View From the Online Balcony

By Suzanna Carmine

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

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

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

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

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

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

Annunciation

By: Bruce Smith

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

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

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

Rummaging Around - Again

By Carolyn Pinet

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

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

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

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

Pilgrim CC October 27-28, 2023

Triggers

By Mary Luti

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prayer

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

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mary Luti is a long time seminary educator and pastor, author of Teresa of Avila’s Way and numerous articles, and founding member of The Daughters of Abraham, a national network of interfaith women’s book groups. This reflection was originally posted on the United Church of Christ’s website as a Daily Devotional from the StillSpeaking Writers’ Group: https://www.ucc.org/daily-devotional and accessed on September 20, 2023. Used with permission.

A Praying Season

By Carolyn Pinet

Shorter, darker days

bleed into each other,

spill fall

where everything dies,

openly lovely,

a red-gold canopy cascading down,

and we, who trample it,

also transform, become

other than we thought,

strange, in disguise,

trailing to the cemetery with offerings,

our lanterns lit.

The "trick or treat" is done,

it's serious now.

We slip envelopes into the box,

penances begging for mercy, atonement,

pleading for the masquerading monsters

to vanish into thin air.

On my door lover skeletons clack

in the high wind,

their pumpkin heads wither.

Wars rampage elsewhere and

mourners lament unbearable losses.

We light our candles,

strain to remember needed words,

wafting on the current with the tide

where stars illuminate a sailing

pilgrimage under a silver coined moon.

When we reach the ocean,

will it rise with the dolphins to greet us?

Will the saints burst into song?

November burns bright in

the bonfire on Parliament Square

and Guy goes up in smoke.

Again we burn, hope to rise from

the ashes, blow over the bridge and

into the same tidal river, the one

that wrinkles and flows,

gaining strength as it races down

to the wavering, waxing ocean.

Ah, may time hold us, rapt and singing,

in a restorative, shining sea.

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

Fawkes, Election Day, October-November 2023

Miracles Great & Small

By Danielle Rogers

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

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

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

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

The Long and Winding Road, reprise

By Carolyn Pinet

Here they are

all those many years ago

recording their last album:

Paul's young voice rises on the air

while the others harmonize.

Who knew what was in store? -

George's early death,

John shot down in New York -

but look, here's Paul, much later,

alone at the keys and singing about

the long. lonely road -

to where?

He's still crying for the day,

still asking the way,

still standing there.

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

unsure about how we landed here,

in time to witness yet another war,

a new, uncertain path twisting and turning

between ladders and snakes -

and, for heaven's sakes, going where?

He sings, "You left me standing here

a long, long time ago.

Don't leave me waiting here."

I join in, knocking and hoping:

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

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

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

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

Coming Home

By Dilynn Wise

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

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

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

Seeds

By Bruce Smith

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Booktober

By Wendy Morical

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

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

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

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

Ponderings: Love

By Susan Wordal

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

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

It’s easy

All you need is love…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All you need is love. 

O Brave New World...

By Carolyn Pinet

O Brave New World...

Here comes the Great Experiment,

and it's Time with Children at Pilgrim.

I watch them peer through toy specs

to examine the space near the altar,

consider the color of the carpet,

the petals of a bright flower,

a little boy's bony knees -

and somehow it all slots together

to fashion a new uncharted whole.

We nod and laugh along with them

and we grapple with fresh meaning.

Here love holds sway:

yes, it's love we find all around,

almost fall, but it could be summer -

who knows exactly where we are

on this grand, zigzagging route?

But the sun shines and, later at the cafe,

a thieving magpie calls to me,

avid for one more delectable crumb.

Is this a day like any other? -

perhaps, perhaps it is.

But listen, it could be a New Day:

amid the tempest of life

let's navigate wind and weather

over foamy turquoise waves,

let's launch and make off together.

Pilgrim CC, September 17, 2023

Never Too Late

Vince Amlin

 “When you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your sibling has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your sibling, and then come and offer your gift.” – Matthew 5:23-24 (NRSV, adapted)

In 793, Vikings raided the monastery at Lindisfarne in England. Also known as Holy Island, it was the most sacred site in the Kingdom of Northumbria. Desecrated. Its altars dug up, its valuables stolen, its inhabitants killed or led away in chains.

In 1993, on the 1200th anniversary of the attack, a delegation of two arrived from Norway at St. Mary’s Church on Lindisfarne, bearing gifts. A bust of St. Olaf, the country’s patron, and a letter of reconciliation.

A sign at the front of the sanctuary tells how the community welcomed the visitors, worshiped with them, and shared the eucharist. It concludes: “So, although we had not previously realized that we were still at war with Norway, peace was definitely declared.”

Jesus doesn’t outline any statute of limitations on our offenses. (Nor, thankfully, any expiration date on his forgiveness.) He only says that the moment we remember we’ve hurt a sibling, we should stop whatever we’re doing and seek to be reconciled.

Whether it’s been 1200 years or 12 minutes. Whether they realize the war is still raging or they believe the armistice was declared generations ago. It’s never too late to repent of the pain we’ve caused. And it’s never been so long that we should neglect the work of repair.

Prayer

For your prayer, go listen to this song by Lyndsey Scott. As the lyrics say, “It doesn’t matter how long you have forgotten, only how soon you remember.” Amen.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Vince Amlin is co-pastor of Bethany UCC, Chicago, and co-planter of Gilead Church Chicago, forming now. This reflection was originally posted on the United Church of Christ’s website as a Daily Devotional from the StillSpeaking Writers’ Group: https://www.ucc.org/daily-devotional and accessed on September 20, 2023. Used with permission.

On Being 86 Years Old

Sitting On a Bench

By Dilynn Wise

Come and sit a spell. There is something about sitting and observing nature. It involves no thought, or excessive energy, to do so. Have you sat and watched the sunrise? Or sunset from beginning to end? The reality of life is so busy and chaotic that there is no time to sit. We spend so much of our lives rushing, rushing, rushing, to and from one place to the next. Taking the time, making the time, to just sit is a wonderful thing to do for yourself. And if you find a special place to sit and watch nature unfold before you, all that is left is to listen to what nature has to tell you.

Listening is something we say we do well, when really we are trying to wait for the opportunity to interject our thoughts and relay our true meaning from a few minutes ago, because the other person interrupted. There are times when we are trying to make ourselves understood and the words or phrases used do not give the other person a proper picture of what is being said. So you try again, and again, and now both parties are frustrated and the original point is just being repeated even louder. Because no one is listening, truly listening, to each other.

Nature is quite the opposite. There is nothing to understand, convey, or explain; there is nothing to do but simply listen. Listen to the roar of the river; or the rattle and sway of the trees talking to each other in the wind, not caring one bit about you sitting there. Then there are the animals whose home you have come to visit and soon will leave, like you were never there. All of these things outside want nothing from you, so all there is to do is sit awhile, and listen.

Can you do it? Have you found a place? I have found mine, and have found a way to be there for the whole summer. I am very lucky to have a place to sit a spell.

Challenging Times

By Wendy Morical

My lovely and talented mother, who spent the last year of her short life both fighting cancer and completing her Doctor of Ministry degree, described herself as a contemplative. Her doctoral dissertation focused on incorporating the teachings of contemplative guides like Julian of Norwich with practicalities of modern life. She read, prayed, and wrote extensively about the effort to merge a daily, direct connection to the Divine with her quotidian responsibilities. She was a scholar and a mystic.

She was also silly, sarcastic, and self-deprecating. Pinned to the bulletin board in her workspace was a Peanuts cartoon dating from the 80s. In it, Sally announces in the first frame, “I hate everything! I hate the whole world!” Her brother Charlie Brown, who’s watching TV, responds with, “I thought you had inner peace.” Sally’s retort: “I do” and then, in the final frame, “But I still have outer obnoxiousness!”

I still have this cartoon. It makes me smile with fond and vivid memories of my amazing mom, but it also touches a strong chord in my own personal consciousness. This resonance comes from my very real sense of being overwhelmed by negativity some days. I feel battered by events around me. There are days when I am precariously close to Sally’s world view, hating the world and everything in it.

We all need to accept the fact that the pandemic and its aftereffects are still with us – and so, too, are repercussions of other social upheavals of recent years. In her current book Enchantment, Katherine May describes the spirit of fear and anxiety she finds pervasive in 2023:

 “The last decade has filled so many of us with a growing sense of unreality. We seem trapped in a grind of constant change without ever getting the chance to integrate it. Those rolling news cycles, the chatter on social media, the way that our families have split along partisan lines: it feels as though we’ve undergone a halving, then a quartering, and now we are some kind of social rubble.” (p.5)

This is a troubling reality, yet it’s gratifying to hear others speak about their own struggles and to know this is a shared experience. Several people have talked to me recently about being unsettled, feeling resistant to circumstances, or carrying low-grade distress. I can’t put my finger on what it is that has shifted in me, but this blog post is not long enough to list all the trivial setbacks that frustrate and anger me – daily! (Bozeman traffic, anyone?) Nevertheless, I do not want to develop habits of responding negatively to the world.

I imagine everyone can recognize a portion of what I have tried to express, even if your experiences are different. Many dear people have faced loss far greater than my petty setbacks, and recent hateful legislation has impacted lives much more significantly than the minor inconveniences that I may find myself focusing on. Regardless of our varied perspectives, I hope that rejecting a life of outer obnoxiousness is a shared goal. We are all in this together.

As we, together, strive to find our own versions of inner peace, it might be worthwhile to begin by acknowledging that life is flowing on, although its course and rate of flow may have shifted permanently. There isn’t going to be a return to “normal”, as we eagerly anticipated during Covid shutdowns. We may need to work a little harder to navigate this new era – and to support each other in our efforts.

I’d like to share a few questions I’ve been focusing on in recent days. Hating everything, hating the whole world, has become too exhausting. I need to chart a new course.  

•     Who are mentors I can rely on to guide me?

•     Where can I find joy and continuity in my life?

•     How will I more intentionally focus on those things?

•     How can I make a positive impact on others today?

•     What role does my faith play in challenging times?

As each day begins, I can ask a loving God to grant me patience and compassion for others and for myself. As Pastor Laura reminded us last week, “in the midst of all these changes and challenges” always remember that this is God’s realm, filled with God’s power and glory forever.

Thank God for the life we have been given – and the challenges that help us grow.

Kingdom Dance

By Bruce Smith

On a recent Sunday Pastor Laura shared thoughts on the meaning of “Kingdom” in the second line of the Lord’s Prayer. We pondered what such a kingdom might look like here on earth and agreed that it didn’t include castles and moats. Instead, various members volunteered ideas such as peace, enough food, clean water, friendship, adequate housing, and equality. The list, of course, could be extended. We might all agree that it would be a time of thoroughgoing happiness far different than what we witness in our daily lives.

Returning home, I happened to notice one of Jeanne’s favorite Picasso prints hanging on our wall. You can see it above. While the official title is “La Ronde de la Jeunesse” (Dance of the Youth), I saw it as “Kingdom Dance.” I imagined it presenting people of all different colors joyously joining hands and dancing wildly together in celebration of peace. Those bouquets of flowers held high in their hands symbolizing the restored earth’s abundance and beauty? And in the center is the dove of peace, the peace that is so lacking in our personal, community and world so much of the time. And that dance itself, isn’t it as wild and ecstatic as we might wish in a restored perfect kingdom? The figures are bursting with happiness that’s shared in a circle of equality and friendship. The image made me feel hopeful that it was a glimpse of what having “Thy Kingdom Come” might be like.

As enticing as this image is, it unfortunately, won’t come easily. But we can each do what we can to build that kingdom and see each other and the people we meet as potential dance partners. While performing acts that bring that kingdom a little closer, maybe we can even dance a few steps in celebration. Father Leo Proxell, in a recent column, was thinking similar thoughts when he wrote. “So, in this holy time of summer light and warmth, enjoy wandering through God’s good creation and live that goodness inherent in your life. Share it with others by way of joyful giving of your time and talent and treasure for building up of the Kingdom of God that we are all part of.”

May you enjoy the summer and as Father Leo might also say, “May His Kingdom Come.”

Generational

Dilynn recently came “down the mountain” from Camp Mimanagish for a quick overnight to do some shopping for a few items rather than a large, restaurant-quantity of items. Luckily for me, it happened to coincide with the weekend when my car was in the shop being fixed and they had called on Wednesday to tell me that they found additional damage that would change the estimate and would result in them waiting for parts to come in. Which meant that I wouldn’t have my car until sometime the following week. Hmmm. How to get to church for a quick pick-up choir practice before the service and bell practice after the service when I don’t have a car?? Dilynn to the rescue!!

Her visit reminded me about how much I actually enjoy my adult child living with me. I mean, I enjoyed some parts of her first 18 years, but the joy is watching her as she has matured after being away from home for several years. And, watching her as she has taken a few risks and stepped out of her comfort zone and tried her hand at a few different things.

We parents are usually encouraged to push our chicklets out of the nest so they can fly. And for the most part, this is a good thing. But the question every parent who has all their kids out of the nest faces is: What do I do now that the kids are gone?

There’s something to be said for families which embrace the multi-generational household. There were benefits to that practice in years and decades gone by. Parents gradually shifted to being the “elders” of the house, but letting the next generation take the lead in managing the house, making decisions, etc. The elders had earned the right to sit back and have someone take care of them. It’s become the conundrum for families as we see this practice being lost due to the opportunities available to our children outside their hometowns, resulting in families being spread out across the country or even the world.

I saw this evolution as my own grandparents aged. While my grandfather “Spence” passed away when I was about 8, the rest of the grandparents spent time with us at our cabin on Seeley Lake each summer. We came together to cook dinner, enjoy family, including my Aunt and Uncle and their two kids, and other friends as they came and went. Dad would drive back and forth to work during the week. It was a commitment. But it changed as the “grands” became less able to do the driving, and as we kids got older and spent less time there. Then we made a big change and Mom and Dad built the cabin (log house) on Flathead. Not so easy for the grandparents to come up and stay due to their increasing restrictions based on age-related issues. Then we watched as choices were made to try to find the right fit for them before each one passed. And still, we had choices as my sister and I graduated and started our own lives.

Pilgrim has seen it happen to various members who have had to make the decision to move into assisted living or move into a 55+ community when they don’t want to move away. Others have made the decision to move to be with their adult children, or near them, so they could have that support as age does what age does.

While I’m happy Dilynn has work she loves during these months from May to September, and is in a place which is near and dear to my heart, and is close to family and friends; I’m also happy when she can come back down the mountain and stop in for a visit. And not just because she can cook dinner and schlepp me around when my car is unavailable. There’s a different energy in the house when she’s there. Even when she is in her room with the door closed, watching one of the many Asian dramas she’s become hooked on watching, it’s comforting to know she’s there. It’s fun when she comes running into my room to share something she found on Facebook or some other social media.

I’m treasuring this time with her as an adult. I’m grateful we are in a place where we get along and know each other well enough to anticipate reactions. There’s real enjoyment in the experience. I rather wish I could have shared some of this type of experience with my own parents and grandparents. But then, maybe I did. Those times at the cabin on Seeley gave me a rare glimpse into what it might have been like in a multi-generational living situation. I think it works for some families and I rather wish it worked for more. There’s something to be said for letting go of the parent/child role and just experiencing this connected world generation to generation.

Our "Common" Prayer

By Carolyn Pinet

Has "common" changed meaning

over the centuries?

Years ago I paged through

The Book of Common Prayer

in my uncle's country church and

years ago

I invoked "the power and the glory -

they sounded poetic

without my thinking deeply about them.

"Pray the prayer you wish for and love,"

urges our pastor, and

she recommends a film, "What Do You Believe Now?"

She knows the King James version of "Our Father"

is poetic and she generously gives us space

for our own loved version of

what Truth might denote -

which changes any fixed sense of faith

trapped in a dogma of words.

So could "common" now denote "fluid" -

a river over stones

flowing in sunlight

and changing color

in iridescent waters?

Ah, despite all,

I still do love our lyrical King James,

the "common" poetry

of watery hymns of praise.

With thanks to Pastor Laura

Having Pride in Pilgrim

By Kerry Williams

This year is a banner one for me, with my best friends from growing up all turning 50 along with me. I’ve been looking forward to celebrating the friend I’ve known the longest in my life by going back to where I grew up and becoming the fourth daughter in their family again, just like when I was little. The time with all of them was fantastic because I could plug back into a sense of belonging that is so core to my being, I don’t consciously know it’s there. I got a short time to experience the duality of being a wizened adult while feeling like my child self around people who love me just as I am, knowing all the awkward missteps I’ve made all along the way. My favorite time from the birthday festivities actually came as the party was wrapping up. My friend had hosted a wine tasting in the late afternoon, and as evening fell, there was a crew ready to continue the celebration at a local bar. Since I was staying with my friend’s older sister and didn’t have a car, I knew that getting myself out of there when I was over socializing would be an issue. The magic was: so did my friend. We locked eyes, mine saying “I love you and wish you so much fun on your birthday” and hers saying “I know this isn’t your thing so please stay back because you certainly don’t have to prove you love me by coming to a bar.” It was an instant and genuine understanding when I gave her a hug good night and settled into her sister’s comfy couch. My friend’s two sisters are three and six years older than her, respectively (the oldest my favorite babysitter growing up). As I was the first-born child in my family, it always felt like a grand social experiment to fit myself into their family dynamic alongside the youngest sibling. I always felt appreciated and vulnerable at the same time with the teasing and bossing around that is to be expected as the lowest in the pecking order. This night, though, as I hung out with my friend’s sisters and their friends, I was just part of the conversation (though I do still describe it as “getting to hang out with the adults.”) We talked about how our two families were the only Lutherans in the sea of Catholics (and a small smattering of Congregationalists) we grew up with, and the way that camp and youth group deepened our connections. The oldest sister said that she was searching for a sense of community like that, especially since the church we grew up in was part of the synod that has taken a stance against the LGBTQIA+ community. Along with the three of us Lutherans, there happened to be a former Catholic and a gay couple whose one husband was a rejected preacher’s kid, so there was no end to the various points of view that were brought up through the topic of religion, but disenchantment was a strong theme. How can an institution be trusted and how can a person hold the beliefs they were taught by leaders who let abuse and abuse of power run rampant? How can someone find belonging in a place that doesn’t allow everyone to belong? How can a religion uphold judging people based on their skin color or their sexual orientation or any other human quality? I piped up with the concept of Church 2.0, a reimagining of what people in this day and age need for their spiritual well-being, and I was so proud to say that I am part of a church that is looking forward creatively to fill the gaps in people’s lives on a metaphysical and also just plain physical level. The proudest moment, though, was when the gay man who was rejected by his evangelical father asked what kind of church I belonged to and started crying when he told the story of finding a UCC church when he lived in Oklahoma. He said he never knew that he could be welcomed for who he is, not despite who he is. Walking into that UCC church changed his life. He went from feeling rejected and just hoping for the miracle of being tolerated to being fully appreciated and loved by people of God. Seeing the emotion on his face and hearing how very much that experience healed him was profound, and I was so glad to bring the memory back and share it with him through his story. The evening moved on to the question of whether at least something bigger than ourselves exists, even outside of religion, but that show of emotion was so powerful that it reverberated throughout the rest of the discussion. Everyone who loves Pilgrim UCC needs to know that our existence matters, because we let others know that they matter.