On the Road Again ... Part 2

For those of you who have been following the travels of our "second Jesus" - he did indeed arrive back at the church safe and sound yesterday - when the Sudlersville Elementary School re-opened after the Christmas/New Year's break.  He was right where he should have been - on a counter in the school office, right under this wonderful painting of children.  As all of us keep saying, "he was right where he should be."  (scroll down to see the photo of Jesus' "visit" to SES -that's his black file box in the middle of the counter)

And while our "second Jesus"and his box are back at the church, I think all of us this season are much more aware of how Jesus isn't kept safely inside the church, but is always "out there" among us and with us, surprising us, inviting us, challenging us to follow.  May it always be so.

With the permission of the author, Tracey Marx and her website www.scriptureecho.com, I share this "Winter Blessing":

This winter, may you encounter Jesus in unexpected places.

In your office or home, in the midst of what seems like yet another interruption of important work, may your frustration turn abruptly into awareness that you are standing on holy ground.

In the sanctuary, when you are winter-worn, and unsure of what more you have to give, may your weariness nudge you to rely on God completely.

In yet another meeting or activity, when you are wondering why in the world you do what you do, may you shift your gaze and see what God sees, and may you be confirmed in your call and your response.

May the Spirit surprise you and delight you in these winter weeks. And may those divine, unexpected encounters give you the energy, enthusiasm, perspective and grace you need.

Amen. (From the January 6, 2013 edition of Lectionary Liturgy.)

On the Road Again ... with Jesus: Christmas 2012

Our cat Thandi with the "first Jesus"

If you have been around the Presbyterian Church of Chestertown during Advent, then you've probably heard about the "travels of Jesus."

About 7 years ago, we started a tradition in our congregation where the carved infant Jesus from the church’s crèche scene travels to families in the church who have children (infant through elementary school age).  Each night of Advent Jesus stays in a different home. 

            Our carved Jesus (made by a member of the church) is less than 6 inches long, so he is not very big and easily fits in a plastic file box along with a copy of the Gospel of Luke, picture story books about the Nativity, and a gift for each family to keep to remember that Jesus visited their house (usually an ornament for the tree).  In Jesus’ traveling box there is also a prayer journal where each family is to write in it about Jesus’ visit with them – answering several questions they’re to discuss as a family, then sharing prayer concerns. 

The stories of his visit, the reflections the families write, the prayer concerns they share then all come back to the congregation to be shared with everyone during our Christmas Eve services.  And of course, our carved Jesus and his manger FINALLY arrive back at the church that same evening to be placed by the children in the crèche scene.

            This is not something we invented … the original idea came from www.reformedworship.org (I am sorry that I can’t find the original article! But ask me if you’re interested).  So it was not our idea, but it has become one of our most beloved Advent traditions. 

We have wonderful stories every year about Jesus and his adventures.  He’s been chewed by an enthusiastic puppy (and still has the teeth marks to show it), he’s gone shopping at the mall, arrived in mailboxes, on doorsteps and traveled in the back of pickups. He has slept under Christmas trees and in cribs with newborns.  He has been wrapped in baby blankets, cuddled by toddlers and brought great comfort to a family when he arrived at their house on the same day that their great-grandmother had died.  This year Jesus attended several birthday parties, was spotted at Washington College, and even attended a performance of "The Messiah"!  

The challenge of course, is for families to actually make the time to have Jesus stay overnight with them. But isn't that true for all of us??

Well, this year was no exception in providing some interesting material for my Christmas Eve sermon about traveling with Jesus ... here is my "meditation" from the 8 p.m. Christmas Eve service at PCC:

One of the many blessings of having a growing congregation is that we have so many more families with young children that it now takes two “Jesus-es” to travel throughout Advent so that every family (including some grandparent families with visiting grandchildren) get a chance to have Jesus spend the night with them.

It does stretch our theology a bit to talk about the plural form of the name Jesus – or to figure out which one is the “real Jesus” … I have finally settled on the “first Jesus” and “second Jesus” only to keep track of which one is which.

Our “first Jesus,” the one we placed in the crèche this evening, is the one that was first made for the church – designed by Nancy Adams and made by PCC member Tom Kerr, who sadly died this past year.  We’ve been using Tom’s nativity scene for many years now and I can’t help but remember Tom every time I see it.

Then several years ago, a second nativity scene was made for us by PCC member Bill Bayne – it’s the one on your left.  The Jesus from Bill’s nativity scene last year became our “second Jesus” – (our first “second Jesus”) and he has taken on that role again this year.

By the way, because some of you have asked me, I do not attempt to describe a theology of “2 Jesus-es” to the children who were here at the first service.  Some things are best left unsaid. 

But you may notice that tonight when Jesus arrived at the stable, we did not put the “second Jesus” into the nativity scene.

Well, that’s because we don’t know where he is.  Or not exactly.

It is challenging to coordinate with the schedules of 33 different families.  And sometimes there are bumps along the way.

Some of you may remember we ran into this situation last year.

The week before Christmas I missed communicating a change in Jesus’ schedule and he ended up on someone’s porch for two nights – but we found him right where he was supposed to be.  There was one night this past week where Jesus missed connecting with someone and spent the night at the church, which isn’t a bad place to be, I suppose.

Well, this past week we had another mis-communication … and I learned late Saturday evening that the second Jesus had not made his connections.

Fortunately, I always have a variety of resources about the Nativity on hand, so I was able to assemble a set of picture books, activity sheets, a journal and yes, a “third Jesus” so that Jesus could visit the last family on the list.

Which he did last night.  And the third Jesus came to church tonight.

Although that leaves us with the question:  so where is the second Jesus?

To the best of my knowledge …  although we didn’t plan it, he is locked up somewhere in Sudlersville Elementary School and will remain there until school re-opens on January 2.

And given all that has happened these past few weeks, those people who have heard this story all agree – Jesus being locked up in an elementary school seems like just the right place for him.

When I first gave the title “Letters from the Road” to this meditation it was a week ago, and I fully expected to be simply sharing some of the notes written by the families in the journal that travels with Jesus – all about the gifts they want to give Jesus (everything from stuffed animals to chocolate!) to the gifts they would like to receive from Jesus --- from patience to healing to hope.

But as we went through our “Jesus-crisis” over the weekend, I realized that there was also a different letter being written from the road – one that tells a different story … not of a Christmas that is perfect, with just the right gifts or the meal that is perfectly prepared and guests who arrive at the right place and on time, but it is a letter that tells of loss and sadness, of being misplaced and waiting, of longing and hope, not just in Connecticut, but in so many families across this congregation and our community and our world. 

Some of our neighbors have no home in which to sleep tonight.

Some others of us face this Christmas with a place empty at the table or around the tree.

Some of us wait with hope for new light and new life.

So I’m actually glad that Jesus didn’t find his way back to the manger this year.  Because it reminds me that Jesus cannot be kept safely in a box, any more than we can keep him in the manger.

He isn’t here because he is meant to be out there doing what he came here for in the first place.  

In Christ, God comes and keeps coming into our world – not in a perfect gift-wrapped box, to be kept under a tree. But the Savior of the world is born for the whole world.

He will meet us not just at the manger, but in our lives, in our world…

Not just here on Christmas Eve, or on a Sunday morning, but out there where we are always meant to see him, ever ready to be surprised at his coming.

This child who is Jesus the Christ, Savior, and Lord.

            The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth.

            May our eyes be open to see him.  

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth, peace.  Amen.

Fourth Sunday of Advent

As we begin the fourth Sunday of Advent, I want to share this prayer - sent to me by Pastor Mel (that is: Chaplain CPT Mary Ellison Baars, US ARMY), shared from the Young Clergy Women Project:

Let us pray...  Holy One,  The manger is still as we wait… The hustling and bustling of the holidays forgotten for a moment as we draw ourselves to your bedside, and with bated breath anticipate your in-breaking in our world.  There are so many places where we desperately need  your embodied hope your Advent Peace your Christmas Joy your deep and ever present love. Come to us Emmanuel,  Come to us as community, as those we draw in close to us on these cold winter evenings,  as family, as friends, as stars and sky,  Come to us yet again… Allow us to see the ways you give flesh to our deepest longings,  Provide for our unspoken needs,  Meet us in the darkness, in the stillness,  Hold our souls in your infant hand Breaking through in the form of a child, overcoming the stillness, the darkness, the bitter cold yet again.  May we know your advent peace, your Christmas joy, your deep and ever present love,  The manger is still as we wait… Amen With thanks to Jamie Lynn Haskins  Copyright © 2012 The Young Clergy Women Project, All rights reserved.

The Season of the Stars

PCC member Lanny Parks wrote this reflection today ... and with her permission I post it here.

      Today was the day we had planned to select our tree and hang the greens in our front hall. My vision was to then wrap the greens with strings of gold and silver stars; however, as I worked with them, the wires tangled and the stars fell off onto the dining room table and the chairs and the stairs under the greens until I realized that the vision I had was not going to come into being - at least not this year. 

So I got the broom and the dustpan and began sweeping up the fallen pine needles and the disconnected stars so I could throw them away. But as I looked at the dustpan full of debris, I could not help but think about the tragedy of yesterday, and I also realized that no one can simply discard fallen stars. They need to be gathered together and allowed to shine even though they are not where I had intended them to be, even though they were never going to produce the vision I had planned for them.

I carefully picked through the pile of my ‘ashes’, picked out all the stars, and scattered them on the wreath on the table in the front hall. As the sunlight caught them, they shone as brightly as I had hoped they would sparkle on my stairway, and they will continue to gleam when the candle in the wreath is lighted. 

This is the only way I can meaningfully manage to process the tragedy of yesterday and its painful aftermath. All of those fallen stars - whether they fell in Connecticut or Afghanistan or Iraq or Chicago or Colorado or Wisconsin - need to be salvaged, their light allowed to shine in some way that will show us the way through our darkness and make tomorrow brighter than ever, because this is the season of the stars and that is what stars do.

Back on the Porch

Well, it's about time this "blog" got started again.  Welcome back, or welcome the first time to "Back Porch Notes."  It's been a while since anything was posted, but now about once a week I plan to post on this blog - reflections, an occasional sermon, thoughts from different people who are part of the extended PCC family. Here is the first post - reflections by Elder Susan Debnam at this past Tuesday's Session meeting:

The Rest of the Christmas story… devotion for Session meeting – 12/11/12

By Elder Susan Debnam 

(NOTE: newly-elected elders and deacons were present for the meeting)

I always sign up for December devotions because our hearts are filled with words and thoughts of  holly, wreaths, & cookies.  We can’t wait.  Doesn’t it sound wonderful?  But as I grow older I realize the Christmas story has a lot more in its message than a baby being born in a stable.

Let’s look at who was there –

·      Animals that smelled (they weren’t ready for a 4-H show)

·      Shepherds who were living in the fields (just a group of farmers)

·      Kings who had everything (maybe bankers or golfers)

·      Mary and Joseph – I surely would not pick them to give us the Wonderful Counselor

What does this say to us at PCC?  As we invite new members to the session how can we continue to love and care for each other when we are so different? We come with different backgrounds.  I think these new members are one of the best groups PCC has invited to session.  But there are those days when we all seem to work in our own corners and forget that our charge is to be Christ-like and lead this church in new ways with great JOY.  When this church was formed we didn’t want another church – we wanted a church that could be excited about doing God’s work.

Two weeks ago I watched farmers, boat captains, kids, carpenters, and ladies build a beautiful Christmas ledge. It warmed my heart. [NOTE: The “ledge” is above the chancel.] 

Last week, 22 members and friends traveled north to work on storm damage from Hurricane Sandy.  They came back with great stories and not just about the house they worked to repair, but with stories about each other.

I watched as the 911 team kicked in when Bill fell ill Sunday during worship.   

Two weeks ago our kids gave Clairvaux Farm families a Christmas gathering.

It is all wonderful! PCC has had a great start but 2013 has the opportunity to continue down this road finding new ways for PCC to do God’s work here and around the world with members and friends that are very different but believe in the same wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, everlasting Father and Prince of Peace!

Let these leaders look for hope everyday 

Look for hope in the faces of the people you meet.

Give hope to those you meet and help PCC be the Christ in the world.  Amen.

"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.