Keep your lamps trimmed and burning, keep your lamps trimmed and burning,
keep your lamps trimmed and burning, for the time is drawing nigh.
Refrain: Children, don't grow weary, children, don't grow weary, children, don't grow weary, for the time is drawing nigh. (African American Spiritual)
Advent is here: that season of waiting and waiting and waiting. Being raised in a non-denominational church, all I knew of Advent was the great fun of having a chocolate Advent calendar and reading a little bit of the nativity story each night before bed. When I became a theology major in college, I discovered the true power of the liturgical season of Advent.
Advent rituals, with the richness of their symbols, colors, scripture, hymns, and candles, take us on a journey together each year. Our hopes, fears, and longing hearts await the redemption that comes from God alone, who enters our world to turn everything on its head until all wrongs are made right and God is all in all.
We begin again at the beginning with the Season of Advent each year to better live into the tension that while we and the world have already been delivered, our and the world’s full and final deliverance is still to come.
German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, imprisoned and killed for his resistance to Nazi Germany, wrote from his prison cell that: “A prison cell, in which one waits, hopes - and is completely dependent on the fact that the door of freedom has to be opened from the outside, is not a bad picture of Advent.” In this way, Advent is not for the faith of heart.
When we ask Jesus to come into our lives at Advent, what we are really awaiting is full and deep change in society and ourselves, until things are on earth as in heaven. When we ask Jesus to come, God’s advent asks us to prepare the way—to yearn and work—for tangible structural and relational change.
When we light the first candle for HOPE during Advent, we are called to remember the voice and vision of the prophets and peoples who longed for a Savior and leader who would ease their suffering, and bring justice and well-being to their nations and communities. They waited in hope.
Too often, I wait in hopelessness—a symptom of my privileged place in life. Those of us who are well off and at ease have the luxury of feeling despair. It’s easy to look around at our dysfunctional politics, endemic racism, the unbalanced distribution of wealth, and climate change and become overwhelmed . . . and then disengaged. But those who are oppressed or connected intimately with systemic suffering have the greatest capacity—and sense the most urgency—for hope and for compassion.
With clear-eyed hope, may we be led this Advent season into a repentance that so transforms our hearts that we learn anew how to really participate in God’s inbreaking kingdom here and now. Amen.
Even so, come Lord Jesus.

Dear friends,
Do you ever find yourself longing for a different way, a rhythm of peace and joy, one not pushing you at a pace that makes you weary before you begin? As I started my day today, my heart was racing and my mind was full. I had a long to-do list, and I knew the minutes counted. I wanted to work smarter not harder, to accomplish all I needed to do (and more!), and yet a voice deeper inside me reminded me that what I really wanted was stillness, quiet, and to know the presence of God with me.
I took a deep breath, stepped away from the computer, the emails, my day’s to-do list, and I sat for a few minutes with God, some beautiful music, and my journal. Asking God to still my heart and my mind, I suddenly felt a deep calm wash over me. I paused for a few minutes and just savored the peace that God was so good to give me, feeling so grateful this immediately answered prayer. It was as if God was saying to me, “my child, if you but ask me, I will give you rest and peace. Be still and know that I am God.”
Have you ever considered that when God created the world, God imbued it with rhythms and a sacred pulse? There is night and day, moon and sun, water and dry land. We were placed in the midst of this movement and rhythm to learn how to dance with God, with one another, and with creation. The dances of God are these: dances of justice, mercy, compassion, love, nourishment, and wholeness.
Of course, we know the story: humans choose, over and over, our own way, a way of self-interest above the interest of others, a way that brings sin, separation, and death. We were made for wholeness and vibrancy, but we choose a different way, moving out of step with the song God wants to sing with us. The good news is that each time we follow the promptings of God’s Spirit to listen again to God’s song, we find the rhythm of God’s beat, which was made for the flourishing of all.
I invite you to join me in finding pause in your life to hear God whispering to you that you are beloved. I invite you to join me in letting go of whatever feelings of shame and inadequacy you feel so that you can hear the song of God that not only brings healing but invites you to dance. God is ready and waiting for us to choose a new path: one that leads to connection, healing, and joy. When you find yourself longing for another way, God’s restoring shalom is reaching out to embrace you. That ache of you feel deep inside is the reminder that you are being invited to dance. So, just listen. The song is there, being sung over us. It is never too late to retrain our ears to hear it.
May you know peace,
Shannon

Pastor Shannon shares a message about the tragic events of the past few days from the Rev. Dr. J. Herbert Nelson, II, the Stated Clerk of the General Assembly of the PC(USA). She leads a prayer for the victims and loved ones as we ask God to heed our call for justice and to help us not lose hope.

Here is Lesson # 2 of our Lenten Bible Study. Last week we were at the church. This week I am at home and it does not look like we will be meeting at the church for some time. This is March Madness without the basketball, Yuk. So, instead we go to Matthew 13 and look at all the parables.
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Review "The Great Physician" heals the sick, see Matthew 9. Yes, last week we talked about Jesus healing the sick. Thanks for all your comments and insights. Jesus' ministry is especially relevant as new cases are constantly breaking out. (Yesterday NYC had 980 cases, today that has doubled to 1,990!)

How do we respond? It is a strange and surreal world. Check out Salvador Dali's painting, "The Persistence of Memory" -- how bizarre.  It doesn't make sense -- a desert wilderness of soft clocks and bending time -- Weird -- Look it up on the internet!

In such a time as this, we have no frame of reference, no baseball, no parties, no church services, except to go to Jesus in the Bible. So we go and learn from Jesus. And how do we learn from him?  Matthew 13:34 tells us "he would not say a thing to them without using a parable." Indeed Jesus said, "I will use parables when I speak, I will tell them things unknown since the creation of the world." 

Lesson # 2 "The Stories and Parables of Jesus" Matthew 13 is a long chapter with 8 parables. What a challenge. I don't expect you to understand each one. Each one has more than one meaning. They are "multi-layered." For example, look at the parable of the mustard seed, Matthew 13: 31. My friend, Pastor Jo Gatto preached this text here March 8 and handed out mustard seeds with a verse from Proverbs. (If you did not get one, I will mail you one.) She talked about F-A-I-T-H -- "FATHER ARE INTO THY HANDS." Trusting God in all we do.  Thanks, Jo. Well done.
 
Now let us look at more meanings of this text. The mustard seed is small, so small that it could easily go unnoticed. So small like a child in Bethlehem, born in a manger. So small in comparison with the Roman Empire and the Great Temple of Jerusalem -- so small only shepherds came to see the birth.  And yet that child grew up to be the greatest leader -- greater than all the Emperors or High Priests!  And so the mustard seed grows and grows into a great tree -- a beautiful yellow tree -- full of fragrance and delight.  But that is not enough. There is more meaning. The branches provide a home -- a home for the birds of the air!!!  And yes, Jesus provides a home for us and all people.  Amazing.

1. And what MORE does this parable say to you?  Let me know. 
2. And which of the other parables do you like?  Why?
3. What questions do you have about these parables?

Thanks. Please let me know your thoughts and I will respond. 
Yours in Christ,  Rev Rob ​

In Jesus, God saves us by becoming so vulnerable that we are able to kill him in a vile and humiliating way. The crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus assure us that God's offer of friendship will never be withdrawn, no matter what we do. If the cross did not result in a withdrawal of the offer, then nothing we do will lead to a change of God's heart. We can, however, refuse the offer. Friendship is a mutual relationship, and a person has to accept the offer; he or she cannot be coerced or tricked into it. And any human being's final refusal of God's friendship breaks God's heart. Still, God does not turn away from such a person in anger and rage. God lives eternally with a broken heart. That's how vulnerable God wants to be.

Those of us who are parents can relate to God's vulnerability. There is a saying that having a child is like putting limbs on your heart and setting it free in the world. We have this intense love for our children - no matter what - that indeed makes us vulnerable.
In my family's experience, we have had many a talk with our grown children about the extent of our love for them. Afraid that in these beginning years on their own they might lose their way at some point, make some mistake they think is unforgivable, or something awful might happen that tears them away from us, we have tried to make it perfectly clear that we will ALWAYS love them, and that they are welcome home under absolutely any circumstances. We probably give them that speech more often than necessary, but we're doing all we can to drill it deep into their psyche. You are always loved, you are always welcome, and nothing will ever change that. There is a lot that can happen in this world-sometimes by one's own choices and sometimes by force-and nothing terrifies us more than losing our children. Indeed, if they ever turn their back on us we would be completely heartbroken, but we wouldn't give up on them. Ever.

Imagine that love we have as parents is merely a small reflection of the vulnerable, all-invested love that God has for us all. God's heart carries a perfect love, even greater than that of a parent for a child, for each and every one of us. For me, that's unfathomable. Jesus tries to give us a sense of it in the Parable of the Prodigal Son, but as we know, Jesus used parables to give us a glimpse of understanding into something far greater than we could possibly comprehend. Thus, that parable shows us that the love of the forgiving father is just the beginning.
Now here's the challenge. The all-invested, life-changing love that a parent has for a child is also just the beginning. We are called to be disciples on this earth, to serve others and to treat others as Jesus would. Does that not mean that the intense love between a parent and child should be the same love we offer every child of God? The Lenten season is an opportunity for us to grow in discipleship in anticipation of the resurrection, when all will love and be loved perfectly. What better way to prepare than to practice the loving-kindness of God?

May you be blessed throughout Lent, particularly during Holy Week, and may Easter bring you joy!

Pastor Jean

    We can see the truth of Lord Acton's dictum, "Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely," in the life of King David. The story of David and Bathsheba's liaison starts in an unexpected way, "In the spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle, David sent Joab with his officers and all Israel with him; they ravaged the Ammonites and besieged Rabbah. But David remained at Jerusalem." David and his people have come to view spring as "war season." Battles have become so common, it seems that every spring David is sending "all of Israel" out to fight someone somewhere. This fulfills the warning God gave to the Israelites back in 1 Samuel when they begged Samuel for a king other than God so they could be just like every other nation. Samuel shared with them the words of the Lord about what a king would do, "These will be the ways of the king who will reign over you: he will take your sons and appoint them to his chariots and to be his horsemen, and to run before his chariots." Now the people are noticing that God and Samuel were right. Having a king isn't all it was cracked up to be. David, it seems, has fully transformed from shepherd and servant to a king like all the others.
            To further illustrate the point, we are shown his "relationship" with Bathsheba. This is a story about a man of privilege taking advantage -- because he can. David sees Bathsheba on the roof of her house. Filled with lust and drunk with power, David sends for her so that he can have his way with her. When David sends his servant "to get" her, the Hebrew word is actually better translated "to take" her. Bathsheba, a woman married to a foreigner, certainly did not have the power in that culture to refuse the advances of the king.
            When David is done with her, she returns to her home, and that appears to be that. Until, that is, Bathsheba utters the only three words she says in the entire story, "I am pregnant." Now, David has a problem. His solution is a cover-up that spirals out of control. Abusing his power again, David calls Bathsheba's husband home from battle. He hopes they will spend a night together, alleviating suspicion when Bathsheba has a child eight or nine months later. What David doesn't count on, though, is that Uriah the Hittite, a foreigner fighting in David's army, is far more loyal and moral than the warrior king of Israel. Uriah refuses to enjoy the comforts of home while his platoon is out on the battlefield.
            David abuses his power once more, giving orders that are certain to have Uriah, Bathsheba's husband, killed in battle. Uriah is killed by the Ammonites just as David planned. David doesn't do this for love; he does it because he's in trouble. This murder is a cover-up. David does all of these machinations so that he may hide his sin and maintain his reputation and power.
            David, the former shepherd, is now King David. He sends his people into a battle he doesn't deem important enough to attend himself. He uses Bathsheba for his pleasure and sends her away when he is through. Eventually, he uses his commanders to put Uriah in a vulnerable position that gets Uriah killed. The affair of David and Bathsheba is the story of one who has allowed his status to affect his judgment. David has lost sight of the value of other people, and sees them, instead, as means to his ends. He has come to view people as objects, and disposable ones at that.
            While we may never be a king, president or head of state, we, too, must to pay attention to this story. If David, who elsewhere is described as a man after God's own heart, can become so enamored with his power as to use people to serve his own ends, so can we. But if we can learn from David's negative example, we can learn even more from Christ. Contrast King David to the vision of Jesus we read of in Philippians. The apostle Paul, writing to a church bickering over who is right and probably suffering through power struggles, encourages these early Christians to think differently about their power.
            "Let each of you look not to your own interests," he writes, "but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus." He then goes on to describe how Jesus viewed his power. "Who, though he was in the form of God," imbued with far more power than any of us will ever have, "did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself ... he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death -- even death on a cross" (Philippians 2:4-8).
            The story of David and Bathsheba at its heart is a story about the abuse of power, a temptation all of us face. May we not get so enamored with our power that we see only our personal benefit and shirk the great responsibility we have for those whom we lead. May we not abuse our status as King David does at this time in his life. May we instead build up one another as young David the shepherd and Jesus the great shepherd did.

            The recent debates about immigration made me think of the ancient Israelites and their own mixed feelings on the topic.
            When we think of Old Testament forms of justice -- of all the laws and ordinances outlined in Exodus, Leviticus and Numbers -- most of us probably remember best the doctrine of "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." With only that in mind we conclude that ancient Israel's judicial system was something grim and oppressive. The truth is that the heart of the Torah is a heroic attempt to reflect the love and justice of God in all human circumstances. The legal mandates in the Old Testament are unique among the other known Near Eastern judicial systems in their consistent and outspoken protection of "the stranger, the widow and the orphan" -- that is, the weakest, least protected members of the society. Again and again the statutes and ordinances of Old Testament law explicitly list those three groups as worthy of special kindness, extra thoughtfulness, and intentional consideration.
            Equally revealing is the Old Testament insistence that there be only one law of the land -- with that law applying equally to both Israelites and to the "stranger that sojourns among you" (Exodus 12:49; Leviticus 16:29; 18:26). There was no double standard in God's Torah. For strangers and other resident aliens who chose to live among the Israelites, there was both equal responsibility and equal protection. "Strangers" were often listed with "widows and orphans" because these three groups shared a common handicap -- they lacked any kinship-connection that would naturally serve as a buffer between them and the harsh demands of life. They were alone and on their own in a time when one's whole identity came from the tribe or the clan.
            Strangers or foreigners were entitled to certain protections and could claim some specific rights (such as gleaning), and were even in some cases invited to fully participate in the life of Israel, as shown in Deuteronomy 16:14 where the Lord commands "and you shall rejoice in your feast, you and your son and your daughter and your male and female servants and the Levite and the stranger and the orphan and the widow who are in your towns." Yet, there was still a great chasm between acceptance as a stranger and acceptance as a member of the covenant community. This is vividly evident in Numbers 3:10, "And thou shalt appoint Aaron and his sons, and they shall wait on their priest's office: and the stranger that comes near shall be put to death."
            Paul recalls the depth of this rift when he begins our epistle passage by recalling what it used to mean to be a Gentile. They used to be "aliens," they had "no hope," they were utterly "without God in the world" (v.12). The remarkable, redeeming message for the stranger now is that "in Christ Jesus" there has been a miraculous joining together. A humanity that used to be fragmented has now been made whole by the gift of Christ's blood. When Christ died on the cross his one body became the means to "reconcile both groups to God" (v.16). Christ has "broken down the dividing wall" between all who come together in his name.
            In the church there is no wall between rich and poor. In the church there is no wall between those who run the office during the day and those who seek shelter on the floor at night. In the church there is no wall between the youth group and the Survivors. In the church there is no wall between the church school teacher and the chair of finances. In the church there is no wall between the powerful and the powerless. In the church there is no wall between the eloquent and the hesitant. In the church there is no wall between the well-educated and the illiterate. In the church there is only one humanity, one body, one peace.
            How can we bring this way of life beyond our circle of believers into the wider world? Ronald M. Paterson, a pastor in Dayton, Ohio, shares this story that could point the way for us: “The way of God is from closed to open. Recently I heard a woman talking about her fears for our nation. One of the things she said was that the loudest and most painful noise she hears in our beloved country is the sound of minds snapping shut all over America. Her point was that too many of us are becoming people whose minds are closed and whose opinions are set in a sort of fatal concrete which threatens to sink the fragile nature of our democracy. She pointed out that this beloved ship floats on the willingness of diverse people to work with one another despite their differences of opinion, to find ways to get along with one another. Do you remember Jesus seeking out strangers and the outcast? Do you remember the unconditional love which he showed and which he commanded of those who followed him? The way of God is the path which leads people to work together for the common good.
            Our calling as Christians is to see strangers as brothers and sisters in Christ. Might there be danger in this? Of course! But the danger of not reaching out and engaging others with the message of our oneness in Christ is even greater.  Rather than spreading the ethic of the Kingdom of God, we are pretending that the church is a Citadel to be isolated and protected from the world.  What happens to a castle under siege?  Eventually it runs out of resources and falls.  No, we must be bold to believe what Paul told us, “For He is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall of hostility between us.” We need to courageously engage the world with the love of Christ, building a society that treats all people, native or alien, family or foe, as if they were beloved of Christ, because they are. Amen.

On July 5th we will gather in church either at the E3 Service or at the Traditional 11 a.m. Service to hear Bob Clendening sing Patriotic Anthems and be inspired to love and serve God.  As the 4th of July approaches, recent events make me recognize how important it is for us as Christians to hold our nation accountable to God's standards seen in the life of Christ.  With the racially motivated murders at Mother Emmanuel AME Church in Charleston, SC, we see how far we have to go to be "a city on a hill," lighting the way for the rest of the world.  Churches were in the forefront of the abolition movement that led to the end of slavery 150 years ago, and we can continue to be prophets to a world of hate that the love of Christ is the answer to the problem of racial, ethnic, socio-economic, and any other division among us.

The people of Emmanuel AME Church are an inspiration to me.  They freely offered forgiveness to the perpetrator of the heinous crime that took the lives of nine of their loved ones, including 3 of their ministers.  In listening to their testimony, I understand that the motivation for their forgiveness was not because it would ease their pain by letting go of their anger and hurt.  That pain will never go away, though in time it may become more bearable.  Their motivation was to be faithful  followers of their Lord, who forgave those who took his life.

Standing up to hatred and violence with love and forgiveness is one of the hardest and riskiest things one can do.  It takes courage, strength, and a belief in a loving and merciful God for it to make any sense to react to violence in this way.  Our natural inclination is to react in kind, demanding revenge.  We hear loud voices clamoring for the death penalty for the perpetrator, and we think it only fair. But our Lord said, "You have heard that it was said, 'An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.' But I say to you, do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also....You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you can be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous." (Matt. 5:38-39, 43-45)

Jesus understood that limiting violence to reciprocity was an improvement to escalating violence (that was the purpose of the eye-for-an-eye injunction in Leviticus).  But to overcome violence rather than simply to limit it, we need to meet it head on with the only power that is stronger than it is, God's love. To overcome evil we need to meet it head on with the only power that is stronger than it, God's goodness.  If we are to be children of God, it is our calling to take up arms - that is, arms that hug and arms that uplift others - in order to confront those with arms that kill.

Being a Christian is not for the faint of heart. It takes the courage of Christ to oppose those with evil intentions with the weapons he has given us, the whole armor of God: "Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace.  With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God." (Ephesians 6:14-17)

As Christ liked to say, "Go and do likewise."

Grace and Peace,
Pastor Jean