Category: community

Inclining our Ear Toward God: Listening As A Church

by Rev. Teresa Blythe

In a world full of solutions, opinions, and advice, listening is one of the most important gifts we can offer one another. It is an act of healing and vision. For people of faith and their communities, the gift of listening both to one another and God offers a path to spiritual renewal and grants congregations a vision of their identity. In a time when congregations are experiencing a steep decline in membership and facing significant uncertainty, learning to listen deeply to one another and seeking through listening to discern God’s path for a faith community’s future just might be one of the most important acts a church can engage in.

Rev. Chad Abbott and I minister in a denomination (UCC) that believes “God is still speaking.” The phrase expresses the reality that God is much more mysterious and far-reaching than we can understand. While the Bible continues to serve as the primary source of revelation for Christians, God is still being revealed to us in this world, in a culture the ancient world could not have imagined.

Sadly, it is evident to us as leaders in the Mainline American church that many Christians do not know how to listen for God, despite their deep longing to connect with a God who still speaks. Just as individual Christians struggle to listen for God, faith communities labor to listen for God together. Many are not able to slow down and approach church life in a reflective, contemplative manner.

Chad and I have written “Incline Your Ear: Cultivating Spiritual Awakening in Congregations” (Fortress Press, 2021) to encourage spiritual growth and vitality in faith communities in this listening pursuit. Throughout our book we share spiritual practices designed to help your congregation “incline its ear” toward God. Notice we used the singular “ear.” We believe congregations need to understand themselves as unified — one body, rather than a collection of individuals. As we are both spiritual directors, we explain the principles and practices of contemporary spiritual direction so that congregations can understand and use them. We even outline a “Congregational Spiritual Road Map” at the end of each chapter with step-by-step instructions for leading spiritual practices in awareness of God, reflection on the congregation’s life together, discernment, and creating an action plan to move forward on what is discerned.

With each important decision we make, with every relationship we build, with every church mission statement or ministry we design, and in matters of vocation and prophetic witness, the skills of discernment and listening in the spiritual life will make for vital congregations. While we face declining membership and generational shifts in loyalty to the church, it is clear to us that it is both a challenging, and exciting time to be the church. We have the opportunity to imagine a new future as we listen for God’s leading. All the spiritual resources we need to become that newly-imagined and future church is already within and around us if we will but incline our ear to the work of the Spirit.

We believe this work is so important. The world outside church doors will not wait around for clergy to figure out how to connect contemplative life at home with congregational life at church, so naturally the spiritually curious turn to yoga studios, meditation mats, healing stones, and spirituality apps — and who can blame them? Yet, the church has a deep and abiding tradition of spiritual practices that can help spiritual pilgrims in our time get to the heart of their yearning. In particular, the work of spiritual direction has the potential to not only enhance spiritual vitality in the church, but to push us toward congregational vitality that helps churches more fully live out their mission in the world in a time when a vibrant church is desperately needed.

Rev. Teresa Blythe is the director of the Phoenix Center for Spiritual Direction at First UCC Phoenix. Rev. Chad Abbott is Conference Minister for the Indiana-Kentucky Conference of the UCC.

Lingering Stories

by Rev. Jim Briney

A member of a congregation I once served no longer was able to attend services.  From time to time I sat with her and visited with her in her 1 room accommodation in a long term continuing care facility.  I had seen her though the aftermath woes of her early married life, and learned of her peculiarities.  She encouraged me to tell her stories of my life, one of which follows this introduction.  She told me I should make a list of such stories, which I did several years ago.  There are some 230 of them.  She is gone now.  The stories linger.

Over the last two years of his life, Duke Ellington and I met up at various venues he was playing.  Among them, the Meadow Brook Amphitheatre, a private club in Michigan, and the Shamrock Hilton in Texas. Few people knew how ill Duke was, or how close he was to the end of his life.  I marveled at his ability to perform while keeping his commitments, honoring his contracts, respecting his audiences, and employing his orchestra. 

Duke summoned me to sit near him during the Meadow Brook intermission.  As Duke rested on the small bed backstage—belt undone and shirt untucked, to ease his pain—I wondered if he would be able to get up.  On cue, he rose to the occasion, re-took the stage, and gave the audience full measure.  I was surprised when Tony Watkins sang In The Beginning God, and dedicated it to me.  I think that was Duke’s way of saying I was ok with him. 

On another occasion Duke spotted me in the audience at a private club.  Duke motioned for me to come down and sit with him on the bench at his piano.  Duke knew my maternal grandfather had been a concert pianist and composer.  I whispered to him that I barely knew two pieces: Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater, and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I was not competent to play Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater, so I played Twinkle Twinkle Little Star with one hand.  Duke turned it into something—as if we had rehearsed it.

There was a beverage in a glass on the piano, within reach of Duke’s left hand.  Before returning to my seat, I asked Duke if he drank alcohol.  Without missing a beat, Duke said, “No, I retired undefeated.”  Another time I asked Duke how he sustained such a pace.  He was doing 200 dates a year. He told me he stayed in good hotels, slept in, and ordered the best steak and a bowl of chili that he poured over the steak. Duke said it was his main meal and it could be his last, so he ate what he liked.  He drank hot water, not coffee.  

Duke told me about his early days and promotions that had elevated the careers of The Duke and The Count.  I count myself lucky to have had a late dinner with Count Basie and his band several years before I knew Duke.  Duke wrote most days, knowing that his audiences wanted to hear what had become his old standards.  Duke figured it would be 30 years before anyone would listen to the music that occupied his prolific mind. He was writing every day. 

A fond memory of Duke Ellington has to do with his kindness to my eldest sister.  Upon my arrival in Texas, I asked her what she wanted to do to celebrate her wedding anniversary. She told me she had tried to get tickets for the Ellington concert and dinner at the Shamrock Hilton.  They had been sold out for months.  When I said let’s go, she did not know that I knew Duke and his son Mercer.  Mercer saw me in the hotel lobby while I was talking with the general manager, who stood at attention as Mercer approached us.

The general manager explained to Mercer that he could not accommodate the birthday wish of my sister, then asked, “Do you understand?” to which Mercer replied, “What are you doing for entertainment tonight?  Do you understand?”  Without another word, a table was prepared for us in front of the others.  As dessert was served a spotlight was focused on my sister.  Duke beckoned her to the dance floor with her husband while Paul Gonsalvas played an extended solo of Satin Doll.
That evening was a joy for everyone, with the exception of Paul Gonsalvas.  Paul had some sobering up to do and Duke was going to teach him a lesson. Each time Paul’s tenor sax was winding down, Duke spurred Paul on with shouts of praise for “The great Paul Gonsalvas.”  My affection and respect for Duke Ellington is for the man as much as his music.  Duke was not a disciplinarian, but he had his ways.

My memories include Mercer and I sharing a bottle of Cognac in a paper bag.  I preferred Courvoisier VSOP.  Mercer had a taste for Hennessy.  One time we sat on the ground while Money Johnson, Cootie Williams, Paul Gonsalvas, and others passed a reefer behind a stage door. They had been with Duke Ellington since his Cotton Club days, and when Mercer was young.

Mercer and I met for lunch in a Chicago steak house a week after the funeral for his father.  When Mercer greeted me he said, “Pop left me 12 million dollars. I didn’t know he even liked me.”  I have learned that my friends are where I find them.  I connected with Duke and Mercer at Meadow Brook when they performed for 30,000 fans, at a private club for a few hundred, and at an elegant affair for high paying guests, thankful that Mercer treated.  

Mercer had a mind for math and music.  He beat the odds, winning at Keno in Las Vegas.  Mercer scored his own compositions, including Reflections Indeed.  Throughout the course of my life and ministry—along the arc of seemingly random disjointed encounters—all sorts of memories occupy my mind.  Duke, Mercer, and Julie—the woman who asked to hear my stories—are long since gone.  Remembering them has led to a time of my own reflections. Indeed.

Pray Not with Swords in Hand: Reflecting on A Prayer by Violent Insurrectionists

by Rev. Teresa Blythe

Imagine the shock and disgust that rippled through mainline and progressive Christianity in this country after the New Yorker video from the January 6 insurrection showed a group of rioters standing around the Senate President’s chair in the Senate chamber pray, holding hands in the air praising God for their success at storming the Capital. One rioter who was interviewed after the event said he consulted God three times before coming, and each time “he didn’t hear a no.” Discerning types noticed that God also didn’t offer the man a “yes” either.

What can we say other than we denounce traitors and violent rioters who are overcome with a spirit of evil — a mob mentality — and that we do not believe this is something Jesus would ever sign off on? Jesus’ last words to his apostle Peter (and to future followers as well) was “put down your sword.”

We can’t say “they aren’t true Christians” because we know full well there is a strain of Christianity that is heavily nationalistic. And while we don’t interpret scripture the same way they do, we must acknowledge that they are part of what we call “the body of Christ.” We leave the judgment of who is and is not a Christian to a higher authority.

We can’t say “not all Christians” are like this. Even if it is true, it’s beside the point. Most people know there are a variety of strains of Christianity and not all strains condone violence. However, there are enough radical right activist Christians around to sully the reputation of all Christians. And our nationalist brothers and sisters manage to claim the media limelight more than we do.

What can nonviolent Christians say about a situation where a half-naked man wearing bull’s horns on his head calls on Almighty God for a blessing on his fellow rioters, some of whom were defecating in the halls of the Capital and smearing their waste on the walls? Until today, I’ve been at a complete loss for words. The faces of those around him praying and reaching to heaven confirmed how seriously these men felt that God was on their side. Cultic Christianity was on full display.

The responses to this deadly storming of the Capital have varied. Some Christians are holding prayer vigils. Some are doing a sort of biblical criticism denouncing this form of spiritual expression. Others are sticking their head in the sand — it’s just too horrible to think about. And still others are wondering how we can influence these nationalistic types and basically “convert” them to nonviolence.

My way, as a progressive, contemplative Christian spiritual director, is to simply grieve. To lament. If it were my style, I would cover myself with ashes and rent my clothing in distress. But it’s not my style. I grieve the loss of life; the way it will spread more Coronavirus; the fear it caused for so many of my elected leaders. I grieve how this event makes Christians look, and how this hardness and hatred will drive some people out of the church. I grieve what it all means for the future of our nation.

Like many others, I will watch, wait and pray for better days. And, however you respond to seeing rioters pray over Senate chambers, may it be a way that cultivates hope and deep peace in your life.

This post originally appeared on Patheos.

Racial Injustice and Mental Health

guest post by Ray Littleford of Desert Palm UCC; this post originally appeared in the Desert Breeze

February 14 may be Valentine’s Day, and in the United Church of Christ, it is also designated as Racial Justice Sunday, and the theme across the denomination is Compassionate Community.  It is well established that experiencing racial discrimination often leads to mental health problems that detract from quality-of-life over the course of a year or even a lifetime.  Numerous studies have found that rates of anxiety, depression and posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) are significantly higher among minority groups in the United States. 

Historically, Dr. Benjamin Rush, a signer of the Declaration of Independence and the first American physician to study mental disorders, declared that Negroes were not inferior to Whites.  In the 1850s, however, Dr. Samuel Cartwright defined “drapetomania” as the disease which causes slaves to run away, and “dysaethesia aethiopica” as the condition that causes laziness and made slaves insensitive to punishment.  A century later it was theorized that the urban violence among blacks in the 1960s was due to brain dysfunction.

There is also the problem of the over-diagnosis of schizophrenia among African-American males, nearly four times greater than that of white males.  The diagnosis was applied to many hostile and aggressive black men, and then they were treated with high doses of antipsychotic medications. 

Articles in prominent journals of mental health and psychiatry have explored the reluctance of African-Americans, Native Americans, Asian-Americans and Latinx individuals to seek mental health treatment.  Cultural paranoia and lack of trust in the medical community are often mentioned, as well as concerns regarding the cultural competence and understanding of clinicians.  Mental health professionals are predominantly white (e.g. only 2% of US psychologists are African-American) so these professions need to do a better job of attracting minority groups.

Finally, another area of discrimination is the lack of awareness by physicians of physiological differences of various racial groups in how medications are metabolized by the liver.  This can result in either toxic levels of medications or ineffective levels.  If you have tried several different psychiatric medications with poor results, then ask your physician to order genetic testing of the liver enzymes.  Most insurance plans will authorize it, and then the test results can point to the medications that are well metabolized by your liver, not too fast or too slow.

I believe we are making progress in reducing the stigma of mental illness in the general population.  It behooves us to extend this progress to people of all races and ethnicities so that biases in diagnosis and accessibility to treatment are eliminated.  As members of DPUCC, our witness to the community is that everyone is welcome here.  In the words of the Apostle Paul:

If our Message is obscure to anyone, it’s not because we’re holding back in any way.  No, it’s because these other people are looking or going the wrong way and refuse to give it serious attention.  All they have eyes for is the fashionable god of darkness.  They think he can give them what they want, and that they won’t have to bother believing a Truth they can’t see.  They’re stone-blind to the dayspring brightness of the Message that shines with Christ, who gives us the best picture of God we’ll ever get.  Remember, our Message is not about ourselves; we’re proclaiming Jesus Christ, the Master.  All we are is messengers, errand runners from Jesus for you.  It started when God said, “Light up the darkness!” and our lives filled up with light as we saw and understood God in the face of Christ, all bright and beautiful.  (2 Cor 4:3-6, The Message)

The Use of Violence

by Hailey Lyons

I am not the only one who watched the storming of the Capitol in utter horror. And I am certainly not the only one who watched it without surprise. We knew this was coming, we knew for decades that this was going to happen.

What was unexpected to the neoliberals was what I and other marginalized peoples have been warning about for decades. As we departed from Evangelicalism and conservative ideologies, as we grew up in open opposition to the powers that oppress us, and as we ran to mainline and progressive havens, we warned about the dangers to come. But we were not heard. Instead, we could neither truly escape the past nor shrug off the painful present, leaving us in rage and silence.

The terrorists that stormed the Capitol did so with signs like ‘Jesus Saves’ and American flags, Confederate flags, and ‘Proud American Christian’ flags. Their jubilance was palpable as they attacked the press and stood on the Capitol for steps an hours-long photo-op. They invaded offices of members of Congress, planted bombs, and posed in the chambers themselves. Their purpose was clear: to defy the will of the people and vaunt the power of white supremacy and Christian nationalism.

And yet, all I see from the media and from ecumenical responses are denouncements of violence. The media and our political institutions use symbolic language to talk about America’s status as a place of peace and hope. Church leaders talk about Jesus’ nonviolence as if it were enshrouded in sacred history and understood as truth by all. They shame their institutions and denominations.

To say that Jesus was nonviolent is to ignore the Scriptures. The man who spoke out in synagogues and on mountainsides in the face of Roman colonial and Pharisaical rule did so with the knowledge that his teachings and practices were a violent rejection of them. The man who braided a whip and struck people and livestock, overturning tables in the temple of the Lord was not nonviolent. The man who preached that we were to turn our cheek once slapped to allow only a dishonorable strike be the next one was not nonviolent. The man who announced that his was the way of truth and life; the man whose death spawned an entire religion that would for centuries violently oppose powers and principalities was not nonviolent. Even in its appropriation as state religion, Christianity has ever been a religion of violence. To say otherwise cherry picks church history in the same manner we malign Evangelicals for.

America is not a place of peace and nonviolence. Our arms and munitions fund wars all around the world and have done so for an exceedingly long time. Our laws and governments privilege violence against the marginalized to keep us marginalized. Our culture is rooted in violent destruction of those who oppose us. We are not a shining beacon of democracy; we are an imperial power inherited from colonial Europe.

No broad civil rights movement has ever been achieved in America without violence. From the Civil War to recognize black bodies as human; to women’s suffrage and the street carnage; to the Civil Rights Movement of the 60s that saw still more black and brown bodies murdered and brutalized; to the Stonewall Riots that demanded LGBT bodies be seen and not murdered or brutalized; to the Black Lives Matter and ANTIFA marches in recent years. Martin Luther King Jr. knowingly incited violence during his marches, and toward the end of his life he was on the crux of announcing far bolder and violent measures to take racial equality by force. As police moved in to arrest and brutalize and murder LGBT people at Stonewall, they stood up and fought back directly. Had they not, I wouldn’t have the right to be where I am today.

In my coming out and coming to understand my peoples’ history and culture, I am horrified at the violent methods by which transgender bodies have been systematically oppressed, brutalized, and murdered. I live with the terror of knowing that not passing in public subjects me to the possibility of verbal abuse, a beating, or being killed. Simply by choosing to be myself I am an act of violence, of violent rejection of the multifold violence done to me.

Religious and political institutions ignore the fact that violence is not and has never been solely an expression of physical force. Violence takes many forms, and most often it is epistemic and psychological. While we distract from the real issue at hand and titillate on the use of violence, we must understand that the epistemic and psychological forms of violence are the most common tools of those in power. For us on the margins, it is not just physical violence that we face when we march in the streets, but the epistemic and psychological violence by institutions seeking to rip legitimacy away from us. Marching in and of itself is an act of violence, violently rejecting the oppressive powers that would see us isolated and alone in order to be more quietly brutalized and murdered.

When we read Scripture, we find Christ is most often present where power and violence clash with the marginalized. Christ is a force of violence, but where the state privileges power, Christ privileges people. Two ideologies – power and people – clashing against each other necessitate violence, or otherwise there would be no opposition. When American neoliberal culture and Evangelicalism perpetuate the idea that violence is evil, they take away the opportunity for opposition to them, and instead rule unchecked. This is nothing less than hypocrisy and perpetuates still more violence and oppression. Neoliberals and Evangelicals alike are horrified by it and yet don’t hesitate to use it when it benefits them. We should condemn why the terrorists were at the Capitol rather than critiquing the methodology when we were just cheering Black Lives Matter on and acknowledging the only language that gets the attention of those in power is violence. It is nothing short of hypocrisy and grandstanding.

It’s not just our burden, but our requirement as Christians to check this oppressive power with the people. Whether marching in the streets, teaching a different curriculum, or favoring the marginalized over those in power, these are all acts of violence. They are also immense acts of love and compassion and empathy, binding us together in solidarity against power and violence. If we do not acknowledge those facts and cower in the shadows when the word violence is used like a slur, then we will never achieve equality and we will never be truly heard on the margins.

Let us remember where the true war is being fought. Let us adjust course and fight the fight as Jesus and the Prophets did, knowing that things can be better. Knowing that one day our children and grandchildren will know a world in which violence is no longer necessary because there is nothing but the people. Until then, we fight.

The Quest for the Government You Deserve Is Never Easy or Over

by Rev. James Briney

Lou Waters sent me an email the morning of November 6th, 2020, a half hour before he was to be interviewed about our Presidential election on a news radio program in Majorca. They picked the right guy.  Early in his career as a Tucson television newsman, then as a founding anchor for a start-up cable news network the world came to know as CNN, Lou covered major political conventions and reported on significant global events. In anticipation of doing the interview with a broadcaster in Spain, Lou wrote to me about the election that: “It still feels like we’re all still waiting for the divorce court to decide who gets custody of us.”  

Since the interview with Lou, a decisive and growing majority of voters determined who will become the next head of our large and diverse American family.  My diverse family includes my daughter, Jen who is a family nurse practitioner in Colorado. She was thirteen when I married her mother who had been a single parent. My son, Juan is a carpenter in northern Michigan. He was born in a tomato field in Mexico. Through a lengthy adoption process, postponed by the events of 9-11, he became a member of our family as a young adult. On three occasions I have baptized one or more of his children.  One Godparent is Vietnamese.  Another is gay.

My family includes Mexicans, Africans, Japanese, and people of Native American and Jewish ancestry.  My great aunt and uncle worked with Gandhi to build a hospital and a school while serving as missionaries in India for twenty-five years. In their retirement I lived with them from age four to five as they made do on a twenty-two dollar a month pension. My family represents a variety of religious views and includes a non-believer. In common with the United States of America, my family is comprised of individuals along the spectrum of identities, ages, opportunities, and predicaments.

The virus that is sickening and killing so many is keeping prudent families apart for holidays and other occasions. Yet families need not gather at a common table to engage in conversations that nourish relationships and feed souls.  We all have a frame of reference.  I am the product of divorced parents, fractured relationships and all sorts of experiences in ministry and in life that make real the possibility of reconciliation and healing. All families have the work of maintaining and repairing relationships. Our country has the work of governing and repairing alliances.  Seasons of the Church such as Lent and Advent give us pause for self-examination and to anticipate, contemplate and celebrate things that matter. 

Elections offer a kind of resurrection. So does public discourse when we evaluate sources of information that instruct our beliefs. Just as promoting herd immunity is political and medical malpractice, it is theological malpractice to sensationalize the manufactured war on Christmas, instead of addressing the real war on truth. Clergy fail their flocks, and laypersons their constituencies, when they abandon their integrity in favor of such calculated distractions. Commercializing Christmas and romanticizing Saint Valentine’s Day is the easy way out. The times call for us to do more than exchange gifts and go on a date. 

Jesus says we must love one another as he loves us.  He does not say that we have to like anyone. Even so, we are called to be one in his name. The significant rise in hate crimes is a stark reminder that we are in deep trouble and in need of bridging the political divide. Elections confront us with the necessity that our republic is worth fighting for and that our democracy is worth voting for.  Mark Twain said that war is the way we learn about geography.  Elections are the way we learn about democracy as a means to fulfill the intentions of our founders. We are not going to get there by agreeing to disagree or believing that perception is reality. 

Addressing substantive issues in a factual forthright manner is the way to distinguish reality from perception.  Every American is in jeopardy when facts don’t matter and numbers don’t count. Exaggeration is not progress.  A few thousand is not more than a million. Yet that was asserted when adoring fans of the 45th President surrounded the motorcade escorting him to play golf in the aftermath of the election. They have yet to accept the reality of a free, fair and secure election result. The policies, practices and initiatives of leaders have merit when they stand the test of time in the light of day, not because they are contrary and entertaining. It’s time to change the channel.

Democracy is vulnerable when the electorate is susceptible to insidious and nefarious appeals aimed at our emotions and backed by unlimited financing. Charles Koch says it was a colossal mistake for him to have invested in a sensationalized ideological partisan bias. A problematic thing about our form of governance is that superficial answers to deeply ingrained problems tend to perpetuate imbalance and precipitate gridlock.  Actions taken without regard for consequences are an invitation to entrenched resistance that borders on violence. The laws of physics apply to politics. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. 

The rejoinder to scare tactics that re-stimulate the fears of immigrants, is pointing out that the United States is not becoming a socialist nation.  We are the opposite of regimes they fled. Our capitalist economy creates jobs and incentivizes philanthropy that sustains generosity.  Grants and gifts are distributed through community foundations and privately funded initiatives. Food banks and shelters, churches and rescue missions abound. The wealth of our nation empowers the formation of alliances that contribute to a strong defense against nations that exploit their people and restrict their opportunities.  The outcome of recent elections give cause to expect the renewal of our alliances and the restoration of our reputation.

Being worthy of the privileges our country affords requires respect for those who came before. Those who made sacrifices to create our country, establish our traditions and secure our freedoms include patriots who became known as the Greatest Generation. They also became the entitlement generation that has enjoyed the fruits of their labor, pensions, Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, personal investments, and inheritance. The promise of America is that such possibilities will become available to everyone, without anyone being denied through no fault of their own.

It seemed like a long time between the polls closing on November 3rd and when the President-elect was determined. The same goes for political campaigns. We complain they take too long. They do not. They last just long enough to enjoin significant participation, so the ideals that form the bedrock of our nation will endure.  Likewise, we criticize the careers of public servants as lasting too long, when in fact they last no longer than voters choose for them to last. 

It took every day of the recent election process for registered voters to show up and be counted in record numbers. It took the incoming 46th President of the United States a little more than half a century as an elected official to be recognized as worthy of the highest office voters confer.  He will assume the Presidency having been elected to one term on the New Castle County Council, six terms in the United States Senate, two terms as Vice President—and three runs for the Presidency.  
Lou Waters has witnessed and experienced being involved in deliberate ways that make a difference, having served with integrity as a reporter and as an elected official. Lou still chooses to be of service. Everyone is able to do what they will within their means. It all begins with noticing, caring, and doing something, instead of passing on an opportunity because it seems insignificant. The recent election indicates something about our intentions. But it will not unite us anymore than past elections made us post-racial. Becoming a more perfect union requires initiating relationships in good faith and with good intention. 

Our violent divorce from the King of England led to a harmonious partnership. Our Civil War led to a prolonged trial separation. It need not take a war, armed revolution, or an insurrection to find our way forward. History is inviting us to renew our vow of allegiance to the Constitution of the United States of America. The gospel invites us to recognize all of creation as one, by embracing every soul as our sisters and brothers.  There is no North, South, East, or West in the Kingdom of God, only the essential reality that we are one in the name of all that is holy. Nation states and political boundaries are not preeminent when it comes to figuring out what matters most.

Think about the influences you give your attention to.  Just because an activist paints a slogan on a sign that says defund the police does not mean that eliminating funding for law enforcement is ever going to happen. It means it has become imperative to fund training for interventions that de-escalate non-violent encounters. For that to happen leaders in cooperation with all concerned must make distinctions. It is up to you to elect and support such candidates.

No one is exempt when it comes to making informed decisions that do not rely on talking points that incite fear and outrage. Identifying and allocating resources to protect and defend communities is the responsibility of the individuals you elect. You will find your way along the arc of history that bends toward justice when you strive to make the best use of what you know to be true, and make use of what you have. The quest for the government you deserve is never easy, or over. 

My family manages to carry on and I trust that our country will too.  As competent individuals fill vacancies in the government and reclaim institutional memory, I believe that our country will find ways to resolve the issues that threaten our security and undermine our democracy.  As the new administration comes to power, and new Senators from the State of Georgia determine the disposition of the Senate, think about what you want for our nation and its place in the world.  As history unfolds in turmoil keep in mind that Gandhi said: “A living faith will last in the blackest storm.” 

Keeping faith is the intangible ingredient that bolsters our resolve ‘while we’re all still waiting’ to see how things turn out. Our democracy is in constant flux in terms of anticipation and outcomes. Always it is vulnerable. Living in hope in the midst of ‘the blackest storm’ is not naive when we embrace the resolve to carry on. There is reason to believe that all will be well—providing we do our part. In the fullness of time the past is ash and our future is dust. What we do in our time matters, for better or for worse. We are responsible for making America better. We are accountable for making ourselves better.

For the time being we know who has custody of us. We know how much damage a malevolent president and malicious presidency can do. The foreseeable future bodes well for good news to appear in updated reports awaited in Spain and around the world. When Lou Waters gives his next interview, I trust and pray that we will continue to care as much—and be as pleased—as the audience in Majorca. 

Burning a Yule Log & Looking for a Bright Star

by Rev. Victoria S. Ubben

In a previous city in which I had lived, my friends hosted an annual, festive Winter Solstice party in their home. It was held on or near the winter solstice (which is on or near December 21). Because of my ministry as a pastor of a church, the season of Advent (the four weeks before Christmas) and Christmastide (the 12 days from December 25 through January 5) was a busy time for me. Nonetheless, I always found it refreshing to gather with friends around the yule log and observe the winter solstice…

Just a quick review: the winter solstice is the shortest day of the year. After the winter solstice, the days start to get longer. People observed the winter solstice long before Christianity was established. Many Advent and Christmas customs that Christians observe (e.g., Christmas trees and lighting candles) have roots in much older traditions and ancient folk customs that were later absorbed by Christianity. For example, in Scandinavian countries long ago a “yule log” was rolled through the streets then burned in a symbolic bonfire (hopefully, to destroy the sorrows of the past year and bring good tidings of hope and joy to the city and its residents in the future).

… Back to the Winter Solstice party. Each year, guests at this this party were invited to bring a small remembrance (perhaps written on a piece of paper) or a sprig of something flammable (like a piece of a dried stick or a tiny evergreen branch) to place upon the yule log. I always thought about what I wanted to burn – get rid of – from the past year for some significant amount of time before this gathering. As I reflected on the season that had passed, I always had something to burn (either literally or symbolically). Other people at this gathering symbolically put their disappointments, failures, bad choices, addictions, sins, and just “garbage” on that yule log along with me. (I am so glad that this was a communal event and not something that one must do all alone.)

After food, drink, and some readings appropriate for the winter solstice, the strongest people of the bunch would lug that yule log with all our sadness, grief, sorrow, and regret to the huge fireplace in the living room. I would typically recall the lyrics to an old drinking song-turned-Christmas carol that has been adapted over the centuries:

Deck the hall with boughs of holly,
Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!
‘Tis the season to be jolly,
Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!
Fill the meadcup, drain the barrel,
Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!
Troll the ancient Yule-tide carol,
Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!

See the blazing yule before us,
Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!
Strike the harp and join the chorus.
Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!
Follow me in merry measure,
Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la!
While I sing of yuletide treasure,
Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la! *


I usually stood there with tears in my eyes – sometimes with a feeling of regret and sometimes with a feeling of relief as I watched the yule log (with all our collective disappointments upon it) go up in blazes.

Perhaps this year as we all prepare for Christmas, we would be wise to burn our sorrows and sins of 2020 on a yule log… or upon any log… in a cozy fireplace, in a blazing outdoor firepit, even over a flaming candle. What are the things that you would chose to burn up before meeting the Christ child born for us on Christmas morn? Our racism, sexism, classism, and some other “ism” of which we are guilty? The confusion brought upon us by Covid-19 and our 8 months of social distancing? Our stressful Presidential (and other) elections? Please join me in burning up our regrets and disappointments of 2020.

I will be looking up at the night sky on the Winter Solstice and I hope that you will, too. Astronomers call the Winter Solstice of 2020 the “Great Conjunction.” Jupiter and Saturn will be so close to each other that it just might look like the legendary star of Bethlehem over the place where the baby Jesus was born!

Here is a link to a scientifically correct article about what to expect this year on December 21.

As Christmas draws near, look up into the night sky, burn a yule log, raise a celebratory mug of some festive beverage, and reflect upon this familiar piece of scripture (Matthew 2:9-11 NRSV):

“When they [the wise men or astrologers] had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage.” Amen.

*Lots of versions of “Deck the Halls” are available. Wikipedia indicates “The English-language lyrics were written by the Scottish musician Thomas Oliphant. They first appeared in 1862, in volume 2 of Welsh Melodies, a set of four volumes authored by John Thomas, including Welsh words by John Jones (Talhaiarn) and English words by Oliphant. The repeated “fa la la” goes back to the earlier Welsh and may originate from medieval ballads.”

The Magnificat: A Calling-out??

by Rev. Deb Worley

“And Mary said,
‘My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever.’”

(Luke 1:46-55)

The Magnificat.

Mary’s Song of Praise.

The Canticle of Mary.

By whatever name you call it, it’s a hymn of praise, an overflowing offering of praise and gratitude to God, “the Mighty One,” offered by Mary following her joyous meeting with her cousin Elizabeth, during which the miraculous pregnancies of both women were recognized. It’s praise for what God has done for her, and praise for what God will do through her.

And it’s not just praise. Or at least not just a “rainbows and roses” kind of praise that makes everyone feel good. It’s also a claiming of the reality of God, a proclaiming of the Kingdom of God that has been promised “from generation to generation,” and that will be birthed in a new and previously unknown way, in Jesus.

In Mary’s hymn of joyous praise to God, there is, included, an overturning of the status quo–the powerful being brought down and the lowly being lifted up…. There’s a calling-out of the way things are and a “calling-toward” the ways things are meant to be–those who are hungry being filled to satisfaction and those who are satisfied being sent away empty….

The Magnificat is not simply a quiet song of praise whispered timidly by meek and humble Mary, as I admit I have tended to think of it.

It is a powerful song of praise–and gratitude and hope and revolution–sung boldly by faithful and courageous Mary!

…Would that I might praise God with similar power, and boldness, and courage, not just now in this season of Advent but in the living of all my days…

…Would that my praise might somehow claim, and then proclaim the reality of the Kingdom of God that has been birthed in Jesus…

…Would that my soul might magnify the Lord, today, tomorrow, and always…

Mighty One, may it be so.
Peace be with us all.
Deb

featured image is “The Windsock Visitation” by Brother Mickey O’Neill McGrath

Here is what I have done every day during the pandemic.

by Gordon Street, SWC Commissioned Minister for Reimagining and Connecting with the God of One’s Own Understanding

Faith and spiritual practices sustain me during this uncertain pandemic era and unprecedented election season. Because my ministry focuses on helping people connect with a God of their own understanding, I want to share a few thoughts about what has helped personally these last many months.

The solution always is faith. But what does faith really mean? A quirk of the English language is that faith can be only a noun when it really should be a verb because faith is not what I think, it is what I do. Paul, in Hebrews, says “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” That means faith is the result of hope, the evidence of the unknowable. How I choose to face each day and what I do during the course of each day produces faith. Faith does not guide my actions. Actions produce my faith.

Here is what I have done every day during the pandemic. Each day I begin with a prayer for wisdom, strength, willingness and courage to face the things I must face. I also pray for the world, my family, my First Church beloved community, and my friends, to help them in all their needs. Most important is my prayer that God’s will be done in their lives as well as mine. I don’t pray for outcomes. I pray for attitudes in circumstances.

I, like most people, am cooped up at home. I reach out the friends, family and even strangers every day to see how I can be of service to them and give words of hope and encouragement.

In other words, I pray for faith for myself, and the rest of my prayers are for everyone else. Take the focus off of me. I believe my prayers and actions embody Jesus’ suggestion that we love God with all of our being and love our neighbors as we love ourselves.

Faith doesn’t mean everything will be alright, and I’ll win the lottery too.

God doesn’t necessarily make everything all better. God grants me the willingness, strength, and courage to handle whatever I am facing. God is with me and embracing me through it all. Especially during difficult times. I am comforted by knowing I’m not alone in difficulty.

Grace…It’s for More than Just Dinnertime

by Carol Reynolds, Pastor, Scottsdale Congregational UCC

Grace, it strikes me, is one of those “squishy” words that’s hard to put your finger on, seemingly impossible to define, save for the prayers of gratitude and blessing we say before digging into our meals. It’s a theological concept, but it’s more than that. It’s a characteristic of God that we aspire to, some of us more successfully than others; but it’s even more than that! When we add a “ful” to the end of it, I begin to picture something more concrete and outwardly beautiful—a ballerina, a horse, someone with really good posture who treads lightly upon the earth, etc.

I felt vindicated when I went to look grace up in my Westminster Dictionary of Theological Terms the other day. Beyond the “generic” version, which spoke briefly of kindness and unmerited favor, there were fully SIXTEEN types of grace listed and defined!!

actual grace
cheap grace
common grace
cooperating grace
efficacious grace
free grace
glorifying grace
habitual grace
irresistible grace
justifying grace
prevenient grace
sanctifying grace
saving grace
special grace
sufficient grace
universal grace

That’s a whole lot of grace! It reminds me of the fact that the Inuit have 40+ ways to refer to snow, which is pretty modest compared to the Sami of northern Russia and Scandinavia, whom I just learned have 180 words related to snow and ice and as many as 1000 for reindeer![1]

Obviously, to require that extensive a vocabulary for a single concept, it’s got to be something with which people have had A LOT of experience, to which they’ve given a lot of thought, and about which they care a great deal. As far as grace goes, suffice it to say that, in life, we experience a lot of it, which manifests in a host of specific ways. Which must also mean that we need a lot of grace in our lives.Perhaps never has this been truer than today, in the midst of this COVID-19 pandemic that has been our reality for over 10 months now. In many ways we’ve adapted thanks to the high tech means of communications available to us in 2020. We’ve got our weekly worship services, we’ve got our regularly scheduled check-ins with friends and family, we’ve got our shipments of essentials from Amazon and Chewy.com to keep trips to stores to a minimum. And yet…

There are many silver linings to the isolation we’ve had to impose upon ourselves to stay safe; yet loneliness and boredom are unavoidable, nevertheless. In many respects, we’re living out Bill Murray’s iconic Groundhog Day film, waking up to the same day over and over and over again. Sometimes I’m surprised there’s anything at all left to talk about with others!

One thing that does change regularly is the number of people contracting and dying from the virus. Lately they’ve gotten so high that I daresay they defy the 21st Century human imagination. Thank God PBS Newshour makes a point each Friday of sharing the stories of several of the latest victims, giving them human faces and touching, inspirational life stories, lest we come to think of these 250,000+ souls as little more than numbers on a screen.The thing is, no matter if and whether the astronomical numbers cease to outwardly shock us, they’re quietly taking their toll on each of us within, particularly as they land closer and closer to home. Whether we want to admit it or not, what we are experiencing, what the ENTIRE WORLD is experiencing right now is trauma. Trying to absorb and conceive of death on this scale, trying to protect ourselves from a threat that is at once invisible and mysterious, aggressive and hard to pin down for long, this is terrifying stuff, the stuff of horror movies and aspects of medieval European history we’d just as soon forget.

I say all of this not to deeply frighten or depress you, but to help us understand where we’re all coming from these days and to help us to offer our selves and one another that much cherished aspect of God’s character…GRACE. Perhaps never has it been more needed, as together, the whole world, finds itself in the throes of PTSD. Some of us are already quite familiar with this phenomenon in our lives, others not so much. It can manifest in a whole host of ways, but I’d like to highlight a few that I’ve been experiencing in myself and others in recent weeks. Perhaps the most prevalent one is what I like to call “COVID brain,” which can look like an abnormally high level of fuzziness and forgetfulness, slower rates of thinking, tracking, and processing information or communications, difficulty finding words or articulating ideas, etc. it can also look like heightened fears or anxieties, impatience, irritability, frustration, or general crabbiness. In extreme cases, it may have physical effects, perhaps even re-igniting pain from old, physically traumatic injuries.          

This year Thanksgiving comes to us at the exact right time, for thankfulness, gratitude, these are wonderful antidotes to so many of the things we’re experiencing. But the grace part, especially, is what our souls crave and, indeed, need, right now. Both grace for ourselves to receive and grace to give to others. Having said that grace is such a “squishy” word, what does that mean, exactly? It means striving to create a sense of spaciousness in our lives and in our interactions. It means giving ourselves and one another the benefit of the doubt, rather than rushing to criticize or blame or assume the worst of intentions on the other person’s part. It means asking what someone meant before accepting the story we’ve already crafted in our own minds as the truth and accusing them accordingly. It’s defaulting to compassion instead of blame and approaching all things from the realization that none of us is fully able to be our best selves right now, as much as we’d like to be; that, whether or not we’re willing to admit it, we’re all a tad sluggish and confused, cranky and scared; that 2020 hasn’t been kind to any of us.

So let’s not leave grace at the Thanksgiving dinner table this year. Let’s spread it near and wide, like the Christmas cards of old, like the holiday cheer we wish we could invoke in person but will still have plenty of opportunities to conjure up in our many virtual spaces.

The Advent season we’re about to enter is all about waiting. Waiting for the much anticipated birth of a precious baby and so much more, of the manifestation of God’s dream of joy and abundance, peace and justice for ALL people and indeed for ALL of creation. Never have we known more about waiting, whether for Promised Lands or for simple human touch. God is with us. God understands our pain and yearning. And God’s grace covers every single thing we’ve said or done and regretted throughout our lives. But especially during this deeply trying time in human and natural history. God will gladly share that grace—abundantly–with each one of us. All we need to do is ask and set the intention for ourselves.Happy Thanksgiving, my friends.

May God’s grace, peace, and love be with each one of you and with all living things. Amen.

[1] https://www.washingtonpost.com/national/health-science/there-really-are-50-eskimo-words-for-snow/2013/01/14/e0e3f4e0-59a0-11e2-beee-6e38f5215402_story.html