Spring Flamenco

By Carolyn Pinet

I've just realized

                    that this year

                    Ash Wednesday and

                    Valentine's Day,

                    hanging together in suspense,

                    are about to collide.

                    Some of us will wander about

                    with smoke streaked foreheads,

                    others, titillated by Eros

                    and the rash promises of spring,

                    will fall in love -

                    or perhaps a few of us

                    will do both,

                    confused by the rapidly

                    changing climate,

                    the ricocheting seasons.

                    And I have to ask,

                    "Could untended hearts

                    grow ashy and static?"

                    But no, I'm starting to imagine

                    an unprecedented volcanic eruption,

                    an outpouring of Vesuvius

                    with all the gods in a circle,

                    while the whole sky lights up

                    and people everywhere,

                    held in loving embrace,

                    dance and dance. 

Such Great Lengths

By Vicki Kemper

Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in the flame of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. Then Moses said, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight and see why the bush is not burned up.” - Exodus 3:1-3 (NRSV, adapted)

Chances are you know this story: How God called Moses from a burning bush. How God told Moses to take off his shoes because he was standing on holy ground. How Moses resisted God’s call to deliver the ancient Israelites from slavery in Egypt.

Now consider what the story doesn’t say: How long God had been trying to get Moses’ attention.

In the birth of his child, maybe. Through his feelings of guilt and regret. In the satisfaction he felt rescuing a lost lamb. In how alone and lost he felt, despite years with his wife’s family. In the stark beauty of the wilderness.

Note that God didn’t stop trying to get through. Instead, God went to great lengths, finally resorting to setting a bush on fire.

Notice also that Moses hadn’t gone on retreat to listen for a holy word; he was simply going about his normal business.

Take a moment to consider how many blessings you have missed because you didn’t take them seriously. Wonder how many angels you haven’t met because you were too busy to turn aside.

Consider that you, too, are standing on holy ground, and that God has a word for you.

Prayer: To all the ways you continue to reach out to me, open my heart and focus my attention.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Vicki Kemper is the Pastor of First Congregational, UCC, of Amherst, 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 January 4, 2024. Used with permission.

Making Connections

By Bruce Smith

He said he was a collegiate ski jumper. Suddenly here was a whole new side to this quiet, helpful fellow church-goer I’d known for years. I’m still adjusting to the revelation. I guess it’s always a little challenge to imagine us septuagenarians as what we were in younger days! That revelatory interchange prompted a couple thoughts to share this week.

The first is the reward of taking the time to really get to know others. This, of course, requires that we really listen and even be willing to share ourselves. With the ski jumper, it was working together and chatting that I learned a bit about the sport and was able to share my amazement and appreciation. Times when we work together and have fun together are great opportunities to do this. I can personally say that during my travel and sales career trying to do this has been a pleasure, enlightening and enriching. I never would have imagined some of the personal stories that others have shared with a little prompting! And I’m happy to say that at Pilgrim our after-church conversations are like none I’ve ever seen in other churches. So many times, coffee hour in other churches consisted of nods, a few nice, appropriate comments without really touching people’s real lives. This is a strength on which I hope we can build to welcome and get to really know newcomers and others with whom we’re not familiar. I promise you’ll discover stories that will make you smile.

The second thought is inspired by a personal revelation years ago as I got to know some of the congregants in our previous church better. It turned out that people who seemed to have it all together and were such good Sunday folks had had their struggles, mistakes, and regrets along the way. The knowledge caused me to relate to them and to church life in a more meaningful way. The goodness of a church setting is that it’s a safe, caring place to share some of our trying experiences. The idea of sharing our challenges brought to mind a sermonette that our host on the Panama mission gave. He focused on the fact that we are all “gimped” in one way or ways. I guess you could use the phrase “flawed” but somehow “gimped” seemed more relatable. As we nodded in agreement, he discussed how as humans we all have made mistakes, been misunderstood, and probably done some things we regret. His point was that despite our “gimpiness,” we are forgiven and have an opportunity for a better life through faith and our fellow believers. Knowing that we are “gimped” also makes it easier and perhaps more compelling to be accepting and willing to help others. So, as we look around the sanctuary, we may find comfort in knowing that others, like us, have their share of “gimpiness” but that we are united in seeking to improve and, most importantly, that we find forgiveness and hope in our faith. And, as we interact, may we remember that we’re not perfect and be willing to accept that others aren’t too.

I’ll close with a quote from I Peter 3:8 “Finally, all of you, have unity of mind, sympathy, brotherly love, a tender heart, and a humble mind.” Here’s to an almost New Year with its possibility of learning and understanding more about each other while showing true brotherly (and sisterly) love.

Weather Turning/Year Turning

By Carolyn Pinet

 This world turns again:
the wind gets up
and the skies darken.

An hour ago, we welcomed the sun,
the stillness before a new day, but
now, abrupt, snow slithers from the maple,

thin twigs splay like a conductor' fingers,
the music we thought we knew
stutters, changes key.

My chimney roars, hollow with meaning,
something, or someone, calls out in the blizzard,
voices are mangled, jangle in our ears.

This day I venture into words.
They blow about, elusive,
fleeing capture.

But when the wind riles up
and all things darken,
I seek what is still and pray for the light.

Paying Attention

By Wendy Morical

Little boy on train: Mama?

His mum: Yes?

Little boy: I never see you brush your hair.

His mum: I do a lot of things you don’t see.

(Pause)

Little boy: Like flying?

This precious exchange is an overheard snippet of conversation jotted down by Miranda Keeling, shared initially via her Instagram (@MirandaKeeling) but included in her small book, The Year I Stopped to Notice. This book compiles some of Miranda Keeling’s “small moments” – details she spots that make ordinary life seem extraordinary to her. She describes herself as “captivated by the ordinary” and has made a name sharing small, small observations via Instagram, podcast, and her book. They aren’t striking, life-changing events, but simply normal moments of people going about their people-ness that have captured Keeling’s attention.

Here's another example: “A lady pretends she isn't reading the book of a man beside her on the bus, who pretends he isn't holding it so it's easier for her to do so.”

We find what we look for. The practice of looking for small moments of joy and delight, as Keeling has done, is a discipline. Many of her quoted conversational tidbits are children’s voices, as children often model for us the close attention and willing sense of wonder that we’ve lost as we mature, grow jaded, become inured to delight. We can relearn how to pay attention.

Therapist and author Mary Pipher describes a friend who looks for evidence of love wherever she goes: “If she sees a couple holding hands while they wait for a bus, or a silver-haired lady carrying an ice-cream cone into a hospital, … she feels a ping of pleasure at further evidence of love in the universe.” I have been inspired to make a practice of this as well.

Dreading a series of stops in downtown Bozeman last fall, I challenged myself to look for evidence of joy rather than focusing on the crowds of tourists, the expensive stores, and the hopeless search for parking. I even carried a little notebook in which I could jot down what evidence I found. This was a fun and gratifying way to focus on all the lovely things about Bozeman and its inhabitants: Well-tended planters blooming, happy dogs wagging, an old friend working at the bookstore… you get the idea. On many occasions since then, I have prompted myself, “Look for joy.”

 Pay attention. What you look for, you will find. Make a habit of looking for delight.

Anew?

By Carolyn Pinet

Seated outside the cafe,

I could try a crossword -

or a New Year poem -

or I could just sit here and cogitate

while Lucy the Beagle trawls for crumbs,

my fingers curl due to the nip in the air,

and a young guy, in a hurry, enters the cafe,

gives me a smile and nod and says, "hello."

Then another guy appears with a huge labradoodle

he ties up near me and leaves him anxiously waiting -

I try to reassure the dog with a few words

his master will come back and get him -

which, shortly, he actually does.

In fact, I'm the only one sitting here outside

this first day of January.

I almost didn't make it but then said to myself,

"Why not?"

Life is short, I'm pushing my eighth decade,

and my iffy car should just make it there."

The cafe closes at 2 pm and it's now 1:48,

yes, life is even shorter than I thought.

From a small basket inside the cafe I select

an intense square of Ghirardelli chocolate,

and throw a small piece to an inquisitive crow,

and I discover birds also adore dark and sweet.

It's now I take my first, irresistible bite.

Despite all, I surmise, I am blessed:

what could be better than this

brilliant moment

even as the clock ticks down to zero

and the crow flies off calling to me?

Happy New Year from Carolyn Pinet!

Cafe M, 2024

Ponderings: ‘We’ll take a cup of kindness yet’

By Susan Wordal

There are many traditions associated with the “New Year.” We make a list of resolutions, or things we want to accomplish. We make noise. We drink a toast. We give a gift. We exchange a kiss at midnight. We sing. But where might some of these lovely traditions have their origins? Out of curiosity, I went looking. It is amazing what information and disinformation you can find on the internet.

Our New Year’s Resolutions could be said to come from the Babylonians as early as 2600 B.C. as a way to reflect on what is past and plan ahead. Or, it could be part of a Jewish tradition when observing Rosh Hashana where one makes time for personal introspection and prayer, not to mention visiting the graves of those who have gone before. Expressions like “turning over a new leaf” are in keeping with this theme.

We make noise, whether it is shouting out “Happy New Year” or ringing bells or setting off firecrackers, as a part of the tradition in many cultures. The practice of setting off fireworks or even firing guns were thought to frighten off dark forces or demons. Some countries, like Denmark, used to throw plates or glasses against the front doors of others’ homes to banish bad spirits. Fire, not fireworks, can be seen as effective in banishing the bad things or seeking the light. In Ecuador they burn effigies, particularly of famous people, to destroy bad “juju” so people can start anew. It is likely that some of these traditions of fire and light are related to ushering in the light after the shortest day of the year. And the Yule log tradition supports this.

We drink a toast! Who hasn’t heard the pop of a cork on a champagne bottle at New Years? It’s considered a classic and classy beverage for a celebratory toast to the new year and new beginnings. Some places will use Wassail, which is a punch-like drink named for the Gaelic term meaning “good health” or “Wes hal” meaning “Be Whole”. (You will need baked apples, sugar, beer/ale, cinnamon, ginger, lemon and either sherry or sweet red wine for this drink.) Make sure someone is the designated driver and does not drink if you enjoy too much of this tradition!

Gifts are exchanged and enjoyed for many reasons, but before Christmas was designated as December 25th, the period beginning with December 21, the winter solstice, to January 1 was celebrated as Yule in the Scandinavian and Germanic traditions. The Yule season was marked by lights, fire, feasting and the exchange of gifts. Gifts of gilded nuts or coins marked the occasion in Rome. Eggs, a symbol of fertility in many cultures, were a common gift in Persia at the New Year. This makes some sense from the idea that the winter solstice marks the shortest day of the year an the re-emergence of light and fertility or rebirth. Egyptians traded earthenware flasks. This covered the toast and the gift. How efficient. Scotland saw exchanges of coal (warmth), shortbread (sweets) and silverware as a gift for good luck.

Kissing in the New Year. Ok, this one is more based on folklore about staying with your loved one or bringing in good luck. Also, strengthening the ties you wish to maintain. Some traditions go back to the Romans’ celebration of Saturnalia, which is based on a Roman god (Saturn) sometimes referred to as the “Lord of Misrule” (because the person to preside for the festivities was often from the lowest in the household and could engage in light-hearted mischief). And then there is a Viking festival called Hogmanay. (Which is also a Scottish and/or English tradition.) The tradition of Hogmanay is marked by bells (usually church bells) playing at midnight, which rings out the old and rings in the new. The kiss was a welcome to friends and strangers alike. This particular tradition (kissing at midnight) is likely based on folks finding any excuse to exchange a kiss, but might have something to do with believing that a kiss will ward off loneliness or will secure good luck if the person you kiss is the “right” person to bring such luck. A literary explanation supporting this theory may be found in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, (a 14th century Arthurian legend poem) which references a holiday game where the ladies who lose must give something to the men (who likely are happy to receive). While it is not specified the “something” is a kiss, one doesn’t need much prompting to get the idea.

And then there is the singing. We raise our voices in celebration, we sing quietly in grief, and just about everything in between. Wassail refers not only to drinking plentiful amounts of alcohol and enjoying oneself, but it also refers to what we call caroling. The most traditional song for the New Year is based on the Scottish poet Robert (Rabbie) Burns lyrics in 1788, although even the poet admitted the song had been around for years at that point. The director of the Robert Burns Birthplace Museum in Alloway, Scotland, David Hopes, has indicated Burns adapted an earlier version of the poem/song by Scottish poet Allan Ramsay. Many say Burns’ version is an improved version. “Auld Lang Syne” more or less literally means “old long since” or “times long past.” There are several stanzas to the poem, but most of us today know it and sing it as:

“Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot and auld lang syne

For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne,

We’ll take a cup o kindness yet, for auld lang syne.”

Other classic songs you might hear: “Happy New Year” by ABBA; “It’s Just Another New Year’s Eve” by Barry Manilow; “Happy New Year” by Judy Garland; “Happy New Year” by Nat “King” Cole; “Let’s Start the New Year Right” by Bing Crosby; “Funky New Year” by the Eagles; “Champagne & Wine” by Etta James; and “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve” by Ella Fitzgerald.

So, here’s hoping, as we bid good-bye to 2023 and usher in 2024, you have raised a glass to memories and our departed, shared a laugh and a tear for what has been, and have rung in the new, with all the possibilities to be revealed. May yours be a ‘Guid New Year.’

Five More Golden Rings

By Carolyn Pinet

One ring I still wear for my husband,

gone these twelve years,

yet hardly gone, he continues to linger,

and his smile encircles

my wedding finger.

Two wrestlers in the ring dodge and weave,

yes, two contorted and heaving,

who will carry the day?

But look, it's Noel, now they move

together and embrace a gentle stay.

Here comes number three,

a mystic number if ever I saw one:

three in one, gates fly apart,

angels toot in exaltation while we all sing.

The music rises and the skies ring.

Four peals and I pick up the house phone -

another mad ad? -

another unpaid bill?

But no, I hear a voice from across the miles, repeating.

I'm elated and heartened by a loving greeting.

I hear bells - in my ears or chiming aloft?

Are they sleigh bells, church bells

or cowbells in the field?

But listen, my doorbell rings with Yuletide cheer,

I fling my door wide open to welcome you all here.

"Ring out wild bells to the wild sky,"

five rings, five bells and Christmas is nigh!

Christmastide, 2023

View From the Online Balcony

By Suzanna Carmine

Some of you may have been wondering about this invisible other place you hear about at church…the “online balcony” as I like to call it. (Yes, I do know that choir-loft would sound more churchy, but believe me, if you could hear me singing you would KNOW I do not belong in the choir loft!!!)

Well, rest easy, I am here to tell you all about my experience worshipping in the online balcony! (Who am I, you ask? I am Suzanna! I am from Bozeman but live in Hamilton now.) The first and most important thing is that I NEVER “watch” church---I GO to church! I am worshipping right along with all of you who are there in person---and others in the online balcony too---fully present in heart and spirit, just not physically.

As soon as the newsletter comes out on Friday, I print the bulletin and mark the songs in my hymnal with ribbon markers. On Sunday morning I use a cable to connect the computer to my TV and for the next hour or so that corner of the room becomes the front of the church and I am right there with you! I have my bulletin and hymnal out and ready, and off we go! On Communion Sundays I light a candle and set out the chalice I was given for my Confirmation, along with a set of prepackaged elements (just like you have!).

As everyone is arriving there, I am here saying hi to everyone that I recognize. My most enthusiastic greeting is always for Mrs. Beasley---most of you know her as Donna. She was my 1st Grade teacher and hands-down my favorite teacher ever! After I’ve said hi to everyone and waved excitedly to Mrs. Beasley, I settle into my chair to listen to the prelude and prepare for worship.

And really, from there on, my experience is pretty much the same as yours…I laugh (sometimes cry), listen, pray, join in the responses, sing the hymns when I can and am learning to do the signs for the Doxology, right along with you! I am so immersed in being there that sometimes I am surprised when church is over and the weather outside my window doesn’t match!

So even though you can’t see me, know that I am there with you every week! Can’t wait to see you again this Sunday! I’ll be waving from the online balcony!!!

Annunciation

By: Bruce Smith

More years ago than I like to think, I lived in Italy for a year.  Despite my unornamented Calvinist upbringing I found myself having a special spot for the many portrayals of Mary.  Possibly one can’t avoid being overwhelmed by Madonna’s if you spend that much time in Italian museums!   In any case, I want to share one of my favorites with you this week.  Above you’ll find Leonardo Da Vinci’s version.  This Annunciation is a portrayal of Luke 1:26-38 where Mary is told of her role to become the mother of Jesus.  The rich colors, balance, charming flowers, perspective and in comparable execution, all speak to the powers of a master of the Renaissance.  The story it portrays seemed appropriate for this Advent season.

Gabriel is reassuring Mary who, considering she is seeing an angel, restrains her surprise remarkably well. When Mary recovers from the fear and astonishment produced by Gabriel’s sudden appearance, she is told that she has found favor with God.  Then the most unbelievable claim is made, that she will become the mother of the Son of the Most High, the successor to the throne of David.  We can only begin to imagine how overwhelming this must have been for a simple, young girl in a backwater of the all-powerful Roman Empire.  Her reaction, possibly borne of overawed incredulity, is charmingly logical, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?”  Reassured with yet another fantastic claim, she humbly responds with one of the great phrases of the Bible.  “I am the Lord’s servant. May it be to me as you have said.” 

Considering that all her plans were headed in quite a different direction, her willingness to accept this incredible assignment so humbly is striking.  How many of us would have had a few more questions and reservations?  Yet, perhaps the young Mary is teaching us something. If we, too, focus on being servants to the One, perhaps we’ll find unexpected fulfillment in our role.  Amid the rampant Christmas mercantilism, we may do well to keep this Advent story in mind while looking for ways in which we, like Mary. can be servants.  Our role may not be as world-changing as Mary’s but we probably won’t have to face any surprise angels either.

Rummaging Around - Again

By Carolyn Pinet

Here we all are,
another year gone,
and I'm getting a weird sense of deja vu:
reassuring, but at the same time
perhaps a bit disturbing.
When was it we passed an exercise contraption
standing in the hall-way,
all of $0,
begging someone, anyone, to own it,
cart it away,
and become miraculously rejuvenated
among the pulleys and moving parts?

It's not that we are in urgent need
of this stuff,
but walking around it all
is a kind of experiment
involving sudden urges,
unforeseen love-affairs,
or simply a recognition - Winnie-the-Pooh wise,-
that the thing over there is a useful doodah
to be placed in an equally useful pot.
Not so long ago my granddaughter discovered
two brightly colored balls with wild, stiff tassels,
that resembled large insects or small porcupines,
to be thrown into the air, then neatly retrieved.
Look, it's snowing again and not even Halloween!

There's nothing like retreating into the Women's Room
and clumsily attempting to try on this or that,
re-emerging with a smirk on one's face,
then deliciously locating a large bag into which
I cram newly acquired treasures -
all this without the uneasy self-scrutiny that would enquire,
"Do we really need this? and
"How do we justify all these unbridled impulses?"

But "That's it," I'm thinking as I emerge from the
church with a bulging bag of goodies,
"This is only a form of healthy exercise, virtuous, real -
we're having a naughty self-indulgent good time
and doing our planet earth a favor -
look how we are all recycling!"

Pilgrim CC October 27-28, 2023

Triggers

By Mary Luti

“And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. Be alert and always keep on praying for all.”- Ephesians 6:18 (NIV, abridged)

This scripture reminds me of Bill Holladay. He’s with the saints now, but when he was my seminary colleague, his office was on the top floor. He never took the elevator to get there. Loaded down with heavy tomes, on hot days when the AC was out, even when he was in a hurry, he took the stairs. Four flights.

Once we were talking about prayer. Intercession, to be exact. That man had a prayer list a mile long. People often ask me for prayers, but sometimes I forget. Not Bill. When he said he’d intercede for you, he interceded for you. Kept it all in his head, too. Never wrote anything down.

It amazed me that he remembered to pray for everyone and everything on that list, so I asked him how he managed it. He grinned, “The stairs.”

Up, down, and up again, to class, the dean’s office, the copy room, home for lunch and back: the stairs triggered his prayer, each tread a name, each riser a need. He always took the stairs, praying.

Like the dad I know who buckles his kids into child safety seats behind him every day, then schleps them off to school, to playdates, to their Gram’s. Whenever he comes to a stop at a signal light or sign, he casts a glance at them in the rearview mirror. “Into your hands,” he says to God. “Into your love.”

Prayer

I have a list a mile long, too, God. But sometimes I forget. On stairs, at stop signs, emptying the dishwasher, by any routine little thing, prompt me. Trigger my care.

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 from the StillSpeaking Writers’ Group: https://www.ucc.org/daily-devotional and accessed on September 20, 2023. Used with permission.

A Praying Season

By Carolyn Pinet

Shorter, darker days

bleed into each other,

spill fall

where everything dies,

openly lovely,

a red-gold canopy cascading down,

and we, who trample it,

also transform, become

other than we thought,

strange, in disguise,

trailing to the cemetery with offerings,

our lanterns lit.

The "trick or treat" is done,

it's serious now.

We slip envelopes into the box,

penances begging for mercy, atonement,

pleading for the masquerading monsters

to vanish into thin air.

On my door lover skeletons clack

in the high wind,

their pumpkin heads wither.

Wars rampage elsewhere and

mourners lament unbearable losses.

We light our candles,

strain to remember needed words,

wafting on the current with the tide

where stars illuminate a sailing

pilgrimage under a silver coined moon.

When we reach the ocean,

will it rise with the dolphins to greet us?

Will the saints burst into song?

November burns bright in

the bonfire on Parliament Square

and Guy goes up in smoke.

Again we burn, hope to rise from

the ashes, blow over the bridge and

into the same tidal river, the one

that wrinkles and flows,

gaining strength as it races down

to the wavering, waxing ocean.

Ah, may time hold us, rapt and singing,

in a restorative, shining sea.

Halloween, All Souls, Day of the Dead, All Saints, Guy

Fawkes, Election Day, October-November 2023

Miracles Great & Small

By Danielle Rogers

For the last three weeks Youth Group Fusion studied various miracles performed by Jesus. We analyzed them from many perspectives, looking at the historical and cultural metaphors, and even conducted science experiments recreating Jesus’ walking on water with paperclips floating in a bowl. It is harder to replicate than imagined.

Every week we covered a different story in the gospels, Jesus turning water into wine, Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, Jesus' walking on water and in every discussion, we imagine ourselves bearing witness to these unimaginable feats. We ask questions. Would we believe our own eyes? Would we tell others? Would we be scared?

There is so much turmoil, fear and hurt in the world we need massive miracles. The miracle of love needs to wrap around humanity and the earth with massive arms and rock us gently. The miracle of peace needs to make our hearts surrender to see our collective oneness. The miracle of hope needs to spark a light within us and make us believe we can do better for one another and our world.

Children are better at seeing our collective goodness and the miracles around them. At the end of Youth Sunday school, we create time for communal prayers. For the past year we often say, “We pray for all the things.” It is short and includes everything seen and unseen, every hurt, burden, and lives needing the miracles of love, peace, and hope.

The Long and Winding Road, reprise

By Carolyn Pinet

Here they are

all those many years ago

recording their last album:

Paul's young voice rises on the air

while the others harmonize.

Who knew what was in store? -

George's early death,

John shot down in New York -

but look, here's Paul, much later,

alone at the keys and singing about

the long. lonely road -

to where?

He's still crying for the day,

still asking the way,

still standing there.

He and I, we're about the same age-old,

unsure about how we landed here,

in time to witness yet another war,

a new, uncertain path twisting and turning

between ladders and snakes -

and, for heaven's sakes, going where?

He sings, "You left me standing here

a long, long time ago.

Don't leave me waiting here."

I join in, knocking and hoping:

" Lead me, O lead me to the door."

The single, The Long Winding Road" was released in May 1970, a

month after the Beatles broke up. It was written and composed by

Paul in 1968.in Scotland, and was included on the album, Let it Be.

Coming Home

By Dilynn Wise

Home is where the heart is, or hearth in the original saying. But like a hearth, a heart beats strong and warm, calling you home. Coming home is a feeling that is so hard to actually describe in words. It is hard to relay to others exactly what that feeling is. I drove towards home through this rain storm, complete with thunder and lightning, earlier in the summer. Then through the valley between the mountains on the other side was this brilliant light blue with white clouds and golden sunlight. And the feeling that rushed through me was slightly breathtaking. Trying to stay focused on driving as well as soaking in the feeling that the view was giving me, was hard but worth it.

The heat from the hearth of a home tells a story of its own. How much love is there surrounding it and flowing through it. It is a safe place where all of your worries melt away in the flames. It warms your soul and keeps the light inside of you shining brightly. Be sure your home is not just a house. Your heart is a wild thing, that is why they live in rib-cages that keep them safe. Find a home that fills you up with a feeling that is hard to describe, when you return to it.

There are many places that feel like home and there are spots where there's that feeling where you think, "Ooooh I'm almost there!" Why did you leave and how long has it been since you've been back? Be sure you take the time to appreciate your home. And think of how many places feel like a home to you, a safe and warm place. Because that is where your heart (hearth) burns the brightest.

Seeds

By Bruce Smith

The inspiration for this meditation came from a morning walk some years ago in the field behind our house back in New York.

The north side of our field was bordered by mature oak trees and, at the right time of year, each step landed on acorns that would crunch under your feet. Late August was just the beginning of that right time so the acorns were new and relatively sparse. They were a new addition to the scene so I picked one up and took a good look at it.

It was just an acorn. The nut still had a greenish tinge rather than the chestnut color that would appear later. The cute, textured cap was still firmly attached with even a bit of stem giving it a jaunty look. While new for this season it was, after all, just another acorn. Yet it was something more – a token of hope, an article of faith and that mind-boggling potential to become one of those imposing woody sentinels to my side. It conveyed all that a seed and the sowing of seeds represents in the great cycle of nature and in our lives as disciples.

An acorn is at heart nothing more than a specialized seed and seeds appear several times in Scripture. One with which you are probably familiar is that of the sower in Matthew 13:3-9. The sower went out and scattered his seeds somewhat indiscriminately. Our oak trees were like that sower. Like the sower’s seeds, some acorns are cracked under foot, many are eaten by the busy squirrels, others become small trees that are crowded out or munched by deer. Yet, like the Scriptural story, a few fall in spots where they become trees and yield many thousand-fold more acorns over the course of their long lives.

I don’t know as any of us would call ourselves as imposing as oak trees but as we work here, in our lives and at home we, too, can be dropping acorn “seeds.” We are not asked to be particularly discriminating about where we drop them and we may not have much choice. And we are not held responsible for the results. God takes care of that. The important thing is to be as determined, faithful and hopeful, as those oak trees and Matthew’s sower were, about dropping those acorns along the way.

Paul writing to the Corinthians carries this theme of sowing generously forward. “Whosoever sows sparingly will reap sparingly and whoever sows generously will also reap generously.” And later, “Now he who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will also supply and increase your store of seed and will enlarge the harvest of your righteousness.” These sentences contain our only instructions for sowing. There is nothing about choosing a field, preparing the ground, or irrigating. No – the only instruction is to sow generously with a hint that we should focus on the poor. There is also a promise that we will be amply supplied with more than enough to help us with the sowing.

This week we might focus on sowing seeds of hope and faith on the ground we find. Sometimes the response seems like no response at all – like dry, hard packed earth. Sometimes we suspect that the result we see will only be temporary and that hope and faith will be choked by the brambles of everyday life. But then there are responses whose results we may never see but which will be as sturdy and imposing as those oak trees at the field’s edge. We are not told which is which but we are told to sow as generously as the oaks drop acorns. And, crunching nuts as I walk beneath them, it sometimes seems as though their supply is as inexhaustible as God’s support for us.

May we sow richly with the seeds that God gives us.

Booktober

By Wendy Morical

I have been a part of Pilgrim UCC for thirty-three years this winter, having experienced my first service on Christmas Eve, 1990. One of the best things about this church community is how interesting and diverse its congregants are. Have a conversation with anyone you encounter after service, and you will discover they have past experiences, current activities or plans for the future that will surprise, inspire and impress you. In the soon-to-be-released Visioning Survey results, the data reveal that the most common response to the question about what keeps individuals at Pilgrim was some form of acknowledgement of the warm, fun, inspiring and caring people that comprise our church family.

Last Sunday was a beautiful, misty, soft fall day. The altar was sporting new fall décor, and the leaves outside our Sanctuary window had begun their miracle of transformation, showing red and yellow through the purple (!) glass. It was wonderful to share the joy of worship with friends old and new – and those I’ve yet to meet. For me, the service felt like a pivot point in the year, turning toward the cozy season. As our summer schedules subside and our days focus down to a smaller allotment of productive energy, it’s increasingly heartening to contemplate the weekly opportunity worship gives us to come together and lift one another’s spirits.

The book sale kicked off this week, leading up to the big October Rummage Sale later this month. Readers of every stripe gathered around the tables, swapping suggestions of authors and titles. The hallway was alive with laughter and chatter. The books on display, a delightfully eclectic collection, are ones that your friends have read and passed along, hoping that someone else can have the joy of a good read. Many of them have actually traveled from one Pilgrim to the sale, home with another Pilgrim, back to the Book Sale, and on into another Pilgrim’s home!

I thank God for Lloyd Ann McMahan’s leadership of the book ministry over the years. I am grateful for the bonding the book sale ritual creates in our church family. I give thanks that winter, the serious book-reading season, is coming to our valley. Enjoy!

Ponderings: Love

By Susan Wordal

My mind has been going back to a theme which was very much part of my growing up years. I was almost 4 when the Beatles came up with the song “All You Need Is Love” and released it in July 1967. Apparently, this song was Britain’s contribution to “Our World,” which was the first live global television link for a broadcast in 25 countries. We can thank John Lennon for the intentionally simple lyrics, which coincided with the “Summer of Love” and the more utopian ideals of that time. The song was not one of those that just came out of noodling around or through a specific experience or a need for a piece to fill an album, but as a request for this concert. The song then became part of the 1968 film “Yellow Submarine” and was the moral of the story. [Don’t you love being able to Google things to find out the history of something?] There is one line that sticks with me more than others when I look at the lyrics:

Nothin’ you can do, but you can learn how to be you in time

It’s easy

All you need is love…

                Curiously, this theme has been part of my life in another way since college. I was a freshman entering the University of Montana and went through Rush. (Sorry, but it is something of a family legacy to go to Missoula, although my sister and some of the more extended family went to school in Bozeman.) For those of you who have never heard of this, it is the Sorority/Fraternity Recruitment week which generally precedes the first day of classes. The Fraternity I chose to join was Alpha Omicron Pi. It is a national fraternity (yes, that is the right word, even though it is a women’s fraternity and usually is classified as a sorority, but that is another story) which began in 1897 at Barnard College in New York in a windowseat in the library by 4 amazing women who understood that values should be basic and universal. As a result, the following bible verse is a strong part of that culture:

13 If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3 If I give away all I have, and if I deliver my body to be burned,[a] but have not love, I gain nothing. (1 Corinthians 13, 1-3 RSV)

                Sometimes, I think we have forgotten the simple home truth found in both the lyrics of the song and the bible verse we have come to know by its repetition at weddings. We have forgotten our history and the lessons we should have learned from that history. Our evolution as human beings has been turned back on itself on many fronts and we need to find the strength and the courage to put love of one another ahead of our baser instincts. When confronted by others who seek to dominate us through sheer force of will, if not force on a different scale, we must find a way to overcome through love. When those who would seek to be noticed over all else are put in positions of power and influence, we have to find a way to lovingly talk through and redirect them to achieve a more empathetic and benevolent outcome for all. You see where I am going with this.

                I am finding I need to remind myself of this more frequently these days, which might explain why the refrain from the Beatles’ song keeps popping into my mind. (Not to mention the trumpet riff that follows it.)  I can accept that some people do not think as I do, but that does not mean I stop loving them, despite their reaction to my words or opinions, or their treatment of me. When my kids did something that was wrong or said something that was not appropriate, I found myself saying: “I love you. I am not very happy with you (or “X”) at the moment because of (fill in the blank), but I do love you.” The message seemed to get through to them, even in some pretty dark days.

My job, for many years, was to prosecute people for violating the law. Some people saw this as being diametrically opposed to loving someone. Yet, if you think about it, it is not. I was not judging someone from the standpoint of looking back on their life and deciding if they are admitted through the pearly gates. My job was to take that one action, that one choice, and evaluate it against the legal standard of whether the action was taken with purpose or with knowledge and led to the loss of property, or loss of dignity, or infliction of pain, etc. This was holding someone accountable for their actions or a specific choice at a specific time, and imposing a consequence and maybe a way for them to learn from that act and do better in the future, not judging them as people. The latter is WAY above my pay grade.

Acceptance, however, does not mean that I should stop holding fast to my belief that loving one another is the key to the troubles we have these days. It has always been the key, despite concerted efforts to disprove that notion. There are days when going back in time seems like a good idea, but each period of time had its own set of problems or hurdles to overcome. We do much better, however, when those hurdles are overcome by looking for a solution which honors each person rather than finding ways to devalue or control others by imposing a non-loving set of criteria for what is “right.”

If you open your eyes and your heart, then anything is not only possible but makes the world a better place.

All you need is love. 

O Brave New World...

By Carolyn Pinet

O Brave New World...

Here comes the Great Experiment,

and it's Time with Children at Pilgrim.

I watch them peer through toy specs

to examine the space near the altar,

consider the color of the carpet,

the petals of a bright flower,

a little boy's bony knees -

and somehow it all slots together

to fashion a new uncharted whole.

We nod and laugh along with them

and we grapple with fresh meaning.

Here love holds sway:

yes, it's love we find all around,

almost fall, but it could be summer -

who knows exactly where we are

on this grand, zigzagging route?

But the sun shines and, later at the cafe,

a thieving magpie calls to me,

avid for one more delectable crumb.

Is this a day like any other? -

perhaps, perhaps it is.

But listen, it could be a New Day:

amid the tempest of life

let's navigate wind and weather

over foamy turquoise waves,

let's launch and make off together.

Pilgrim CC, September 17, 2023