Sunday Services: 8:30AM and 10:30AM

Wednesday Service: 9:30AM
Advent Calendar
December 19, 2018 by AdminAccount 0

‘Advent Calendar’ is a poem by former Archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Rowan Williams. The poem was published in his first book of poetry, ‘After Silent Centuries,’ and is now available in the collection, ‘Poems by Rowan Williams.’ Advent Calendar was was set to music by Sir Peter Maxwell Davies as one of the 44 Anthems in the Choirbook for the Queen, which was launched at Southwark Cathedral in November 2011. Our Anglican heritage contains many thoughtful works which weave together theology and creative expression. Archbishop Williams had this gift.

 

Advent Calendar

 

He will come like last leaf’s fall.
One night when the November wind
has flayed the trees to the bone, and earth
wakes choking on the mould,
the soft shroud’s folding.
He will come like frost.
One morning when the shrinking earth
opens on mist, to find itself
arrested in the net
of alien, sword-set beauty.
He will come like dark.
One evening when the bursting red
December sun draws up the sheet
and penny-masks its eye to yield
the star-snowed fields of sky.
He will come, will come,
will come like crying in the night,
like blood, like breaking,
as the earth writhes to toss him free.
He will come like child.

 

Post submitted by The Rev. Jennifer Adams, Rector

Fellowship Commission at Grace
December 13, 2018 by AdminAccount 0

The Grace Fellowship Commission organizes social events that give parishioners opportunities to connect and to celebrate our life together as a Christian community.

I became involved with the Fellowship Commission when I was first elected to the Vestry in 1998. Soon after, I attended the annual Vestry retreat, during which the Vestry members are assigned to each of the various church commissions. I remember looking over the list of church commissions before the retreat and thinking that any of them would be fine except the Fellowship Commission. I definitely did not want to coordinate Fellowship. At that point, I had only been peripherally involved at the church and didn’t know many people. Also, the engineer in me just didn’t seem compatible with organizing and promoting parties and social events.

Well, I was assigned Fellowship, and I guess it all turned out okay as I’ve been involved with Fellowship ever since (for over 20 years!). Over the years, Fellowship has organized the Greeters Guild, Coffee Hour, the annual church picnic, Easter Brunch, Lenten suppers, West Michigan Whitecaps baseball games, Grand Rapids Griffins hockey games, the Hope College Madrigal Feaste, the Teusink’s Farm hayride, Hope College Summer Repertory Theater productions, newcomer receptions, Mother’s Day sherry and cake, Easter Vigil refreshments, and more.

Undoubtedly, Coffee Hour is the Fellowship activity in which the most parishioners participate, and for at least the past decade has been so adeptly managed by Laurie Van Ark.

The Greeters Guild got its start during my first year with Fellowship in 1998 when Rev. Tom Toeller-Novak, the parish priest at that time, asked Fellowship to provide greeters for the Sunday services. The guild got off to an inauspicious start, as only one parishioner showed up for the first organizational meeting! However, the guild grew quickly and since then, guild members have welcomed parishioners at over 1000 Grace worship services.

The newly created Host program was started in the fall of 2018 to enhance how Grace welcomes visitors and follows up with them afterward.

Thanks to the help provided by fellow parishioners, events by-and-large have gone smoothly over the years. However, there have been some mishaps. A memorable one occurred while preparing the Easter Brunch, which was served immediately after the Easter sunrise service. As the sunrise service was ending and a full church was headed down to the Undercroft for the brunch, a refrigerator shelf containing 15 pitchers of orange juice suddenly collapsed, pouring all of the orange juice onto the kitchen floor. What a mess!

In the end, Fellowship is all about creating opportunities for building the community of Grace, and the Fellowship Commission has been fortunate over the years to have had so many dedicated parishioners help and participate in the events.

Submitted by Jeff Erickson

 

December 10, 2018 by AdminAccount 0

Advent Giving Tree:  Our Advent tree is up in the Commons full of stars and angels!  Each ornament has a gift described on its back.  Some of the gifts are for the Rodriguez family (the refugee family of seven who lives in our Parish House.) Others are requests for gift cards for emergency gas or food needs. Others request donations to our Beyond Grace Fund whose contributions will go at the end of the year to either our Feeding America ministry, the Out on the Lakeshore Community Center, or Lighthouse Immigration Advocates.  Each angel or star has a detailed description.  We ask that gifts, including gift cards be returned unwrapped by Sunday, December 23 so that we can wrap and deliver them.  And if you are donating to the Beyond Grace Fund, you may simply designate that on the memo line of your check or put it in an envelope designated as such and place it in the offering plate on Sunday.  Many thanks, Grace, for the ways in which we give to the neighbors beyond our doors. 

Reflections on St. Nicholas
December 10, 2018 by AdminAccount 0

Saint Nicholas lived in the 3rd and 4th centuries in Lycia, Asia Minor, a Greek Province of the Roman Empire that is now part of modern Turkey. His wealthy parents, who raised him to be a faithful Christian,  died while he was young. Inheriting a fortune, Nicholas used all of it to aid those in need. Stories of his devotion, generosity, and care for the vulnerable were carried all over Europe, and he became the most popular saint during the Middle Ages.

How did I become interested in this saint? When our children were small I wanted them to know there was a person of faith behind Santa Claus, and that he represents something more about compassion than consumption, more about giving than getting, more about need than greed. Living here it was easy to add Dutch touches to our St. Nicholas observance. My boys would get two matchbox cars and a bag of Dutch chocolate “gold” coins in their wooden shoes, creating an opportunity to talk about St. Nicholas. This made a small, fun, bright spot early in Advent.

Along with some good friends, I began looking for St. Nicholas figures. They were hard to find then and the hunt was something of a sport. As the collection grew I began having exhibits at the Holland Museum. Then eBay came along, making it possible to add more things that illustrated more Nicholas’ stories and customs. Through eBay, I heard from Jim Rosenthal, then director of communications for the Anglican Communion and one of the world’s foremost St. Nicholas enthusiasts. In 2002 he challenged me to do a St. Nicholas website. www.stnicholascenter.org launched that year and has over a million visitors each year and correspondence from all over the world. The site has grown beyond what any of us would ever have imagined.

    Why St. Nicholas? As patron saint for children, his most recognized role, he is a beloved, kind gift giver. However, as I learned more, I came to love him because so many of his stories care for and rescue those who are most vulnerable. He rescued people from starvation, women from slavery, innocents from execution and incarceration, children from kidnappers, and people from usurious imperial taxation. When St. Nicholas saw injustice, he acted. He ought to be the patron saint for advocacy–advocacy especially for those with limited voice and power. Today St. Nicholas would encourage us to speak and act boldly against injustice, including against human trafficking, the death penalty, mass incarceration, hunger, and all kinds of discrimination.

Bishop Nicholas loved God first and foremost and worked to bring about God’s reign of justice and mercy. As he embodied Micah’s charge to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God, Nicholas’ example challenges us to do the same.

Yes, Nicholas is the children’s saint and brings treats and joy to all ages. But that is only the beginning . . . .

Submitted By: Carol Myers

Pangs of Birth
December 2, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer Adams – November 18, 2018 – Proper 28, Year B

Proper 27, Year B: 1 Samuel 4:1-20; Hebrews 10:11-25; Mark 13:1-8

1 Samuel 4:1-20

On the day when Elkanah sacrificed, he would give portions to his wife Peninnah and to all her sons and daughters; but to Hannah he gave a double portion, because he loved her, though the Lord had closed her womb. Her rival used to provoke her severely, to irritate her, because the Lord had closed her womb. So it went on year by year; as often as she went up to the house of the Lord, she used to provoke her. Therefore, Hannah wept and would not eat. Her husband Elkanah said to her, “Hannah, why do you weep? Why do you not eat? Why is your heart sad? Am I not more to you than ten sons?”

After they had eaten and drunk at Shiloh, Hannah rose and presented herself before the Lord. Now Eli the priest was sitting on the seat beside the doorpost of the temple of the Lord. She was deeply distressed and prayed to the Lord, and wept bitterly. She made this vow: “O Lord of hosts, if only you will look on the misery of your servant, and remember me, and not forget your servant, but will give to your servant a male child, then I will set him before you as a nazirite until the day of his death. He shall drink neither wine nor intoxicants, and no razor shall touch his head.” As she continued praying before the Lord, Eli observed her mouth. Hannah was praying silently; only her lips moved, but her voice was not heard; therefore, Eli thought she was drunk. So Eli said to her, “How long will you make a drunken spectacle of yourself? Put away your wine.” But Hannah answered, “No, my lord, I am a woman deeply troubled; I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the Lord. Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation all this time.” Then Eli answered, “Go in peace; the God of Israel grant the petition you have made to him.” And she said, “Let your servant find favor in your sight.” Then the woman went to her quarters, ate and drank with her husband, and her countenance was sad no longer.

They rose early in the morning and worshiped before the Lord; then they went back to their house at Ramah. Elkanah knew his wife Hannah, and the Lord remembered her. In due time Hannah conceived and bore a son. She named him Samuel, for she said, “I have asked him of the Lord.”

 

Hebrews 10:24-25

Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful. And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

Mark 13:1-8

As he came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”

When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, “Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.

Well we’ve entered those weeks when the gospel passages focus on “end times” which we heard more than alluded to this morning in the gospel of Mark.  Next week is Christ the King Sunday, the last Sunday on the liturgical calendar. Then we move into Advent and begin a new church year.  And as we end one year and begin the next, the passages are more “apocalyptic” in their tone and in their message.  We hear of wars and earthquakes and famines, the throwing down of buildings and the presence of false prophets. We’ll hear of Christ coming in the clouds, stars falling from the sky, and all of the tribes of the earth wailing!  And in the midst of all of that, we’ll hear the message, the promise that Christ himself is the alpha and omega, the beginning and the end.

So hang onto your hats! It’s going to be a bit of a ride in here for these next four weeks or so.

But really, that shouldn’t be too much of a culture shock.  Because it’s true out there too.  It’s a hold-onto-your-hat kind of world and so we need to know how to live in it, how to be people of faith in the midst of strong winds and changing skies.  Knowing how to interpret what appear to be life-ending or world-ending events and storms is an essential skill of faith. In response to those apocalyptic types of experiences, the gospel invites us to do a challenging but holy thing.

In all of these passages we’re being invited to see our endings as our beginnings.

The challenge is that endings can look to us like that’s all that there is. (Hence the language of “end.”)  But according to the gospels, an end is never all there is. There is always more to come. The other challenge is that when we’re living through one of our own perceived or actual endings, we’re inclined to try control it, to assume we know how the ending should go.

Now one of the things that I appreciate about these apocalyptic passages is their honesty.   Sophisticated folks (as we tend to see ourselves to be) often approach readings like these as “not meant to be taking literally.” We emphasize using our imaginations to engage these readings, in effect keeping them at a safe intellectual distance from us and us from them.  The problem with that approach is that we know wars and we know famines. They’re real. We know what it’s like to be led astray and need to regroup again.  That’s real too.  I haven’t necessarily seen stars fall from the sky, but technically, they do.  And if we’re listening at all, it doesn’t take much to know that the tribes of the earth are wailing, loudly, every day.

In fact the hard truth is that we can add to this list of apocalyptic images, because life often resembles these passages.  We don’t need imagination to engage that part of these texts.  We all have stories about one dimension or another of our lives, or several dimensions all at one time being completely shaken to the point of introducing an ending that we didn’t see coming – as if an earthquake had erupted in our living room.

It’s true of the world also. The images of boats overflowing with people as their nations struggle and ours does too; the news of treaties being shaken to their core; images of famine, hunger, and hurt are all around us.  And these stories are hard because they remind us of the fragility of it all. But they are also important to let in, because they make us honest about the fragility of it all.

If there is a positive to the last many years and I think there are many, it’s that we can no longer deny the presence of the kinds of very real earth shaking experiences that apocalyptic passages reveal.

What’s funny is how even given all of that, we still tend to be surprised when life takes a turn from the pastoral vision of green pastures and still waters into something that involves tumults and falling objects.  But remember that that vision of green pastures is a vision of heaven, not the world.  Which doesn’t mean that life here is completely devoid of green pastures and still waters, it’s just that those places and moments of calm and the occasional glimpse of eternal peace they give us, have a more limited place than they eventually will have.  Apocalyptic is perhaps more the norm.  And so, we need to be equipped for those things too.

And we can be! That’s the good news today. We are fragile and we break, but that’s never the end of the story.  We simply need to hone the skill of seeing our endings as our beginnings and we’ll be fine. We’ll be more than fine.  We will “be well,” in a way that is a holy well, as Julian of Norwich once said.

Which doesn’t mean that we’re called to deny the pain of the endings that come, just the opposite.  Apocalyptics are full of human anguish which is why they are so very hard to read. But they can also be comforting, because we know pain and being honest about it can help a process of healing begin.

Take Hannah, whom we heard about in the first reading today.  Hannah was living through the ending that was her not being able to birth a child which meant that the family line would come to an end.  There is a sermon here about the pain carried by many women who struggle to have children, and if that’s what has jumped out at you this morning, let me know and we’ll talk more.  That’s not the specific sermon I’m preaching today, but we can go to that place together. Just let me know.

Now in the face of this terrible loss, Hannah was ridiculed by “a rival” who for whatever reason, continued to kick Hannah while she was down.  There were no green pastures in sight and the waters were more like rapids going over a fall, than they were like stillness of any kind.   And so, one day, Hannah let it rip on the steps of the temple.  She “wept bitterly” the story says, and she also prayed.

This is a story of one individual’s apocalypse.

Hannah’s stars were falling and her entire world was quaking.  So much so that Eli the priest “thought she was drunk” based on the words she was uttering in prayer.  Note: prayers uttered while weeping bitterly don’t come out in fully coherent, collect or litany form.  And so, Eli’s first move was to confront Hannah about her supposed drinking problem.  Which was not the most pastoral of initial responses. But it was a good example of how the quakes that ran through living rooms then were no better interpreted than they are now.

But then when Hannah explained, Eli got it.  She shared her story with him and Eli was willing to receive it.  And then Eli did a beautiful thing.  He helped Hannah see that there was more to come, that there was hope to be had. And maybe that’s one the greatest gifts we can give to each other.

We can offer a presence in grief that allows whatever needs to flow to flow, but also communicates a gentle hope that this ending is not all there is, it’s never all there is.  This isn’t the kind of presence that denies another’s pain, but that through a kind and loving presence offers another piece to it all.  Now I want to be careful here not to imply that that’s why this story moved in the direction of Hannah having a son.  Not every story moves that way.  What I want us to hear is that Hannah’s ending was not an ending.  There was a new beginning on its way.  It’s that birth of “more” that I want us to hold onto.

“Birth pangs” are actually what Jesus called these apocalyptic kinds of experiences in today’s gospel passage.  Something is ending, but something is getting born, and this side of heaven, both of those things are true all of the time.  We’re always ending, sometimes more obviously and blatantly than other times, but it’s always true.  And when we come together, we’re even more aware of that then when we’re alone, which is an important reason to come together. There are those among us who have an earthquake running through their living room right now.  And there are those among us welcoming new life right now. And many of us are trying to integrate either end of that spectrum.  And all of that is true out in our world too.

The gospel reminds us in these stories that because we are held in hands greater than our own, while things may appear to be an apocalyptic mess, something, someone, maybe you, maybe me, maybe all of us are always trying to be born.  The end is simply never the end.

Padraig O’Touma, one of my current favorite theologians put it like this in a poem:

And I said to him:

Are there answers to all of this?

And he said:

The answer is in a story

And the story is being told.

And I said:

But there is so much pain

And she answered, plainly:

Pain will happen.

Then I said: Will I ever find meaning?
And they said:You will find meaning

Where you give meaning.

The answer is in a story.

And the story isn’t finished.

What we are invited to do as community of faith is a beautiful thing.  We’re being called to hone the skill of holding our endings as beginnings, letting the anguishes we know also be heard as pangs of birth.  It’s easier said than done, but it gets easier if we remind ourselves that the story isn’t finished, yet. Yours, mine, ours – not done.  It never is.  And as O’ Touma says, we can “find meaning.” We can always find meaning, because we can always find love.  And with love no matter at what point in our stories it comes, there is hope to be had.

Paul said this in the Letter to the Hebrews, “let us approach with a true heart in full assurance of faith… Let us consider how to provoke one another” (which are great words,) “let us provoke one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day approaching.”

As wars rage and earthquakes abound, as nations rise against nation we’ll gather on the temple steps with those who weep.  We’ll embrace one another in the living rooms we know.  And we’ll meet the boats overflowing with those seeking hope on our shores. And together, alpha and omega holding us all, we’ll help birth a new day for us all.

Amen.

The Wind In The Sails
December 2, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer Adams – November 11, 2018 – Proper 27, Year B

Proper 27, Year B: Ruth 3:1-5, 4:13-17; Mark 12:38-44

As he taught, he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.”

He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.” (Mark 12:38-44)

Once every three years in the lectionary cycle we get this story from the gospel of Mark, the story that tradition calls, “The Widow’s Mite.”  Which roughly translated means the widow’s very, very, little bit. It’s a tiny story really, only six verses in Mark and so comparatively speaking, this is a very, very little story about the widow’s very, very little bit.

But even given all of that which has to do with size, this story shows up in almost every curriculum there is from those geared toward the very youngest of us to those geared toward the very oldest.  And there are actually portraits of this story that have been painted in various times in history.  One artist depicted the widow with a gentle glow around her head as she reached out with the coins.  The artist obviously making the statement that there was a saintly quality to her actions.  Another artist quite movingly portrayed the woman as a young widow, which hadn’t occurred to me until I saw it.  In this painting, the woman comes forward with a baby in her arms and gives her coins while holding the child.

There is much that we don’t know about the details of this story – her age, her particular life circumstance, were there any other family members or not? And yet, we know enough to make this story matter to us.  So, let’s listen to what it has to say.

“Many rich people put in large sums,” the gospel says. Contributions were apparently pouring in! And as we sit here early in the pledge drive, I would imagine there was some relief among those synagogue leaders who were watching that happen. Who am I to knock contributions coming from wherever they come from, whomever they come from? Such contributions help the sails rise a little higher in support ministry and in support of mission.  “Please give all you have!” is a sentiment to which I can relate.

But that system was different in ways that need to remain different. This is a story about what is given, but even more so it’s a story about what and whom the community values.

In the approach of the temple in that time and that place, everybody saw what everybody else put in and all of the leaders knew all of the details.  Giving was a public act which is not in itself an entirely bad thing, but at times giving was a comparative and even competitive ritual. Right there are some major differences from here.  Here at Grace, by policy, only a few people actually know the details of financial amounts pledged and contributions given, and that’s for the sake of making sure our records are accurate and Grace remains accountable to all of you.  It’s also a pastoral gauge so that we can know if people are hurting.

In that system, comparisons were made and the competition could be public too, all based entirely on what one might call “worldly standards” of quantity. And assumptions undergirded the system so that often, the more given by an individual, the more that person would then receive – more attention, more access, more religious honor and prestige.

And theology played in there too. In that belief system, to have “more” was a sign of God’s blessing.  And that perhaps was the most dangerous assumption of all.  The slope in that system was a very slippery one:  to be able to put more into the treasury could also be an opportunity to show publicly how well one was with God.

And before we go too far talking about “that system,” we should say that this approach isn’t entirely foreign to us, culturally anyway some of the language rings true. We can be a little loose with the language of “blessing,” equating blessing with abundance or quantity.  And it just isn’t so.

So enter Jesus into the system. And after commenting on the hypocrisy of the scribes, he decided one day to sit down right next to the place where the contributions were being given.  That’s an image, isn’t it?  And Jesus, being Jesus, happened to catch a moment when a widow did a very brave thing.

She “put in two copper coins,” the gospel says.  A little more on that:  The coins were “lepta” and they were the very, very smallest and least valuable coins in all of Judea.  In our terms, this woman’s donation totaled about a dollar.  Which was significantly less than the “large sums” which were put in just ahead of hers.  So, this pledge wouldn’t have moved the sails much, right?

Again – to us. Sometimes people like this widow don’t even come forward in communities of faith, because they know that comparatively, their gift is “less.”  But to those widows and others out there hear this: After that woman gave her gift, Jesus said loudly, “this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury.” MORE than anyone else. Jesus flipped the whole financial and theological system on its head and suggested it was time to value gifts in a different way: “For all of them have contributed out of their abundance;” Jesus said, “but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

While our approach to giving isn’t quite what theirs was in the synagogue, (hopefully it’s not much like that at all… There is very genuine gratitude that runs through this place and while we miss at times, we do everything we can to keep that spirit alive.)  And yet, this gospel passage gives us important things to remember, perhaps even to learn.

We will be pushing this congregation to give we you can in support of the mission and ministries of Grace and I am thankful for the people who coordinate those efforts.  We will continue to raise the sails on the Steward-Ship in the Commons, as we hope to reach the goal we’ve set for this year’s pledge drive. And sometimes the sails will leap, sometimes they will inch up, and occasionally they’ll crawl.  We might even get stuck before we reach the top, but stubborn flock that we are, we will remain explicit about the goals we’ve set and the reasons for them.  We’ll tug on the ropes bit to help raise those sails as absolutely fully as possible.

And yet, I promise that there will be no comparisons made.  This is not a competition. It never is.  The numbers are communal.  You give from your place and I give from mine, but what we share is ours.  And what keeps all of this in the right place among us is what we heard from the gospel today: we need to also invite each other to give out of our poverties.  That invitation might be the most important check and balance of all.  And so we need to have a sense of what it actually means.

For some that poverty is financial. There is a wide range at Grace and that’s good. Remember that every gift makes a difference and that amounts aren’t signs of how much an individual has been blessed.  Instead, each gift, regardless of worldly size is a sign of Grace being blessed.  By the giver.  By you.  If we don’t hit our goal, we are still blessed. If we far surpass our goal we are still blessed. We are those whose very central act is thanksgiving. And that thanks runs through Eucharist, and pledge drives too.

Our poverties, like our wealths, come in different shapes and sizes and categories. And according to this gospel, we’d be wise to know the shape our own poverty comes in.  This is a story about giving from empty places –  and for the widow it happened to be her checkbook.  For some it’s a poverty of time, or friends, or voice, or direction, or hope.  For some it’s a poverty of health, or understanding, or vision.  And so what does it mean to give from those places?  What does it mean to give while on empty?

It means that we have to be not only generous but brave.

A story for you that I heard on the radio this week.  It’s a story that comes from a recently published book called, “Postcards from the Trenches.”  It’s a book about a man named Auto Schubert whose poverty came from being a soldier in WWI.  Given the anniversary of Armistice Day this weekend, the story is timely.

Auto was about twenty years old and a soldier on the front in the war.  He had no money.  He had given his life for a cause and so there was an absolute poverty of certainty.  Auto’s world was being destroyed around him and so he didn’t know if he even had a tomorrow to offer.

He was far from home with no money to send, but, Auto had stories to tell.  And so Auto collected blank postcards that the army distributed to soldiers.  And while in the trenches, literally in the trenches, sometimes for hours and hours at a time, Auto would watercolor on those cards.  And he numbered each card, and addressed each card, and he sent each card.  And Auto’s fiancé received them as the most precious gift you could imagine.

She knew some of what he was experiencing and feeling and got to hold the color and shapes he was seeing.  Out of Auto’s poverty, came gifts that told stories and embraced love.  The two were married when Auto came home.  And they lived for decades together until she died.  Auto remarried and when his second wife found the postcards, she recognized the treasure that they were.  She convinced Auto to share them beyond their own household and that’s why his art is in a book that’s available to us now.

These postcards and so many things like them aren’t the kinds of gifts that raise the sails, but they are the wind that fills them.  And the boat, our boat won’t move without them.  We won’t have life without such gifts. And we all have them to give.

Please pour in the largest sums you can into this pledge drive!  I’m not going to discourage that.  But there is more to all of this, there always is.  Give from your poverty too. And help us help one another do that.  If you are in foxhole, share your art.  If you are low on health or on hope, tell us and the words you speak from those places will breath something holy among us.  If you are down to one dollar to live on, tell us your story and that will be a gift that blesses Grace Church. These are the gifts that fill the sails. They help get us all where we need to be.

The gospel tells us that the little, little bits we offer from our poverties are of unsurpassable value in the eyes of Christ. In such giving, the Body learns a new way to count, a new way to set sail. And then the winds carry us to holy sorts of places we never imagined we’d go.

Amen.

All Saints Day 2018
December 2, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer Adams – November 4, 2018

Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” But when Jesus heard it, he said, “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was. Then after this he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.” The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?” Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them.” After saying this, he told them, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him.” The disciples said to him, “Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right.” Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.” Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.” When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.”Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

Many of the Jews therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him. (John 11:1-45)

Well we have a beautiful passage to reflect on today, which is All Saints Day on the Liturgical Calendar, one of the high feast days of our church.  This passage has got just about everything going on in it, so let’s fill up with some of its pieces and then I’ll offer some reflections.

A friend of Jesus’ was ill, his name was Lazarus and he was the brother of Mary and Martha.  And because of this illness, the sisters sent a message to Jesus who was moving about various towns with his disciples and the message said, “The one whom you love is ill.”  And so Jesus made his way to Bethany and when he arrived, he found that Lazarus had already died, and that he’d been in the tomb for four days.

Martha met Jesus on the road as he approached their home and said, “Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died.”  Martha then, after a brief but significant theological exchange proclaimed to Jesus, “I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”

Martha then went and got her sister, Mary.  Mary came out of the house to meet Jesus and many followed her because they thought she was going to the tomb to weep there.  When Mary got to Jesus, she opened with the same line, “Lord if you had been here my brother would not have died.” And at this moment Jesus was “disturbed in spirit and deeply moved” and Jesus wept.  Which was also a theological conversation of sorts, just without words.

They all went to the tomb and Jesus told them to take away the stone. Martha (who had just proclaimed him the Messiah) reminded Jesus of the practical reality that Lazarus had been in the tomb for four days and that there would be a stench. And so Jesus reminded her of their earlier conversation. And they took away the stone.  Then Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!”  The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”  And I find that last line to be one of the most powerful in all of Scripture.

Now part of why I love this passage and find it perfect for today is that running throughout the entire story there is this beautiful presence of that which is human alongside of, even woven together with that which is holy.  This gospel story is both messy and miraculous all at the same time.  And so is life!  And so this story resonates in profound ways.

There was the death of someone who was brother and who was also friend.  We know that story, each of us knows that story of grief and loss.  And in the midst of weeping, there was the embrace of those who had become family to each other. We know that story too.  When love meets loss. There is that beautiful moment when the whole community followed Mary and they followed her “to weep with her at the grave.”  They followed before they had any idea that they were actually processing their way into a miracle.  We know that story of “being with.” And we need to also go beyond my own story or our story with this, because this week when I hear about communities and loss and love, I think about the people of Tree of Life Synagogue who have spent the week processing and weeping and mourning, after the deaths of their brothers and sisters too.  And I think of the embrace offered them by the Muslim community in that city who raised tens of thousands of dollars to care for their Jewish neighbors, and in their gifts vowed to process forward with them.

I also know as this gospel story laid out what it’s like to proclaim the presence of the Messiah one moment and then later that very same day feel concern about the stench that could be released if we open our tombs.  I know what it’s like to be called out of a place that feels like death, to take the risk of walking forward and to allow others to unbind me.  I know the story too where we all come together to unbind one who needs to be set free.

 

We know this story, the mess and the miracle of it all, the profound integration of that which is human with that which is holy.  And maybe saints are the people who remind us of this. They manage in extraordinary ways to shine light on the messy and the miraculous all at the same time. And saints help hold us in those places, because saints know or at least trust that in those places there is amazing grace to be had.

 

A few weeks ago I read an article about an extraordinary person.  He’s not on the calendar of saints.  I don’t actually know what religion he followed if any, but this man was a saint in this world.  I’ll close with his story.

 

His name was Chiune Sigahara.  He was born in Japan and he ran the Japanese Consulate in Lithuania during World War II.  And as the article I read stated, “He saved 6,000 Jews with his handwriting.”

Soon after arriving in Lithuania in 1939, Sigahara was confronted with Jews fleeing from German-occupied Poland. His country discouraged him from offering what would very literally be life-saving visas.  Sugihara talked about “that refusal to receive” with his wife, Yukiko, and their children and decided that despite the inevitable damage to his career, he would offer these people safety and freedom.

The author of the article described it like this, “Most of the world saw throngs of desperate foreigners. Sugihara saw human beings and he knew he could save them through prosaic but essential action: “A lot of it was handwriting work,” he said.

Day and night, he wrote visas. He issued as many visas in a day as would normally be issued in a month. His wife, Yukiko, massaged his hands at night, aching from the constant effort. Maybe she was a saint too.

“When Japan finally closed down the embassy in September 1940, “Sugihara took the stationery with him and continued to write visas.  When the consulate closed, Sugihara had to leave. .. and while leaving, he literally threw visas out of the train window to refugees on the platform. At least 6,000 visas were issued for people to travel through Japan to other destinations, and in many cases entire families traveled on a single visa. It has been estimated that over 40,000 people are alive today because of this one man.”

After the war, Sugihara was dismissed from the foreign office. Not suprising.  He worked at menial jobs for the rest of his working life and it wasn’t until 1968 when a survivor, Yehoshua Nishri, found him that his contribution was recognized. Nishri had been a teenager in Poland saved by a Sugihara visa and was now at the Israeli embassy in Tokyo.

The author speaks of “moral courage” in this article, but I think can be described by us today as “what saints do.”  Sugihara saw the mess all around him and the miracle that was being asked of him.  He saw the life-saving unbinding that was being asked of him. And the ability to respond in the way that he did requires what this author called, “mysterious and potent combination of empathy, will and deep conviction that social norms cannot shake.” But I would add, communities of faith can help teach and nurture

“How would Sugihara have responded to the refugee crisis we face today, and the response of so many leaders to bolt the gates of entry? There is no simple response adequate to the enormity of the situation,” said the author. “But we have to keep before us the image of a single man, overtaxed, isolated and inundated, who refused to close his eyes to the chaos outside his window. He understood the obligations common to us all and heard in the pleadings of an alien tongue the universal message of pain.”

Finally from this article says its author, ‘When I was telling this story to college students I told them that there would come a time in their lives when they would have to decide whether to close the door or open their hearts.”

Saints help us decide which of those options to take.  They remind us of what is possible when we process together with empathy and love.  The don’t pull the shades, they look out their windows and notice the mess and the miracle, the human and the holy.  And they give whatever gift they have to the ones seeking to be unbound.  They embrace the neighbors with whom they are faced and offer the gift of presence, joining in the procession that longs to bring us all into miracle.

For Sugihara it was handwriting. For Martha it was proclamation.  For Lazarus it was allowing himself to be called out and unbound.  For Mary it was a quiet embrace and a community that gathered with her.  Years after the war, Sugihara spoke about his actions as natural: “We had thousands of people hanging around the windows of our residence,” he said in a 1977 interview. “There was no other way.”

May there be no other way for us.  May that mysterious and potent combination of empathy find its way into our hearts and out through our actions.  May we be the saints God is calling us to be.

Amen.

The Goodwill of the Other Side
November 20, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer Adams – October 22, 2018 – Proper 24, Year B:  Job 38:1-41; Mark 10:35-45

James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came forward to him and said to him, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” And he said to them, “What is it you want me to do for you?” And they said to him, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” But Jesus said to them, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” They replied, “We are able.” Then Jesus said to them, “The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized; but to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared.”

When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John. So Jesus called them and said to them, “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.” (Mark 10:35-45)

I am just back from a week away. Some of that time was vacation, some of it was catch up, some of it was time to read and write a bit.  On the weather front, it was sort of a boring 90 plus degrees every day in Gainseville. And then within the first 45 minutes of driving away from the airport in Grand Rapids we experienced sunshine, rain, hail and some slushy stuff that could have been called snow or sleet or both. And so, it’s good to be back immersed in some extreme and rapid seasonal variation, and as always, it’s good to be back at Grace Church.

While I was away, I had time for some good reads and some good conversations too. And one observation I’ll make (and note this is backed by the statistical accuracy of a pastor on vacation which means no statistical accuracy at all, this is more like a heartfelt guess) and that is that about ninety percent of those conversations and reads at some time circled through frustrations, anxieties, and fears, about current events, political realities, and the tensions that are no longer on the rise but always at a state of “overflowing.”

Now just so you know, I did spend time floating down a river, time walking and hiking and sitting poolside, during which none of this input was pouring in. But I’m going to save “floating on water” for another sermon, because these days, I think it’s almost more important to talk about how we can hold each other.

And so I want to share two insightful summaries that came from beautiful people, one on what people now call either fondly or disdainfully depending on your positions- “the right” and one from a person who has firmly established himself on “the left.”  (To assure you that my pastoral motivated sampling remained statistically sound and somewhat balanced.)

From the left came an article that talked about our current ability and complete lack of ability to connect with each other, with world events, national events, even with our families and things going on in our own back yards.  The author explored the gains and losses to human intimacy brought on by modern means of communication and our implementation of those means.  Full discloser: I found this article because it was posted on Facebook.

One of the powerful quotes in this article and the quote that was posted by my fried was this: “The incipient political catastrophe in the United States [meaning this atmosphere to which all sides have contributed] can be summed up in a phrase: nobody believes the other’s pain is real.”  Nobody believes the other’s pain is real.  What an awful yet true statement.  Hold that.

Because then, from the right – a phone conversation I had with someone here at home during which we both shared our frustrations and longings and rants. At the end of that conversation I asked what he thought could help us move forward in any semblance of productive ways. And he said this brilliant thing: “We have to able to accept the goodwill of the other side.”  We have to be able to accept the goodwill of the other side. Please hold that too.

Because both of those statements have to do with the gospel we just heard read.

James and John schemed between them and at one point, they came up and requested the seats closest to Jesus, and not just for supper, for eternity.  So first note is that competitions or claims over who is more deserving of proximity to the Christ?  Probably not a good conversation topic ever.

Because in that very conversation of setting themselves up as “right next to the Christ,” James and John lost the essence of what they had been called to do.  In fact they had come to resemble, “the rulers who lord and tyrant over each other,” Jesus said. They were competing rather than disciple-ing. And so Jesus invited them back the place he was creating for them all, the way he was opening for them all.  Jesus talked about drinking the cup he had been given, the death and resurrection involved with following him, and the self that would be given for others.

We cannot fight so hard for the right and the left hand side that we lose the essence of what we’ve been called to create, to give, to offer, to receive.  When we can’t believe the pain of the other.  When we can’t receive the good will of “the other side,” we’re in trouble.  The fight over who is closer to Christ or truth or even basic human decency isn’t going to get us anywhere.  Because too soon we see only emptiness, or worse “evil” in those with whom we disagree.

And ultimately we’re in this together, and God is in this with us – and with “them” too.  This doesn’t mean that all choices or all sides are equal on any given issue.  But we need to regain the ability to discern a more common right and wrong.  Nor does it mean that as church, and as people of faith, we aren’t called to stand for a common good – in fact that’s exactly what we’re called to do. Through common prayer to stand and offer a common and shared good.

But in order to do this, we need to re-hone our skills in some very basic areas of common life.  We need to be able to believe the other’s pain, whoever that other happens to be. And we need to be able to receive goodwill, to foster it, and dig beneath the headlines to see who on either side is offering it.  “Look for the helpers,” Mr. Rogers said.  No qualifiers there in terms of where you might find them. Always look for the helpers.

“Whoever wishes to become great among you, must be your servant,” Jesus said.  “The Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and to give his life for many.”  To serve is in so many ways to respond to the pain of another.  It is to see that that other is hungry or thirsty or hurting or imprisoned and that that person needs something from you, because for whatever reason, they can’t give it to themselves.  And you have food, or water, or safety, to share with them – at the very least you have yourself to give and Jesus reminded the disciples of that too.

The flip side is that to be served means to receive the goodwill given by another, to foster it and allow it to flow regardless of who it is coming from.  It is very possible that those who believe differently, think differently, live differently, vote differently have something to offer too.

We need places and people who are not caught up in fights for the right and the left, which doesn’t mean there aren’t things and people for whom we as a community need to fight. We can cry out and stand up for justice and peace and still be able to listen to pain on all sides, fostering goodwill from wherever it happens to flow.

There is a larger good for which we are all longing.  And according to this gospel, competition won’t get us where we need to be. But service will. We need to be those who hear and believe others’ pain. And those who foster just very basic, and loving goodwill unclogging the channels that need to flow far better than they are for anyone.

That is our work now, and in some ways it’s harder than it was twenty years ago.  Facebook is a blessing and a curse, so we need to be smart, maybe even kind about how we use it. Same with other means of communication and engagements with one another. Complications abound. And on any given day we can experience extreme heat and cold and ice and rain of all kinds, everybody can and sometimes in a matter of minutes.  So the pace is rapid too and the needs are in many cases genuinely extreme and immediate.  All of which makes it even more essential that we hone the kinds of basic faithful skills that allow us to share ourselves, and to receive pain and goodness from beyond.  Listen for the hurts.  Be on the look-out for goodwill.  Notice the helpers and be one. Serve.

Wolverines serve a Spartan!  Spartan serve a Wolverine!  Buckeyes get in there too, because we are going for it here!  Hoosiers. Badgers. Hawkeyes. Those of you who don’t care and don’t have a particular favorite mascot, hop in too.  Democrat serve a Republican.  Republican serve a Democrat.  I’m serious. And keep on with that list.  And for the next several days and weeks do that.  If anything can remedy the level of division and lack of coherence we’re experiencing this just might be it.  Serve.  And serve across the lines we’ve been falsely led into believing define us.

May we live the baptism to which we have been called, remembering that there is a river that flows through us, carrying us all and inviting us to “seek and serve Christ in one another, loving our neighbors as ourselves.”  May we “preserve” and embody what this morning’s collect called “the works of mercy” that this world so desperately needs.

Amen.

 

One Flesh
November 20, 2018 by Jennifer Adams 0

The Rev. Jennifer Adams – October 7, 2018 – Proper 22, Year B: Job 1:1, 2:1-10; Mark 10:2-16

Some Pharisees came, and to test him they asked, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?” He answered them, “What did Moses command you?” They said, “Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of dismissal and to divorce her.” But Jesus said to them, “Because of your hardness of heart he wrote this commandment for you. But from the beginning of creation, ‘God made them male and female.’ ‘For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”

Then in the house the disciples asked him again about this matter. He said to them, “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.”

People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, “Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.            (Mark 10:2-16)

So one of the ways that I’ve come to think about Jesus’ message, is that he came to reset the ground rules, the ground rules for how we operate here.  Here being “in the world,” and for that matter, “in the church” too.  Now that’s a pretty basic interpretation of Jesus, and I have more to my Christology, should anyone out there be concerned about heresy. I do believe that the Son of God offered eternity in beautifully holy and life-giving ways. But deeply related to that vision and that salvific promise was Jesus’ presence and voice; alongside the gift of forever was his deep concern and compassion for the here and the now. Because the here and the now wasn’t working very well.

And so sometimes I need to go basic, and maybe you do too. I need to remind myself that God-who-so-loved-this-world (and loves it still,) responded to human pain and human need and human desire and capacity for joy.  God sent Jesus into the world with ideas, and suggestions, some of which were given as commands or even offered as actual manifestations about how the here and the now could be better. And not just better but there here and the now could be more loving, more holy, more good in the way that “God saw it to be good” in the first place.  Jesus came in part to reset the ground rules so that we could operate better here.

And today’s gospel is one of the passages that does just that.

Now I’ve printed copies of a sermon I preached a few years ago that addressed the issue of divorce head on. I’ve preached on that several times, because all of us whether directly or indirectly have been touched by divorce as children of divorced parents, or parents of divorced children, or as couples who have lived through divorce, or as friends or family of a couple who have, or simply as people who have remained married for entire adult lives yet have walked through extremely challenging times and know what it’s like to wonder.

Both life and this text have more going on than may initially appear.  And so if you have questions or personal experiences that were touched by divorce and would like a sermon explicitly dedicated to that experience and this text please pick up that sermon and let me know if you’d like to talk some more. And remember that ultimately whatever your journey happens to be, this church community is committed to healing and offering faithful support.

In this passage, it was the question about divorce that Jesus used as the means by which to offer a reset. And that’s the approach I want to take today. The Pharisees, asked Jesus “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?”  Note first that they were trying to set Jesus up, and sometimes understanding the motivation behind the questions matters. The Pharisees didn’t come to Jesus asking how to build healthy marriages, or how to strengthen them.  They didn’t come asking how to care for people who were struggling with marriage, or how to help people heal when marriage broke, because sometimes they did.

The Pharisees were trying to trap Jesus and Jesus knew that and so in good Jesus fashion, he gave the question right back to them. “Well, what did Moses command you?” he asked.  And they responded, “Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of dismissal and to divorce his wife.” And that’s when Jesus said No.  And he offered an opportunity to reset.

Because to divorce a woman was to cast her out, to exile her from her family, her community of faith and any means of support she had – financial, communal, spiritual. A woman literally had no means of recourse in the society nor in the religious community. She had no power in the decision-making process. It was very simply, legally and in terms of religious contract a process of dismissal.And that’s what was wrong. I really want us to hear that.  There’s a lot to talk about in all of this, but this morning we can go right at the heart of this gospel.

Through this conversation, Jesus exposed the truth that there was a legal and a religious means by which one human being could dismiss another and to that Jesus said, “No”  And he offered a reset.  And he talked about belonging to each other, being created for each other and then he talked about being one flesh.

It’s a No we need to hear, not because divorce can never be a healing option. Not because to be divorced is to be placed on the list of “outside of love and God and church.”  There is no such list – that’s part of the point.  And sometimes, rarely, but sometimes in order for two human beings to stop dismissing each other, they need to stop be married to each other.  But Jesus’ point is actually bigger than the question the Pharisees asked, and Jesus was in his response, crying out for them to let it be.

Because in some ways, we are all one flesh. I actually think that’s the point of this gospel.  I think that’s the understanding that is the reset being offered by Christ.  And that is a reset that we so very deeply need today, and so we should probably take up his offer.

We are all one flesh.  Explained through covenant and new covenant if we speak in the language of our faith. Explained by the deeply intertwined realities of action and effect if we speak in terms of quantum physics, (which I obviously don’t.)  Explained by the innate drive for human connection, if we speak in terms of secular humanism.  I can go on and on with the list of religions, and areas of study, the bodies of people, and the deep longing for wholeness that proclaims not only a vision but an argument for this “one-flesh” insistence and why we hunger for it and really should live that way.

I can also make lists of what happens when we don’t function that way.   But I don’t want to add to that list, because every day adds to that list.

What Jesus says in this passage is that we have options for how we understand the relationships we have with each other.  We always have options and in today’s passage Jesus offered an option to what was so very wrong.  And we need to hear it to. There can be no dismissals.  Of any kind.

Which means that the questions themselves change.  It is no longer “Who has a right to dismiss whom?” Instead the question is, “What can we do to strengthen the relationships we have, and establish those that we don’t, and heal those that are broken.?” And the “one flesh” idea might help us.

Because then one person’s hurt is ours too.  Another person’s life is ours too.  A brokenness in one body is a brokenness is ours too.  And together being one flesh we can create something new.  Something this world desperately needs but has not yet come together to make.

May the dismissals stop now, the inward and outward dismissals we make.  It’s time to be one flesh, to create a new way together.  With God’s help it can be so.

Amen.

It’s A Small Miracle I’m Attending Church at All
November 15, 2018 by AdminAccount 0

In 2014, I was weary of church. Faith was almost non-existent, depression had set in. Every time I went to church, I felt like, “Can I go home now?” And then some people popped off at me:

“Depression is God’s will,” they told me.

“Marathon running is a sin,” they said.

“Oh, you doubt any of this? SHAME ON YOU!”

On it went. So I walked away, swearing I was done. As 2016 became 2017, I was confident that I would never set foot in a church again, except for a wedding or a funeral which I might occasionally attend.

Then I came out of the closet as bisexual and transgender, taking the name Amber Marie. People in that church were upset about that, too. Lines of communication dried up. I was told I was confused. My aunt disowned me via a brutal text message, calling me “different,” telling me with whom I should have sex, telling me, “You need to find God.” On it went, until she closed with “the only family I have are my kids and my grand kids,” cutting me out of the family. I was at work when I read this, and I wanted to cry right then and there.

If I wasn’t done with God before, I was definitely done right then.

The hurt set in. But in November 2017, I walked into Out On the Lakeshore, Holland’s LGBT community center. I met Robbie Schorle and Brother Francis, two Episcopalians, and they tell me all about this denomination. At this point, all I can think is, “I’m in a good place.”

Two weeks later, Rev. Jen has coverage duty at Out On the Lakeshore. We talk. Jen can tell I’ve been hurt by the church, by my aunt, by my best friend, etc… and she just listens. So I think maybe church isn’t such a bad thing.

New Year’s Eve, I attend Grace for the first time. I just observed.  I liked the “order of things,” style of worship. Everyone was super nice.

In subsequent visits, people wanted to know my name and my story. Coming out to Dennis, Debbie, Elizabeth, etc, was never easier. Dennis, a retired pastor, told me “all are welcome at the table.” Janet gave me clothing advice, such as “hands up, sweater down.”

I am sure I’ll join at some point, as well as receive communion. Soon. You are watching me as I go through a “second puberty,” watching as I mature once more, watching as I become the person I am meant to be.

Can’t wait to see what the future holds.

Submitted by: Amber Marie Cowles

Feeding America at Grace Church
November 7, 2018 by AdminAccount 0

Eight years ago, Steve and Sue Cloutier began to investigate the possibility of bringing the Feeding America Program to Grace Church. They put many hours into learning how this program worked. They found a church in Holland that was serving the community through Feeding America, and visited Fourth Reformed Church to see how they set up this outreach. It was decided by the Outreach Committee and the Vestry that this would be a good program for us to put into effect at Grace.

We started by serving around 50 families. We offered them some light snacks while the truck was being unloaded and the food put out on tables. The only way we could get this food out to distribute was to put up tables in the parking lot. We worked in teams: some people outside and some inside to help our guests sign in and get ready to receive the food. For many months we ordered 5,000 pounds of food every second Thursday of the month. We were outside in rain and snow and we always had enough volunteers to get all the work done.

It was brought to our attention that our guests could not buy bathroom tissue or laundry detergent with their bridge card. A call went out to the congregation asking for contributions of these two items. We were able to give out the bathroom tissue and laundry soap with the 5,000 pounds of food. When our guests were told they would receive these items they gave us a round of applause in thanks. We now have an anonymous member of the congregation who provides the two items.

As the years went by, we have served up to 200 families. We were able to increase our food poundage to 7,500 pounds. We also have an extra 500 pounds of protein, usually chicken or Boars Head meat. This extra protein is also supplied by a member of our congregation. We have been giving our guests a hot meal for the last few years, and try to do something special for the holidays. If we have 160 to 200 families, we could have over 400 people to feed when you include spouses and children.

Feeding America is the largest outreach program we have at Grace. Many people are involved in making this work. It takes many volunteers to get the food unloaded and at times packaged. We have people in the kitchen making and serving food. This definitely takes a village.

Giving out food and having a meal with our guests has been a privilege and a learning experience for everyone involved. Every month we learn something new. We meet new people and make new friends. This was and is a very special work of the church and I am always privileged to be a part of this outreach.

Submitted by: Robbie Schorle

Reflections on my mother, Joy Culbertson Huttar (1930-2015; organist at Grace from 1978-2005)
November 2, 2018 by AdminAccount 0

The Joy Culbertson Memorial Recital will be on All Saints Day, Sunday, November 4 at Grace Church with guest recitalist, Mr. Al Fedak.  Joy holds the record for being the longest serving staff member in the history of Grace Church. In her role as organist and faithful member, Joy impacted generations of Grace with music, kindness, humor, a steady presence, and amazingly good food. As we celebrate Grace’s 150th anniversary, her daughter, Julia Huttar Bailey, was asked to write this piece about Joy.  Join us this Sunday for a celebration of All Saints Day at 8:15 and 10:30 am and the Memorial Recital through which we give thanks for Joy Culbertson Huttar, one of the many saints of Grace at 1:00pm. 

My Mama, Joy Huttar, became the organist here at Grace suddenly, when her predecessor quit but didn’t tell anyone. When he didn’t show up that Sunday, Mama was asked to fill in on the spot, since she could play the piano. But she really didn’t know anything about the organ. She found a book of organ music left by Marian Voetberg, and thought that the pieces where Marian had written “swell” and “great” meant that they were especially good ones. (In fact, “Swell” and “Great” are the names of the manuals on an organ. Marian was simply marking which keyboard to play on.)

Well, my mother decided that if she was going to be the organist, she ought to know what swell and great actually meant, so she’d better take organ lessons. She figured that she should learn a little more about music in general too. This led to the enormous privileges for me of being in Freshman Music Theory class at Hope College with my mom in there too, teaming up with her we me as choir director while she was organist at Grace, and her earning a second bachelor’s degree. She worked hard, and it proved what I always believed: My Mama, Joy Huttar, could do anything she wanted to, if she just set her mind to it.

* * * * *

I loved growing up in our big family, and our family was always expanding to include whoever needed a home away from home. My mother would say, I’m already making dinner for 9, what’s a few more? It was common throughout my growing up for people to just happen to drop by near dinner time, so of course we would set another place. Or for someone who was going through some difficult time to be invited home to dinner after church. There was a period when we had Sunday dinner for 15 people week after week. I also grew up with a love of hymns. We were always singing in our family. So on those Sundays after we ate, I would sit down at the piano and play a hymn. A sister or two would come and sing, and pretty soon we were all gathered, calling out hymn numbers. We didn’t realize this was such a regular thing until Mary Meade answered the after-church invitation: Well, I would love to come for dinner, but I have a big test tomorrow and I wouldn’t be able to stay for the hymn sing!

* * * * *

At the end of her life, all seven of her children gathered round for a holy time, keeping vigil, singing, sharing stories and memories. It was not her most flattering moment, lying there in the hospital bed. But my father saw through the eyes of so many years of love. Taking her hand, he said: “Oh Joy, here we all are, admiring you.”

I join with so many people who greatly admired her, and give thanks for her remarkable life.

Submitted by Julia Huttar Bailey

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