Holy Water

Holy Water

 

Every day finds her kneeling with the dawn,

Bending low on soft garden soil,

The aged face shrouded in fading sunbonnet,

Tending plants that will soon be finished.

When August comes with scorching sun,

She still bends low as if to pray,

The soft soil now dry, dry, bone dry—

Water, the only hope for her and for them.

So every day she kneels with the dawn,

Grateful for the green,

Sprinkling can in hand.

Holy water!

Water is our only hope!

We are plants, in parched earth,

Thirsting for life-sustaining drink,

We are the ones who will soon be finished

Yet every morning finds her kneeling,

Sprinkling can in hand.

Holy water!

 

Remembering Esther Frieda Ricka Krueger Schulte

August 28, 1896 - October 10, 1975

My Grandma

 

--gms

I See Hope

Sometimes it is easy to become discouraged about the Church.  The most recent Pew Research Center study finds that there has been significant decline among those who identify as Christians in the United States, a nearly 8% decline in just seven years.  The number of those who identify as "Mainline Protestant" dropped from 18.1% (2007) to 14.7% (2014).  New Hampshire is listed as the second least religious state in the nation, with Vermont being the least religious, according to this study.


In some ways, our situation may be compared to an old family business that has been passed along from generation to generation.  When the market shifts, whether gradually or suddenly, the owner is faced with a major decision:  adapt, continue steadfast with the business model of my great-grandfather, or simply close.  This is a moment of decision for those who hold the heritage and the traditions of our forebears.  Yet we are clear, in the United Church of Christ, that it is the responsibility of each generation to make the ancient faith its own and to communicate the Good News in ways that change lives and transform the world around us.


Well, I want to share that yesterday I was delighted to be in worship with our church, The United Church of Christ in North Hampton, on its Music Sunday.  It was a service where the Word was sung in many languages and styles.  It was a powerful service that included the farewell of a beloved, accomplished "Director of Melodies," who had served in that role for twenty-four years.  There is life and great joy in North Hampton!


What gave me great hope happened during the offering of gifts.  Two young children where lifted by their parents and encouraged to place the family's offering in the plates.  This is a regular ritual for those families.  It reminded me of the widow who modeled generosity in Jesus' day (see Mark 12:41ff.)  It was a privilege to observe these little ones in their parents' arms, learning lessons about generosity and sharing--making their offering to the glory of God and to the good of their neighbors.  I wonder how, in the years yet to come, these children will grow and model their own expressions of faith and love for God.  In my mind's eye, I already see them as leaders of the Church.  I saw hope in North Hampton yesterday--hope for the Church when the news about our decline and diminishment seems especially discouraging.


I wonder:  Where do you see hope budding, blooming, and bearing fruit in your church in these days?  We have much to celebrate.  We have so much for which to be grateful as we offer our prayers to God from whom all  blessings flow.

Note to Self: Next Time Get Here Earlier

I do not remember the year, but I do remember the traffic jam.  A friend and I drove to Ladue in St. Louis County to hear a lecture by Dr. Elaine Pagels, the renowned religious scholar who has done extensive work with the Gnostic gospels.  We left for the lecture at a decent hour with plenty of time to get there, but as we approached the local church where Pagels was scheduled to speak, we got into a major mess.  All brake lights and no movement for blocks.  Surely there must have been some kind of accident ahead or, maybe, some St. Louis sports star was in the neighborhood.  What a surprise to find that the traffic jam was for a scholar!  We spend the two hours of the lecture in a fellowship hall, listening to the lecture over a cracking speaker.

Tonight I had a similar experience.  I am in Denver for the Festival of Homiletics.  The evening worship was scheduled for 6:45 p.m.  The preacher was Dr. Walter Brueggemann.  When I arrived a half hour before the service was to start, the sanctuary of Central Presbyterian Church was packed to overflowing.  The balconies were also already full.  People were in chairs in the narthex outside the sanctuary.  I finally found a seat on the second floor outside the sanctuary--just beyond the narthex.  Wish I had packed my binoculars!  This is the view from my seat:

 

 

If I sat up really straight, I could peak between the banisters and wooden posts to see into the sanctuary to catch a glimpse of Brueggeman.  The sermon was powerful, reminding me that I am one of those little ones, those babes, whom God has chosen.  Fortunately, the sound system at Central Presbyterian is good; no static tonight.

 

What I learned from this experience is that I need to get there earlier if I am to find a seat in the sanctuary.  I am getting up early in the morning so I can arrive earlier than just get there "on time."  And, here's a thought:  Wouldn't it be wonderful to have this kind of problem in your church next Sunday.  You don't need Pagels or Brueggemann to be there, for you have a preacher, a pastor and teacher.  Rather than arriving at the last minute with plenty of places in the pews for you--what if you had to get there an hour ahead of the service just to get a seat in a pew?  Imagine that, it might still be possible even in New Hampshire. 

 

 O God, prepare me to get to the church, ready to worship, ahead of time.  Amen.

Called as Friends

I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. 

--John 15:15, New Revised Standard Version

 In the church of my childhood, our pastor was a great preacher.  He was ordained in 1920, and his deep booming voice sounded like claps of thunder.  No microphone needed.  He had learned the art of projecting well.  What I remember today is the way he addressed us:  "My Dear Christian Friends."  I took those words literally.  For him, they might have been part of his rhetorical style, but I heard them as an affirmation of friendship.  To be a Christian and a member of Christ's church was to be rooted in a relationship of friendship.  No matter what, we were still in this together.  We were friends.

What we call each other matters.  A classmate in preaching class would use "Folks" repeatedly in sermons to address his listeners.  There was neither affirmation nor affection there.  "People of God," "Brothers and Sisters," "Disciples of Christ," are often spoken today--but they do not satisfy my deepest hope for the church as a community: Friends with God and one another.  And sadly, I often hear "they" or "them" when I am working with churches that are caught in chronic conflict.  There is no friendship there--no love professed or lost.  No church left.

So today, I am praying for "My Dear Christian Friends"--friends who are far away and friends who are very near, friends who bear heavy burdens with great courage and friends who inspire my heart to sing, friends who confront and friends who comfort.  I thank God this morning for that aging preacher whose greeting still echoes in my mind.  I praise God for all friends in Christ who share this journey with me.     

Tiny Harbingers of Hope

It was a long weekend with nearly 400 miles spend staring through the windshield of the rental car.  Winter continues to influence my spirit.  Saturday I drove in light snow.  The car got salted on the treated North Country roads.  I have yet to meet the person who is claiming that ours was a "mild winter."  It's been long and wearisome, even for those who enjoy winter.  My soul is gray.

Last night after a busy Sunday, I walked from a meeting and prepared for the drive back home.  My spirit was done for the day--depleted and drained.  And then, I heard them: Pseudacris Crucifers, chorus frogs, spring peepers.  These tiny creatures sing of hope; they make my heart sing too.  They fill the night with cheerful assurance.  The winter is gone now.  Spring has come though it may not yet have arrived in all its fullness.  There is hope in the night.  There is a song that beaks the silence.  It comes from an unexpected and invisible source--from a community of tiny, little frogs.

So tonight, step out onto your porch.  Listen!  Listen for the hope that creation sings.  Listen for the peepers with their chorus filling the damp night air.  Then rest in the assurance that the song instills in your soul.

Thank you, God, for the songs of the peepers that come at just the right times.  Fill our lives with your hope.  Amen.

Temple Cleaning

Then they came to Jerusalem.  And [Jesus] entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling and those who were buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money changers and the seats of those who sold doves; and he would not allow anyone to carry anything through the temple.  He saw teaching and saying, "Is it not written, 'My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations'? But you have made it a den of robbers."


And when the chief priests and the scribes heard it, they kept looking for a way to kill him; for they were afraid of him, because the whole crow was spellbound by his teaching.  And when evening came, Jesus and his disciples went out of the city.   (Mark 11:15-19, NRSV)


Today is the day for cleaning up the temple.  Some of my fondest memories are those times when church members gathered together to clean out the closets of their buildings.  Over time, our sacred spaces get overladen with junk--old costumes from Christmas pageants, crumpled copies of bulletins, broken folding chairs, plastic flowers.  You name it, local churches have a way of holding on to it.  Those major cleaning days brought together folks who had energy for making their space less cluttered and more inviting.


One of the churches I served had rented a parsonage to a house painter.  The painter had disposed of all his old paint pails in a ditch on the church's property.  The cans had been there for years, rusting in that ditch--until one spring day a group of church members gathered with trailers behind their trucks.  They properly disposed of three trailer loads of cans and other metals.  In that clean-up day, someone found an antique pitch pipe that had been lost in the ditch.  It was an amazing discovery! 


I also remember Ella, a member of one of the churches where I served. This woman would spend an entire week detailing the sanctuary when it was her turn to clean.  Although thin and frail, she would arrive early in the day and stay late into the afternoon.  She was never content to run the vacuum and dust the obvious places, but Ella would get down on her hands and knees to clear away the cobwebs beneath our pews.  The sanctuary shined and sparkled when she was done.  It was an offering of great devotion and care for the community that had nurtured her faith over many years.


Today, on this Monday of Holy Week, I see Jesus, tearing up and cleaning out the artifacts and attitudes that clutter up the temple.  I like this Jesus who gets forceful with those who have junked up the sacred space and repurposed religious practices for their own gain.  I seek to follow Jesus, who begins Holy Week by restoring the space for worship and wonder.  Others in that day became fearful and sought to destroy him; but surely there were some who were ready and eager for the changes that he brought--to the temple and to their lives.


Come, Courageous Jesus!  Come and overturn the tables and clear out the clutter that keeps me distant from you.  May your house be a place of prayer and welcome for all peoples.  Help me to join you in this holy work; and at the last, lead me to your eternal life.  Amen.


   

Transition to the Future

Last week I sat at tables with the United Church of Christ Board.  In a crowded room in Cleveland, we made decisions that will shape the future of the denomination that has been my spiritual home.  Along with the Rev. Dr. John Dorhauer, our nominee for General Minister & President, I, too, love the United Church of Christ.  This church is an amazing gift from God.  We have been together longer than were the two antecedent denominations from which we were formed.  The "firsts" that we name and celebrate are powerful reminders of the visionary courage, a legacy of our forebears in faith.  This bold experiment in ecumenism continues to be a blessing in villages, towns, and cities.  We are a voice for justice when others would be cautiously silent and complicit in the injustices of the world.  We are a voice of affirmation and love when others are quick to condemn and exclude.  We are a bold, visionary voice that finds its courage in the Spirit of the Living God. Yes, I, too, love this church.

That said, I have a concern about attempts to narrowly define the future of the United Church of Christ, for I am persuaded that the future always comes to us as a gift of God.  The future is about hope--hope that is received, embraced, and celebrated.  The future is not simply for the soaring visionaries, but also for those who are grounded with deep memory and sacred tradition.  My  fervent prayer for the United Church of Christ is that we will walk together into a future that is always shrouded in some mystery, never imposed upon us by elitist powers and principalities.  This transitional moment in our history is not a time for political posturing and management theory; rather, this is a moment for kneeling before God's majesty and mystery.  The future comes to us as a gift.  As we journey together through Holy Week toward the dawn of Easter, we know that transitional times take us to places where we had not intended to go.  Nevertheless, our hope is not in our own reason and strength, but in the mystery of resurrection and glorious life.  Clearly, there are attitudes and actions that will help the future be birthed, but that future always comes a gift.  We can do much to teach and advocate for a just society and a transformed world, but the transformation of heart and mind is ultimately the work of God.  The life and leadership we have experienced thus far have been entrusted to us as God's gift.  It will surely be so as the future comes in all its fullness. 

In closing, I remember the leadership change anticipated by Deuteronomy 31:7-8.  Moses is passing on the mantle to Joshua and a new generation of leaders.  This charge might well be the one for our emerging leaders in the United Church of Christ in this time of transition:  "Be strong and bold, for you are the one who will go with this people into the land that the LORD has sworn to their ancestors to give them; and you will put them in possession of it.  It is the LORD who goes before you.  The LORD will be with you; the LORD will not fail you or forsake you.  Do not fear or be dismayed." 

God of us all,
I pray with humility and with hope in the transforming work that you are doing through the manifold settings of the United Church of Christ.  Bless by your Holy Spirit your servant John that he and we may be strong and bold in the face of the challenges that are before us.  Help us all to move beyond our fears and anxieties to that future that comes to us an amazing gift from you.  Move us from death to life in Jesus Christ, who calls us to follow, to serve, and always to love.  Amen.