Yearning For a Soft Life

By Rev. Danielle Rogers

Last week I turned to my husband and sighed. I attended two meetings on affordable housing and poverty and proclaimed, “I want people to live a soft life.” He looked confused and with his eyebrows raised, leaned in and asked, “What’s that?” I hadn’t heard the term before that moment, but the feeling was pervasive of wanting calmness, of imagining a society where people’s needs were met. What would that look like? Could our society delve into discussions of work life balance, could every child be provided safe day care, and schooling regardless of their parent’s income? Could food be provided to the hungry and shelter to the unhoused universally. Could people earn a living wage that provided adequate shelter for all? Is this even an option in our current climate? Is society ready to move in this direction?

For the past two years I’ve become engaged in several committees pertaining to women’s rights and economic insecurity and at times, it’s exhausting. Although I have seen triumphs, the work is never done. It feels like the game “Wack a Mole.” Just when you hit the target another need jumps to fruition. It’s maddening and discouraging.

As we head into thanksgiving, a time for reflection and expressing gratitude, I am led to action. Being grateful and thankful is important for our self-care, but on this holiday, I am led to dream of what could be.

I have always looked at Jesus as being a wonderful social worker. He provided concrete resources and met people’s physical needs before engaging their spiritual ones. He fed them physically before feeding them spiritually. As we prepare for our own feast, what could we be feeding ourselves eternally. Living a soft life ultimately is a gift of foresight and optimism for society to reach it’s full potential. I know my ideals may seem unrealistic, but, as I look to Jesus’ teachings, so were His. Yet here we are, still learning and praising a Christian message. Perhaps it’s love that creates softness, and love is eternal. May you find a Soft Place to land and dream of what can be.

Like The First Morning...

By Carolyn Pinet

Like the first morning

so glorious it breaks your heart.

Reasons I come to sit here are many:

fall mimics summer,

the trees scintillate with color

under a flawless sky,

we shed our layers and

let the heat enter each pore,

perhaps for the last time,

or the next-to-last time,

no-one can be sure

how much our globe is warming

or how long we will spin

recklessly, gloriously,

among the stars.

Still, my little black dog, insatiable,

consumes dropped crumbs,

lives this moment

with neither future nor past.

My finished crossword

looks accomplished,

almost as Word perfect

as this morning,

brilliant

as a newly coined poem...

"Morning has broken..." Cat Stevens

"And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us." John, 1, 14

Gratitude With Attitude

By Kerry Williams

Here we are, circling back into November again! This November feels like many before it, but also seems like it could hold new possibilities. I’m sure that, like for many of us, there’s fatigue over entering flu and cold season with the threat of Covid over our heads, and yet it was only a short time ago that we were living with the helplessness that there was nothing we could do to prevent any illness at all. I do better when I know there’s some action I can take, even if there’s not a guaranteed outcome. I think times like these have led me to gratitude with attitude.

I used to worry that I was fooling myself into thankfulness when I compared one situation to another, like it was cheating to say, “well, at least it’s not as bad as it could be!” Living has brought the wisdom that it’s not only the perfect outcome that deserves praise. Micro-thanks along the way doesn’t mean I’ve taken my eye off the prize, in fact, it adds to the overall gratitude I feel about the process AND the end product! I used to hold back thanks from myself, from others, and from God until a task was complete, thinking that any positive acknowledgement would somehow derail the motivation to keep an effort going. I was much more likely to extend gratitude toward a life lesson that I learned through failure than allow myself and others to feel the buoying effect of thankfulness for small wins.

I used to send out a card each Thanksgiving to someone I felt had helped me get to where I am in life, and that’s a really nice gesture, to be sure. It wasn’t a real risk though, because what I was doing was taking the outcome I liked, giving it plenty of time to make sure everything turned out, and then praising an effort I appreciated. Now I work on finding the little sparks that could lead to something great, and give them their due in the moment, without needing to know whether or not they reach their potential. These days I try to approach gratitude as one of those actions I can take that feels like progress, rather than a precious gem I’m giving away because I wasn’t up to the task of doing something without help. I’m not always perfect at this new approach, but I do find myself tapping into the power of feeling grateful and sharing that with those around me more easily. There’s a zest for putting more gratitude into the world that I resisted before, and frankly I’m thankful for it!

Halloween is for Grown-Ups

John Edgerton

The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. - Isaiah 11:6 (NRSV)

I live on a very Halloween-y block. You know the kind of block I’m talking about, where every house has decorations up and a candy bowl that never runs dry. Where there’s always that one pair of dads locked in a spooky-season arms race with increasingly elaborate set-ups. The kind of street that the whisper network says might have full-sized candy bars.

When we moved onto the block, our neighbors told us to get at least 1,000 pieces of candy. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I am locked in an arms race over jack-o-lanterns. Namely, whose is the biggest and awesome-est. (Mine, in case you were wondering).

And as much as I enjoyed Halloween as a child, I enjoy it more as an adult than I ever did. The kids from the tony parts of town stand on level ground with the kids from the other side of the tracks. The tiny wobblers struggling to remember the words they’re supposed to say walk in the same line as the surly teenagers struggling to bring themselves to say it. The parents, dewy-eyed, take video as their kids brave the front steps of a stranger’s house, protected by nothing but a Paw Patrol costume. Everyone has a gift to give, good things are there for the asking, and the barriers between us fall for a night.

This holiday is supposedly for kids, but don’t you believe it. Halloween is there to remind us grown-ups about generosity, and fun, and mystery, and joy.

Prayer

God, thank you for children, they help us grown-ups remember the joy of living.

Discussion Questions

How do your childhood experiences of Halloween compare to your experiences of Halloween as an adult? How have the meanings of various holidays changed for you over the years?

Do you notice a similar spirit of equity among trick-or-treaters—and a spirit of competition among adults—as the author describes?

How might the childhood fun of Halloween lead the way of “wolves and lambs” finding peace together?

About the Author: John Edgerton is Lead Pastor at First United Church of Oak Park, Illinois. This reflection was originally posted on the United Church of Christ’s website as a Daily Devotional from the Still Speaking Writers’ Group: https://www.ucc.org/daily-devotional/ and accessed on October 31, 2022. Used with permission.

Ponderings: Winter & Love

By Susan Wordal

In June, I found myself torn by my desire to get on with Spring and Summer, and by my feeling that the cold, rainy days of what can only be described as Winter hanging on by his fingernails is indicative of my present mood when it comes to the current state of the law and politics. Being a lawyer, I’ve always believed in the law. It is supposed to be able to objectively look at things and keep us from imploding, settling disputes between parties or factions without regard to who you like or who has the most money. But of late, it seems to be nothing more than another avenue for division and rancor, persuaded by those with “power”. The law, of late, is not being seen in its finest new suit nor is it demonstrating its ability to be objective and fair. But then, fair is often in the eye of the beholder.

Curiously, an event I participated in at the end of May helped a little with my outlook. The Etiquette Dinner for the Youth at Pilgrim on May 27th was a good reminder of what the promise of Spring and Summer hold. Fresh faces entered the Boyd Room not really knowing what to expect. They weren’t sure what this Adulting Class was all about and they clung to their siblings or friends as they waited to see what this “etiquette” thing was all about. Meanwhile, members of Pilgrim had created a lovely environment, with gracefully set tables and a display of elegant desserts with a Parisian backdrop and music playing in the background. We added to it when I set up a more formal table setting with fine china and glassware for them to see a different example of a table setting from the one they would use that night. I took the time to explain the various glasses, silver and plates arrayed for their examination.

The youth varied in age and experience, but they were far more attentive and polite than our “Lindy”, the guest invited to do whatever was the opposite of proper and appropriate. The guests assumed their seats and attempted to learn how to properly hold their tableware, keep their napkins on their laps (slippery little things kept sliding off some laps!), and hold conversations. Given that the tables were set in a row, and I was the lone adult to teach them etiquette, those at the tables on either side of me found it necessary to ask questions which might have been better to ask as an aside, but they did well in asking intelligent questions and looking for answers for what may have been, for them, a first in dining in a more formal way. Few elbows made an appearance on the tables, and they all sought permission to leave the table and they spoke kindly to the servers as they were asked questions such as “May I take your plate?”.

These new generations are a blessing. As we teach what we know, and learn from them, too, we see that Spring is eternal, both in nature and in society. They are a reminder that we can give information, but we teach as much from what we do and how we interact with them, as we do with any lecture. They remind us we get more by listening and asking questions and challenging assumptions than we do by telling someone “how it is” or taking the “my way or the highway” attitude to something. We worry about our children in this age of instant gratification through social media coupled with guns and intolerance. But they see more than we know and they respond to what they instinctively know is “right”. While intolerance and hate can breed the same, more often, it repels and children seek what they lack. They seek the light, and they seek understanding and they seek peace. They want tolerance and judgment restrained by love. We can give them that every day by demonstrating our ability to listen, our ability to reason and our ability to see both sides and reach consensus without doing damage to either side.

Praise be for the children and for that tolerance and judgment we exert in dealing with our fellow man with love and not hate, with empathy and not scorn, with forgiveness for unintended slights. May it help us to weather the storms which may come and create a new vibrancy and light for our path in this season of change. We say “goodbye” to Mr. Winter every year with the advent of Spring/Summer. And we then welcome Fall/Winter back when the heat of Summer has fried our tempers and our tolerance. Politics again raises its arms, but we have good people to support and faith that calmer heads may prevail. May this Winter find us ready to brave the elements until those storms have, once again, blown themselves out.

To Arrive With Cake

By Mary Luti

Discussion Questions

1. If you could do only one act of kindness in your life, what would it be?

2. Are there norms, laws, or customs you think are worth breaking in order to relieve suffering? Have you ever broken any?

3. Does hearing about the lives of the saints help you live your own Christian discipleship?

Bring me out of prison, that I may give thanks to your name. The righteous will surround me, for you deal bountifully with me. – Psalm 142:7 (NRSV)

Francis of Assisi died overnight, October 3, 1226, just as the brothers were reciting the last verse of Psalm 142. He didn’t go easily. I’ll spare you the medieval details; suffice it to say it was unrelieved agony.

Well, almost unrelieved. For as he lay dying, a dear friend arrived, a noblewoman named Jacoba Settesoli. Francis used to stay at her estate when he was in Rome. He got sick there once, and she made him an almond confection. He loved it.

Francis had written her a note advising her to hurry if she wanted to say goodbye: time was running out. And would she please bring him some of that almond cake? Legend says she was on the road before he’d even finished writing.

When she arrived, the brothers didn’t know what to do with her. Francis was notoriously strict about boundaries with women. They were afraid to open the door. But for Jacoba, Francis made exceptions. He declared her a brother, and they let her in.

She’d brought a shroud and some candles for his burial. And the pastry. Francis could manage only a crumb. No matter. She’d come. With cake. For one shimmering moment, everything was sweet.

And if you could do only one thing in your life, wouldn’t you want it to be this? To sense a suffering somewhere, and hurry there? To arrive with cake? And with a vast affection, pass through some forbidden door to sweeten even death?

Prayer

For the sweetness you lend even to death, we thank you, O Christ. And for the example of Blessed Jacoba. Wherever there is pain, may we too arrive with cake.

About the Author: Mary Luti is a long time seminary educator and pastor, author of Teresa of Avila’s Way and numerous articles, and founding member of The Daughters of Abraham, a national network of interfaith women’s book groups. This reflection was originally posted on the United Church of Christ’s website as a Daily Devotional on October 3, 2022 from the Still Speaking Writers’ Group: https://www.ucc.org/daily-devotional/ and accessed on October 10, 2022. Used with permission.

What Does/Should Meaningful Worship and Spiritual Life Look Like in 2022?

By Sarah Hollier, Member of UCC Pilgrim Congregational Church and on the Worship & Spiritual Life Committee.

As society changes, and our community experiences change here at Pilgrim, including a new pastor and the effects of Covid, the Worship & Spiritual Life Committee is charged with the challenge and opportunity of thoughtfully responding to the new reality. Our mission, as a committee, is to assist and support our pastor in ministering to the spiritual life of the congregation. What does that look like in 2022?

On the surface, it may look like, and does include covering the nuts and bolts of Sunday morning: Who will greet people and hand out bulletins? Who will read the Scripture and opening prayer and give the weekly announcements? Who will bring the bread and juice on Communion Sundays and who will serve Communion? Who will make sure there is oil in the lamps and enough bulletins? Who will straighten the chairs in the sanctuary and coordinate the microphones for the musicians?

These behind the scene details are important, and make Sunday morning worship happen, along with Pastor Laura's leadership and sermons, and the efforts of Amy Leach's wonderful music and her recruitment of an astonishing array of gifted musicians who add so much to our worship services.

But the real heart of the committee's work is to support Pastor Laura in providing meaningful worship and spiritual support to the congregation and to offer a warm invitation to those who aren't yet here. This can't happen on automatic pilot. We can't just keep on keeping on, doing what past iterations of this committee have faithfully done for years. We need to figure out what meaningful worship is these days. Be assured, our core values have not changed, but the way we go about things today must meet today's needs and reality.

If you look around on a Sunday morning, you will notice that there are many generations in the room. The days of sending school-age children out of the room for Sunday School may be over. That is not necessarily a tragedy. But that is just the beginning of the challenge. In the room are committed Pilgrims who have been coming here for decades and like what is happening. There are Pilgrims who are not sure about things being a bit, or a lot different, and are questioning whether they still feel at home here. And there are new faces, seeking a community where they can find relevant meaning and connection in a world that is often overwhelming and disturbing. We can no longer take for granted that everyone here knows the vocabulary, the traditional prayers. It's important that we build in explanations, bridges to explain our rites and rituals. And that we don't just do things because we've always done them, without knowing why.

And then there are those who are not in the room. The people at home, tuning in online because they are out of town or have compromised health and can't be here in person. And people who are lurking online, seeking something, maybe taking a peek at our website or Sunday morning worship.

It's a tall order to meaningfully meet this wide span of needs. We've discussed, for example, why it makes sense to continue online worship – that it is not just a stop-gap temporary solution to the safety problem Covid originally caused, but an essential outreach tool. And further, how can we make online worship more meaningful so that those watching at home or later in the week feel genuinely included in the community?

If any of this makes sense to you and you feel moved to join us in our efforts to tackle these challenges, we would welcome your presence and input. As Susan Reisch eloquently said of the Social Justice Committee last Sunday, we can't do this alone, and we should not. We are a very small committee at present – Pastor Laura, Rusty Swingle, Terry Deal, Jim Cole and myself. We rejoice in the work of the AltarScapes team led by Valerie Cox and Colleen Brester, who will talk more about their work on a future Sunday. The beautiful Altarscapes they have created have added a rich visual dimension to worship, especially for those online, following the liturgical colors around the calendar.

Please talk to one of us if you would like to join our committee or have feedback or input about any of the above. And meanwhile, please consider signing up to be a greeter or a liturgist (one who reads the scripture and prayers on Sunday morning). We will support you and I know from experience that you will feel more connected by doing so.

Two Blessings for the Feast Day of St. Francis of Assisi

By Rev. Laura Folkwein

Blessing One:

Over the past week, a number of my clergy friends online have been sharing sweet and funny posts about Blessing of the Animals in connection to the Feast Day of St. Francis (officially, October 4th). I saw happy dogs in the pews in church, scared guinea pigs on church lawns, more dogs of every variety, and a few cats—some happier than others, of course. I suspect that these dear creatures who live with so many of us know inherently that they are blessed as creations of God. They don’t need us to give them any special blessings. These fun (and unpredictable!) blessings of the animals are for us, their human companions and guardians more than for them. I do hope every furry, scaled or feathered one who got toted to church also received plenty of treats and scritches when they got home.

May the animals in our lives continue to bless all of us who delight in their company in our homes and outside our windows, on the trails, and even via silly cat videos online.

Blessing the animals in the fall (in the northern hemisphere) on the Feast Day of St. Francis can also alert us to the needs of many creatures for extra care during the coming frigid winter months, especially as we continue to expand human habitats and coexist (?) with the critters who were here before most of us.

Blessings to all the humans who negotiate those tricky relationships between people and wild animals, those who track and grieve creatures on the endangered species lists, those with curiosity and skill for biological research, and the ones who are trained in wildlife management and veterinary medicine.

Blessings to the ones who make warm enclosures for feral cats to winter in (and get them to spay/neuter clinics in warmer months), deliver stray dogs back home or to the animal shelter, feed the birds, leave the comfort of warm beds in early mornings to water domestic sheep, goats, horses and cattle, and to those who delight in migrating Canadian geese and the ever-present neighborhood deer and bunnies.

Blessing Two:

If you would like to celebrate St. Francis himself a little further, I commend the following blog post to you from one of my favorite spiritual homes on the internet, The Abbey of the Arts. Christine Valters Paintner and a cadre of modern contemplatives and dancing monks (really!) guide a global community in Celtic spirituality, creative expression and contemplative spiritual practice in a truly ecumenical spirit.

The following blessing poem was posted to Abbey of the Arts from Christine’s forthcoming book, Love Holds You: Poems and Devotions for Times of Uncertainty (to be published by Paraclete Press in spring 2023). It is shared with permission.

See the post and the beautiful accompanying artwork in its original habitat, here: https://abbeyofthearts.com/blog/2022/10/04/blessing-on-the-feast-of-francis-of-assisi/#

Caterpillar

By Dilynn Wise

There are so many things that go through changes. The butterfly begins as an egg, then pops out as an itty-bitty little caterpillar. Then eats and eats and eats, until it is ready to create its cocoon or more accurately the chrysalis. The caterpillar then proceeds to break its body down completely into goo, and somehow builds a new body. A new body in a totally different shape and design than before. When this stage is complete it forces its way out of the chrysalis and is now a beautiful butterfly. Today I read, for probably the 30th time, “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” by Eric Carle, and the students who listened to this story have heard it before. But they were still enthralled and curious about how the caterpillar could eat so much food? And how did the caterpillar turn into a butterfly in two weeks?

The cycle of the Caterpillar, who was still very hungry, can have different meanings at various stages of the story. Every day the Caterpillar has different things to eat, and each day the number of food items increases. Like the Caterpillar, every day we should try new things; but does the number really affect the outcome? The question becomes quality versus quantity. On Saturday, the Caterpillar eats so much “junk food” that he gets a stomach ache. When there are things done to excess, when there are too many things in our lives that weigh us down physically and emotionally, the result is equivalent to a stomach ache. On Sunday, the Caterpillar simply has a nice green leaf, because this is what suits him best, making the Caterpillar feel much better. When we do things that make us happy, we feel better, too.

Now the Caterpillar is much larger than he used to be, and is ready to transform into the next stage of his life. Are you ready? Do you know when it is time to create a chrysalis and melt all of who you are into a puddle of goo? Can you start with just goo, to start from scratch? Not many have the strength to so this, the fear of failing can seem too much. This is when the questions bombard our minds.

But the Caterpillar is not afraid, he knows that this is the next phase. The phase that will change the landscape, and allow it to see what was meant to be from the beginning. Those beautiful wings that were made from goo are admired by so many. All of these stages and phases of a caterpillar’s life had a purpose and could be interpreted in many ways. To change is to believe in who you are meant to be and fly like a beautiful butterfly.

Ponderings: “What’s the Deal with the Comma?”

By Susan Wordal

Some of us are old enough to remember a great comedy team, husband and wife George Burns and Gracie Allen. If you don’t remember them, try looking them up on Google. He was a child of immigrants and people knew him because of his huge smile, his eyebrows and the ever-present cigar in his hand. Gracie was just that, grace personified, but she was good at acting like the naïve, slightly bubble-headed wife. George was known for closing out their performance each night with the line, “Say good-night Gracie.” Supposedly, she replied, “Good night.”, but I’m not really sure that’s not a little Hollywood myth. She died in 1964, but was known for her “Gracie-isms”, but what could you expect from a woman who ran for President on the Surprise Party ticket? George went on to entertain millions with his act and in movies, such as “Oh God”, and died just after he turned 100 in 1996. What a life!

Years ago, the UCC decided to use the line: “Don’t put a period where God has put a comma.” When they first adopted this for their advertising campaign, people wanted to know who said it. Turns out it’s one of those Gracie-isms. Wonder when Gracie Allen went to seminary? Because that line is perfect.

The advertising campaign was controversial and the 4 major networks didn’t want to run the ad which had a traditional family sitting in a traditional church in a traditional pew. Near them is a woman with a crying baby. Cue the irritated glare from traditional family. Then, they push the “Eject” button and the woman and baby are gone. The “Eject” button continues to be pushed, expelling from the church the poor person, the gay couple, and a Middle Eastern-looking man. The end of the commercial was the voiceover: “God doesn’t reject people. Neither do we.”

As people began to use the slogan about not putting a period where God has put a comma, it evolved. The Comma became the symbol and the words were rearranged to “God is still Speaking”. Shorter, but the message is still the same. Just because the Bible is a book which has been in existence for thousands of years doesn’t mean God is done talking. That’s fortunate, since I can’t imagine that book is the be all and end all of what God had to tell us.

There used to be a bumper sticker (don’t you just love bumper stickers?) which said “The Bible says it. I believe it, That settles it.” Now really, is that any way to talk to another person and convince them of something? It’s a little like the statement, “Because I said so, that’s why.” Like any argument has ever been won with those words!

As someone with a degree in English Literature, I had to read my share of Jane Austen, Emily Bronte, Charlotte Bronte, Henry James, etc. It sometimes gives me the willies to read about characters calling for a Doctor and realizing these people were trained to heal using leaches or blood letting as a cure for what ails you. Or the people who believed if you became ill it was because you had sinned and God was punishing you. But living in that time, that’s what they knew. That was what people taught in school and preached from the pulpit.

But if you look over the course of the last 20 centuries, you can see these little bursts of discovery. People like Galileo, Leonardo da Vinci, Isaac Newton, Benjamin Franklin, Charles Messier, Florence Nightingale, Michael Faraday, Christian Doppler, Charles Darwin, Louis Pasteur, Marie Curie, Albert Einstein, Alexander Fleming. And those bursts are becoming more and more frequent. These individuals were born with a curiosity, or a drive, or some innate instinct to look at the world differently, to question preconceived notions, and push those envelopes between what we “know” and what is possible. If we didn’t believe God was still trying to tell us something, to get us to open our eyes and see what is possible, then many of the things the scientists and inventors and chemists and astronomers of history brought to us might have remained hidden from us, and we would have been the poorer for those lost gifts.

So, when you see a comma, consider that maybe, just maybe, you are being invited to unwrap a new gift from God. Or, maybe you are being invited to open to a new experience or a new connection. You never know where that experience or connection might lead.

You were saying, God….?

God Does God’s Work

By Mindy Misener

Recently I attended an Ecclesiastical Council for the Northern Wyoming–Montana UCC Conference. “Ecclesiastical Council” is a fancy name for a meeting in which pastors and lay delegates from churches across the conference gather to examine a candidate for ordination. After a presentation by the candidate and thorough questioning by the assembled delegates, a vote is taken to either ordain or decline to ordain the candidate.

(If this sounds like a powerful and compelling process to you—and it is!—then you could consider attending the next one, either as a voting delegate (which you can be if you are a member of Pilgrim) or as a non-voting participant.)

I found the meeting an uplifting and encouraging experience. This was in part because of the gravity and stakes in the situation—the candidate had been preparing herself for this examination for years—but also in part because of her thoughtfulness and honesty.

One delegate asked what she should say to a friend who couldn’t accept her faith—who thought it was all foolish and wrong. The candidate offered a few ideas for educating the friend on what does and doesn’t truly represent Christian faith, but then concluded by saying—and I’m paraphrasing here—“It’s possible nothing you say will ever convince them. Just love and enjoy them.”

In some ways it’s a dissatisfying response—for me it is, anyway, because part of me likes to think that if I can just find the right words, I can share my faith experience in a way that, even if it doesn’t sway anyone theologically, can at least convince them that there is something legitimate in what I believe. Or that I’m aiming in the right direction, even if I haven’t found the target.

But the response the candidate gave is also completely, entirely right. The truth is that my desire to convince anyone of the legitimacy of my faith is virtually always rooted in pride. I don’t want to be seen as foolish or naive. I don’t want to be judged—except, that is, as a respectable and good person who is on the right path!

“Love and enjoy them” is not an earth-shattering idea, but taken seriously it sure could shatter a lot of my habits of thinking, especially when I feel judged—or, more likely, simply perceive myself as being judged. “Love and enjoy them” means let go. Contrary to the roar of mass and social media, life is not actually designed to be about scoring points or winning arguments or pointing out everyone else’s hypocrisy. It is about seeking and experiencing love—exposing ourselves to love, you could say, so that it can change us: humble us, uplift us, and hold us. May we all speak and act from this place of quiet confidence and trust.

Homing in on the Travel Bug

By Carolyn Pinet

I sit outside Pilgrim this Sunday:

to my left a traveling man has arrived

from St. Louis,

and behind me a lovely, willowy girl

has just spied a ladybug in my hair

and alerts me - to what? -

something I haven't seen,

but a tiny, finely decorated creature

is making her way up a strand of my hair and

headed for some place I can't imagine.

The tall girl tells me she's soon

on her way to London, then Amsterdam,

then who knows where.

I can see how ready she is for her

global tour -

whereas I'm wondering about mine which,

confined in a smallish world with

Alice in a rabbit-hole,

seems to have shrunk.

Still, I'm transfixed by the ladybug

who, apparently,

is less bothered about her destination than

she is enthralled by her immediate surroundings -

my tresses,

they are taking on new possibilities

in this gold summer glow - look,

here she is, entirely immersed in her

novel and bracing Sunday morning pilgrimage...

With thanks to Pastor Laura's Awakened Traveler

Pilgrim CC, August 7, 2022

Touched By an Angel?

By Bruce Smith

In keeping with Rev. Laura’s August travel theme, I decided to share a travel experience that left an indelible impression on me. As Jeanne described a couple weeks ago, one of our early overseas experiences was in Goma, a part of Congo that had been devastated by conflict overflowing from the Rwanda genocide. While quiet at the time we were there, life was a struggle. We repeatedly heard, “Life is hard,” from our contacts. The poverty, barrenness and poor housing gave every indication of life being a struggle.

My experience occurred on our final day in Goma where we were helping to build an orphanage. I’m not the greatest kid guy and, despite working on an orphanage with a flock of kids around us, I spent more time on the work site than with the kids. Yes, I played a little ball with them (and saw a couple with great athletic potential) but my wife and a couple others had the touch with the kids. Most of my time was spent with the workers helping them and attempting to develop relationships despite the imposing language barriers. In fact, on our last day I was saying farewell to some of those workers and, specifically, stumbling through a French conversation with the project manager. Then something special happened.

Suddenly there was a little hand nestled in mine. I looked down to see a dirty little waif of a girl smiling up at me. I smiled back and finished my conversation, smiled at her again and began to move away to say goodbye to some others. But, clutching my hand, she moved with me. For the rest of our limited time, she was my constant companion. It was as if I had gained a daughter out of nowhere. There was something indescribably right about our being together. We walked all around the site and were together until it was time for me to get into the van for our trip home. Suddenly, leaving became immensely more poignant that expected. My eyes were wet with tears as I watched her from the rear window.

During our ten days on site with innumerable children in and out no one had seen this girl before. We were told later that they thought her home was nearby. Details were uncertain. I continue to wonder whether she was just a little neighborhood girl or something more.

Back in the States I did my best to express the feelings growing out of the encounter in a poem that I share with you here.

The Little Goma Girl

In the midst of heartfelt good-byes

A small hand slipped into mine.

A little hooded figure in dirty clothes

Skinny with braided hair

She diligently held onto this surprised pale man’s hand.

For moments beyond time

We walked the grounds as if bonded

Large hand and little hand linked in sudden trust

As if always

A photo and we parted to our different worlds

But I wonder now

Was she only a lonely child or had I held an angel’s hand?

Jesus' Packing Instructions

Reflection by Martin B. Copenhaver

“Do not take gold, or silver, or copper in your belts, no bag for your journey, nor two tunics, nor sandals, nor a staff, for the laborer deserves his food.” Excerpt from Matthew 10:5-15

People have different philosophies of packing.

Some like to travel light. They take a bare minimum of items with them. They count the number of days they will be away and bring just that number of pairs of socks—no more, no less.

Others have an “in case” attitude toward packing. They might pack a raincoat, a down parka, and a bathing suit just “in case” the weather changes.

Clearly, Jesus is in the former category. In fact, he is the ultimate light packer. When sending his disciples on their first journey without him, he gave very explicit packing instructions: Don’t take any money, or a change of clothes. In fact, leave your suitcase home. Don’t take anything but the shirt on your back.

Talk about traveling light! What is Jesus up to here?

Perhaps Jesus gives this advice so his disciples will learn trust. It is Jesus’ way of encouraging them to engage with the people they meet. After all, when you don’t have enough to go on, you have to turn to those around you.

But there is another possible explanation. The items Jesus tells his disciples to leave behind are just the kinds of things that worshipers were told to leave outside the temple before they entered. People were to divest themselves of these things before stepping on holy ground.

So when Jesus tells his disciples to travel light, he is encouraging them to approach the whole world as if it is holy ground, a place where you can expect to encounter God.

What would it mean for you to enter your day in this way?

_____________________

About the Author: Martin B. Copenhaver is Senior Pastor, Wellesley Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, Wellesley, Massachusetts. This reflection was originally posted on the United Church of Christ’s website as a Daily Devotional from the StillSpeaking Writers’ Group: https://www.ucc.org/daily-devotional/ and accessed on August 30, 2022. Used with permission.

Powerful Politeness

By Kerry Williams

Last week at the Library we had a staff training on civility. One might think we were being taught how to be polite to customers, or how to deal with people who were less than polite to us. But what the time together brought was insight into why we sometimes feel irritated, slighted, and powerless without understanding where those feelings come from.

Now, if you know me, you know I am a podcast junky. I try to rein it in, but the truth is that I will wash a clean dish multiple times just to continue listening. So when this training started with homework to hit play on the Hidden Brain podcast, I was all in. They recently aired an episode called “How Rude!” (you can find it at https://hiddenbrain.org/podcast/how-rude/) which looked at what civility, and the lack of it, does to our outlook.

We are living in an age where it’s easy to find examples of downright hostility online, between people who are complete strangers, and that’s been bleeding into in-person interactions as well. But sometimes it’s the subtle things that get under our skin in ways we can’t put our finger on. It turns out that being around people who are rude or disrespectful, even in a situation that doesn’t involve us, puts us on the defensive. Just witnessing someone else being cut off in traffic has a deep effect on us. Not only do we sense that we need to be alert in order to avoid the same fate, we are also hit with the sinking feeling that the world isn’t the safe and friendly place we assumed it was. That can leave us feeling insecure, and when we are unsure of ourselves, we can lash out.

The good news is that the opposite is true when it comes to positive interactions. Living in Bozeman has been such a wonderful haven, where people smile and greet each other on the street. And this truly helps! The small gestures of connection matter, and can balance difficult encounters. Of course, we’re not immune to less-than-friendly behavior, and as our community grows there are more chances to run into someone who doesn’t value neighborly social interaction to the same degree we are used to. In fact, when I first moved here from the east coast I needed to adjust my expectations of what polite behavior looked like. Avoiding eye contact so as to not make strangers uncomfortable was a polite thing to do where I grew up. Chatting with someone you didn’t know caused suspicion and made people feel wary. I still sometimes forget to just jump in and start talking to people I haven’t been formally introduced to yet. But I’ve really come to appreciate how far little gestures go in raising the overall good vibes of this place we call home, and it was so wonderful to listen to this podcast which validated that with research.

Knowing that we don’t have to solve all the big problems of this world to make a difference to others is so uplifting. It’s one of the reasons that church is more important than ever - coming together with folks who will be glad that you showed up is about the most human thing we can do, and the opportunities to experience that feeling are becoming rarer. As the world moves faster and finds new ways to interact via technology, we can remember how much it matters to simply be together. Next time you share a smile or a friendly word, know that it matters. And though being polite is more than just “please” and “thank you,” thank you for every time you do!

Listening to the Still Small Voice

By Sarah Hollier

I was confounded. After years of teaching, preaching, developing a thriving youth program for tweens and teens, leading mission trips, retreats, creating a children's worship service, matching and mentoring elders as friends to Confirmation class member, I was on track for the next step. After a thorough process of discernment, my faith community in northern Vermont had blessed the call I couldn't resist and I had been accepted at Drew University in New Jersey to pursue a Masters in Divinity, en route to becoming an ordained minister.

Summer was waning and the forms for confirming my acceptance and applying for family housing on campus lay before me on my desk. Yet, to my dismay, something held me back. Why, God, after all this time and process, was I hesitating? Each time I sang the hymn asking “Who will bear my light to them? Whom will I send?” my heart overflowed, certain I had heard God calling in the night and was ready to go, if God would lead me. I would hold God's people in my heart. (Even though the refrain grated against my English major's sensibilities, obstinately causing me to want to sing “Is it me, Lord?” rather than the rhyming “Is it I, Lord?)

I was tired. Recently my children, eleven and five, had caught me napping at stoplights. “Go, Mama, the light is green!!” But that was nothing new. God would provide the energy I would need to tackle grad school, find a good cello teacher for my son, help my children adjust, right?

I abandoned my desk to check in on my sleeping children. In the moonlight, I gazed at each of their beautiful faces. Even my brave, trusting children were on board for this challenge, supporting my decision to uproot them from the only home they'd known. We'd been through a lot, the three of us. My youngest brother, their beloved uncle, had died the previous summer, the same summer their father had left us. But they trusted me and they trusted God.

As I looked at my children's dear faces at rest, I sought God's guidance. And a startling, unlooked for answer came from – where? From within? From God? What was the difference? The answer was clear and unequivocal, though mysterious: “Rest, my child.”

Rest? What in the world? Where was time for rest when the world was so broken and people everywhere suffered? Wasn't that self-indulgent?

For months, my children and I had visited seminaries, a member of my youth group coming along to play with my kids while I interviewed. We'd made it an adventure and I'd solicited my kids' input; this big decision would affect them, too, after all. Meredith, my five-year-old, rated seminaries largely by the quality of their cafeterias and the climbability of the trees on campus. “I like the milk machine at that cemetery, Mama, but all the tree branches are too scratchy.”

“Seminary, not cemetery, Meredith!” her big brother would repeatedly correct. “Mama's going to study, not die!” Yet she persisted in her malapropism, to his annoyance.

In the moonlight, I wrestled, my love for these two young beings, abandoned by one parent already, set against my calling. Sunday mornings I carried a clipboard and pen to worship, armed for the assault of demands from the congregation. How many times had I looked down to see my daughter trying to get my attention in the middle of the fray?

The words came to me again, “Rest, my child.” And I felt a deep peace, knowing finally that there were many ways to answer the call to follow God, and that right now my responsibility to my children did not jive with moving to New Jersey and pursuing ordained ministry. The peace I felt in this knowledge was definitive and affirming. My exhausted body and spirit clung to that imperative word: rest. I did not quite understand it but I had learned to pay attention to the still small voice.

The next morning I withdrew my place at Drew for the fall. In spite of others' reactions, I never wavered in my decision. And I set about reordering our family life, drawing saner boundaries, including rest and recreation for myself and with my children. I started climbing mountains again. At the top of a high peak in the nearby Adirondacks, I looked out at the surrounding territory and felt a nearly forgotten desire to climb every mountain I could see.

That evening in the shower, I found two lumps in my right breast. Lumps that had been there for months, maybe years, while I failed to tune into my body and its needs. Lumps that may easily have continued to be overlooked had I failed to listen and had embarked on the path of single parenting in a new community while pursuing a rigorous graduate program. My wise little daughter had intuited something. In the following months of surgeries, chemotherapy and radiation, I knew that listening to the still small voice in spite of logic and other voices, had for now kept me out of the cemetery.

Easter in July

 A Poem By Carolyn Pinet

                              "I needed an angel

                                and she came..."  sung by Shaun Phoenix

            "Pack all your troubles

             in your old kit-bag..."

                  ...just like Noah did when he

                  herded all those creatures

                  into a very small space

                  and took off

                  over troubled waters.

                  In church this morning

                  my granddaughter, Mimi,

                  colors her ark and the creatures

                  - or more accurately

                  she scrapes the picture

                  with her nail and they flare up

                  in pink, purple, turquoise, yellow,

                  all neon lit -

                  while Pastor Laura brings up "resurrection"

                  on today, the last day of July,

                  rather apologetically,

                  but she's right on course:

                  along with Noah, we need to resurrect

                  the way a rainbowed current may buoy us up,

                  and we need to carry with us

                  all that we hold sacred,

                  hoping to retrieve and save

                  what promises us on the horizon,

                  not a mirage,

                  but a bird, flying and dipping over water,

                  inviting us to follow along...

                 "...and smile, smile, smile."

                "Pack all your troubles in your old kit-bag,

                 and smile, smile, smile.

Cockney music hall and pub marching song, 1915 World War One

 Pilgrim CC, July 31, 2022

Reflecting on Reflecting

By Wendy Morical

I have just returned from a wedding celebration in the redwoods of Northern California. Being with my brother and sister and their families to celebrate the first wedding of our children’s generation was – as many of you have experienced – a loving, life-affirming occasion. With my blog due on Monday, I mused about how to try and capture the joy of familial acceptance, connecting with the Good Enough theme from the book study last winter.

Walking in the redwood forest near the venue was a spectacular experience. The small number of people I was with found our voices automatically dropping to a hush as the forest drew us in. Contemplating time, nature and my smallness sparked an interest in trying to glean some shareable thoughts on divinity at work in all places. Some of my fellow Pilgrim bloggers have tackled this topic admirably in earlier posts: God is so present in nature.

Of course, travel to a remote location like Humboldt County takes a great effort and much time was spent in airports. As reported in the news, air travel is pushed to its capacity these days. We have never seen the airport in Denver so clotted with people. Every food outlet had long lines. The grumpy travelers waiting for alternative flights created the longest, most impatient line of all. This stressful and chaotic location offered me an option to practice a loving-kindness meditation, learned at Pilgrim from a wise teacher. I regarded each person near me and said, internally, “May you be safe,” “May you be joyful,” “May you find peace,” extending silent wishes of loving kindness. The effect of this practice on your own sense of well-being is transformative. I contemplated sharing this experience with you, the Pilgrim blog readers.

One of the books I took to read during the airport waiting time was from Jessie Nelson’s collection. Her life of learning and reflecting inspires me to make more time for contemplation. She left so many books for us to read and pass on! I had chosen one that I felt could inspire my blogging and took energy from her prior ownership – and her markings in the book. My notes for a future post have joined hers.

When our blog was proposed in the Covid days, I assumed it would be turned over to a “real” spiritual leader when we had emerged from the dark times. Instead, it has grown to include even more voices from our congregation. Like me, the writers are all making time to reflect on life events or thoughts, then trying to translate them for others’ benefit. This is powerful. Knowing that I am called upon to write deepens my awareness of beauty in my life. Reading others’ words draws us closer together.

When we become members of this church family, we pledge to support one another on our individual faith journeys. Many thanks to those whose words in this forum have helped me to understand your faithful lives and think in new ways.

Many thanks to you for reading my words and caring about my life’s journey.

Busy, Busy, Busy

By Dilynn Wise

            There seem to be too many things to do and not enough time to get them all done. The question of ‘if you have a moment’ or ‘do you have time to…?’ are at the tips of people’s tongues and they require a quick response. Most of the time the answer will, begrudgingly, be a ‘yes’, or ‘of course!’ This is all in the hopes that it won’t take very long to help, or listen, so we can return to the task to be completed. Those interruptions all add up and the never-ending to-do list and other things that we have to accomplish that day are never completely crossed off or finished. We tell ourselves that we will finish it tomorrow. But tomorrow always comes sooner than we would like. The clutter of that to-do list accumulates. The need for a break becomes a voice in your head that increases in volume every passing day, week, month. 

              Those breaks are important to take and that voice a wise teacher. Not only for our physical needs, but the mental, emotional, and spiritual needs as well. I do hope that everyone can find the time and space to relax and unwind. To take a chance to declutter your brain of all the things you HAVE to do. These could be small or big actions. Such as reading a book and getting utterly lost in the pages of the story, watching your favorite movie or a new one. Immersing yourself into an activity that clears your mind like running, swimming, yoga or meditation. A break could be bigger, like taking a few days to go somewhere either alone or with others. Taking a small trip away from the to-do list and errands can free more than just your mind, it can renew, inspire and educate yourself about who you are and what is really important to you. 

             Maybe, after a shift in perspective, tasks are more manageable, and that overwhelming feeling of being busy all the time disappears for a longer period of time. Time is always moving forward. How we use it is what matters. There is always tomorrow to satisfyingly cross something off the list. It will get done eventually, don’t worry. Keep going.