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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Heather Josselyn Cranson

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

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

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

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

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

-Anthony Vert

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Some background information follows:

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

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

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

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

-Jody Avery

Not all idioms are appropriate all the time.

Today’s example: “familiarity breeds contempt.”

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

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

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

Here’s why we bring this up:

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

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

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

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

-The SUMC Music Staff

How do I feel singing Hallelujah on Easter?

Joyful!

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

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

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

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

-Scott Pickens

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

.

-The Rev. Joel B. Guillemette

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

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

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

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

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

-Bob Cooke

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Richard Morris

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Brad Stayton

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

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

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

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

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

-Karen Lubic

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

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

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

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

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

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

Norway and Denmark: Kringle

Czech Republic: Preclick

Sweden: Kringla

Slovakia: Praclik

Polish: Precel

Spanish and French: Bretzel

Hungary and Croatia: Perec

Italy: Brezel

Servia: Pereca

Netherlands: Krakeling

China: 椒盐卷饼

Japan: プレッツェル

-Wendy Pease

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

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

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

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

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

-Vikki Jacobson

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

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

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

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

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

-Janet Johnson

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

-Meg Fotakis

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Kristin Murphy

George Herbert (1593-1633)

.

Lord, who createdst man in wealth and store,

Though foolishly he lost the same,

Decaying more and more,

Till he became

Most poore:

With thee

O let me rise

As larks, harmoniously,

And sing this day thy victories:

Then shall the fall further the flight in me.

.

My tender age in sorrow did begin

And still with sicknesses and shame

Thou didst so punish sinne,

That I became

Most thinne.

With thee

Let me combine,

And feel this day thy victorie:

For, if I imp my wing on thine,

Affliction shall advance the flight in me.

-submitted anonymously

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

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

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

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

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

-Jamie Solak

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-Nancy Hammerton

I am the church, you are the church

We are the church together

All who follow Jesus, all around the world

Yes we’re the church together.

-Richard Avery

 

Saturday, March 2:

Snow is falling as I write. In many ways it’s a typically mundane weekend around here: homework, violin practice, laundry. My partner, Lois, and I will go to our 12-year-old’s soccer game this afternoon and then out to GiGi’s, our new favorite Vietnamese restaurant. If Dez is bothered by having two grammies cheering her on at every game, she doesn’t show it. To her, we are unremarkable. Boring even. She reminded me recently that I have the “most uncool” car of all time. This is the way I like it.

Yet as the news from the special General Conference in St. Louis seeped across my social media feeds this week, I was reminded that my little family is not unremarkable to some factions of the wider church, and for all the wrong reasons. The passage of The Traditionalist Plan, or “the Mean Plan’ as it’s known around our house, has strengthened the exclusion of gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgender people, and those who would stand with them, from full participation in the life and ministry of the United Methodist Church. With the passage of this possibly unconstitutional plan, our family has been even more securely relegated to second class citizenship.

Ironically, this moment has given me a chance to pause and to count my blessings. I was raised by two parents who loved me unconditionally. Growing up in Sunday school, youth group, and at UMC summer camps, and later on as a CCYM (Conference Council on Youth Ministry) delegate, I learned over and over that God loves me just as I am. As an adult, I know General Conference isn’t the church; we the people, are the church. I feel well-equipped to stand on the side of justice regardless of consequences. I am not afraid of those who cast their ballots out of fear in St Louis this week.

My concerns are not for me personally, but for the wider body of the United Methodist Church. What does the Traditionalist Plan say about us as an institution and what we believe about God’s love? What message does this stance send to our children about their place at God’s table? How has this decision added to the pain and loneliness of young people from Nevada to Nairobi, from Memphis to Manilla, who may be struggling with their identities in fearful, homophobic families, churches, schools, or workplaces?

According to The Trevor Project:

• Suicide is the second leading cause of death among young people;

• LGB youth are almost five times as likely to have attempted suicide compared to heterosexual youth;

• LGB youth who come from highly rejecting families are 8.4 times as likely to have attempted suicide as LGB peers who reported no or low levels of family rejection.

Now more than ever our young people need to to hear the message of the welcoming church movement: You are not alone! You are loved just as you are! You are welcome here!

 

Sunday, March 3:

This morning I helped serve communion for the first time at SUMC. Like others have done for me, I looked into each person’s eyes and offered this simple blessing: “The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation.” And I was nearly moved to tears as people of all ages, abilities, and ethnicities approached the chancel. This is God’s table and everyone is welcome here, I thought. Look at how beautiful we are!

At coffee hour after the service, someone asked me why in the world would I want to join a United Methodist Church after the events of the past week? My answer was, “How can I not?” Pastor Joel came to our home Wednesday evening following the dreadful news to let us know how sorry he was and that he was thinking of us. When I pulled into the SUMC parking lot this morning, I saw not one, but two, giant rainbow flags, cheerful and defiant, greeting the neighborhood and beckoning parishioners to worship. In his message this morning, Pastor Joel spoke truth to power, to borrow a Quaker phrase, with more than a little bit of fire. He is hurt and angry, and he shared his sense of injustice and outrage openly and honestly. Lay leaders stood up and re-affirmed SUMC’s commitment to the inclusion of all people in the ministries of this church. And as on almost any Sunday, choir members sang their hearts out with divine, uplifting harmonies wrapping the congregation in God’s love and grace. If this congregation and its leaders are willing to take a stand against institutionalized hatred and discrimination, even at the possibility of facing sanctions, then how could I walk away from this? How can I NOT be a part of this?

-Christie C. White

The idea of being in exile is a huge theme throughout scripture. The most obvious example of exile is the literal displacement of the Hebrew people by Babylon. The idea of this exile is that, since Israel did not faithfully follow God’s commands even after God sent a number of prophets to set them straight, they lost the Promised Land. It becomes clear in many of the psalms and in the prophetic books of Isaiah and Daniel, however, that the Israelites never lost hope that they would return to God’s presence and favor. While in exile, seemingly separated from God, hope was still strong.

You don’t have to get all the way to the book of 2 Kings to find Biblical exile. The theme of exile starts in the second chapter of the Bible! In the Garden of Eden, humanity (i.e., Adam and Eve) was given a command that it proved unable to follow – don’t eat from a certain tree. Adam and Eve ate the fruit because they decided they wanted to be their own God, and believed the serpent that they could be. Excessive pride was the original sin, and it led to humanity’s exile from Eden. The rest of the entire Bible is a continuation of that story; the story of humanity’s exile and the extent that God will go in order to bring us “home.”

I think of Lent as a time to recognize what it is that is keeping us in spiritual exile – what it is that separates us from God. Our Lenten fasts aren’t merely a spiritual representation of the need to resist temptation (although that’s part of it). Nor are they merely an homage to Christ’s 40-day fast in the wilderness (although that’s part of it too – Lent is complex, y’all). Our Lenten fasts are supposed to also be reminders to spend more time during these 40 days in intentional prayer and meditation on our relationship with Christ and what his sacrifice on the cross means. In Lent, we “sacrifice” that which is keeping us from a full relationship with God our creator, redeemer, and sustainer. For me, the two biggest culprits are pride (to be more honest, “ego”) and time-consuming distractions, and so throughout this season I will give up certain distractions and pray for humility and an outward focus.

Those are certainly not the only things keeping me in my own exile. The spiritual journey back to the fullness of the image of God in which we were created is not a quick-fix, but Lent is a time to intentionally identify that which, through the grace of God, we must overcome. The fact that the season culminates in Easter, the most triumphant day on the Christian calendar, is poetic and instructional. It’s kind of like being lost in the woods and suddenly seeing a familiar landmark and realizing that you know the way home; you’re still far from home, but now you have hope and renewed strength because you know that you’re going to make it back.

We are in exiles in our own world, but hope is not lost because we already know the ending of this story. Christ is risen, and because of that, our journey home has begun. Thanks be to God.

-Zack Moser

“Then he said to them all, ‘If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it.’” (Luke 9:23-24)

Lent is one of the oldest seasons of observation on the Christian calendar. The word Lent comes from the Anglo-Saxon word for spring, which is derived from the Germanic root for long – referencing the fact that in the spring the days become noticeably longer. Like spring, Lent is a time of rebirth and spiritual transformation.

Despite the observance of Lent having changed over the centuries, its purpose has always stayed essentially the same: a season of self-examination and penitence in preparation for Easter. Over the years, Lent (the forty days between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday) has been a time dedicated to self-reflection, sacrifice, spiritual disciple, doing more service for others, prayer, and meditation.

In many traditions fasting plays a role. Some Christians fast daily, eating only one meal a day. Others may “fast” from negative thinking or behavior that can separate us from God. Still others may follow the “Fast Lists” shared by Pastor Joel, here at SUMC on March 10.

The forty days of Lent offers a wonderful opportunity for us to better focus on our relationship with Jesus through meditation and service. It is a time for us to get in touch with any part of ourselves that may be broken and needs healing. It is a season to be able to openly acknowledge our deep, inner desire to be more like Jesus. Through our Lenten journey, let us release our old way of being and step into a new expanded life.

 

Lenten Prayer:

Lighter of Lights – Illuminate us

Fire of Fires – Thaw us

Power of Powers – Strengthen us

Lover of Lovers – Warm us

Teller of Tales – Encourage us

Destroyer of Darkness – Save us

Touchstone of Truth – Examine us

Summoner of Stars – Amaze us

Wellspring of Wisdom – Weather us

Water of Life – Refresh us

Dancer of Days – Delight us

Breath of the Universe – Bless us

 

[Devotion by Robin Dugall; Prayer by Ruth Burgess]

-shared by Star Herstine

“When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them.” (Luke 24:30)

The early resurrection account of meeting Jesus on the road to Emmaus has long had a special meaning to me, and it has also captured the interest of many artists. You’ll recall that the disciples did not recognize the man they had been walking with all day until they invited him into their home, and before the meal he lifted the bread and gave thanks to the Lord. In that moment, a reference to the Last Supper, it became clear to them that it was Jesus all along.

It is not surprising that Jesus would use the occasion of a meal to reveal himself. Especially in Jesus’ time, dining together meant so much more than simply filling an empty stomach; it was an occasion to nurture the soul as well as the body, it was a time of fellowship and an act of love.

Sadly, Americans rarely eat together anymore. Surveys have shown that the average American eats one in five meals in their car; one in four Americans eats at least one fast food meal every single day, and the majority of American families report eating a single meal together less than five days a week. It’s a pity that so many Americans are missing out on what could be meaningful time with their loved ones, but it’s even more than that. Not eating together also has quantifiably negative effects both physically and psychologically.

This Lenten season, consider making it your spiritual discipline to have your family eat a meal together on a regular basis. Say grace. No cell phones, no hand-held devices. Earn extra credit if you can invite a neighbor or other new friend to join you. Not only are you showing them hospitality, but it is a great opportunity to let them see how your faith influences your family life, however messy it might be, and a chance to share with them the message of salvation.

Do not underestimate the power of this simple invitation. In her book, “The Gospel Comes with a House Key,” Dr. Rosaria Butterfield details how “God used an invitation to dinner in a modest home, from a humble couple who lived out the gospel daily, simply, and authentically,” to draw a radical, committed unbeliever to himself. Today Dr. Butterfield shares her conversion experience with people around the world, and how essential it was for her to see and get to know people who were attempting to live their faith, however imperfectly.

This Lenten season, eat together and invite a friend. You never know what Special Guest might be among you.

“Meals make the society, hold the fabric together in lots of ways that were charming and interesting and intoxicating to me. The perfect meal, or the best meals, occur in a context that frequently has very little to do with the food itself.” -Anthony Bourdain

-Mike Arnum

In Matthew 28:18-20, Jesus commissioned his followers to preach the Gospel to, and make disciples of, every nation. And while these are important and well-known verses (and rightfully so!), Jesus is not telling his disciples anything new. In fact, the entire story of the Bible, from Genesis to Revelation, documents God’s plan to bring glory to Himself through every tribe, language and nation. Let’s take a tour through the Bible to look at this, starting from the beginning: Genesis.

Immediately after The Fall, God was bringing Man back to Himself. This goal seems to take a major detour in chapter 11 of Genesis at the Tower of Babel. But in the twelfth chapter, our first stop on this tour, we see that there are no mistakes in God’s plan. God promises Abraham that He will bless him and make him into a great nation. Abraham is to be the father of God’s unified people.

Fast forwarding, the Psalms are laden with mentions of God being gloried in every nation. A personal favorite is Psalm 86. David lists many of God’s attributes when he comes to verse 9, “All the nations you have made shall come and worship before you, O Lord, and shall glorify your name.” This verse reminds us not only that God created and therefore rules over every nation, but they shall worship and glorify Him forever.

Continuing in the prophets, Jonah is called to cross cultures and bring the name of Yahweh to the people of Ninevah. While he may not be the model missionary, Jonah reminds us that God’s plan for His glory is not contingent upon man’s performance or qualifications. Isaiah also exhorts in 12:3 to “make known his deeds among the peoples, proclaim that his name is exalted.” All this talk of God’s glory to the nations and we aren’t even in the New Testament yet!

We began with the Great Commission, but in fact, Jesus commissions his disciples five times (Matthew 28:18-20, Mark 16:15-18, Luke 24:45-49, John 20:21-23, and Acts 1:8). The disciples cannot claim that Jesus was ambiguous. The message is clear: His followers are to bring the Gospel to places it has not previously been preached. In Acts 2, at Pentecost, we see the reversal of Babel where people speaking different languages could understand each other and speak of the “mighty works of God.” As we go through Paul’s letters, we realize that these are being written to churches that he planted and where Jesus was not previously known.

Finally, we arrive at Revelation, the culmination of God’s plan to be glorified among all the nations. And our last stop on the tour through the Bible is one of my favorite verses. Revelation 7:9 reads, “After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all the tribes and people and languages, standing before the throne and the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands.” After The Fall of Man, God was working to make this verse a reality. When Christ returns, there will be a representative from every language and nation worshipping God.

Since we believe the Bible to be God’s perfect, eternal Word, Revelation 7:9 is as good as done, even though it hasn’t happened yet. God is going to have people from every place on this earth worshipping Him forever and ever. Since this promise is sealed, it means that it will happen with or without our cooperation with God. God does not need anyone of us to make this a reality. He has been saving people long before we were on this earth and He will be doing it long after we leave.

And yet, God has chosen to use His people to spread His word. If we are certain of this future reality, why wouldn’t we want to be a part of it? Why wouldn’t we want to guarantee that we are on the right side of history? God’s glory going to the nations is not reserved for a special subset of Christians. The question is not if we are called; the question is how and where we are called to spread Jesus’ name. I pray that each of us would discern this call in our own lives.

-Eric Y.

“Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.” (1 Peter 4:10)

God’s gifts are often thought of as the daily blessings we receive and know come from God, such as laughter from our children, a kind word from a stranger, or good news from a physician. The gifts that we often forget that are true blessings are those that each of us possess that we can use to help God spread his blessings on the earth.

Do you ever think about the gift God has given you that allows you to care for your children or grandchildren, alleviating stress from another for a few minutes and are the one who causes their laughter? What about when you cross a busy street and reach out to tell a stranger, “Be careful of that puddle”? And those of you who spent years training as a physician to be able to give the good news in a special way?

I sometimes forget that my gifts from God may not be as obvious as some others. I don’t have a wonderful voice that makes the hymn ring true in others’ hearts. I do not have the training in medicine to save lives. I don’t have a calling to preach the Gospel to awaken the glory to a congregation. But we all have gifts that we need to be sure to use as often as possible.

Kindness is a gift many of us have. Someone who struggles with an extremely difficult life, or suffers from addiction, or hurts too much to care, may not be able to show kindness; but we can. The ability to put others ahead of your own immediate needs when they are suffering is a special gift, and not all can be in a place to provide.

We can’t take lightly the small things. We are the daily reminder of God’s grace on earth. There was only one Mother Theresa, but there are hundreds of people who will remember your kindness who have never even heard of her.

Think of the way you show God’s grace and you have found one of his blessings. When someone says, “thank you,” they are reminding you that you have given them one of those blessings. Remember: the small ways that you care, serve, and love daily are the most important gifts you can give.

May God bless you this Easter, and may you share his blessings with others.

-Jen Rockwell

An unmet need or quite literal thirst that a stranger satisfied for me happened about six months ago. Although it was not a stranger, it was a member of our church, and I am struggling to this day to remember who performed this kind act for me, for reasons that will be clear below.

It was a very warm, sunny afternoon in late summer 2018 at a grocery store I had specifically chosen to do some prospecting for my new business in real estate sales. By way of explanation, in the particular sales training program I was in, we were required to make twenty contacts each week day, or a hundred per week, where we talked about real estate with any adult, whether live in person or by phone. Those who did not do this, each week, committed what was termed a “foul”. Collecting six of these “fouls” over the course of the seven-week program caused one not to “graduate” and served to prevent an individual from achieving company recognition of completion. Rebates for program tuition when sales close are unavailable when people foul out, as is the unwanted reward of a sense of failure. Admittedly, in doing this, I was motivated somewhat more significantly from a sense of avoiding failure than from seeking a worthy goal of making those contacts each week.

For at least four of these weeks, I did not make my mandate. However, I needed to have some weeks where I would meet the commitment to successfully complete the program. One alternative way to meet this commitment was to do what was termed a “Bold 100”, where one meets and talks about real estate with a hundred people in a single day. I did this twice, each time in the hot sun at a different grocery store, with one time seeming more memorable. My agent colleagues had been asked to leave mall environments trying these scenarios; with a grocery store, I figured I probably had less chance of this – and a captive audience.

I stood in front and would introduce myself as a real estate agent, hand them my card, and an optional scratch ticket to entice them, asking as a lead-in, “Would you like a free lottery ticket?” After doing this one of the two times I did it in the hot sun, I was nearing the end, and a member of our church recognized me as she took my card and said something to the effect of “I think I remember you from church, from the choir.” I stammered something to the effect of, “Oh yes, of course, nice to see you…”, as I was having trouble with her name. She must have noticed my glistening brow and a dizzy look and taken pity on my appearance, as later when she left the store, she handed me a cold bottle of water. Gratefully, I said “Thank you so much!” and thought, “There is a God!!”

This act of compassion gave me some affirmation that maybe some of my efforts to work diligently to satisfy this arduous contact-making process could have been worthwhile, which was more meaningful to me than quenching a temporary thirst and preventing heat stroke. The thought I may have had was “She sees me working hard at what may be somewhat of a futile effort, and out of compassion wants me to avoid too much suffering.” For that, I’m grateful and humbled that she took action to help me feel better and survive the process.

-Dean Jacobus

Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it. (Hebrews 13:2)

“Whoever you are, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” These are the last words we hear from Blanche Dubois in Tennessee Williams’ famous play A Streetcar Named Desire. Clearly “Stranger Danger” was not an issue for Blanche; she needed and welcomed strangers into her life.

There have been many times over the years when strangers have eased my way through life’s difficult situations. A kind word, an encouraging smile, a helping hand have smoothed the rocky road of worry, loss and illness. Many times these “angels” have become dear friends. The unknown “other” became the cherished known.

Jesus was comfortable with strangers, engaging with those of other religions and social classes and taught his followers to do likewise. In the fourth chapter of John’s Gospel, Jesus asks a Samaritan woman for a drink of water and discloses his identity as Messiah to her. Their exchange was personal and fulfilling. The one-on-one conversation they shared is meaningful for me.

As Christians, we are taught to welcome the stranger. However, humans are instinctively wary, and as an introvert I find reaching out to strangers can be daunting. I have also found that when I initiate a connection with others, the strangeness dissipates.

Prayer: Lord, open my heart to others, help me to welcome the stranger into my life. Amen.

-Moira Lataille

When I was in about the fourth grade, I watched the annual broadcast of “A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving”, and was taken with the public speaking of Peanuts philosopher Linus Van Pelt.

Linus’ first national-animated-television monologue had been his reminder of the true meaning of Christmas, in 1965’s “A Charlie Brown Christmas”. (“Lights, please!”) That display, followed years later by the Peanuts gang’s animated Thanksgiving, established Linus as one of those performers (yes, he was an elementary-schooler’s voice accompanied by the artwork of animators, but who thinks about that in the moment?) whose performance was so good, so effortless, that it made me think I could do what they did. Getz on the saxophone … Olivier on the stage … Streep on the silver screen … Van Pelt in cartoon-strip animation.

Turned out, just because somebody else makes it look easy, doesn’t make it so.

So, at a Thanksgiving gathering attended by my family and put on by friends of our family, I volunteered to say the blessing before dinner. I would deliver Linus’ Thanksgiving soliloquy. That was certainly my plan. And I got about a third of the way through it … before realizing that I had done more admiring of the speech than preparing to actually deliver it. Somehow I invented a finish, and then we all sat down to eat. It was the kind of moment that no one remembered in the years that followed … except, of course, me.

Fast-forward three decades, and I could be found directing the bands at the College of the Holy Cross. At the close of every marching season, bands hold a celebratory banquet: a chance for college kids to socialize, to celebrate a successful performance schedule, to clean up nicely and break out their dance moves just before final exam week.

But one big difference between Holy Cross and the groups I had previously Band-Banquet-ed with was: before the Banquet meal, they said Grace. The manager of the band’s student executive board sidled over to me and drawled, “so … would you care to give the blessing?”

During two microseconds, I flashed straight back to fourth grade, assessed my previous attempt at offering public blessing, resolved not to screw up like that again, and considered declining my student-leader’s offer on that very basis. After all, all those years ago, I’d actually made an attempt at preparing. In that campus function room, I thought to myself, “saying Grace was definitely NOT listed in the job description when I applied.”

But with a name like Holy Cross, I had no business pleading ignorance. It’s a Jesuit college? You don’t say.

To this day, I regret not having made a recording of the prayer that came from somewhere, quite likely with the assistance of Someone. It wasn’t bad. None of the students snickered, or looked at their shoes, embarrassed for their band director. Some of them even thanked me afterward; they seemed a bit surprised I’d done it, but probably because I hadn’t started rehearsals with a prayer, so it was not something the kids had reason to expect.

I knew how they felt. And yet somehow it had turned out all right.

It did make the meal more than just your average chicken-or-beef banquet fare. Not merely because I’d survived a very intense public-speaking moment … but because I did so while surrounded by a bunch of college kids with whom I was happy to make music and travel anywhere, any time; and quite simply, the Holy Spirit had to have been at work that night.

On the saying-of-grace leaderboard, I had clawed my way back to even par.

-Rob Hammerton

I was recently asked to write an essay for a scholarship about the importance and relevance of The United Methodist Church in my life. I wanted to share it with the congregation. Thanks for being my church family!

For me, the United Methodist Church isn’t just where I spend most Sunday mornings praising God, it is also where my second family gathers. I have been going to my church for as long as I can remember. It has been a part of my life since I was a little girl. Because I’ve attended the same church for so long, I feel like I know some of the people like the back of my hand!

Over the years, the congregation started to feel like my family. They have watched me and my family grow not only literally but also in our faith. They have watched me get baptized and almost accidentally knock down the baptismal font. My congregation watched six-year old me stand up in the front of the sanctuary with all my Sunday School friends singing the songs we learned for months. They watched me walk down the center aisle wearing a white robe, holding a candle trying not to mess up my first time as an acolyte. They watched me prance with a jumble of other kids down the aisles waving palms and singing joyously. The congregation watched me participate in many annual Christmas pageants on Christmas Eve, smiling ear to ear.

Most importantly they watched me get confirmed. They watched me become an official member of the church, and they thought of all of my experiences at the church and the many years that have gone by since I was baptized. The people I see every Sunday, the people I see as I look back from our usual spot in one of the front pews, are my family. A family God gave me and a family that is strengthened and connected by God’s love.

Dear Lord, Thank you for our church – a holy place that shapes children and builds connections in people’s lives. Thank you for the people who make up this church. Please place your blessings on us as we go out to do the Lord’s work. Amen.

-Julia Straub

When I was a kid, my mother would always give up a favorite food for Lent. She would write them on a small piece of paper and hang in on the refrigerator – to remind herself, as well as us, that cookies were off her menu. As my sister and I got older, we’d do the same thing – we’d give up chocolate or chips or some other yummy thing (it sure was hard to give up ice cream while I was waitressing at a “Friendly’s”-type place in high school). I kept the tradition going for a while – some years with good results; others with bad results, making me feel pretty crummy about my dedication. I would say to myself, “Really, Jen, Jesus could have turned that rock into bread and didn’t, but you just went ahead and ate the piece of cake at the office party? Sheesh.”

Over the past few years I’ve tried to focus less on the giving up of food and more on other things – giving up cursing (yes, it happens) or being kinder to people I don’t know (while driving, parking, in stores). The results were usually so-so.

My mother, Shirley, has Alzheimer’s – and has been declining pretty steadily over the past four years. Like with most cases, when it first presented itself with small changes to her memory. We would talk and I would think, “Come on, Mom, you just told me that story.” Because my folks live in Pennsylvania, we would typically talk on the phone, so I chalked some of the repetition up to not having a face-to-face interaction. But then during my parents’ last visit to Massachusetts three years ago, I could see that Mom just wasn’t “connecting” like she used to, even several months before. Gradually, our phone conversations became shorter and shorter. Eventually, it turned into her saying a quick “OK, thanks for calling!” and readily hand me off to my dad, Dick.

As Mom and I started speaking to each other less, I started to think about all the years I’ve lived away from home and how much of that time I didn’t call when I should have, didn’t send a card, or visit. We had a wonderful relationship but I didn’t call because I was just “busy”, or thought this weekend I’ll call! Over the past two years, it’s really eaten me up. I should have been better to her and called and visited more.

When my daughters goof up or they feel bad about something, I walk through the typical motherly questions, How did this happen? How do you feel? What can you do about it? If there’s a way to change things, I encourage them to do it – apologize, change your attitude, find out about extra credit. When there isn’t a way to change it, I tell them – move on and be better in the future.

I’m going to take my own advice. For Lent this year, I’m going to be a better daughter.

It won’t be a Lenten “sacrifice” per se, but it will help me keep in mind what is most important – family. My mother still is able to live at home and get out a little; I know it’s a lot for my Dad to take care of. He misses being able to have conversations, go for walks, and be out with my Mom. I know he’s lonesome sometimes. While I do talk to him a lot more than I used to, for Lent I’m going to contact him every day (call, text, or email, and a visit).

So call your mom, dad, brother, sister, daughter, son, someone you care about – if you still can. They would love to hear from you!

-Jennifer O’Sullivan

As I reflect on what it means to be a United Methodist during this challenging time in our denomination, I’m thinking about my favorite John Wesley quote.

Do all the good you can,
By all the means you can,
In all the ways you can,
In all the places you can,
At all the times you can,
To all the people you can,
As long as you ever can.

For me, the social justice component of our church’s work in the community is vital to the expression of my faith. As a member of our community and a non-profit leader, I have had the privilege of amplifying the SUMC message through the MetroWest Free Medical Program, the free health clinic that takes place on Tuesday nights in Sudbury and Monday and Thursday nights in Framingham. Through our evening clinic sessions staffed by volunteer physicians, nurses, and dozens of other volunteers, we support those in our community who lack access to health care, providing health care to more than 2,000 patient visits each year. That primarily includes immigrants from Brazil and Latino countries from Central and South America. These are individuals and families who often feel scared, marginalized and undeserving in our country, so I am proud of our role in providing them with the care that they need. Each week, I watch as our volunteers work to do all the good that they can in their community – volunteers who are high school and college students, those who are mid-career and many who are retired but still dedicating their time and expertise… As Long As Ever They Can.

I watched the 2019 General Conference over live stream and followed along via Twitter. I found myself dismayed at the sentiments of many of the speakers from the US and around the world, realizing that my views of our faith differ from the 53% majority of our global denomination who chose the Traditional Plan that excludes many of God’s children who would become unwelcomed in our United Methodist Church.

However, I was heartened to hear the speech given by a young college student, JJ Warren, who described his own journey on his college campus reaching out to fellow students who identify as part of the LGBTQ+ community. “They didn’t know God could love them because their churches said God didn’t, and so if we can be a church which brings Jesus to people who are told (they) can’t be loved, then that’s what I want our church to be.”

During Lent and every day, I hope that we can bring Light to the World by being Christians who tell all people that we see them, we hear them, we understand them and that we care for them. I hope for our denomination that we can be the church that brings Jesus to people who don’t always feel loved. During Lent – and all year long – let’s do all the good that we can, in all the ways we can for ALL of God’s people.

-Kim Prendergast

As we move into Lent, I think about the soup suppers on Wednesday nights and about the special traditions that are tied in with food. These thoughts have inspired me to share the journey that I took several weeks ago when I went through my wooden recipe box and ended up taking every recipe card out while I was looking for one that was mis-filed.

Something that started as an annoyance turned into a wonderful experience of remembrance as I looked at recipes that were passed along from one generation to another and some that were written out by those who are no longer with us. One was written by my best friend all through childhood and our teen years. Claudia was in my wedding and I was in hers, but our paths diverged as we moved to different states and raised our families. Claudia died from cancer when she was in her forties or early fifties so seeing her hand-writing brought back memories of the many times that we were together, when we sang in church choir, were Brownies and Girl Scouts, walked to each other’s houses to play after school, went to camp.

Many of the recipes were written by my Mom, who was never allowed in the kitchen when she was growing up in Saginaw, Michigan, but who had to learn how to cook when she moved to Connecticut as a young bride. She loved to cook and we always laughed at the story she and my Dad told about her first attempt at making gravy when my Dad’s boss and his wife were invited to dinner. Mom thought that the gravy was too thin and kept adding flour. By the time she served it in the gravy boat, the ladle was cemented into the gravy and Dad’s boss and his wife joined in laughter as they shared in this mishap.

I make special Christmas cookies using recipes from Michigan, some of which are from the German tradition. One says to “cook until done”. I never have mastered the art of rolling out something that is basically a meringue for Cinnamon Stars, but Mom and my sister-in-law Milica made (and makes) these cookies. A special gift that Milica brought to our family meal after Mom’s memorial service was a tin of Cinnamon Stars she had made that we passed around and ate together.

These thoughts lead me to the sacrament of Communion and the sharing of an experience that has been passed down over the years, all around the world. The recipe was written down ages ago and it spans the great distances of space and time, evoking something much greater than the ingredients that are listed.

-Ann Hamilton

Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat”. They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” And he said, “Bring them here to me.”

The story of Jesus feeding the five thousand (Matthew 14:13-21) is the only miracle that appears in all four Gospels, aside from the resurrection. Many Bible scholars believe the actual number fed including women and children could have totaled ten to twenty thousand people. Christ, however, was not discouraged, but showed compassion to feed everyone that day, beginning with only five loaves and two fish borrowed from a boy’s lunch.

“Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds.”

Many times God wants us to act in faith, even when we do not understand. When Christians are willing to freely offer their time, talents, money, etc., God will use these ordinary things to make extraordinary things happen. Jesus used His disciples to distribute the food to the people, so the disciples had to put their trust in the Lord, thus experiencing a powerful discipleship lesson while serving others.

“And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full.”

The twelve baskets of leftovers demonstrate that God is not only a generous provider but also has unlimited resources. He did not just meet the need; He exceeded the expectations of His followers who brought Him what they had already been given.

Too often, we are overwhelmed by the need around us. Our lives and resources seem limited and inadequate. We need to bring what we have to Him, who in turn will bless them, and place them into our hands, multiplied more than we can ever imagine.

Throughout the centuries, Christians have followed the lead of Jesus in nourishing and feeding people with food both physically and spiritually. Through these ongoing efforts, we are able to daily participate in the ministry of Jesus.

The Lord is good to me and so I thank the Lord

For giving me the things I need

The sun, the rain, and my Family.

The Lord is good to me. Amen.

-Eric Herstine

Our family says grace each night before dinner, no matter whether it’s just Chris and I at the dinner table, three of us, all four of us, or all of us and some of the kids’ friends who’ve joined us. What we say during the blessing has changed over the years, but the reason why we say grace has remained constant – we simply want to thank God for the blessings He has bestowed upon us.

I have to admit, when Chris and I lived in Austin, Texas, Julia was born, and our lives changed forever! I stayed at home with her for three months before returning to my job in the city. Chris was doing his post-doctoral work at the University of Texas in Austin, and we were quite exhausted when we came home in the evenings to care for our new little baby. Things were often quite hectic, especially since Julia had colic, and 5 to 8 PM were her crying hours! We attempted to feed her and throw a meal together for ourselves, but eating was not an enjoyable time at this stage in our lives. I can’t recall having a structured evening, complete with a blessing before dinner.

But, as parenting became easier for us and we fell into more of a routine, we gained our sanity! We moved to New Jersey, and Natalie was born in 2003. Her big sister, Julia, was almost three years old. I distinctly remember gathering together as a family and saying grace before dinner. Chris or I usually gave the blessing, but Julia soon “caught on” and joined in on our prayers. Once Julia started at preschool in Stow, she came home reciting a short blessing that her teacher and classmates said before snack time. I can’t recall the words, but I’m certain it was a thank you to God. A few years later, Natalie was attending preschool at Mt. Calvary Lutheran Church in Acton and she learned the BEST prayer that was sung every day before snack. The funny thing is that, even now, when we all come to the dinner table after a tiring day, we sometimes start singing this blessing (to the tune of “Rock Around the Clock”):

A one, a two, a one, two, three…. God is great, God is good. Let us thank him for our food. We’re gonna thank him in the mornin’, noon, and night. We’re gonna thank our God cuz He’s out of sight. Amen (cha, cha, cha…cha, cha, cha…cha, cha, cha). Amen (cha, cha, cha…cha, cha, cha).

You see, a blessing doesn’t have to be formal and skillfully composed; it just needs to come from the heart. There is no doubt that when we all start singing this “God is great” grace and making funny movements with our hands smiles adorn our faces and we are thanking God in a lively, fun, and interactive way.

You won’t hear us singing grace every night, though. Many nights, we take turns saying a blessing. What I love is that my kids know that saying grace is a part of our nightly tradition. So, if one of their friends is joining us for dinner, they also join us in the blessing. It’s just a part of us, a part of our family tradition and Christian practice.

I hope that as our girls grow and eventually transition to college that they will hold this tradition close to heart. It might be difficult to practice in a college dining hall, but I just pray that they have developed a relationship with God that allows them to constantly talk to Him, to thank Him, and to love Him. May we all have such a relationship.

Prayer: God is great. God is good. Let us thank him for our food…and many other blessings in our lives! Amen.

-Kristen Straub

The Spiritual Life Department here at Newbury Court has recently offered a study of “The Book of Joy” by Bishop Tutu and the Dalai Lama. It is based on a series of discussions by those two amazing leaders on both obstacles to joy and “pillars” of joy. Among the latter is the theme of Acceptance. It is that concept that occupies my mind at this Lenten season, and in my personal life.

Jesus praying in Gethsemane is the ultimate example of Acceptance. He pleaded with God to spare Him the suffering and death that he knew was approaching, but that profound “Nevertheless” (Your will, not mine) has resounded through the centuries and speaks to all of us who face difficulties.

It is nearly impossible to know God’s will. I believe that God loves us and desires the best for us, but when health deteriorates – especially during the aging process – it is very hard to accept the limitations and to know exactly how to proceed with one’s life. I am experiencing increasing spinal and leg problems which doctors attribute to arthritis and for which they seem to have no solution. Thus, acceptance becomes vital. I have accepted the fact that my use of stairs to and from my second floor apartment must be limited to once or possibly twice a day. The use of a walker has helped considerably, but pain persists. There could be a wheelchair in my future. That possibility brings a whole new aspect of Acceptance. It may be wise to move. For now I accept (and am grateful for) my current living quarters and the support of many friends and neighbors.

My future is in God’s hands, and I pray for the courage to accept whatever God has planned. The Gethsemane prayer is an inspiration, as are the words from Jeremiah 29:11 in which God says, “I know the plans I have for you… plans for your welfare and not for harm… to give you a future with hope.”

-Janet Johnson

How do I feel when I am singing “Hallelujah” on Easter Sunday morning?

My response to this question starts with the movie “This Is Spinal Tap”.

Stay with me now …

In that satirical rock-music mockumentary, there’s a scene in which Christopher Guest, portraying the rock-band lead singer Nigel Tufnel, is sitting at a piano, playing a sad-sounding ballad (with which he’s been “foolin’ about, for a few months now”). Guest/Tufnel explains to the documentary-filmmaker sitting nearby (played by the marvelous Rob Reiner) that it’s in D minor, “which I find is really the saddest of all keys”.

The whole movie reveals that Tufnel isn’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier, but this one line resonated with me. During my first viewing of this grand comic creation, I was the only one in the room who snorted with suppressed laughter at that “saddest key” line. The line wasn’t particularly funny. Except …

Early in my time as a high-school-aged choir singer here in Sudbury, I made the joke — only partly a joke — that nearly all the music we would sing during Lent … a contemplative time of penitence and introspection slowly and (during Holy Week) painfully leading up to the eventual Easter celebration … was slow and in a minor key. To Western-music musical laypersons, the emotional implication of a minor key is sadness, anger, disappointment or other similar negative emotions. “It’s all in D minor,” my age-16 self quipped … having not yet seen “Spinal Tap” …

I appreciated the way in which the choral music chosen by John Harper, our choir director, expressed the sense of the Lenten season … but by Easter, I was ready to abandon that “saddest of all keys” and get back to happy cheerful triumphant major-key sounds again.

Here in Sudbury, it’s been a tradition to sing the “Hallelujah” Chorus as the benediction response at the end of each Easter Sunday worship service. Ever since I was a little little LITTLE kid, I have experienced the “grownup choir” and all of our fantastic organists (and, lately, our string- and wind-instrument folks) letting loose with that glorious piece of music. I now have the great privilege of leading that presentation (flapping my arms happily!) every Easter, and that is a hair-raising experience like no other.

But it was a long time before I really focused on the fact that the “Hallelujah” Chorus is in fact part of Part I of Handel’s Messiah … the Christmas portion.

For various reasons … because that Chorus is in the aforementioned happy cheerful triumphant major key … because as classical music goes, it’s a quick and LOUD and unambiguously celebratory anthem … because from the earliest music-conscious moments of my childhood, I associated it with Easter … I have felt that this Chorus is more appropriate to the jubilant celebration of the Easter morning resurrection than it is to the Christmas manger scene. Shepherds and kings are gathered in rapt, tongue-tied reverence ’round a newborn and His mother … so I would suspect that the angel song in that moment would have been just as happy, but in a much quieter way … “don’t wake the kid!”

On Christmas Eve, the lights are low and the music (for the most part) is, dare we say, not letting it all loose just yet. This is a glorious beginning, but there’s a story yet to be told, yet to be experienced.

So how do I feel when the “Hallelujah” Chorus, or indeed any musical expression of that Hallelujah! comes around, at last, on Easter morning, when the lights are at full strength? Relief? Release? A sense of being set free, musically and otherwise? Yes, back in December, “O Come All Ye Faithful” and “Silent Night” heralded the arrival of the Messiah in their way, but …

Musical expressions of triumph are rarely characterized as “restrained”. The “Hallelujah” Chorus quite literally trumpets the news of the resurrection … it fairly explodes into being, from the very first chord.

So, the music of the Lenten season is, or seems like it is, in D minor (or the equivalent) a lot. But that’s on purpose, and it’s just as important. It’s the deep, deep breath before the ecstatic “Hallelujah”.

Before we burst forth into song, said every choir director ever … we’ve got to take a good breath.

-Rob Hammerton

I do not think of myself as a particularly outstanding Christian. Thank God that as Christians we are forgiven.

The reality is that if I had been raised in Palestine, I might be a Muslim. If I had been raised in China, I might be a Buddhist. Fortunately, I was raised in the United States and fortunately my parents started me in Sunday school.

Also, there is some reality to the statement that I am a Christian today because there were pretty girls at the Idlewild Presbyterian Church in Memphis. It was fun to go to church. … I also remember that there were very successful businessmen who gave their time as Sunday school teachers to help me know Christ. That was very impressive.

I also remember a special time late at night when I was alone in the courtyard of that church when I felt the presence and power of God’s love.

The biggest reality is that I am a Christian because God loves me. The fact that He loves all of you does not diminish the joy and excitement that He also loves me. He sent His son to this earth two thousand years ago to tell me of His love for me. He does not love me because I am perfect or because I am special. He just chooses to love me with all my sins and imperfections. Thank God we can be forgiven.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” (John 3:16)

I have struggled with that over the years. I have had and continue to have my doubts. I guess that is the freedom that God gives us, to love Him or not.

Let me give you some background. When I was a young US Navy officer in the Protocol office in the Pentagon, I thought I was pretty hot stuff. I went to two embassy parties a week; acted as Aide to the Secretary of Defense on one occasion. I almost worshiped power.

At the same time, I went to church at the National Cathedral because they had a 4:00 PM service Sunday afternoon that was more possible for a young man. The Lord was calling me during all this.

I followed my worship for power to Harvard University to the Business School and then to minor management jobs at IBM. I sat next to Chairman and CEO Tom Watson at a dinner, and reveled in the glow of power. At the same time the most powerful force in the universe was calling to me … God calling with the power of LOVE.

I have never had any real power. In fact, I am no different from those scared disciples who, after Christ was crucified, sat afraid in a locked room because they were afraid of being arrested and crucified.

“While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’ They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. He said to them, ‘Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.’” (Luke 24:36)

God, our parent, raised Christ from the dead so that we would know of His love. He broke into history two thousand years ago with this startling event so that we might know.

Now I am beginning to understand that power is not important. What is important is to follow Christ as a servant, to be His disciple, and to help others know Him so that they may become His disciple.

[Jesus said,] “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. … Remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:19-20 (excerpts))

He is with me. … He loves me. … Because He is with me and because He loves me, that is why I am a Christian.

-John McKinney

I don’t know anyone who doesn’t love Advent. The spirit of that season is one of quiet preparation in order to look forward to a day of great joy. We love the Advent wreath that gets brighter week by week, marking our journey on the path to Christmastide.

It’s hard to feel that way about Lent. I don’t know anyone who looks forward to giving up chocolate, for example. And as we move deeper into the season of Lent, we get closer to very solemn, somber days: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday. While we’re also moving closer to Easter, Holy Week – the days between Palm/Passion Sunday and Easter Sunday – is a challenging bridge to cross. The journey of Lent gets more and more difficult as we move through its forty days.

Lent is long, but it’s long for a reason. Lent has traditionally been a time of final preparation for baptism, which is especially fitting when it happens on Easter. After all, Paul tells the Romans – and us – in chapter 6: “we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.” Baptisms during the Easter season remind us all that we have been united with the risen Christ through this sacrament.

While baptism is a once-and-for-all event, Lent has also been a time of repentance, when those who had been separated from the Church could confess and restore their relationship to the faith. Those of us who have been baptized don’t need to experience that sacrament again, but we all need to repent. We all need occasions to do the hard work of looking honestly at ourselves, of identifying the places where we have turned away from God, and of turning back toward God’s will in ways large and small.

The work of Lent lacks the appeal of Advent, but it calls to us nonetheless:

When we are tired of putting on a false front….

when we want to admit our hurts and our failures….

when we need to face up to everything that we have been cramming down inside…

…. Then Lent welcomes us as a time for honest appraisal, for shedding that which does not heal or help, and for coming in all simplicity to the foot of the cross, to the One who knows and loves us, who died and rose again for us.

Let us pray that we may all find the courage and honesty we need to walk this Lenten journey.

-Heather Josselyn Cranson

Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry. The tempter came to him and said, “If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread.” Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” Then the devil took him to the holy city and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. “If you are the Son of God,” he said, “throw yourself down. For it is written: ‘He will command his angels concerning you, and they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’ Jesus answered him, “It is also written: ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’ Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. “All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.” Jesus said to him, “Away from me, Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’ Then the devil left him, and angels came and attended him. (Matthew 4:1-11)

Lent is a period of forty days and six Sundays, a journey that leads to Easter. Lent is a time to think about the hope and trust the Hebrew people and later the early Christians had in God’s way and to reflect on the life and teachings of Jesus.

In the above scripture passage, Jesus spent 40 days in the wilderness in preparation for the mission God had given him. During this time, he fasted or did without food. At the end of this time, the tempter came to him and said, “If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” And what was Jesus’ response? He said, “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”

Fasting is to go without food. Perhaps an even better question for us to ponder is, “What can I go without in my life?” Can I fast from stress, anger, or jealousy? What is it that matters in life?

Although we have physical needs (food, shelter, healthy bodies), we also have emotional needs (love, acceptance, purpose) and spiritual needs (a faith in God). What matters most to you? A Daily Guidepost writer, Patricia Lorenz, included these five things in her list of what matters: someone to love, something to do, something to hope for, laughter, and faith. What is your top five list of things that really matter in life?

Jim and I may not be fasting from certain foods this Lent, but we will try to fast from other habits that we know would not please God. Can you and I turn worry into trust? Impatience into patience? Anger into understanding? Negativity into positivity? Jealousy into acceptance? And how can we begin to spend more time with God not just during Lent but throughout the year? It might be as simple as starting a routine of beginning or ending each day in prayer or doing daily devotional reading.

Prayer: Lord, I need your guidance every day. Just as I cannot do without food, I cannot do without You in my life to strengthen and sustain me. Thank you for providing all my needs. Even in the difficult times, I know I am not alone for You are with me. Amen.

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

For most of my life, I have thought about what to give up for Lent each year. And most years, I fail to follow through on any official sacrifice. I can’t go for 40 days without chocolate! I rationalize with myself that my sacrifice could never live up to Jesus’s sacrifice for us, or that it doesn’t make sense to sacrifice symbolically for just this short period of time each year – in my life of plenty, I should be sacrificing something all year long.

This year, I am changing the rules. (Or at least my thoughts.) Instead of giving up an actual “thing” such as chocolate or television or exercising (hey! that might be easy…), I’m giving up negative thinking / focusing on faults of other people. Changing my attitude out loud, in hopes of influencing attitudes around me.

 

Instead of shaking my head in negativity/solidarity when I hear about thefts, abuses, car accidents, divorces, unfair treatment, and other tragedies, I plan to pre-empt each day at least once with a positive lead. Here are some ideas:

“I’m so excited about the way that I see that manager interacting with her employees.”

“Our neighbors have the most polite young boys.”

“My husband is the most amazing and thoughtful person.”

“Sudbury is an amazing town! We have so many dedicated teachers in our schools.”

“Let me get the door for you, sir.”

“I love how you put your dishes in the dishwasher this morning.”

“Your smile gives me positive energy – thank you!”

“That bus driver is doing a great job keeping our children safe on the way to school.”

 

Regardless of how miserable the daily news can be, if we give up our inclination to find fault with others, the positive energy can be contagious. Wouldn’t it be nice to find the good in every day and EVERY person? Join me.

-Cindy Simon

As I scanned this year’s prompts sheet, looking for a particular prompt that caught my attention, I saw this one and immediately knew it was the one. I had a solid idea and reasoning, and it just was so obvious.

The Old Rugged Cross is just the song that I think about when I think about Lent. Then there are the lyrics. The song opens with a almost heartbreaking first verse, setting the scene.

 

On a hill far away, stood an Old Rugged Cross

The emblem of suff’ring and shame

And I love that old Cross where the dearest and best

Of a world of lost sinners was slain.

 

The second line in particular stands alone. Romans were the rulers at the time Jesus was crucified. The Cross at the time was one of if not the most feared item in the Roman Empire, where the Romans would hang their political prisoners. Prisoners were typically tied to the crosses with ropes, but the Romans decided nailing Jesus to the cross would teach his followers a lesson above the already shameful death on a cross, though of course, tied.

The refrain continues the sorry tone, though the end shows the ray of hope Christians hold to this day.

 

So I’ll cherish the Old Rugged Cross

Till my trophies at last I lay down

I will cling to the Old Rugged Cross

And exchange it someday for a crown

 

I think the ending is a metaphor for us holding on to Jesus’ life and our belief that he will come again; and in him coming again, we can join him as a disciple.

-Ciaran Murphy

While I really like the devotion booklet we have had, and are producing this year, I find it most difficult to write something. I want what I say to be profound and helpful for someone. Usually what I say probably means nothing to those who read it. Except once I had a piece which I shared and which I received in a Stephen Ministry meeting. I was delighted when someone contacted me to say that it was helpful to her and her daughter … and I think her son. I can’t remember word for word what someone says to me anymore. This year is no different. I am having trouble writing something.

There were many things suggested to write about. Hmmm … well, I want to speak about a time that I gave something up for Lent. I was a teenager and many of my classmates, there were only fifteen in my class at that time, were talking about giving up something. I had never heard of such a thing. “Why give up something?” I asked. I was told that it was the thing to do. “Why?” I asked. Just because, some said. “But why?” I asked again. Finally someone said, “because Jesus gave his life for us.” The part about dying for our sins was left out.

I went home thinking a lot about what to give up. I felt that it should be something that I really liked or that I would miss or that would be hard to do. Well, the thing that I chose was to not wear lipstick. Doesn’t seem too outstanding to do, but for me it was the hardest thing to do … for forty days. I did not tell anyone that I had done this and to my knowledge no one noticed. Of all the things I have given up for Lent this has the most meaning. It was my first, and the feeling of doing something that made me aware of what God and Jesus must have felt was profound.

Since that first time there have been Lents for which I gave up nothing. Now the thing I give up is alcohol. This was very difficult and still is at times. Do you know how many times one gets asked “what can I get you to drink?” And how many occasions where alcohol is served. The hardest times are and were when I am or have been traveling or on a cruise. Many of my friends are now aware that I don’t drink during Lent. This makes it much easier to say no thank you. Giving up alcohol still reminds me that a big sacrifice was made for me and for all who believe.

During this time of Lent I hope you are reminded that God loves you so much! You don’t have to give up anything. You don’t have to do anything for another. Just remember that God loves you. AND we should love each other … even our enemies … even those with different lifestyles.

Prayer: Thank you, Heavenly Creator, for creating us in your image, and making us all different. Help us to accept each other and love each other. And help us to remember what Jesus did for us. Help us with our unbelief, too. In his name I ask this. Amen.

Grace and Peace,

-Diane Hammond

I grew up in a small town where there was only a small Methodist church. Although my parents were members of a Presbyterian church several miles away, they sent me to the Methodist church, the only church in town. There I learned many of the Old Testament stories (somehow escaping a vision of God as punitive), the Christmas and Easter stories, but nothing else about the New Testament or Lent. Maundy Thursday was noted in my family; my father usually went back to the Presbyterian Church for communion. It seemed to be important to eat some green vegetable on Maundy Thursday, usually spinach. Good Friday was a day we always had fish for supper. Easter was big! My mother made me a new Spring coat which was a little large the first year, a good fit the next, and short in the sleeves the third, and a new Easter hat. I went to church and loved the music!

My elementary school classmates either went to the same church or didn’t go at all, except for two kids who were Catholic and a Jewish girl who became my best friend. I remember the Catholic kids talking about what they were giving up for Lent, but it seemed strange to me to give up chocolate or gum as a religious practice.

It was only after I moved here and became a member of Sudbury UMC that I learned about Lent and the New Testament. Some years I decided to “give up” something, usually food of some kind, with varying success, not unlike my short-lived New Year’s resolutions. One year during Lent, in a morning Bible study, we found ourselves eating donuts while studying religious disciplines, which suddenly felt embarrassingly inappropriate! I think it was that “donut” episode which finally got my attention.

In the years that followed, I abandoned the idea of “giving up” something and chose to “take on” some practice that brought me a feeling of being closer to God. One of the best was deciding to read The Upper Room, the devotional booklet available in the narthex that has daily scripture readings and a short message written by persons from all over the world. It has become a real blessing in my life to start the day with those readings and, if something distracts me and I forget, the day is somehow not right.

To be honest, I think it was only when Pastor Joel began stressing Lent and Advent as times of penitence for preparing for Easter and Christmas that I finally “got it”. Now, I welcome Lent and count it as valuable time to listen for God. I try to be faithful about being less judgmental, more patient and forgiving, a kinder person – whatever seems to be my biggest shortcoming at the time.

Although it took a lifetime for me to learn to use Lent in a good way, you don’t have to wait for a “donut” experience. Just begin! You may wish to use The Upper Room as a guide, attend a soup supper and class on Wednesday nights, worship each Sunday and during Holy Week. Give it a try. I think you’ll be glad you did!

Blessings,

-Nancy Hammerton

If you’ve heard of Reverend George Bennard, then you certainly are a more well-versed historian of United Methodist music than me. George Bennard penned more than 300 hymns, but I suspect that few of you, unless your name is Rob Hammerton, Kevin Murphy, or Joel Guillemette, can name more than one of his songs. In 1913 Rev. Bennard wrote the song that performers including Elvis Presley, Johnny Cash, and the Bill Gaither Band recorded. That song, The Old Rugged Cross, has become a staple in the United Methodist hymnal.

As I contemplated the Lenten Devotional Writing questions, Do you have a favorite Lenten or Easter hymn? and What makes it special?, I couldn’t help but think of the hymn, The Old Rugged Cross. It is my mother’s favorite hymn and is rooted in the Easter story. The words, printed below, highlight (a) the critical sacrifice that Jesus made for us, (b) our call to carry on Jesus’ work, and (c) God’s promise to deliver us to glory with Him someday. As you read the lyrics, look for these three themes.

(Verse 1) On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,
The emblem of suff’ring and shame;
And I love that old cross where the Dearest and Best
For a world of lost sinners was slain.

(Refrain) So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it someday for a crown.

(Verse 2) Oh, that old rugged cross, so despised by the world,
Has a wondrous attraction for me;
For the dear Lamb of God left His glory above
To bear it to dark Calvary.

(Verse 3) In that old rugged cross, stained with blood so divine,
A wondrous beauty I see,
For ’twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died,
To pardon and sanctify me.

(Verse 4) To the old rugged cross I will ever be true;
Its shame and reproach gladly bear;
Then He’ll call me someday to my home far away,
Where His glory forever I’ll share.

During this Lenten season take time to “cherish that old rugged cross” and remember what Christ did for us. We can rejoice this Easter season knowing that “For ‘twas on that old cross Jesus suffered and died, to pardon and sanctify me.”

George Bennard is quoted as saying, “The words of the finished hymn were put into my heart in answer to my own need.” His call to act or “cling to the cross” comes from Jesus’ words in Luke 9:23-24 (NIV),

Then he said to them all: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will save it.”

…Do you feel Jesus nudging you to cling to that cross this Lenten season?

-Jim Empfield

I’m encouraged during Lent to rediscover my faith, to make it exciting again. When I was, perhaps, in my forties, I remember vividly, talking with folks about my church membership. I was proud. I was involved. My faith was palpable. Church life was dynamic and personal!

Having aged a bit, I have become more circumspect in much that I do. Life wears us down! It becomes harder to maintain that same enthusiasm, that was once so infectious in our earlier years. Children take a toll. Work exasperates. Our bodies move slower. Our world evinces so much discord and general malaise that one may retract, burrowing inward for self-protection.

It is there, in our inner being, that we contemplate our relationship with God who is ever-present in us. What solace to perceive that oneness, freeing ourselves from life’s constricting vagaries. We matter! God loves us, even when we lose our enthusiasm for Him. He is there, enveloping us with comforting arms, slightly nudging us out of our numbed state. Slowly becoming stronger, we smile more often; we focus on the positives; we put aside the hurts felt.

It takes work to continually refreshen our lives. Faith needs nourishment. Where do we look for that renewal? Worship is an avenue for spirits to be enlightened. Involvement with others in our church community; perceiving the pain, the hurts, the needs and also the joys experienced by others. We learn by our own vulnerabilities to be compassionate and to love every child of God. We may not think we’re special in this world but each of us is special to God. And so is every other person. And they have their battles, too! Open yourself to go beyond the obvious in others. What may they be experiencing that is so heavy on their hearts?

I have an older friend, living alone, holding onto the last vestiges of her independence. Her car keys have been taken from her by family. She no longer cooks and eats microwavable frozen meals. I came upon her walking slowly in the hall in our condo building with money in hand. What are you doing out here? I need to have someone get a burger for me. I’ll take you. Come with me. After getting two burgers at the local McDonald’s (one for tomorrow), she thanked me profusely and insisted on paying me for taking her. She is a woman of faith. I asked if she expected a reward when she helped someone out? With her face downcast, she said nothing.

Do, with no expectations of acknowledgment or gratitude. See how it makes you feel. Don’t just have a faith. Live it! With God’s help look for ways to nourish it. Volunteer in our church school! Be with the children and see how their enthusiasm and prime-for-fun attitudes are so easily transferred. You’ll leave with a big smile! SUMC sponsors many outreach and social justice causes and events. What speaks to your heart? Do you hum and sing to yourself? Consider joining like-minded others in the choir. Be present for one or more of our Lenten services. Find your niche and strengthen your faith.

Make that step! Make it personal! Make it for God! Make it for you!

-Caryl Walsh

I’m a behind-the-scenes guy.

When I was a little kid, one of my favorite things was to watch documentaries or read articles about “behind-the-scenes at…” … how movies are made, or inside looks at factories, or what happens at major-league baseball practices …

I have very distinct memories of my first “appointment television”: in 1972, a syndicated re-boot was made of the 1950s show “You Asked For It”, in which viewer-requested segments were produced and shown, and the first segment I ever saw was “a look into the vault at Fort Knox”. I was riveted!

On the other hand …

The nineteenth-century American poet John Godfrey Saxe is responsible for the idiom “Laws, like sausages, cease to inspire respect in proportion as we know how they are made.”

True, sometimes it really is better not to see the details of how stuff gets made. But my behind-the-scenes-loving self continues to think that far more often, it’s illuminating in a good way. Por ejamplo:

This year, I got to see how Sudbury UMC’s Lenten Devotions Booklet gets made. Back in the fall, when I suggested to the Worship and Music Commission that I was interested in leading the effort to revive the Booklet (after it had taken a year’s hiatus), they looked at me with a mix of curiosity and concern, and said, “…Really?”

“Yes,” I confirmed.

And then shortly after New Year’s, I mentioned it to them again, and they again tried to peer into my soul, saying, “…You still are willing to take that on?”

“I wouldn’t have brought it up again if I weren’t willing,” I assured them.

Tell you what … I was right. This little peek behind the scenes of the grand old SUMC tradition, which was expertly shepherded by Nancy Sweeney for all those years, has been well worth it. In large part, this is thanks to the remarkable writing which members of our congregation have produced for inclusion in this collection.

In my role as a member of SUMC’s music staff, I insist that what makes our sacred musicmaking so rewarding is that we rarely, if ever, hire outside musicians. It’s all home-grown; it’s all produced in-house.

In the same way, what has always made the Lenten Devotions Booklet special is that it doesn’t come from a publishing house. The devotions aren’t written by people whom we’ve never met, whom we don’t know, whom we may never know – or be able to connect with, to respond to their work. These essays are written by us.

True, this year, there will be a few paper copies produced, but the main location of the Devotions will be this online blog space. Moving the Devotions into the 21st century in this way will save trees (and therefore money), true … but more importantly, it will make them accessible to anyone, anywhere. Do you not have your paper copy with you? Or, alternatively, do you not want one more pile of paper cluttering up your life? Electronic access solves so many problems!

So, each morning in Lent starting tomorrow, a Lenten Devotion will be posted here. It’s a different sort of journey to Easter. Let’s see how it works! … I hope you’ll find it worthwhile.

-Rob Hammerton, 2019 Lenten Devotions Editor and Webmaster!