"Summer of the Bible"

So what are your plans for the summer? Come along with us at PCC for the "Summer of the Bible." Over the next 13 weeks (until the end of August) we'll be reading our way through parts of the Bible - from Genesis to Revelation. Each week a "sample" of texts from different parts of the Bible will be available. I'll post them here ... and they'll be available for download at our website: www.pcchestertown.org. Come join the journey!

SUMMER OF THE BIBLE - Readings for Week 1 (June 5-11)
Background on the Book of Genesis, chapters 1-11 (from “The Year of the Bible” by Dr. James E. Davison, p. 2 - Louisville, KY: Bridge Resources):

These first 11 chapters of the Book of Genesis deal with the “prehistory” of Israel. “They are the stories that place Israel within the context of world history as a whole. As you read, try not to get caught up in how these events relate to modern science. It is more useful to ask yourself what these stories would have meant to the children of Israel as they heard them told many times. The nations surrounding Israel believed in many gods. For them, the sun, the moon, and the stars were divine. Observe that, in the story of the creation of the heavens and the earth in Genesis 1, a basic point is that there is only one God. This God is above all things, and all things have been created by God.
“The implications for the religious beliefs of other nations are clear. Notice that, even though light is created immediately by God, the sun and the moon and the stars are not created until much later. For our scientific understanding, that sounds strange; however, it is a very good way of pointing out that the gods worshiped by neighboring peoples are not gods at all.
“Likewise, the story of Adam and Eve in Genesis 2 and 3 shows us what human nature is like. It tries to explain in a simple manner that God has not brought evil into the world. Humans are responsible for perpetuating evil. This and the later stories in this section [chapters 1-11] attempt to show, in a way that is clear to all generations, how God first interacted with human beings, how evil increased rapidly in the world, and how, because of that, God pronounced judgment on human beings.”

SUMMER OF THE BIBLE – 2011
Readings for June 5 – 11:
· Genesis 1 & Genesis 2 – two versions of the Creation
· Genesis 3 – 4:16 – “East of Eden: Sin and its consequences”
· Genesis 6:5-7 – a “Grieving God”
· Genesis 6:9-14 and 7:6-12 and 8:6-12, 18-22 and 9:8-17 – Noah and the Flood and God’s new way upon the earth
· Genesis 11:1-9 – the Tower of Babel

Questions for reflection:

What do we learn from having two different versions of creation – one in Genesis 1 and one in Genesis 2?
What do we learn about humanity … and about God … through the stories of Cain and Abel, Noah, and the Tower of Babel?
How does God’s intention that creation be good persist in spite of human wrongdoing?
What do you think that means for us living in the 21st century?

The Road to Emmaus

From last week's sermon on the Road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35):

While the 2 of them were pouring out their despair to the stranger on the road that day, they used what may be the four saddest words in all of Scripture: “But we had hoped …”. You can almost feel the yearning in their words: … But we had hoped that this Jesus whom we had seen healing, whom we had heard teaching, whom we had followed for so long … we had hoped he would be the one to redeem us.

But for all that they had hoped before, now they could only pour out their questions, their disappointment, their despair to the stranger they met along the way.

But we had hoped ….

When have you wanted to say that? We had hoped that … this would be the relationship; our child would get better, this would be the job … this move would make us happy ….

For anyone who has been listening to the news from Pakistan or Afghanistan or even the tragedies still emerging from the rubble of tornados, for anyone who has worried and questioned and struggled over children or grandchildren, over marriages, or jobs, or health … those same 4 words become our own protest that this is not the way we thought it would be. They become the watchwords of our own longing and lament: but we had hoped….

And when those are our words, that’s when we find ourselves walking down our own road to Emmaus. The end of the road at the end of a tragic and long, disappointing day.

But do you notice what happens next?

What in fact has actually been happening ever since that morning at the tomb? Maybe it would be easier to see if we had been reading right from the beginning of the chapter, right from the beginning of that Easter morning.

When the two angels spoke to the women at the tomb to announce the resurrection, unlike in the gospels of Matthew and Mark, they don’t tell the women to go tell the others to hightail it back to Galilee to meet the risen Christ there. Instead, they tell them to “remember” all that Jesus had told them.

Now on the road, the stranger calls the two travelers to remember everything that the Scriptures had said about the Christ.

And then, seated at the table that evening, they finally remember.

Maybe it was when they sat down to eat that it starts to come back to them. Maybe they start to remember other meals they’ve shared together – that bread-and-fish picnic when the 5000 were fed or that last supper in an upstairs room just days before. Surely, it starts to come back to them.

We don’t know how it happened, maybe the way he broke it, or in the familiar words of blessing … but there was something that made all the pieces fall into place. It was in the breaking of the bread that they remembered when they have met this man before. And their eyes are opened and they recognize him. They are brought back from the despair and shadows of death and they realize that life has won.

Remembering can do that to us, can’t it? At first, everything may seem like bits and pieces, random background “noise” with no rhyme or reason. Yet in our remembering something happens that can make it all seem so clear.

Thinking about those disciples at the table with Jesus has sent my own memory roaming back to communion services over the years when I have seen bread broken and shared the cup with others. And I remember …

· As a 6th grader, finally able to take communion and sitting beside my father in the pew while he held the communion tray to pass it to me;
· I remember the large pans of the special recipe of unleavened communion bread my grandmother would bake … almost like shortbread, but not sweet. I still remember the taste of it.
· I remember once (a long time ago, of course) getting my tongue stuck in a communion cup. My best advice: Do not try to get the last drop out of the cup. Trust me, it’s not worth it.
· I remember the first time serving communion at the J.L. Zwane Church in South Africa when I realized that it was the custom for the pastor to fill the small glass communion cups (like we use) at the table in front of the congregation using a large, wide-mouthed pitcher. More of it ended up on the table, on me and splashed all over the trays than actually ended up in the cups. (Later, I bought them one of the devices like we use that help fill the cups a bit more easily.)

I remembered all the places I’ve had communion.

I’ve shared communion at a TB hospital and in shacks in squatter settlements in South Africa. I’ve had communion on top of Mt. Sinai and in grand cathedrals in Europe, and a Greek Orthodox Church in Jerusalem. I’ve joined in communion with a thousand and more people at a Presbyterian General Assembly and then again with just a handful of people in small rural churches in north Florida, at a prayer service for the opening of Congress in D.C., at retreat centers and presbytery meetings, in nursing homes and at bedsides, in the intimacy of someone’s home … and many, many times here with all of you.

Pita bread, rye bread, wafers, my grandmother’s special communion bread, gluten-free, whole wheat, unleavened and even Wonder Bread white.

And each time, just like that evening in Emmaus, there has always been the same things: a spoken word, a bit of bread that was broken … a sip of wine (or, being a good Presbyterian, more often … a bit of grape juice) … all very simply things … and yet, each time, somehow my eyes are opened and I know Christ has been in our midst.

In a world that seems to be spinning out of control, when on any given day we have hoped it might all be different those things seem absolutely inconsequential. Yet somehow it is in the small things … a spoken word, a bit of bread, a sip of wine that we remember that Christ is present, that life can still come out of death, that the wounded can be made whole, that swords can still be turned into plowshares.

As I’ve been thinking about and remembering all those communion services, I’ve realized what it was I was really remembering. It wasn’t the place, nor whether it was wine or grape juice served in a common cup or in little cups, nor even the kind of bread we had.

It was the community, the people … that I remember: gathered around the table, telling old, old stories, sharing the feast, sharing how our lives had been touched by God, and I remember.
When we do it right, that’s what church looks like and that’s how we can know Christ is present: sharing meals around this table … or a potluck table, crying together at the funeral of a friend, lifting prayers in weekly worship, telling and re-telling the stories of scripture, feeding those who are hungry, sheltering those who have no home, rebuilding communities, serving together for our community and our neighbors near and far, and witnessing with the way we live and the choices we make that there is another way to live.

That road to Emmaus happened a long time ago … and we still walk along it even today.
Emmaus helps us remind each other that we can still have hope.
Emmaus helps us remember that God still walks alongside us in our confusion, our doubt, our hope and our faith ….
Emmaus invites us to expect God to meet us where we are … on a street corner or in an office, at school or on the sports field or at work, at 4-H or Chorale or in AA, at the detention center or prison, in a circle of knitters or by someone’s bedside. Wherever lives are shared, comfort given, support provided, injustice challenged … Christ is there.

So where is it and how is it that we see Christ among us even now?
May our eyes be opened and so remember.
Amen and amen.

Saturday of Holy Week

From Sara: This is a version of what I posted LAST YEAR on the Saturday of Holy Week. For those of you who may have already seen it, or for those of you who haven't ... it still rings true for me.

We know what happened on the other days of Holy Week ... but what about Saturday? It doesn't say anything about Saturday. What did they do that day? Well, of course it was the Sabbath for them ... so they DID know what to do, or not do, as the case may be. But what about us? What do we do with this day of waiting?
Since becoming a pastor 22 years ago, I know what to do with Saturday before Easter: finish the sermon, check and double-check the "list" of what needs to be done and by when on Sunday morning (sunrise service comes awfully early and then things happen very quickly!). In general, Saturday is very simple: stay as focused as possible on Easter so that it all comes together.

For those of you with children and grandchildren (and nieces and nephews) and guests about to arrive ... it's also a day for finishing Easter baskets, planning Easter lunch (or dinner ... whichever it is for you), and on a spectacular spring Saturday (like today is turning out to be) ... enjoy the outdoors.
It's easy to fill up a Saturday ... any Saturday ... with errands and tasks and work to do (whether sermon or household chores). But maybe Saturday is simply meant to be a day to ponder the mystery of it all.
So on whatever "Saturday" list you have ... add to it: "ponder the mystery of God's gift of life" ... and if you can spare a few minutes, watch this YouTube clip (put together by some folks at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, MN. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0c2inXKD6PI
Easter IS Coming. Thanks be to God.
(Photo taken by Sara Holben - May 2009, outside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem)

Good Friday

Thoughts from Sara:



"What language shall I borrow
to praise thee, dearest friend,
for this, thy dying sorrow,
thy pity without end?
O make me thine for ever,
and, should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never
outlive my love to thee.


"O Sacred Head Now Wounded" words attr. to Bernard of Clairvaux, 12th century; translated (English) James W. Alexander, 1830

Palm Sunday at Clairvaux Farm

Here is a report written by our own Casey Roberts about the Palm Sunday Youth trip to Clairvaux Farm ... [Clairvaux Farm is located in Cecil County, MD and is part of the ministry of "Meeting Ground" serving families who are experiencing homelessness. This was the second trip by PCC youth to sponsor a party for the children on the Farm.]

Casey Roberts April 22 at 12:01pm Report:

Egg hunts? Flower pot painting? Egg dying? What does this remind me of? Hmmm…oh yes! Clairvaux Farms! There was so much to do! The older boys had the most fun hiding the eggs. For the older kids, they would just throw them around the hiding field randomly, seeing who could throw farthest. We really got to know the kids at our flower pot decorating station, though. The little girls and boys had fun painting the boxes-and us- and pouring in the soil. It was so fun to see them laugh in happiness as they worked. All of the youth handled the children so well! I think Emily -and friend Anna- had the most fun with one little girl they met. The rest of us had fun talking to the older kids or playing with the little boys. After a fun egg hunt, we all entered the dining hall to eat cookies and dye eggs. When it was our time to leave, we saw happy faces, bags of candy, pretty pots, and even more special; Gods love resting in the air around us. It was honestly a beautiful trip, and I cannot wait to go back!

Photo by Sara Holben taken on Palm Sunday. April 17, 2011 at Clairvaux Farm

Thursday of Holy Week

Thoughts from Sara:

For the past 10 years, our Maundy Thursday service at PCC has been in the Fellowship Hall around the supper table. A fellowship supper has been a part of the communion service as we gather in our own "upper room." This year instead of a fellowship supper we made our Narthex a "Jerusalem Marketplace" with different stalls of oranges, melons, dates and figs, cheeses and yogurt with honey, baked goods and spices all around the Narthex. The palms from Palm Sunday graced the tables reminding us what week it was. The aroma was wonderful, the fellowship a joy, and we moved from the Narthex streets of Jerusalem into our fellowship hall for communion, maybe the way the disciples had walked through the streets amid the noise and vendors and aromas of spices and maybe even stopped for a bite to eat in the old city of Jerusalem before they had their own "last supper."

One of our elders, whose vision of the marketplace helped make it come alive, told me that for her Maundy Thursday was very special because it made her think: "if this were my last meal I can't imagine a better place to spend the time than here at church with my friends."

A Holy Thursday indeed.

Wednesday of Holy Week

Thoughts from Sara:

What a gorgeous spring day today in Chestertown. In the 80s, the pink dogwood outside the sanctuary is in full bloom. My tulips look terrific. It MUST be almost Easter having this much "spring" around.

But conversations with Mel Baars over supper about South Africa brought me back to remember ... of course this is Holy Week and Easter in the southern hemisphere too ... where it's already autumn and approaching winter.

Easter without trees in bloom and tulips and hyacinths and all the rest?

Yet, there is something about Easter on the threshold of winter that perhaps we need to see as well. To remind us that God is not just with us in those new signs of hope, but God is there as well – through the suffering and on the cross. Christ’s Resurrection is not just a glorious triumph, but it has meaning BECAUSE of the crucifixion. It brings a depth of meaning to the Resurrection that we might not see in the light of spring.
The challenge of Easter in autumn is great – but in some ways it is even more profound. For it allows no easy victories, no simple answers.

And maybe it also helps us to see that Christ’s resurrection still bears deep within it – sometimes where no one can see – the seeds of promise and hope.