heather Josselyn Cranson

Vermont has a fifth season squished between the rising temperatures and melting snow of late winter and the rains of early spring. It is called mud season.

I learned to drive in mud season by finding myself on a country road with my grandmother in the car. I had taken her out for a drive to see what signs of spring we could find. We headed up toward the old Bogie farm. I had not yet learned to read nuances of mud season and so was too far up the hill to change course. My grandmother’s voice was steady as she coached me. “Keep moving.” “Don’t stop.” “Don’t make any sudden changes.” “Don’t put your foot on the brake.” “Avoid the ruts.” “Turn into the swerve.”

Recently when I spent time with one of my patients who, in addition to a living limiting illness, was also struggling with depression, I thought of driving on mud roads and my grandmother’s advice echoed in my ear.

My work brings me to the chair side or bed side of many people who are finding ways to live well until the time of their death. There are many losses to be grieved on that road — independence, physical ability, intimacy, and mobility, to name a few. While sadness in the face of loss is to be expected, some people get stuck there. No matter how hard they try they can’t feel better. They can’t stop thinking of the negative things that have happened. They can’t find even a small place of peace, or they cannot remember what hope feels like. Often, they do not grant themselves the same gentleness and kindness they easily extend to others.

There is no easy way through depression and there are no simple formulas that guide people through these times. But my grandmother’s advice about driving through mud might give some guidance.

“Keep moving.” Slow and steady. Do what you can. Keep going. “Don’t stop.”

“Don’t make sudden changes.” Stay the course. Keep going. Don’t think to yourself, if only this would change here or there then the whole struggle will magically disappear.

“Avoid the ruts.” Take the high road. Try not to let your mind go into those places where you have gotten stuck before.

“Turn into the swerve.” Don’t try to turn around and go back. When life slides one way, turn into it. Gently turn toward the thing that has set you off course. Keep moving. Slow and steady.

Finally, listen to the guiding voice of those who have loved you and the good guidance they have given. Even if you cannot apply those lessons directly, hold the memory of their love with you as you go on your way.

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

If I’m participating in a Bible study, I am nearly never the first one to speak up.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate Scripture. It’s just that I’m even more appreciative of someone who will help me understand some of it.

Early in my life, here in Sudbury, I asked our associate pastor, Rev. Charlie Whitford, about a Bible reading that talked about the peril of building your house on a riverbed, and wasn’t that kind of a non-starter anyway? And he very kindly suggested to me that in the Middle East, there were river beds that spent a lot of time looking very dry. Oh. Should have thought of that. (No I shouldn’t have: I was probably in grade school, and grew up near the Sudbury River — which was a lot of things, but dry was never amongst them. And Rev. Whitford made sure not to mock me about all that, which was very good of him.)

Obviously, there are bits of Scripture that are not remotely mysterious. But there are plenty of them that make much more sense if you have some idea of context, or of ancient history; or a degree in theology, for good measure.

A couple of summers ago, as a bunch of us gathered on Zoom to try and write a musical show based on the Noah’s Ark story, I felt we had done very well to include our Director of Youth and Children’s Ministries, Zack Moser, in the writing group. Among other things, Zack served us quite well as a Biblical Accuracy Consultant.

I do have favorite Scripture readings, readings which do make sense to me. Pretty much the whole sixth chapter of the book of Matthew, for openers.

⁵“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. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. ⁶But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”

One reason I like this passage from last Sunday’s lectionary so much is that, well, quite a few people on the teevee and the Internets could stand to have it read to them. Preferably through a bullhorn at close range.

But I think one of the better reasons why this passage speaks to me is this: I would much prefer to sit and read the Bible and desperately try to work it out in a small room alone, rather than out in public where I will be revealed to many people as not very good at interpreting Scripture.

So, I’m pleased that one of the six areas of focus in this year’s Lenten study book, “Companions on the Journey”, is “Scripture: God’s Covenant Word” … and during that personal inventory exercise that was part of our Ash Wednesday service last week, next to “Scripture”, I cheerfully drew a big ol’ circle around the numbers 1 and 2, with an arrow pointing optimistically in the direction of 9 and 10.

As John Wesley said, we are “going on to perfection” — a wonderfully euphemistic way of saying, we sure ain’t there yet.

And I rather suspect that it will take till the end of Lent, and then on through approximately the rest of my life, for me to get to the point where I can circle the 9 or 10, in the area of Scripture-wrestling. I’m surely not there yet; but I look forward to working toward it.

-Rob Hammerton

I have spent quite a bit of time thinking about what I might write for the blog and whenever I put my mind to this subject, Janet Johnson jumps in. I miss her and always looked for the many offerings that she made to the various SUMC blogs. I often sent email when something stood out and we enjoyed email conversations, discovering places where we shared experiences.

These long years of COVID have been hard on all of us, and I am not alone in missing so many people who have finished their lives here on earth. We worshipped together, worked together on various commissions, perhaps argued a little when we disagreed at a Council meeting, but I learned from each of them and held on to the examples from their lives. They brought so many gifts!

Little did I know that the final hymn that we sang at Jackie Kessler’s memorial service, “Let There Be Peace on Earth”, would be so very heart-rending, now, when peace on earth seems an impossibility. During these times of momentous change and confusion, both at home an in distant places, “The Community of Saints” is more nurturing than ever.

-Ann Hamilton

The following prayer was written by Dr. William Adelson, a beloved pediatrician from Sudbury. It was written for the Sudbury Lay Ecumenical in 1986. It speaks to me today with all that is going on in our world.

Bless this gathering, God of all people! Though we may be of different faiths and beliefs, we come together as children in the human family to give you thanks for granting us…

A hunger for truth and justice,
a soul to feel pain and the suffering of others,
a passion for joy and the humanity to forgive,
freedom to choose life and goodness over cruelty and destruction,
and faith to see Your purpose of love unfolding itself in the happenings of our time.

We ask forgiveness for all the hurt and suffering we have caused each other through thoughtlessness and ignorance. We ask Your forgiveness for every stumbling block we have set in one another’s way. We ask that through Your infinite wisdom, our hearts and minds may be opened to love each other as we are, and to forgive each other, as You forgive us. Grant us and our children love, mutual understanding, and peace. Amen.

-Donna Mills

I’m writing this now because Easter is a very important time for Christians in Ukraine. And this year may be a very difficult Easter time for them.

The designs on Ukrainian Easter eggs were originally done on ceramic pots, dating back before Christ. Since 988 AD, the Christians in Ukraine used the designs to symbolize the life of Christ.

The Pysanka is a decorated raw egg, signifying rebirth in springtime and the Resurrection. The egg has a design drawn on and then outlined with hot wax. After each dipping of the egg into a colored dye bath, the wax is reapplied. Originally, the dyes were made from plants found in the woods and garden. Again, a sign of new life in the spring.

The list of designs on the eggs, and their meaning, is long. I will list a few:

[] Spirals and whorls encircling the egg signify eternity and the cycle of life.
[] The fish symbol comes from the Greek word for Jesus.
[] A crisscross design are fish nets because Christians were to be “fishers of men”.
[] Dyed spots on the egg were the tears of Mary.
[] Red dye was Jesus’ blood.
[] All plants and animal designs were for new life in the spring.
[] Wheat decorations guaranteed a good crop; flowers symbolized goodwill; evergreens meant eternal youth; poultry was for fertility; and designs of rakes and ladders helped with prosperity.

In Ukraine, Easter season is for forty days. And then, you would not sit down to Easter dinner without having received Communion.

Some Ukrainians believe the fate of the world depends on the Pysanka. As long as the Pysanka tradition remains, the world will continue to exist!

-Lynn Cunningham

Ash Wednesday! Where has the time gone since Christmas?

Let us just say, minimally, that Ash Wednesday and Lent are my least favorite times of the church year. Most of my life, I have tried to ignore the season as much as possible. Perhaps that’s because I have heard so many dreary calls to penitence with hope getting lost in the mix. Does this mean that I think I have no reason to be penitent, that I am perfect? Never! (Check in with my family!)

In the last few years, however, I have come around to seeing Lent for what I believe it’s intended: a time to reflect and realize that I need to do a better job of being intentional, to quote the hymn, about “living for Jesus a life that is true, striving to please him in all that I do.”*

Many of you may recall the story of Jesus and the woman who had sinned and was about to be stoned by the crowd (John 8:1-20). Jesus said to those picking up rocks, “Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” Then, ignoring the crowd, he knelt down and wrote in the sand. After awhile, he stood up and noted that the crowd was gone. Only the woman remained. He asked her, “Where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She said, “No one, sir.” And Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go your way, and from now on do not sin again.”

Perhaps all these years, it’s been a case of my not “getting” the whole of Lent: the forgiveness we receive from Jesus when we own up to our shortcomings and ask for his forgiveness. And who else will give us that forgiveness? Even our most steadfast friends are, after all, human and liable to throw up their hands in dismay when we have hurt them, finding it hard to forgive us. Jesus will forgive us and in the midst of our turmoil says, “Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Rest from the weight of carrying around the sins we know we’ve committed, strength to do better. We only have to ask.

Lent this year comes exactly sixty-six days after Christmas —- a time that seems to have whizzed by. Lent is forty days. If we are to receive what Lent offers, a time to reflect, repent of our transgressions, a time to ask forgiveness, it’s a good idea to start at the beginning, not missing even a day’s opportunity to try to become more the person Jesus wants us to be…

“Living for Jesus a life that is true,
Striving to please him in all that I do,
Yielding allegiance, glad-hearted and free,
This is the pathway of blessing for me.”

Blessings, and a well-spent Lent,

-Nancy Hammerton

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*“Living for Jesus”, words by Thomas O. Chisholm, music by C. Harold Lowden (The Faith We Sing, p. 2149)

“There are three stages in a person’s life.

“First, you believe in Santa.

“Then, you don’t believe in Santa.

“And finally … you become Santa.”

-George N. Parks (1953-2010)

A favorite Christmas hymn of mine is not as well-known as some, certainly not “Silent Night”.

But it is one I remember at times year-round, especially when I see some terrible atrocity visited on a child, either in the US with migrant children in limbo or in refugee camps overseas. For all who love children…

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Star-Child, earth-Child, go-between of God,
love Child, Christ Child, heaven’s lightning rod,
This year, this year, let the day arrive
when Christmas comes for everyone, everyone alive!

Street child, beat child, no place left to go,
hurt child, used child, no one wants to know,
This year, this year, let the day arrive
when Christmas comes for everyone, everyone alive!

Grown child, old child, memory full of years,
sad child, lost child, story told in tears,
This year, this year, let the day arrive
when Christmas comes for everyone, everyone alive!

Spared child, spoiled child, having, wanting more,
wise child, faith child, knowing joy in store,
This year, this year, let the day arrive
when Christmas comes for everyone, everyone alive!

Hope-for-peace Child, God’s stupendous sign,
down-to-earth Child, Star of stars that shine,
This year, this year, let the day arrive
when Christmas comes for everyone, everyone alive!

-Nancy Hammerton

I’m a behind-the-scenes guy.

I have a firm memory of watching, as a little kid, a TV program called “You Asked For It!” Viewers would write in and request that the program do one of their little mini-documentary segments about a favorite topic. From the arts to sports to nature to technology, from current events to ancient history … almost everything was in play.

One evening, they ran a segment about “how they make a movie”. Probably. Something like that. It was definitely a peek behind the curtain, to show what went into making filmed entertainment.

I was riveted.

So nowadays, any behind-the-scenes clip or segment or documentary is very interesting to me still.

The challenge with that is … once you find out how they do the magic trick, are you able to enjoy it in the same way that you did before you found out?

In some ways, this is an occupational hazard when you’re a church musician around Christmastime.

The congregation members hear (in a perfect, non-pandemicky world) the dulcet tones of the singers and the string players and the brass players (quietly); they close their eyes, and let the music wash over them, stimulating the nostalgia centers of their brains; and hopefully they smile.

The purveyors of that music, meanwhile, are focusing really hard on doing all the musician-y things they do; and at the same time, in the backs of their minds, they’re remembering all the rehearsals and sectionals and digging-in-on-those-pesky-high-notes, all the commitment of time and effort and skillsets, everything that helped them to get to the musical finish line.

Does that dampen the musicians’ enjoyment of Christmas Eve?

Well, it does change it. It can’t help but. Once you know how the musical sausage is made, as it were, your perception of it is altered. But does that decrease the enjoyment? That can sometimes depend upon the particular circumstances within which we’re making the music. Speaking only for myself — because for whom else can I speak, really? — my enjoyment of the moment is different, but not less.

If it’s satisfaction with surviving a difficult musical passage, and “keeping this hulk together”, that’s legitimate.

If it’s taking pleasure in what a piece of music came out sounding like, and knowing that all the hard work paid off, that’s legitimate.

If it’s recognizing that, while the music didn’t come out perfectly, still that little kid in the front row couldn’t take her eyes off the young string players down front (and who knows? maybe she’ll remember that moment when the school music teacher asks her what instrument she thinks she might like to play) … that’s legitimate, too.

Not everybody has the same experience. But as a church music leader … along with the creating of the music that’s pleasing to God and to the people whose ears it hits on its way to God (which is really kinda the whole point) … one thing that is important to me is that the musicians we’re leading get to have an enjoyable Christmas Eve too.

(That way, they’re more likely to want to come back and sing in future Christmas Eves, which is another thing that can be important to me.)

It’s okay that folks in the congregation don’t know exactly what it took to get all that “glo-o-o-o-o-o-o-oria”-ing right. It’s okay for them to smile, and enjoy, and appreciate that the singing and playing struck them just right.

It’s okay that the choir and instrumental folks carry that “whew! made it!” subtext with them, when they consider how well things may have gone.

Everyone’s an individual; everyone hears music (or whatever) from their own perspective, and with their own life experience overlaid across it, whether they’re conscious of that or not.

And everyone comes toward Advent and Christmas from their own unique angle. And everyone’s angle is legitimate, too — whether they’re looking forward to the “roast beast”, or working to prepare it.

-Rob Hammerton

Working at the church office often involves staying a month to six weeks ahead of Christian holidays such as Easter and Christmas! This tends to give me a feeling of being rushed. Christmas is especially busy because it involves personal activities such as present buying, house decorating, baking, and reaching out to family and friends I might have neglected during the preceding months!

One thing I have willingly “rushed” during the Christmas season, even before my time at the church office, is my habit of listening to Christmas carols and secular holiday music. I start listening to Christmas CDs around Thanksgiving for a very good reason. Carols playing in the background while baking treats for family Thanksgiving gatherings always seems to make time-intensive baking go faster!

One of my favorite non-carol Christmas songs is “Grown Up Christmas List.” I’m sure many of you are familiar with the tune written by David Foster and Linda Thompson. If you’re interested in reading the lyrics, please follow this link (due to copyright issues we can’t print them here). Although many people have recorded it, my favorite rendition is done by Amy Grant (who has a couple of hymns in our hymnal!), which you can listen to by following this link.

While the lyrics are meant to help you envision a child sitting on Santa’s knee, I always imagine singing the song as a “prayer” to Jesus.

Frankly, the last few years have been a struggle for me. Christmas doesn’t feel like Christmas. And truth be told, the pandemic is not the only reason for this. The world seems to be experiencing a sense of upheaval on many different levels.

The arrival of Christmas and the celebration of Jesus’ birth reminds me that through His birth, the promise of Hope, Joy, Love and Peace, as signaled by our four Advent candles, is always present. May we live into that promise and truly be living examples of Christ’s love in this world.

-Shetal Kaye

“People, Look East” is one of my favorite Advent hymns. I love the cheerful optimism of its melody (called BESANCON), which starts off by rising up an entire octave and continuing to repeat its upward trajectory. I love the encouragement to be active in this hymn as well. Eleanor Farjeon’s busy lyrics instruct us to “trim the heart and set the table,” making me feel that opening up our boxes of Christmas decorations is a church-approved activity!

The hymn employs a lot of beautiful imagery as well, including the bare furrows of winter, where seeds deep underground do the necessary work of preparation in order to spring up when the weather gets warmer. Anyone who has ever appreciated the clear night sky of winter can also enjoy verse three, with its reference to “frosty weather” in which to appreciate the bright Christmas star. This is a lovely, enjoyable, active Advent hymn, and it brings a smile to my face every time I sing it.

But there’s another side to Advent, too –- a side that this hymn doesn’t express. Advent is a time when we peel away the surface to see the truth, a time when we contemplate how much we need Jesus’ saving grace. I see this other side to Advent in the hymn “Send Your Word,” which comes at the very beginning of the Advent section in our hymnal.

Unlike the cheerful BESANCON, the tune for this hymn (called MIKOTOBA) is slow, deliberate, and in a minor mode. While this hymn has a melody that begins by rising, the most memorable parts to me are where the melody falls, inexorably, like the weight of the cares of the world is pulling it down.

Yasushige Imakoma’s beautiful hymn text, translated by Nobuaki Hanaoka, confesses the difficult parts of our lives: “souls that hunger and thirst,” “sins… [that] persist and cling,” and “adversities and hurts.” This is a hymn that does not look optimistically at the future but looks realistically at the present. This hymn expresses our deep need for salvation, and it helps us to cry out “We seek your endless grace, your wondrous power, your endless love.”

It may be easy to get caught up in the attitude that one of these hymns conveys. Maybe we’re depressed by news of gridlock and polarized politics in Washington, or repression in Afghanistan, or tornadoes in the Midwest. Maybe we’re agonized by the continued toll of COVID-19. If so, then we may need “People, Look East” to remind us of our active role in anticipating the coming of the Messiah.

Or maybe we’re stuck in a busy loop of shopping and wrapping and baking and cleaning, preparing for Christmas but unable to make time to contemplate its deeper meaning. If so, then we may need “Send Your Word” to call us to the quiet work of meditation, confession, and being present in our need.

May the remaining days of this season give us opportunity both to earnestly acknowledge our hurt and to joyously anticipate Christ’s coming.

-Heather Cranson

My favorite Christmas movie has got to be Frank Capra’s “It’s A Wonderful Life”.

The protagonist, George Bailey, played by James Stewart, is a lovable guy with a huge heart, who just feels like he can’t catch a break. While the struggling family business (the Bailey Savings and Loan) has always been an albatross around George’s neck, on this Christmas Eve the whole thing seems to come crashing down on George’s shoulders with Job-like proportions and consequences. He becomes so distraught that George actually wishes he’s never been born.

I love the way George is given a glimpse of how the world would be different in his absence. Without George, his brother –- whom George saved as a child –- would not have been alive to save the several men on the transport in World War II. And Mr. Gower, the pharmacist, would have poisoned a customer and ended up an alcoholic on the street. It becomes increasingly clear that without George and his “two-bit Savings & Loan,” the whole town of Bedford Falls would be a dark, dreary, inhospitable place… that would take the name of Potterville, after the old curmudgeon who seems to own everything else in town.

Perhaps my favorite character in the story is Clarence Odbody, George’s guardian angel (actually, an AS2, or Angel-2nd-Class). Poor Clarence is a bit of a ne’er-do-well, who will be 293 years old next May and still has not yet earned his wings. When we first meet Clarence, it’s obvious that he’s had ample opportunity to earn his wings –- but just keeps screwing up the opportunities God has given him. Even the Head Angel, Joseph, says “he’s got the IQ of a rabbit.”

I so relate to Clarence in the movie. Not because I feel I have the IQ of a rodent -– hopefully, God rates my intelligence quotient considerably higher, perhaps something approaching a donkey. But despite my pretty consistent failings, like Clarence, God continues to give me opportunities to help make my world more like Bedford Falls and less like Potterville.

Sadly, given that I just turned Medicare-eligible, my hunch is that I don’t have another 228 years of botching God-given opportunities to “earn my wings.” I can only hope that each day I get a bit closer to being who God wants me to be!

Christmas reminds us that we have been given a great gift. I can’t think of a better way of passing along that gift than being someone’s Guardian Angel. Right, Clarence?

-Brad Stayton

Soon I will be putting a Christmas cake in the oven that I have been making every year for the last fifty years.

I have some wooden, carved Christmas tree ornaments that I bought in Germany. One year, they disappeared off the tree. It turned out, my baby-sitter also liked them. I convinced her to give them back to me.

I look forward to wearing my perfume called Nuit De Noel on the night before Christmas, that my dear, deceased brother gave me.

-Lynn Cunningham

I would like to share with you a story that I read in my favorite blog, an every-Saturday pleasure. I am paraphrasing — for reasons of privacy for the story teller who doesn’t want to be identified, but hopes that others, hearing her story, will be inspired to do something similar.

A young couple lived in the city, often helping someone whose needs they heard of, by a donation to a fund. In time, they wanted to do more than contribute money which gave no personal connection to the person who needed help. So they moved to a small country town, in an agricultural area, the kind of town I myself grew up in, where not only did everybody “know your name” but most of what was going on in your life.

Over the years, the lady who tells the story realized that there was much help that was given at the beginning of the crisis, but six months later there was no mention of the person and how they were doing longer-term. So began a ministry that has lasted twenty years and counting.

This lady keeps these individuals in mind all year; and around mid-November she chooses one person and makes up a Christmas-themed personal basket for them. During the year, she collects items such as a special mug and tea, a small fleece blanket, some chocolates, a book, and maybe a candle or Christmas decoration. Sometimes she adds mittens and socks; whatever she comes across in her travels. She tries to tailor a couple of items to the individual. At the end of November she has a random person deliver the basket to their door with only a “Merry Christmas from an anonymous elf.”

She says, “Their reaction to this small token is always overwhelming — to think that a virtual stranger would go to such lengths to acknowledge their struggles! I truly think that the basket says to them, ‘I see you, I feel what you’ve been through and you are not alone,’ a kind of acknowledgement of their strength.”

Over the twenty-year span, only about five people have figured out who is doing this. “The very best part,” she says, “is that all five who found me asked if they could ‘steal’ my tradition and do baskets of their own. Hence, they continue to pay it forward every year.

“I absolutely will continue this for as long as I can for the sheer joy it brings to me. Who knew that such a small act could bring so much warmth to people’s hearts and so much joy to mine! Imagine this world if we all set out to perform one single random act of kindness each day… oh, what a change we could bring!”

Perhaps Advent, a time of reflection, is a great time to begin a random act of kindness each day — doesn’t need to be something that reaches the newspaper headlines (although, what an improvement that would be!). After all, God doesn’t need a newspaper headline to notice what we quietly do out of love for each other.

-Nancy Hammerton

Watching the light of the afternoon sun as it lowers toward the tips of the Sibillini, I am mindful of the coming of Christmas this Advent Season.

I’m also grateful that I have been blessed with a wonderful life in a small Italian village, grateful that the darkness of COVID has pretty much passed us by here (no deaths, only one hospitalization and EVERYONE follows the rules!), and blessed to be able to have all three sons here in November at the same time, for the first time since we moved here in January of 2016.

Their absence, since their return home, makes me mindful, too, of how lonely it can be for some at this time of year and how important it is to reach out, even in the smallest of ways; a smile, a nod, a season’s greeting to help others know that we are all connected and that non one is truly alone.

Wishing all my friends at SUMC a Merry Christmas and a Happy and Healthy New Year.

-Gail Whitney Karn
“(former errant Stephen Minister and former terrible tenor at SUMC) … miss you all!”

Today, December 16, 2021, is the fiftieth anniversary of the passing of French composer, organist, conductor and pianist Charles-Camille Saint-Saëns. He is perhaps best known for his opera Samson and Delilah (which includes the raucous “Danse Bacchanale”), and for The Carnival of the Animals.

After studying at the Paris Conservatoire, he followed a conventional career as a church organist, including at the official church of the French Empire. He admired the music that was the most modern of his day, but he was a much more stylistically conventional composer.

He might be considered a grandfather of romantic French music: while he served as a music professor at the École de Musique Classique et Religieuse in Paris, his students included Gabriel Fauré, among whose own later pupils was Maurice Ravel. Both of them were strongly influenced by Saint-Saëns, whom they revered as a genius.

Since the composer’s death, writers sympathetic to his music have expressed regret that he is known by the musical public for only a handful of his scores. One critic wrote that his Christmas Oratorio is among his neglected masterpieces.

The Oratorio de Noël (Op. 12) is a cantata-like work for soloists, chorus, organ, strings and harp, in ten movements. Saint-Saëns wrote it in less than two weeks, completing it ten days before its premiere on Christmas 1858.

One musicologist notes that the Christmas Oratorio is shorter in length than a traditional sacred cantata, and in fact it was actually intended for presentation during a worship service.

Saint-Saëns chose the texts that he would set from several sources, including the Latin Vulgate Bible, and different portions of two Christmas Offices: the First Mass at Midnight and the Second Mass at Dawn. One author curiously calls the work “a musical enhancement of the words of the [Christmas] Office, without interest in the human drama.” The narrative portion of the text, taken from the second chapter of the Gospel according to Luke, appears in the second movement and tells the part of the traditional Christmas story involving the shepherds. The remainder of the texts are taken from John, Isaiah, Lamentations, and the Psalms.

Why do we mention all this?

Because fifteen years ago tomorrow morning, Sudbury UMC’s musicians presented this work as their Advent Cantata.

We’d like to offer you the Christmas Oratorio’s Latin texts, and their English translations, as something of an Advent Devotion.

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Movement 1: Prélude (dans le style de Seb. Bach), for organ and strings

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Movement 2: Recitative: Et pastores erant, for soprano, alto, tenor and baritone soloists, organ and strings; Chorus: Gloria in altissimis, for mixed chorus, organ and strings

Et pastores erant in regione Eadem vigilantes,
Et custodientes vigilias noctis Super gregem suum.
Et eece angelus Domini
Stetit juxta illos,
Et claritas Dei circumfulsit illos,
Et timuerunt timore magno
Et dixit illis angelus:
Nolite timere, nolite timere:
Eece enim evangelico vobis
Gaudium magnum
Quod erit omni populo:
Quia natus est vobis hodie Christus Dominus, In civitate David.
Et hoe vobis signum: Invenietis infantem Pannis involutum, et positum in præsepio.
Et subito facta est cum angelo
Multitudo militiæ cælestis
Laudantium Deum, et dicentium:
Gloria in altisimus Deo,
Et in terra pax, et in terra pax
Hominibus bonæ voluntatis.
Gloria in altisimus Deo, Gloria, Gloria Deo,
Et in terra pax, hominibus bonæ voluntatis.

There were shepherds at night in that same country, abiding in the fields,
And silently keeping their watch by night
Over the sleeping flocks around them.
And lo! An angel of the Lord appear’d,
Standing there beside them:
And the glory of the Lord shone round about them,
And they were sore afraid at his coming.
And unto them the angel said:
Fear not, o ye shepherds, fear not, o ye shepherds!
For, behold I bring unto you
Good tidings of great joy,
Which shall be to all people.
For unto you is born today a Savior Christ, the Lord,
In the city of David.
And this shall the sign be: Ye shall find the babe
Wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger low. And suddenly there was with the angel
A great multitude of the heav’nly host
Praising God, praising God, and saying:
Glory be unto God in the highest!
And on earth peace, peace be on earth,
Goodwill unto all men.
Glory be unto God in the highest! Praise the Lord our God! And on earth peace, goodwill to all men.

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Movement 3: Air: Exspectans expectavi, for mezzo-soprano soloist, organ and strings*

Expectans, expectans expectavi Dominum:
Expectans, expectans, expectans
Expectavi Dominum,
Expectavi, expectavi Dominum:
Et intendit mihi.

Patiently, patiently have I waited for the Lord,
Patiently, patiently, patiently
Have I waited for the Lord,
Have I waited, have I waited for the Lord.
And lo! He heard my cry.

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Movement 4: Air and Chorus: Domine, ego credidi, for tenor solo, women’s chorus, organ and strings

Domine, ego credidi, ego credidi
Quia tu es Christus Filius Dei vivi.
Domine, qui in hunc mundum venisti.
Domine, ego credidi, Ego credidi
Quia tu es Christus, Christus, Christus, Filius Dei vivi; Christus, Christus,
Filius Dei vivi,
Qui in hunc mundum venisti.

In my heart I believe, O Lord, I believe, O Lord,
That thou indeed art Christ, Son of the living God.
He who was to come into this world.
In my heart I believe, O Lord, I believe, O Lord,
Thou art indeed Christ, Christ, Christ,
Son of the living God; Christ, Christ,
Of the living God thou art the Son.
He who was to come into this world.

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Movement 5: Duet: Benedictus, for soprano and baritone soloists, organ and harp

Benedictus, benedictus,
Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini.
Deus Dominus, et illuxit
ominus illuxit nobis, illuxit nobis; Deus meus es tu, et confitebor tibi.
Deus meus es tu, et exaltabo te. Deus meus es tu,
Et exaltabo te, et exaltabo te,
Et exaltabo te.

Blessed, blessed is He who cometh,
He who cometh in the name of the Lord.
God, the Lord of Light, God, the Lord,
He has shin’d upon us, hath shin’d upon us.
Thou alone my God art: and all my trust is in Thee.
Oh Lord! Thou art my God, I will exalt Thee, Lord. My God Thou art,
I will exalt Thee, I will exalt Thee
And I will praise Thy name.

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Movement 6: Chorus: Quare fremuerunt gentes, for mixed chorus, organ and strings

Quare fremuerunt gentes? Et populi meditati sunt Inania?
Meditate sunt inania?
Quare fremuerunt gentes? Et populi meditati sunt inania? Quare? Quare?
Gloria Patri,
Gloria Filio, Gloria Spiritui Sancto; Sicut erat in principio, et nunc,
Et nunc, et semper,
Et in sæcula sæculorum.
Amen. Amen. Amen.

Wherefore do the heathen clamor? Why do the nations imagine
Vain and foolish things?
Imagine vain and foolish things?
Wherefore do the heathen clamor?
Why do the nations imagine vain and foolish things? Wherefore? Wherefore?
Glory, glory, unto the Father,
And the Son, and Holy Spirit!
As it was in the beginning,
Is now and ever shall be, and ever shall be,
World without end, without end.
Amen. Amen. Amen.

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Movement 7: Trio: Tecum principium, for soprano, tenor, and baritone soloists, organ and harp

Tecum principium;
In die virtutis tuæ.
Tecum principium, in splendoribus Sanctorum.

My soul doth magnify the Lord; My spirit hath rejoic’d in God.
For mine eyes have seen Thy glory.

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Movement 8: Quartet: Laudate coeli, for soprano, mezzo-soprano, alto, and baritone soloists, organ and strings

Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.
Laudate, cœli, et exulta, terra,
Quia consolatus est Dominus Populum suum;
Et pauperum suorum, miserebitur.

Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.
Ye heav’ns sing praises, be joyful on earth.
For the Lord hath pour’d
His consolation upon his people,
And He to all that are afflicted will be merciful.

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Movement 9: Quintet and Chorus: Consurge, filia Sion, for all five soloists, chorus, organ, strings, and harp

Consurge, Filia Sion!
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.
Lauda in nocte,
Lauda in nocte, in principio Vigiliarum.
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.
Egrediatur ut splendor justus Sion, Et Salvator ejus
Ut lampas accendatur.
Alleluia, Alleluia.

Arise now, Daughter of Zion!
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.
Praise God, praise God in the night!
Praise Him, in the first watches of the nighttime.
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.
That Zion’s true glory might be manifested, That her Saviour
Might rise and shine before the nations. Alleluia, Alleluia.

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Movement 10: Chorus: Tollite hostias, for mixed chorus, organ and strings

Tollite hostias,
Et adora te Dominum In atrio sancto ejus.
Lætentur cœli, et exultet terra,
A facie Domini,
Quoniam venit. Alleluia.

Praise ye the Lord of hosts,
Sing his salvation, Bless His name, Show forth his praise in His holy house!
Rejoice, ye heavn’s, and be joyful, on earth,
Rejoice in the face of the Lord,
For He cometh. Alleluia.

-the SUMC Music Staff

Today, as I write, is a rough one for me personally, because of an anniversary of sorts. The world is still in a pandemic, so I’m not alone by any stretch of the imagination, am I?

There are other issues, for me and my family, though. Cancer hit a loved one again months ago; birthdays of loved ones to celebrate; the very recent unexpected death of a loved one; and then the birthday of a loved one who walked away.

Life ain’t easy.

It’s a whole lot of wonderful and horrible and even more mundane. At least, that’s the way I am seeing today.

And tomorrow will be another day that may or may not be so many things.

One thing is consistent. I have been given a Gift of Love, and I’m able to celebrate that. A gift of grace and forgiveness and all that makes celebrating the wonderful and getting through the awful and all the stuff in-between a possibility, because through the acceptance of this Gift, I can do all things. I’m not doing them perfectly yet, by any stretch again, but I am headed in the right direction.

Sometimes there’s commercialism involved in giving a gift that induces smiles in the faces of loved ones. Other times, there’s baking and singing and… Gift giving is a debatable subject. For certain, though, this Gift of Love is intended for me. And, for all of us, each and everyone. This Gift only needs to be received, because it has been freely given.

Merry Christmas! I am so thankful I can again receive this Gift of Love, with you!

-Cindi Bockweg

Perhaps Advent, or the coming of Christmas, should be more like the season of Lent before Easter, where we abstain from celebration.

Granted, we are celebrating the birth of Jesus, not the resurrection; but in advance, we could quietly contemplate the meaning and beauty of it.

And as the day grows closer, we could send greetings and small gifts to our family and friends. We could rejoice with songs that describe the day of Jesus’ birth.

Our gifts could be something we made with our hands. We could give gifts similar to those of the Magi, which had essential oils and an alluring fragrance.

The advent of Christmas could be a peaceful, not a hectic time. Then, on Christmas Day, we could celebrate and gather for a feast!

-Lynn Cunningham

It was December of 1980. I was in the Navy, on a ship headed to the Persian Gulf. We were not at war, but it was only a few months after Iraq invaded Iran. Hostilities ran high in the Gulf, with underwater explosives deployed by both sides and plenty of aerial combat taking place in the skies.

The thought of spending Christmas away from home for the first time was on my mind. I had been fortunate the first several years of my enlistment, always being able to get leave during the holidays. But not this time.

As we steamed across the Atlantic, then the Mediterranean Sea, the days dragged on. This was before the days of “TV at Sea” and we weren’t able to get news very often. Usually just messages posted on a bulletin board from the Armed Forces Radio and Television Services. So we really didn’t know what was in store for us in the days and weeks ahead.

What we did know was that we were about to transit the Suez Canal, where we felt we were sitting ducks if someone decided to attack. With tension on the high side, we entered and exited the Canal with no issues. I think I can speak for our entire crew of about 300 men that we lost track of the date until we completed that Canal journey.

All of a sudden it was December 24th, and the sadness of being away from home once again set in. Then something wonderful happened. It was announced over the loudspeaker that there would be a Christmas Eve church service in the hangar bay (a place where a helicopter would normally be stored if we had one onboard). You could immediately see and feel the improved morale of the crew. Transiting the Red Sea with Egypt on one side and Israel on the other brought back so many memories of Bible stories I learned in Sunday School growing up in Scranton, Pennsylvania.

The ship’s Lay Leaders held a beautiful service with lots of singing of hymns and carols from mimeographed (remember those?) sheets of music. So many of the crew attended that the hangar bay doors had to be left open to accommodate all. It was the only ‘indoor/outdoor’ Christmas service I attended (until SUMC, that is!). It was heartwarming, and it brought the crew much closer for what was about to be a five-month extended cruise in the Persian Gulf.

Though many of us were feeling down, up to that point, the light shined brightly on the USS Koelsch that evening, and the Lord protected us the rest of the long journey. I pray that someday when you need comforting, a loudspeaker will sound for you, and you will be lifted up as I was on Christmas Eve in 1981. Amen.

-Jeff Lance

When I was a little girl, one of my favorite Christmas decorations at my grandmother’s house was a little ceramic church. It had a lightbulb inside and when you plugged it in and turned it on, the light shone through the little stained glass windows.

Several years ago, I found a similar ceramic church that I purchased. This one just has space for a candle and rather than having stained glass windows, it simply has holes that allow the candle-light to shine through. While it’s different than the one I used to adore as a child, this little church not only serves as a decoration at our house, but also reminds me of my grandmother.

My grandmother also had a funny tradition of leaving one Christmas decoration up all year long. As she was putting away her tree, wreath, and ornaments in January, she would select on item and place it in a corner or on a shelf where it would stay all year. She would tell me that it was important to keep a little bit of Christmas with us all year long, so that was her reminder. I’ve continued that tradition, as well.

So last January, as I was putting away our Christmas decorations after our non-traditional Christmas celebrations of the COVID holiday year, I decided that the decoration I would keep out all year was our little church. Throughout 2021, the church has held a prominent position on our mantle over the fireplace, reminding us of how the light shines, whether we’re in the church building or worshipping remotely.

This year as we celebrate Advent and prepare to bring Christ into our hearts, I hope you’ll also think of a way to keep a little bit of Christmas shining in your home throughout the year.

-Kim Prendergast

On Sunday morning, various musicians of Sudbury UMC will present four anthems during what would usually be the sermon segment of the morning worship service. This morning, we’ll preview two of them with program notes and the texts… one is a published anthem, and one is “homegrown”, from the musical pen of SUMC’s music staff…

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“A Cradle for a Lamb” is an anthem with music and lyrics written by Indiana-based composer, arranger, and pianist Penny Rodriguez (herself a pastor’s spouse) in 1991.

Just a poor humble shepherd boy,
No great wealth did I enjoy;
But the angels came to me saying: “Go to Bethlehem.

There you’ll find the one you’ve waited for —
Your Messiah, Christ the Lord.
You will find Him in a mager bed, in a cradle for a lamb.”

Now I’ve seen the newborn King;
Light and peace to all He’ll bring;
But what could be more humbling than a cradle for a Lamb?

God, in love, has found a way:
A perfect, holy Lamb will pay
For my sins; He’ll sacrifice His precious, only Son,
His most precious, only Son.

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The poem “Wartime Christmas” was written by New Jersey-born journalist and poet Alfred Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918). Kilmer was widely regarded as the leading Catholic American poet of his generation, and was known for poetry that celebrated the common beauty of the natural world as well as his religious faith. But this poem clearly bears the stamp of Kilmer’s view of his last years, spent as they were fighting and dying as a member of the United States Army in the First World War. All the ugliness he witnessed on the battlefields of the First World War never shook his faith in God or his belief in the beauty and goodness of life. He once wrote, “At present, I am a poet trying to be a soldier.”

The poem has been set to music for this year’s “Advent Cantata Sunday” by SUMC’s Choir Director, Rob Hammerton.

Led by a star, a golden star,
The youngest star, an olden star,
Here the kings and the shepherds are,
A-kneeling on the ground.
What did they come to the inn to see?
God in the Highest, and this is He,
A baby asleep on His mother’s knee
And with her kisses crowned.

Now is the earth a dreary place,
A troubled place, a weary place.
Peace has hidden her lovely face
And turned in tears away.
Yet the sun, through the war-cloud, sees
Babies asleep on their mother’s knees.
While there are love and home — and these —
There shall be Christmas Day.

On Sunday morning, various musicians of Sudbury UMC will present four anthems during what would usually be the sermon segment of the morning worship service. This morning, we’ll preview two of them with program notes and the texts… one is a published anthem, and one is “homegrown”, from the musical pen of SUMC’s music staff…

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“An Advent Garden” is an anthem created from a poem written by Texas-based composer and pianist Joseph M. Martin, to the tune of “Brother James’ Air”, in 2011. It is published as part of a collection of Advent-themed anthems called Tapestry of Light: A Celtic Christmas Celebration.

A tender rose is blooming, a flower pure as snow.
The winter air perfuming, heaven’s graceful winds will blow.
The gfit of love sent from above will like a garden grow.

The desert sands will come alive as streams begin to flow.
The barren lands will bloom and thrive. The hills will be made low.
In ev’ry place, God’s gift of grace will like a garden grow.

Alleluia! Alleluia! Let the earth lift its voice;
For a new rose is blooming in Zion. Let the garden rejoice.

The lion and the lamb will rest. The bear will feed on straw.
In Zion home will reign at last. A Child will lead them all.
The gift of peace will be released and like a garden grow.

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“The Waits” is a poem by Boston poet and activist Margaret Deland. In rural England, there is an ancient custom of neighborhood youth traveling from house to house, singing carols and begging for coins, food or drink. These groups of carolers are known as the waits. Margaret Deland (1857-1945) was an American novelist, short story writer, and poet. She is considered part of the literary realism movement and was active in Trinity Church Boston especially in their outreach to the homeless.

The poem has been set to music for this year’s “Advent Cantata Sunday” by SUMC’s Music Director, Kevin Murphy.

At the break of Christmas Day,
Through the frosty starlight ringing,
Faint and sweet and far away,
Comes the sound of children, singing,
Chanting, singing,
“Cease to mourn,
For Christ is born,
Peace and joy to all men bringing!”

Careless that the chill winds blow,
Growing stronger, sweeter, clearer,
Noiseless footfalls in the snow,
Bring the happy voices nearer;
Hear them singing,
“Winter’s drear,
But Christ is here,
Mirth and gladness with Him bringing.”

“Merry Christmas!” hear them say,
As the East is growing lighter;
“May the joy of Christmas Day
Make your whole year gladder, brighter!”
Join their singing,
“To each home
Our Christ has come,
All Love’s treasures with Him bringing!”

Don’t ask me why I was looking through my files in such a way that I found this little nugget of nostalgia, but … I found my notes from a Worship & Music Commission meeting from five years ago and saw an agenda item that made me frown, giggle, and look wistfully into the sky simultaneously.

That’s not easy. It’s a wonder I didn’t perform a spontaneous backflip, given all the different directions my head was propelled.

But the question before the group was, what are some ways in which we can gently encourage people not to hold full-throated conversations during the Sunday-morning worship service’s organ prelude?

Lordy, what I wouldn’t give to have that as my biggest problem these days.

Well, at the time, it was a contentious question.

Which brings me to another form of music that is generally accompanied by audience members sometimes attempting to hold conversations through the gaps in the sound.

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One writing-prompt question from this year’s Advent Blog instruction page is “Are there now traditions or activities that didn’t look like Christmas before, but do now?”

Got one.

People who know me, know that during my time as a UMass student I was faintly involved with the marching band. Every fall, once we finished our football game schedule, we only had two events to take care of: [1] the post-season banquet (wherein we dressed up, dined, and danced), and [2] Merry Maple.

That was an event on the Amherst Town Common, which included the lighting of a big ol’ tree, refreshments, and live music provided by the Minuteman Marching Band. The band would mass a few side streets away, march onto the Common, play a number of Christmas carol arrangements, and then play our halftime-show music (since we knew that music the best).

[Before you ask: yes, the town of Amherst, the Five Colleges nearby, and the Pioneer Valley generally, is known for its embrace of lots of different cultural traditions and its love of that whole separation-of-church-and-state thing. But December is full of holiday cheer! –And full of the need to create a little holiday-shopping awareness for the benefit of the local businesses. Ya know.]

In the more raw, wild days of UMass in the 1980s (when the school’s nickname was “ZooMass”), it was not unheard-of for a few band members to arrive at the massing point just a little, um, inebriated. And for me, a sheltered little ol’ freshman, that was a new and not entirely welcome thing, partly because GUYS! you’re wearing a band jacket and people will note that it’s a band member who is being a bit wobbly and giggly and DECORUM, PEOPLE!

Also, it was largely cold and dark and disorganized-seeming and did I mention cold?

But somehow, after the Merry Maple gig of my sophomore year, I began to see it as a more enjoyable kickoff to the particular version of the December holiday season that is experienced by college students. Yes, we’re studying for exams, but it’s about to be Christmas! and we should celebrate the holiday with our friends. And in doing so, we should celebrate our friends — these relatively new friends in our lives whom we are beginning to suspect will be our friends for a long time to come.

Two moments from the Merry Maple process have remained with me, have made me smile at the memory of that disorganized, dark, weird holiday event.

I’ll describe them, but not in chronological order.

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One afternoon during November of my senior year, the band was rehearsing our Merry-Maple Christmas repertoire. We hacked our way through marching-band arrangements of “Sleigh Ride” and Leroy Anderson’s “Christmas Festival”, the latter of which we later abandoned. And we bludgeoned our way through the 1950s-era Christmas-carol band arrangements (the band was not yet a great sight-reading group).

Our director, George Parks, reminded us that our traditional way of performing the carols was “play a verse, sing a verse, play a verse”.

When we got to “Jolly Old Saint Nicholas”, we executed our usual way of singing a verse: “Jolly Old Saint Nicholas,… la la la la laaaa! La la la la la la laaaaa, la la la la laaaa!”

At which point, Mr. Parks looked over to the back corner of the rehearsal hall, where I was standing along with my fellow drum majors Heidi and Chris … smiled … and said to the band, “if you don’t know the words, just ask Heidi after rehearsal.” Heidi’s jaw dropped and then all three of us drum majors chuckled while at least half the band wondered what was so funny.

Heidi was … at least a tiny bit Jewish.

Preparing for Merry Maple was just that kind of a relaxed affair.

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After the band’s Merry Maple musical performance, in December of my sophomore year — which included our halftime-show version of Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture” — the drumline cranked up its thunderous parade cadence, and we marched away, two by two. (That was the only way we were getting off the Common — there were more people standing around than we could possibly have asked to move to create space for our regular parade block, eight across.)

As we departed the Common, I made eye contact with one of our “band aides”. She was a second-year senior named Beth who had graciously befriended me early in my freshman year, at a moment when I probably looked a little bewildered. She was about five-foot-nothing, had a nicely silly sense of humor and a raucous laugh to match. And during my sophomore marching season, she was tasked with standing in the end zone during our “1812 Overture” performances and repeatedly firing off a little cannon at the appropriate climactic moment.

As we made eye contact, Beth called out to me, “did you hear me?!” I said, “I didn’t even know you were here! What’d you do?” She said, “when you guys got to the big hit at the end of ‘1812’, I jumped up in the air and shouted BOOM!!!”

And indeed, as she said that, she jumped up in the air, limbs flailing, and indeed shouted “BOOM!!!”

Have you ever known, known, that you would remember a moment for the rest of your life … as that moment was happening?

I did, right then.

Before that moment, for me Merry Maple was a disorganized, too-relaxed, not-rule-following-enough part of my college marching band life.

From that moment on, Merry Maple looked and felt … and has since always looked and felt, to me … like Christmas.

May you find something similar, something that used to not be so festive or meaningful or Christmas … but which does become all that for you.

-Rob Hammerton

“See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me.” (Malachi 3:1a)

Was the Grinch wrong?

Now that the Advent Bible study I’m leading on Mondays at 7pm has begun, I’m having a lot more fun than I expected. Matt Rawle’s book, The Heart That Grew Three Sizes, is helping me to respect the Grinch in Dr. Seuss’ beloved story far more than I anticipated. As grouchy and self-focused as he is, the question I have been chewing on, since our first Zoom session, comes from Rev. Rawle’s unique reading of a tale that I assumed I already understood inside-out: Was the Grinch wrong?

Clearly, the Grinch was wrong when he raided the town of Whoville while everyone but Cindy Lou Who was sleeping. It’s not okay to dress-up as Santa, the model of selfless gift-giving, and then steal gifts that aren’t yours. It’s not okay to harness your dog in front of a sled, flog him with a whip, and run him over when gravity accelerates your midnight ride down the slopes of Mount Crumpet. The narrator must be right. There is something deeply wrong with the Grinch. His heart must be two sizes too small.

On the other hand, there is something right about the Grinch and his indictment of Christmas in Whoville. From his perch high over the village, the Grinch sees three problems that feel awfully familiar. The celebration below is way too focused on toys, noise, and gluttony. When Whovillians celebrate the birthday of Jesus, their cherished traditions are all about gorging their own appetites. They are out of touch with the “reason for the season.” Even gift-giving, which is supposed to mirror the gift-giving of the Magi, and especially the gift of salvation all wrapped up in Bethlehem’s baby, has lost its intended meaning and its constructive purpose –- reflecting God’s good news, what Christians call the Gospel.

Was the Grinch wrong? Well, yes. “Thou shalt not steal.” But also, no. Without intending to redeem Whoville’s over-the-top celebration of Christmas, the Grinch becomes an accidental prophet, a messenger from God who sees what God sees in our self-focused festivities and calls us to turn around.

That’s why Advent is a purple season –- like the purple season of Lent. Advent is meant to be a time for taking stock, looking at our lives from God’s point of view, and turning in God’s direction before our celebration of Christmas begins. The Bible’s word for turning around is metanoia –- usually rendered in English as repentance. But repentance rarely happens unless a messenger from God “prepares the way.”

Cleverly and perceptively, Rev. Rawle points out that the Grinch on Mount Crumpet and John the Baptist in the wilderness are cut from the same prophetic cloth. The Grinch and John live alone. They have separated themselves from communities gone astray. John, the son of a priest, lives in the desert instead of serving like his father in a big city Temple that is tainted and corrupt. The Grinch, like John, also lives alone, refusing to celebrate a holiday that is tainted and corrupt. Like them or not, we need prophets like John and the Grinch to lead us to a quiet place and prepare the way of the Lord.

Who are the prophets that you listen to? What do the messengers whom you respect see, indict, and ask you to do? How will you heed their calls to turn around and celebrate Christmas as a holy day and not just another holiday? Spend some time in prayer pondering these prophetic Advent questions.

-Pastor Joel Guillemette

Last year I began my Christmas letter in my Christmas cards by saying “It is a Covid-19 Christmas! What more can I say.” Well, here we go again but at least this year my whole family is vaccinated and we can be together inside! Whoopee!

Last year we met in my garage. I put my Belgian lace tablecloth over my storage shelves at the back of my garage and set up my artificial tree in front of it. My daughters insisted that we all wear masks, and one grandchild at a time was able to come into the garage to greet me and exchange gifts. No hugs, no kisses, but lots of love!! The snowdrifts on either side of my driveway were packed with beer bottles since all my east-coast grandchildren are all over twenty-one. My twenty-six-year-old grandson dressed in his red ski jumpsuit. We put a Santa hat on him, and all the neighbors were asking for weeks to come how I had Santa visit my condo. We laughed and played reindeer games in the driveway.

This year, we will gather around my Lladro nativity scene and warm by the fireplace. Wishing God’s blessing to each and every one of you.

-Judy Aufderhaar

Advent always comes at the wrong time of year.

The season of Advent is the start of the Church year, and it’s a time to quiet our souls and prepare our hearts for Christmas. Advent calls us to contemplation and quiet, humble expectancy. During Advent, we hear the prophets reminding us to “beat our swords into plowshares,” to “be full of the knowledge of God,” and to “make straight in the desert a highway for our God.” In this season, we should be attending to the ways of peace and justice to which we are called.

Instead, I inevitably find myself scrambling to keep up with the demands of every day during Advent. It’s the busiest time of the semester where I teach, with tests and papers due, final rehearsals for Christmas concerts crowding my evenings, grading filling my days, and extra meetings piled on top of everything else. At home, there are special gatherings of friends and family to squeeze in, and school events to schedule. Over the airwaves, we’re reminded to shop, shop, shop, and spend hours we don’t have decorating so that our home is picture-perfect.

Every year, I look forward to the lovely season of Advent, and then I face the frustration of longing for quiet and contemplation while being caught in the whirlwind of the end of the semester. Not only do I face frustration, but I also feel as though I am “failing” Advent by not setting aside time for the inner work and preparation that belongs in this season.

I have found, however, that there is great wisdom in the alternation of seasons in the Church year, even if they seem challenging at first. Maybe it’s important that Advent begins in the busiest time of the year. Maybe it’s during this very busiest time that we need the reminder that quiet and contemplation are important. And maybe “success” in Advent is not achieving perfect meditation for hours each day and the elimination of all distractions, but instead a kindling of our desire for time to quiet our hearts and our spirits. Advent may be most needed and most helpful precisely when it’s most difficult… right now.

Let us pray: Loving God, we confess that we are busy and distracted. Yet we long for time to prepare for the coming of your Son. Calm our troubled schedules and supply us with the quiet moments we need. Fill us with trust that this is enough. Amen.

-Heather Josselyn Cranson

The Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend was the first day ice appeared on the pond.

That didn’t deter the heron. It stood as utterly still in the water as it had six months before. The fish were probably stunned the bird was on the hunt on a late November day. Maybe that’s what the heron was counting on to lead to good fishing. The tall, brown, desiccated stems of plants leaned at sharp angles on the shore of the pond. They bobbed up and down, and side to side, in the breeze. They appeared in their movements like nodding older people, telling anyone who is watching they have been through this for months now. Some will stay semi-erect to bounce up and down while poking above the drifts of inevitable snow. There were few birds at the feeder. Maybe the turkeys told them to stay away during Thanksgiving.

It had snowed six inches the night before, a hundred and fifty miles north of here. The Internet reported sales on Black Friday had been less than three-quarters what they had amounted to the year before. A new variant of the COVID-19 virus, first reported in South Africa, was revealed in the press early in the weekend; the Internet news sites couldn’t get enough of it.

The first Advent candle is lit at church. Hope. The Prophet’s Candle. The anniversary of the birth of Jesus seems far away, though. It’s still November. Celebrations with friends and family are over for now. We have almost a month until Christmas. My soul mirrors the landscape: bare, flat, lifeless.

And yet, a close look at the exposed branches of the trees near to the edges of the pond already shows the buds that will burst with leaves and flowers when the warm weather returns. Life is there. Christmas is coming.

Some of us will make the transition to it slowly. We are already in the season of light. Hanukkah began last night. Every Sunday for a while another Advent candle will be lit. We will see more lights outside homes and lit trees inside. The season will get brighter.

More light. More anticipation.

Hope.

-David Downing

[Editor’s Note: Mr. Downing is a friend of the Hammerton and Murphy families, having been a writing instructor at the Charles River Creative Arts Program when Kristin and Rob were school-age children.]

Like God, Santa is benevolent and forgiving.

The harmony in our Christmas Carols is like the harmony of the lowing cattle and the angels above the manger.

Our Christmas Evergreens are similar to the Palms of Nazareth.

And the Three Kings are late, just like some of our relatives are late for Christmas dinner.

So … I think we are doing it right!

-Lynn Cunningham

[Editor’s Note: the author gave me a heads-up even before passing along this item to me: “it’s okay if you decide to just toss it.” Three things occur to me: first, either in the choir world or the devotional blog world, I’ve never felt that it would be in my best interests to just tell people to go away! Second, the really valuable things in life are so often found in unexpected, uncomfortable, and often untidy places. And third, the objects that this piece focuses on are also metaphorical — the things we might be motivated to just toss aside often have the potential to teach us the most. After all, the Innkeeper in Bethlehem could have told those two (soon to be three) travelers that there was no room for them at all anywhere on his property, couldn’t he have?]

This commentary may not mesh exactly with the word “devotional”, but I think it will be inspirational from a Nature and dedication-to-life point of view:

Maybe two decades ago, I became closely acquainted with biologist/paleontologist Jim Mead, then a faculty member at the University of Northern Arizona. His research specialty was exploring the many hidden caves found in the steep, rocky terrain of the Grand Canyon’s walls, and in the surrounding arid regions of Arizona, and elsewhere.

He brought almost religious dedication to seeking obscure clues to what the region’s wildlife was like, including animal species, geology, climate and, if lucky, clues to any human activities, especially what life was like well before Christian missionaries arrived to “convert” so-called heathens to our multiple versions of Christianity.

Mead and his colleagues (mostly graduate students, a/k/a “academic slaves”) found their best clues deep inside obscure caves high in the vertical walls of the Grand Canyon. Hard to get to, but worth exploring.

It became very clear that multiple different animal species occasionally found their way inside these old caves. And of course these animals were not especially tidy, so they left behind strong clues about their species, sizes, and lifestyles, and even broken bones and fur samples.

More important, they also left behind copious dung samples containing direct information about what plants they were eating, which spoke clearly of climatic conditions, foods that were available, and the hazards they faced.

Prof. Mead recalled that he and another scientist, Larry Agenbroad, had actually discovered an obscure cave in nearby Utah that was filled with ancient mammoth dung. It yielded copious information they were seeking, and they soon named it (unofficially) “the Hope Diamond of Mammoth Dung.”

‘Nuff said.

-Bob Cooke

Earlier this year, I wrote about the great blue heron in my Lenten devotion. I talked about my dreams of a great blue heron flying down and spreading his wings around my nephew, Ryan, who was so sick from leukemia.

The heron’s wings in my mind were like Jesus’s arm, wrapping Ryan in love and comfort. The heron has special meaning to our family and, for many years, has symbolized God’s presence in our lives.

You’re probably tired of me writing about herons by now, but I want to share a story about how the heron continues to bring light and hope into our lives, even now after Ryan’s death.

After a long, intense battle with cancer, our relentless Ryan entered the house of the Lord in March. Our family has been shaken with grief that we think will never fade. I worry so much about Ryan’s parents, my sister Kim and her husband Craig, but they are staying true to their faith and taking care of one another as they patiently wait for each day to pass, hoping that a little bit of their sadness will fade with each passing day.

Kim finds a sign almost every day that Ryan is with her —- hummingbirds, butterflies, cloud images, sunsets, rainbows, giraffes, zebras, and of course, herons. About a month ago, she and Craig were taking a walk as the sun was starting to set. It was the day before we turned the clocks back an hour, so darkness appeared sooner and sooner each evening. The sky was gorgeous as night slowly arrived. Kim and Craig were talking about Ryan’s friends and how they were each trying to bring peace to their lives as they grieved the loss of their dear friend.

Suddenly, Kim heard loud rustling in a tree next to the road as they were headed up a hill toward their home. As soon as they looked over to the tree, a great blue heron flew out of its nest high up in the branches, its wings spanned at least six feet wide as the graceful bird soared towards the setting sun. The sounds of its wings created an amazing “whoosh, whoosh…” sound as they pushed air down to move the bird up in the sky.

Kim and Craig were taken back by the beauty and presence of this beautiful creature. They knew, at that moment, that Ryan was sending a message to them that he was in the arms of the Lord. The great blue heron never fails to bring light and hope to our lives, and we thank God for using this special creature as a symbol of His grace, love, peace, and safety.

The heron is a patient bird. I hope that my family can learn to be more like this bird because patience and a sense of calm can bring us close to Jesus. Let me “…wait patiently for the Lord; then He will incline to me and hear my cry” (Psalms 40:1).

This Advent season, as we anticipate the arrival of Christmas day, I pray that we can be like the great blue heron and wait patiently and calmly. But, let’s not forget to respond in action and do the work of the Jesus here on earth. What can we do to help others feel like the Lord is wrapping His arms around them? How can we be like a heron? Do we need to swoop in and make a loud entry, or can we do little things that make a big difference? Can my simple presence in someone’s life bring light to them in some way?

Prayer: May Jesus Christ provide light for you in all your days. May He wrap you up in love and grace and help you live your life in service to Him. Amen.

-Kristen Straub

The writing prompt said, “What part of the Christmas season don’t you care for and why?”

Part of the expectation of Christmas in this modern age is gift-giving. These days, I dislike trying to figure out what material gifts those in my family and extended family would like. I don’t like to shop for gifts. I would much rather give a more lasting gift—a gift of time spent with them throughout the year. I would also like to give to others less fortunate than myself in my Christmas gift giving.

Recently, I came across the writing below. This is what I’d like to reply when my adult children ask me what I want for Christmas. Perhaps it will resonate with you, too.

My children ask me the same question each year. After thinking about it, I decided to give them my real answer. What Do You Want for Christmas?

• I want you to keep coming around.

• I want you to ask me questions. Ask me advice. Tell me your problems.

• Ask my opinion. Ask for my help.

• I want you to come over and rant about life. Tell me about your job, your worries, your interests.

• I want you to continue sharing your life with me.

• Come over and laugh with me or at me. Hearing you laugh is music to me.

• I want you to spend your money making a better life for you and your family.

• I have the things I need. I want to see you happy and healthy.

• When you ask what I want for Christmas, I say “nothing” because you’ve already been giving me my gift all year and that is YOU.

So why do we celebrate Christmas? Isn’t it really about a special gift that God gave the world? God sent Jesus into the world as a gift to us, born as a baby and growing in stature, wisdom and love to be an example of how God wants us to live.

When my sons were in elementary school, I read an article about something that became a tradition in our celebration of Christmas. Under the tree were many presents, but there was one that said “For the Sweeney Family.” Sometimes it was a big wrapped box; at other times a small one. I had our boys open it. Inside was a picture of Jesus (as a baby and as a grown-up, cut from Christmas cards or Sunday School leaflets) with these words in large print: “The Greatest Gift of All”. Isn’t that what Christmas is all about? Isn’t that why we celebrate Christmas?

Yes, it’s nice to get and receive gifts, especially ones that are thoughtful or homemade. But in doing so at Christmas, let’s not forget whose birthday we are really celebrating. Read the Christmas story in the Bible, enjoy an Advent calendar, light some candles, tell each other what you appreciate about them, talk about Jesus and what he teaches us, sing some Christmas hymns. Enjoy the Advent Season!!

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

Advent in December brings a sense of wonderment and a feeling that something good is about to happen. The Christ Child will appear. For me, December seems the month that I have chosen to have surgery … twice. My old body is falling apart and needs to be updated.

In December 2017, I had my hip replaced at New England Baptist. I went in on the morning of surgery, had the replacement, spent the night, and left the next day. Our Pastor Joel with his abundant love came to visit me in the afternoon. What happened still makes me laugh. I am assuming that it went this way:

Joel went to my room … and it was empty. He went to the nurse’s station to find out what was happening.

Joel: “Where is Mrs. Stroud?” Nurse: “She is gone.” Joel: “Gone? She just had surgery yesterday. Her room is empty.” Nurse: “Yes, she is gone… …home!”

Poor Joel did not anticipate that surprise.

So now, in keeping with tradition, I am scheduled for a knee replacement on December 7. This time, I have chosen to go to Emerson Hospital, which is right next door to our retirement community, Newbury Court. My husband says jokingly that I can walk home; it is so close. Well, at least if Joel is making visits during these COVID times, he will know where to find me!

I am looking forward to my new Christmas gift, my new knee, as crazy as that sounds. There is anticipation and curiosity and a promise of something good eventually. That describes Advent as well.

-Lynn Stroud

There may be no other time of the year that is so marked by traditions. What we do, where we go, what we hear, what we see, whom we think of, what shopping-mall traffic jams we get into … certainly up through two Advents ago, a lot of us had amassed a great many Things We Always Do and a great many Ways We Always Did Those Things.

And then, not to beat a dead horse, but … certainly in this past nearly two years (and perhaps for more it will be the case that) a great many Things Are Now Different. And there are a great many Things We Still Can’t Do, or at least Things We’re Not Comfortable Doing Yet.

Maybe that’s the reason you might be feeling a bit like a Grinch.

We’re not sure of the reason why the actual Grinch was feeling like a Grinch (Dr. Seuss never gets specific about that particular origin story) … but we might well be quite sure of our reasoning.

Half a year ago, COVID-19 conditions were beginning to look up. Without a Delta variant yet in sight, Sudbury UMC’s staff was looking ahead to this Advent season as one in which we could very well be returning to our usual practices.

So much for that.

Plenty of opportunities to wonder, forlornly, “will we ever [fill in the blank] again?”

Well, not to toot our own horn overly, but matters have begun to force us to invent new activities that might well become Things We Always Do.

Last Christmas Eve, at the end of our worship service, we gathered on the front steps of the church and in the parking lot to sing “Silent Night” because it meant we could gather safely, socially-distantly, and sing lustily. (You may recall that at that point, congregational singing was frowned upon by public-health officials.)

Who knows? Years from now, we may still be singing “Silent Night” outdoors, our dulcet tones carrying into the night sky, because it’s a lovely thing to do.

These online-blog versions of SUMC’s devotional writing collections actually began a year before COVID struck, but they certainly were useful afterward — a way of distributing our congregation’s lovely writings without the need for hand sanitizer.

But now, rather like our Sunday-morning live-streaming capabilities, those writings can be sent out into the wider world, possibly to reach more people than could be reached previously. All to the good.

---

Some of the writings that follow, here — posted every morning from now until Christmas Day — may be responses to questions drawn from a book that Pastor Joel is using as the centerpiece of his Advent season Sunday-morning children’s times: “The Heart That Grew Three Sizes: Finding Faith in the Story of the Grinch”, by Pastor Matt Rawle. And some may not be.

But as usual, they all will be written by members and friends of Sudbury UMC. One of those pleasant and rare examples of something that “we’ve always done this way” and which nonetheless continues to make sense.

(As is only possible with the online format, we have a few of the writings ready to go, but there is still quite a bit of “space” remaining … so if you’d like to have a go at writing something for inclusion here, BY ALL MEANS check out those writing ideas (https://www.sudbury-umc.org/s/AdventBlog2021_Instructions.pdf) and see what inspiration strikes you!)

Ready?

Off we go… again!…

-Rob Hammerton

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)

My first visit to SUMC was on Palm Sunday exactly 20 years ago, when I moved from Pennsylvania to Concord. My neighbor, Dick Harding, invited me! I remember vividly the lineup of children and of some of the boys “fencing” with their palm branches. Before and after that day flow many years of memories of Hosannas sung and palm branches waved.

Palm Sunday has, for years, also been the day on which I wear light colored “spring clothes”. I have a personal aversion to “Easter outfits”, so, whether the garment is new or old, I wear it before Easter.

The somber worship services of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday were observed throughout my life. I remember many Good Fridays when the sun actually did diminish or even disappear in the middle of the day. It was almost as if Nature was expressing the sorrow of the day.

Of course, Easter Sundays (eighty-six of them) pass in a colorful procession of church attendance, triumphant music, beautiful flowers, and, of course, Easter gifts and candy. My earliest memory (probably I was four years old) is of a blue shovel filled with candy waiting for me at my home in the Bronx. The shovel was a practical and sensible gift. It brought great fun for months after the candy was gone.

There were small baskets of candy on Easter during my Connecticut childhood, but I don’t remember anything about a bunny delivering them. The most joyous part of the day was dinner with extended family – sometimes as many as twenty relatives ate, talked, and laughed together.

Family gatherings continued for years after my own children joined the clan. Their Easter gifts (from their parents) consisted of a new book and a very small quantity of candy. They probably felt somewhat deprived because when they established their own families, I noticed huge quantities of candy were delivered by a very generous Easter Bunny. Sometimes that very bunny brings “Peeps” to Grandma!

Now, in this pandemic year with continued restrictions, we are all thankful for health and the ability to enjoy electronic worship or even “masked worship” with others. We are now allowed to sing in chapel, so muffled alleluias will abound. No family will come for dinner, but we will enjoy being with our community family for Easter dinner. Our Living Lord has blessed us!

-Janet Johnson