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Banner article for 3 Jan 2016

Banner article for 3 Jan 2016

We began the new year by discerning our “true north”—what guides us, where we’re headed, what we’re looking for.  On this Epiphany Sunday we heard the story of the Magi following a star to where the young Jesus was found. Rev. Mary Lee-Clark’s sermon entitled, “On Bended Knee” is available on this website. 



  Coming Events

Sunday, January 10th - Administrative Council will meet following the services in the Clayton Room.

Monday, January 11th - Deadline for the Annual Report article submission. Please submitted your reports electronically to bennscc@sover.net.

Tuesday, January 12th - Trustees will meet at 7pm.

Annual Meeting - All members of The Second Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, of Bennington, Vermont, are warned to be present on January 24, 2016 for the Annual Meeting of the Church. The Annual Meeting will begin immediately after lunch which will follow the worship service.
Late Christmas Eve 2015

Late Christmas Eve 2015

"The Light shines in the darkness, [John says] and the darkness has not overcome it." Here on this full moon Christmas, it is in the dark winter sky that the moon glows so bright. It is this darkest time of year that makes us Christians in the northern hemisphere so crave the light, candle light, Christmas lights, the Light of the world. It is because of the darkness, that we can see the stars and the Milky Way. The Light shines in the darkness, but God made the light and the darkness–so it says right there on the first page of our Bibles–so God is in the darkness as well as the light.

Our Jewish brothers and sisters have a celebration of light shining in the darkness at this time of year, called Chanukah. It is the Festival of Lights, though, not the Festival of Light, referring to the lights of the candles on the memorrah, symbolizing the 8 nights in which the lamp burned in the Temple and the oil did not run out, giving hope to a people under seige. Traditionally (writes Rabbi David Seidenberg) [Tikkun.org, Dec. 10, 2015], the candles of the menorah, or chanukiyah, must be set up in a line and be set apart from each other, so that their flames don’t overlap and become visually "like a torch." What that technical detail means is they must be separated by darkness.

Is that not our experience of these Christmas candles or the lights on a Christmas tree? It is their lights shining in the darkness, the darkness between the lights, the darkness of wintertime, that makes them so sweet. So Rabbi Seidenberg writes,

...that is the actual experience of sitting and watching the candles. No one sits in front of the menorah thinking, "I can’t wait for these candles to grow so bright that there’s no more darkness." Darkness is the matrix that makes the candles beautiful and sweet....Chanukah should be a celebration and savoring of the darkness, as well as an appreciation of the turning of the light.

We in the west tend to worship the light–the "bright lights, big city" draw our children, stores open 24-7 with parking lots flooded with light. The view of the earth at night from space over the past decades shows an increasing creep of light – light pollution, really, for we and the creatures of the earth are not made to live in constant light. We need the darkness for our internal systems and rhythms to work. We have literally become light crazy.

God is light, but that is not all God is. The Hebrew word shekhinah describes the immanence – the nearness, the presence– of God. "To speak in theological poetry," Rabbi Seidenberg writes, "The darkness of the shekhinah is the womb-space that gives birth to the world." It is in the darkness that our eyes pick up the signals to tell our organs and glands that it’s time to renew, to ramp up the growth of cells. It is in the darkness of the womb that eggs are fertilized and implanted and babies grow. It is in the darkness of winter, in the darkness of the soil, that fungi and roots weave together and grow. The great 20th c. psychologist Carl Jung wrote, "One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious." By facing all that is within us, including all that we might rather not see, that is the hero’s journey that leads to enlightenment.

The grown man Jesus spoke about those who were blind and yet could see, and those who thought they weren’t blind but could not see. "It makes me wonder," Barbara Brown Taylor writes, "how seeing has made me blind–by giving me cheap confidence that one quick glance at things can tell me what they are, by distracting me from learning how the light inside me works, by fooling me into thinking I have a clear view of how things really are, of where the road leads, of who can see rightly and who cannot." [Learning to Walk in the Dark, p. 108]

So what should we be teaching about our festival of lights? [Rabbi Seidenberg writes of Chanukah] If the flames need to be nestled in darkness, if darkness nurtures the light, then Chanukah is a time when we are planting seeds of light. That is what the tiny flames of the Chanukah candles really look like, after all.

"Planting seeds of light." That’s what our candles do as well. And this night, we are reminded that God has planted seeds of light in every human baby, in each one of us, in fact, and in the darkness of the world, we are to grow and blossom and become food and drink for one another and for the whole world. That is what this meal is about. As God came to live among us, to break bread and drink wine, to offer up God’s own body for our healing and hope, so we too are to become God’s body and blood, wrapped in a woman’s womb and then in swaddling cloths, laid in a manger, growing in wisdom and stature, walking the fields and streets of the city. Light shining in the darkness, planting seeds of light. "Whether it is a seed in the ground," Taylor writes, "a baby in the womb, or Jesus in the tomb, it starts in the dark." The new birth begins here, tonight, in the darkness. Thanks be to God.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

 
Early Christmas Eve 2015 -- “If you came...”

Early Christmas Eve 2015 -- “If you came...”

If you came because you remember that Once upon a time a story captured you, then it’s time for you to hear the story again and let it intrigue and hold you where you are today.

If you came because your mother made you come, I get it. Just ask my kids.  But this too will pass, and there are worse things to do with an hour than to let your imagination take flight at the sight of stars, in the warmth of friendly people who love you.

If you came because you are thinking of someone or several someones who are no longer with you physically, but whom you hold in your heart, then know that we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, and you and your loved ones are welcome here.

If you came just to sit for an hour–something you haven’t done in weeks and you don’t think you can run around any longer–then sit. Feel free to ignore the invitations to stand as we sing, and just rest your weary bones.  Crawl into God’s lap and rest.

If you came, a little concerned that the walls of the building might cave in on you because it’s been so long since you’ve been to church, know that these walls have seen far worse cases than you and have been gracious enough to stay standing.

So for whatever reason you have come tonight, know that the God of Love and Light is already here, because this God is present everywhere, even out there in the dark. It is this God, older than time and newborn in this moment, this is the God we worship tonight.

+     +     +

My colleague Quinn Caldwell* tells his Christmas Eve congregation, “If you came to this place expecting a tame story, you came to the wrong place. If you came for a story that does not threaten you, you came for a different story than the one we tell.”

For this is a story of a teen-age girl and her fiancee who accepted God’s invitation to be part of changing the world. Imagine what might happen if you did the same thing.  Because, you know, the invitation to be part of changing the world is extended to each one of us.  It may very well get you in trouble, But know that you’re in good company...

+           +        +

If you came because maybe a few years ago–maybe more than a few years ago–you were a sheep or donkey in a Christmas pageant, know that God loves animals as much as the people and made them the first witnesses to the saving of the world. If you came because you think the earth–this beautiful planet on which we live–is worth saving, along with the people on it, know that you will find friends here on that same mission.  You might even think of making yourself a manger, where God’s creatures might be nourished, and a baby with God’s face might find a welcome.

If you came because you think that the kind of people who work the third shift, the ones who do the work many of us would rather not do, the ones who are looked down upon by too many people, if you came because you think those are some of the most interesting folks around, then know that this is a story that says they were the first people God told about the baby, even sent a whole heavenly choir to sing to them. Maybe you think of yourself more as a shepherd...

+                     +                             +

If you came expecting to hear about kings from far off lands, come back in two weeks on Epiphany, when we celebrate their arrival at the home of the toddler Christ Child. But if you came because you think there are wise men and women to be found among undocumented travelers from far lands and that they might be able to show you God, then you will love this story.

Maybe you’ve been thinking about really far lands-- “A long, long time ago in a Galilee far, far away...  If you came hoping it was a galaxy far, far away –how many of you have seen the new Star Wars movie?–then know that this  too is “is a tale of adventure and bravery, where strong and gentle people win, and the powerful and violent go down to dust, where the rich lose their money but find their lives and the poor are raised up like kings.”

+                +               +

If you came because the world is often a bleak and fearful place, then listen to the first words that every angel in this story says, “Fear not. Be not afraid.”  Of course, there are some things, some situations, where fear can come in handy–it helps you run away faster, focus in what’s right in front of you, but don’t be fear. Don’t become fear. Don’t let fear run your life.“Fear is the path to the dark side,” as Yoda says in that other story.  “Fear leads to anger.  Anger leads to hate.  Hate leads to suffering.”

If you came wondering about “God”–Who or What or How that’s all about-- If you came because the Force–that energy field created by all living things, that surrounds us and penetrates us, that binds the galaxy together-- in that other story intrigues you, know that it is known by many names–some people even use the name God. But I have it on good authority that God is more than energy.

If you came looking for answers, let me suggest instead the wisdom of one wise woman– “After all these years, [she wrote] I have begun to wonder if the secret of living well is not in having all the answers but in pursuing unanswerable questions in good company.” [Rachel Naomi Remen] If you came looking for hope, peace, joy, and love, I pray that you may have experienced some of that here, but know also that it is in bringing hope, peace, joy and love to others that you will most surely find them.

You are loved and accepted just as you are, this moment, this night, this place on your life’s journey, but know that God loves you too much to leave you unchanged. The journey continues.

If you came to follow the Light, if you came suspecting that a baby might just have something to teach you, if you came willing to discover your true self, which is who God intended you to be, then, ah, my friends, you are in precisely the right place.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

 

*The format for this meditation was inspired by Quinn Caldwell’s Dec. 24 entry in All I Really Want.  It was interspersed with carols, Scripture readings, and anthems, indicated by "+" .
Snowball Bazaar 2015

Snowball Bazaar 2015


"An intense week of preparation by congregational members (plus friends and family) working together culminated in Friday evening and Saturday's 67th annual bazaar on December 4 and 5. Fresh greens were made into wreaths and centerpieces. Jewelry, books, Christmas items, toys, tools and sporting goods were sold in Serendipity. The Treasure Chest had special quality items. Pet Pourri had toys and treats for dogs, cats, and seed wreaths for wild birds. Crafters' Corner had a wealth of fabric and notions for sewing and other crafting. The baked goods table featured candies, cakes, pies, jams, and cookies, including Ugly Sweater Christmas cookies. The dinner for two raffle offered the chance to win a dinner at a local restaurant of one' choice. The dining room offered homemade soups, salads, sandwiches, desserts and drinks."

From Snowball Bazaar 2015. Posted by Second Congregational, Bennington on 12/14/2015 (25 items)



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banner announce week of Dec 27th

banner announce week of Dec 27th

Come, Seek, Pray, Learn..


Leaving the Christmas clutter and left-overs, we celebrated the First Sunday after Christmas at Second Congregational Church, UCC, singing favorite carols of the season.  The Gospel Singers sang “Born in the Night, Mary’s Child.” A team from our church prepared a special end-of-year dinner for the Sunday supper attended by folks who come for both the food and the socializing.
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homepage contact section

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Please contact us by telephone, letter, email, or 


Second Congregational Church,  115 Hillside Street,  Bennington VT 05201
Telephone: 802-442-2559,  e-mail: bennscc@sover.net



Or visit the church
From middle of town intersection of Routes 7 & 9,  take Route 7 south 2 blocks.
Turn left onto Hillside St.  (just before Friendly's).


Church is located on right at top of hill.



We will be pleased to hear from you

"The Glory of God is the human being fully alive!"

"The Glory of God is the human being fully alive!"

"The Glory of God is the human being fully alive!"


Whoever you are and wherever you are on life's journey, YOU are invited to join is on the journey at Second Congregational -- a church for young and old and in-between. Second Congregational Church is a progressive church, musical and mission-minded, with opportunities for questioning and seeking. Vermont's first "Open and Affirming" Congregation of the United Church of Christ, we welcome all people of faith or in search of faith to our work and worship, without regard to age, race, economic condition, disability, or sexual orientation.
Mary's Banner announcement Dec 16, 2015

Mary's Banner announcement Dec 16, 2015

Come away from the Christmas clutter and left-overs and celebrate the First Sunday after Christmas at Second Congregational Church, UCC. Sunday morning worship begins at 10 o’clock, as we sing carols and celebrate the Sacrament of Baptism. The Gospel Singers will sing “Born in the Night, Mary’s Child,” and we’ll immerse ourselves in the Word in Music, singing favorite carols of the season. No Godly Play this morning, as all are invited to worship and sing. A time of fellowship and refreshment follows in Webster Hall.

On Sunday morning December 20, we lit the fourth Advent candle, the Candle of Love. The Gospel Singers sang, “Mary, Mary” by Avery and Marsh. The “No-rehearsal Christmas Pageant” had the old, old story told in rhyme, with volunteers from the congregation spontaneously getting up and getting costumed quickly ...as shepherds, angels, animals, and Marys and Josephs! The impromptu casting had youth leader and bell choir director as sheep, pastor as one of three angels, and a very young wise king asking Joseph why she was wearing a beard. Christmas carols sung by all the congregation provided the music for the pageant. The service ended as we sang “Happy Birthday” to Jesus, and a sandwich lunch, complete with birthday cake, followed in Webster Hall. Carollers left from the church at 12:30 to visit our home-bound members.
"Joy for Grown-ups"-- Luke 3:7-18-- Dec. 13, 2015

"Joy for Grown-ups"-- Luke 3:7-18-- Dec. 13, 2015

There’s something a little "off" this Advent. Maybe it’s just that it feels more like April than December, and while I’m not a huge fan of shoveling, it’s just weird that there’s no snow yet. Other than the wreath we bought at the Snowball Bazaar, we’ve been relatively late in putting up Christmas decorations at our house. We’re still working and walking outside, rather than hunkering down in front of the fireplace and settling in "for a long winter’s night."

But there’s something about being called "a brood of vipers" by that wild man in the desert that puts me right back in the Advent spirit. "No one has ever called me a viper before," writes Debie Thomas, "and I have to confess: I’m curious. Maybe even relieved. At last! Hard words for hard lives. Nothing saccharine...." about John the Baptist. [journeywithjesus, 12/6/15]

"You brood of vipers!" John shouts. "Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves [don’t you start with me...], ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham. Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire."

There is no "holly, jolly Christmas" here, and even Santa Claus seems a little too cheery. I’ll admit, though, I’m with Thomas here–relieved to hear hard words for hard lives. Have you listened to the news lately?

You may find it surprising, then, as I did, to learn that John the Baptist is the patron saint of spiritual joy. Really. That is because of the story Luke tells of John leaping in his mother Elizabeth’s womb when she greeted her cousin Mary, who was pregnant with Jesus. "Clearly," one commentator writes, "John understood something hard and flinty about joy. Joy is not sentiment. Joy is not happiness. Joy will cost you." [Thomas, op cit.]

People say they like some of the voices in the presidential campaign because they "tell it like it is." What they tell us is the lowest, meanest tendencies in our nature. John the Baptist also drew great crowds, and he told it like it was–and is. "You brood of vipers," he called the crowd, in the opposite of pandering. "You think you can get by by claiming your inheritance from Abraham? God can raise up relations to Abraham from these stones, so don’t get all ‘native’ on me."

But John doesn’t preach in the wilderness just to tear people down, to make them believe they are worthless and powerless and so need a strong man with big talk and powerful friends to make their decisions for them and make them compliant. John judges them–sees them–as worth far more than that. "Low self-esteem," writes another John–John Ortberg Jr.–"causes me to believe I have so little worth that my response does not matter. With repentance, however, I understand that being worth so much to God is why my response is so important. Repentance is remedial work to mend our minds and hearts, which get bent by sin." [cited in sermonseeds, 12/13/15]

"I baptize you with water," John told the crowds, "but one who is more powerful than I is coming...He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire."

John may make us squirm with his talk of judgment, but judgment is not necessarily about punishment or condemnation. The dictionary also gives synonyms of "discernment, perception." What if the One wielding the winnowing fork is One who perceives the goodness, the richness within us and is clearing away all the stuff that hinders and hides it? [Thomas] What if our response to being told "like it is" matters to God because we are worth so much to God?

The crowds seems to understand this somehow. "What then shall we do?" they ask John. You might think that such a renegade, wild and bigger-than-life figure like John the Baptist would tell them to do something big and dramatic, leave their homes and families behind, to take to the streets and start a revolution, but John says, "Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise." Wow. What we are to do is go home and take a look at our closets and pantries. And "what should we do?" the hated tax collectors asked. "Don’t take more than is prescribed," John says, which was the only way tax collectors could make any money for themselves. John doesn’t tell them to quit their jobs. "And we," the soldiers in the crowd also asked him, "what should we do?" "Don’t extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation," John tells them, "and be satisfied with your wages."

"Inhabit your lives," John tells us. You don’t have to come out into the wilderness to find God. Right where you are, in your daily lives, going to Price Chopper, walking the dog, chopping carrots for dinner, paying the bills, is holy ground. There is no place and no one outside God’s saving power. If you have anything, you have something to share, gifts to give toward the creating of God’s kingdom on earth. Inhabit your lives. This is good news if you thought that your own little life was out of bounds for God to do anything significant. On the other hand, if your life isn’t what you want it to be, if honestly you’d rather flee from your life, then maybe it’s not such good news...unless it gives you permission to change your life into something that more integrity for you. Hard word. This isn’t: Don’t worry! Be happy! "There’s no need to be surprised by this [Thomas writes]–God isn’t. After all, we’re in the desert now; we’ve left cheap cheer behind. This is joy for grown-ups."

"What then shall we do?" the crowds ask John. That’s not a question to be asked when things are going well, as one commentator pointed out. [Thomas] "it’s the question we ask when we’ve come to the ends of ourselves. When the received wisdom has failed, when our cherished defenses are down, when our lives are splitting at the seams. It’s what we ask when we’re weary, bored, disillusioned, or desperate." What do we do now?

John’s response isn’t a grand economic or political plan, but it’s more than just a nice gesture to someone less fortunate than we. Remember that in those days, a coat often doubled for warmth at night. It still does for many people, even here in Bennington. John’s message to people across the political and social spectrum of his time was to start turning around right where they were but also to look at the built-in injustice and inequities around them–some people have way too much while others do have enough to live. Some government officials are corrupt and serve only themselves, not the common good. Some law enforcement officials threaten others with false accusations and extort money. Is this the beginning of the first century in Palestine or the twenty-first century in America?

"Bear fruits worthy of repentance," John yells into the Advent mist. It’s kind of a scary, church-y word, repentance. It just means, turn around. Adjust your focus. You’re missing the mark, and notice how that’s working for you, focusing over here. "Love always precedes repentance," Michael M. Rose writes much more recently. "Divine love is a catalyst for our turning, our healing. Where fear and threat may gain our compliance, love captures our heart. It changes the heavy burden of the ‘have-to’s’ of imposed obedience to the ‘get-to’s,’ a joyful response to the genuine love of God." [cited in sermonseeds, ibid.] John calls us to repentance, yes, to turning around from where we’ve wandered away from our true path, and then back to the truth that God intends for us; but it is God’s love that calls us first.

This patron saint of spiritual joy, calling us names in the wilderness, with locusts stuck in his teeth and a camel skin tied around his waist, is an unlikely harbinger of joy. But John really does have good news for us–that each one of us has a part to play in redeeming the world, that within each one of us is wheat that is good and nourishing and worth clearing the chaff away from, that it is Love that calls to us to discover the joy that is deeper than our sorrows and failures and anxiety, stronger than our fears, more life-giving and welcoming to the seeds of the new creation God is planting within us and around us. Hope, peace, joy, on the way to love, which meets us coming and going, at the beginning and at the end. Welcome the wild one.

Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark
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"And you, child..."-- Malachi 3:1-4, Luke 1:68-79-- Dec. 6, 2015

"And you, child..."-- Malachi 3:1-4, Luke 1:68-79-- Dec. 6, 2015

By and large, we are not a people who like to wait for things. The countdown to Christmas is excruciating for many, particularly since it starts right after Halloween, if not before. We just can’t wait until the actual season for waiting–Advent–gets started. And what is it with Advent now? Many of you remember when it used to be that we began to sing Christmas carols as soon as December started. Now we have to sing these songs we don’t know, and many of them are in a minor key–what’s up with that?

A full-term baby stays in his or her mother’s womb for 9 months–such a long time to wait! Lots of couples now don’t want to wait that long to find out the gender of their child, so they ask for the results of the pre-natal tests that will tell them whether they are having a boy or a girl. You’ve got to decorate the nursery, after all, get the clothes and furnishings that will be just right. Talk about your "active waiting!"

Imagine now waiting all your long life–well into old age–to become a parent. That’s what Zechariah and Elizabeth had done. It had probably been a longer, more bitter wait for Elisabeth, since it was assumed that she was the reason they hadn’t been able to get pregnant, and for women of that time, there was real shame in that. So when the angel–no less than Gabriel himself–came to Zechariah that day when it was his turn to go into the inner sanctuary and offer incense, and told him that he and Elisabeth would have a son, Zechariah was struck dumb– literally. "How will I know that this is so?" he asked, not unreasonably. "For I am an old man, and my wife is getting on in years." Gabriel apparently wasn’t used to being questioned, and so he struck the old priest dumb, until the time came for the angel’s words to be fulfilled.

Nine months, thinking about what God was able to do. Nine months, watching his wife’s wrinkled old belly become stretched taut over a growing infant, laughing and maybe even crying with her, only able to scribble on a writing tablet to her that the baby’s name would be "John."

And when at last the child was born, and they came to him to ask by what name he should be dedicated, Zechariah scratched out the name once again on a writing tablet. "John," he wrote, in shaky letters, and, holding his newborn son in his old gnarled hands, Zechariah lifted up his voice for the first time in 9 months–"Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them." Praise was the first word on Zechariah’s lips.

Another couple–much younger–also having waited 9 months for their baby to be born, issued their first public statement this week in the form of a letter. Mark Zuckerberg, the barely 40-year-old founder and CEO of Facebook, and his wife Dr. Priscilla Chan, announced the birth of their daughter Max to all Facebook users this past Tuesday. It was in the form of a letter to their daughter–

Dear Max [it began], Your mother and I don’t yet have the words to describe the hope you give us for the future. Your new life is full of promise, and we hope you will be happy and healthy so you can explore it fully. You’ve already given us a reason to reflect on the world we hope you live in. Like all parents, we want you to grow up in a world better than ours today.

It’s a sentiment that might have been expressed by almost any parent upon the birth of a child– hope, promise, the desire for a better world in which their child will grow up. Zechariah and Elisabeth might even have said it.

But, of course, Mark and Priscilla [I don’t think they’d mind if I refer to them as "Mark and Priscilla"] are not "any" parents, but rather, economically speaking, are in the top 0.1% of parents, and they used this letter to their daughter Max to announce the launch of the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative "to join people across the world to advance human potential and promote equality for all children in the next generation. Our initial areas of focus [they write] will be personalized learning, curing disease, connecting people and building strong communities." They have pledged 99% of their Facebook shares–currently about $45 Billion–during their lives to advance this mission.

Almost immediately, the Chan-Zuckerbergs’ motives were questioned, noting that the legal form this initiative takes allows them to have a massive tax reduction and to maintain control within their family, but still, that is an amazing amount of money to be invested in education, medicine, and technology, areas close to their hearts and from which their fortune came. I commend them for taking a broader perspective than their own personal gain and for proposing constructive use of their good fortune for the common good.

What I do wonder about is where and in what they put their trust–trust in the sense of faith or hope. It’s probably not surprising that it seems to be in technology, with the underlying assumption that more, or bigger, is better. "Technological progress in every field means your life should be dramatically better than ours today," they tell Max. In medicine, Mark and Priscilla trust that "as technology accelerates, we have a real shot at preventing, curing or managing all or most [diseases] in the next 100 years, [so that] your generation and your children’s generation may not have to suffer from disease." Their hopes for Max’s generation focus on advancing human potential–"Can you learn and experience 100 times more than we do today? ...Can we connect the world so you have access to every idea, person and opportunity?" [I’ll admit, that makes my head spin.] The other focus is Promoting equality–making sure everyone has access to infinite opportunities, "regardless of the nation, families or circumstances they are born into. Our society must do this not only for justice or charity, but for the greatness of human progress..."

"Unto us a child is born..." This letter to Max is a document of great sweep and ambition. Without knowing them, I’m guessing it is an accurate reflection of their values and hopes, as the moment of the birth of a child can crystallize for us all. But I also think of other parents–those without the resources and benefits of the Chan-Zuckerbergs–who also have hopes and dreams for their newborn infants and the world in which they will grow up. I imagine parents of baby boys with dark skin may also hope that by the time their sons are old enough, "the talk" will no longer be necessary–"the talk," of course, is about how to act around police and white people, so that they might not be shot and killed on their way home from the corner store. "Unto us a child is born..."

I imagine parents in Syria and Iraq, Palestine and Afghanistan, in refugee camps and holding stations for migrants, dreaming of a home, the sounds of birds singing outside, green grass for their child to play on, not a gun shot or explosion to be heard. "Unto us..."

I’ll admit I have a hard time imagining what dreams the parents had who gunned down 14 people and injured 17 more in San Bernadino this week, after leaving their 6-month old with her grandmother. What kind of world were they dreaming and hoping for her? I shudder to think what such a legacy will mean for that child. "Unto us a child is born..."

"Unto us a child is born..." What would you sing? What kind of world do we dream for the children born today? My song has to have a melody line for meaning and relationship, a sense of Spirit, a sense of awe, of sheer wonder, of reverence. I would want these children to reach beyond boundaries of "people like us," in real time, not just "Facetime" on an iPad. I would long for them to discover that they are part of nature, which has been given to us in sacred trust, so that they might help us repair the damage and wounds our generations have inflicted. "Unto us a child is born..."

"And you, child," that other infant was addressed, "you will be called a prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins. By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace."

"Unto us a child is born..." You shall call the child John, or Max, or Taisha, or Pedro, or Mohammed, or your own inner child. All of their names are Emmanuel–God with us, for God is with us, even in the darkness and the shadow of death in which we seem to be sitting all too often. We must not focus only on the shadows and darkness, lest it suck us in and convince us that is all there is. A child is born, a light shining in the darkness, waiting for us to nurture and feed, to teach and to learn from, to laugh and play with, to sit at the table and eat and tell stories with. We are still waiting, yes, but even now a child is born. Let us set the table where all God’s children are welcome and are fed. Even now, let us keep the feast.

Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark
Last Year's Bazaar

Last Year's Bazaar

At Second Congregational Church's Snowball Bazaar, the Silent Auction attracts a lot of interest with antiques, vintage items, quality new items, and interesting services for people to bid on.

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Preparing the Bazaar

Preparing the Bazaar

Volunteers prepare for the 2015 Snowball Bazaar (67th annual bazaar) which started small, with a few tables of Christmas ornaments and handicrafts, and has grown to a huge event. Not only a major fundraiser for church mission projects, it also is a week of church members working intensely together and of the local community flocking to Second Congo.
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"All Souls on Deck!"- Jeremiah 33:14-16, Luke 22: 25-36-- Nov. 29, 2015

"All Souls on Deck!"- Jeremiah 33:14-16, Luke 22: 25-36-- Nov. 29, 2015

Perhaps at no other time of year does our Christian perspective clash more with our culture than in Advent. Our culture is full-speed-ahead into Christmas, hook-line-and-sinker into getting the best price for the most desireable gadgets, children saying they want the latest toy or device so they can be like their friends, the lights in the stores on 24-7 and, of course, on-line shopping available at any time, in any place, day or night. Our economy depends upon these days leading up to the 25th of December, and even our generosity and service get ramped up, as is evident in the Spirit of Sharing, Toys for Tots, countless people working long hours to ensure a "good Christmas" for people in need.

And yet, Salon magazine said that Pope Francis "came as close to cancelling Christmas this year as a pope likely ever has." [Scott Eric Kaufman, in Salon,  11/23/15] The Pope called Christmas this year "a charade, because the world has not understood the way of peace. The whole world is at war." What would we do if the Prince of Peace showed up? "There will be lights," Pope Francis said during a Mass at the Basilica di Santa Maria last week, "there will be parties, bright trees, even Nativity scenes–all decked out–while the world continues to wage war....and What shall remain in the wake of this war, in the midst of which we are living now? Ruins, thousands of children without education, so many innocent victims, and lots of money in the pockets of arms dealers." Wow! How do you say to a Pope that "he’s harshing my buzz," as the saying goes? On the other hand, how might we say "thank you" for speaking the truth to power?

"This Advent," wrote Joanna Adams back in 2006, though it speaks as truly today, "this Advent I feel an urgent need for the light that comes from God, and I do not think I am the only one...The clouds of anxiety about the future are hovering so low and close that you can barely see your hand in front of your face...I am holding on for dear life to the reassurance that God intends to make the world right again." [cited by Kate Matthews, sermonseeds, 11/29/15]

There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, Jesus said, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken.

The season of Advent is less about preparing for a baby to be born and more about pre-paring for a day of justice, when God will make the world right again, when the whole world will be born again. 600 years before Jesus was born, the people of Israel and Judah were in utter despair and hopelessness. The city of Jerusalem and Solomon’s magnificent Temple lay in ruins, their rulers and religious leaders carried off into exile in Babylon, and in the years after the trauma, the people had time to contemplate their failure to live faithfully and justly, time to recall the warnings of the prophets that their materialism, their greed, their flaunting of actions opposed to God’s laws would have devastating consequences. They must have felt cut down, like a tree, as someone has suggested [Matthews]. Not so unlike those left in the wake of 9/11, or bombings in Paris, Beirut, Yemen, Iraq, modern day Israel and Palestine, and every other location of the war which Pope Francis so rightly indicted the world of waging.

But/And "in the midst of the despair...a prophet arises [Kate Matthews], the prophet who is also a poet with an imagination and a deep sense of call to proclaim , even in desolation, destruction and loss, the promise of God’s future taking shape beneath and behind it all." –

The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. And this is the name by which it will be called: ‘The Lord is our righteousness.’

People experiencing post-traumatic stress need something to hold on to, need to be able to imagine a future that is different from what they are experiencing now and what they have experienced in the past. God knows Jeremiah has ranted and raged about all the dangerous and deadly and delusional things Israel and Judah have done and the dire consequences of those actions, but now that they have come to pass, God speaks through Jeremiah a word of hope, a word of comfort. "The days are surely coming," he says. Not, the day might come. "The days are surely coming when I will fulfill my promise to the house of Israel and the house of Judah"–a promise of restoration, a promise of peace, a promise of justice. The days are surely coming because even now, God’s future is taking shape beneath and behind all the devastation and despair around you.

When you see these things begin to take place, Jesus said, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near. Stand up, when you see the oceans rising and nations in distress, when people are faint with fear and foreboding? Our redemption is drawing near? What do we imagine that "day of justice" will be like? Certainly others have laid out their visions of that "day" or time– Jesus will return in wrath, wielding a sword, hurling lightening bolts and setting the unrighteous on fire, rapturing up those who have been saved [Christians only], and leaving behind the others to a future of death and destruction. Proponents of this vision have already offered to bomb "God’s enemies" to hell. The day of justice will be a day of revenge, when those who had been victims will turn about in fair play to avenge the wrongdoing. Is that how we imagine it? Is this what we are to stand up to join?

How can we experience loss and tragedy, especially communally, and not seek revenge? How do we live in hope, not fear? For one thing, it matters whose vision of the future you listen to–bombastic or strident presidential candidates or a servant leader like Francis? Where and in what do we put our trust? On what "Day of justice" do we stake our lives? Listen to the prophets, listen to the souls made radiant with God’s word and power, who speak not of cities ruined or laid waste by poverty, rebuilt with "glittery, nightlife and new sports venues, but neighborhoods, restored and healed and safe for people to live in, and homes for people to inhabit and call their own..." [Matthews] The day is surely coming, when all of God’s children will live in peace, when everyone will have enough to eat, work that is dignified, children will be able to play safely, with bodies cared for, loved, and fed.

As it is, this Advent, the world is roiling with the "soul-deep longing of those who have suffered too much, for far too long," in the Middle East and Africa, in the cities and campuses of our country, in those of our own community who see no hope. Modern empires of greed, materialism, militarism, and nationalism would keep us all numbed and happy with merely the prospect of a "good Christmas."

But that is not what Advent is about, nor is Advent about waiting for some other-worldly savior to whisk us all away. "In those days," God said, "I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up," I will cause a green shoot to burst through the dead stem and trunk. God’s future, God’s kingdom is here and now–and not yet.

So what are we to do in this "twilight time," as the Celtic tradition calls it, this time between times, between the Already and the not yet? Kate Matthews suggests that "Our accumulated choices, the little ones as well as the big ones, shape our communities into centers of greed and self-interest, or into radiant centers of hope and love and peace." We are called to the "strenuous and crucial Christian task of imagination...and position ourselves to become partners with God in the advent of a new reality." [Jennifer Ryan Ayres, cited by Matthews] On this Alternative New Year’s Day–this First Sunday in Advent--, we can reaffirm our trust in God. [Deborah Block, cited in Matthews]

"The days are surely coming when God will renew the promise...," the prophet cries. "When you see these things take place," Jesus the prophet commands, "stand up and raise your heads, for your redemption is drawing near." "All souls on deck!" cries the modern-day prophet Clarissa Pinkola Estes, who writes to "brave souls" that "we were made for these times." Listen to this Advent call--

...You are right in your assessments. [she writes] The lustre and hubris some have aspired to while endorsing acts so heinous against children, elders, everyday people, the poor, the unguarded, the helpless, is breathtaking. Yet, I urge you, ask you, gentle you, to please not spend your spirit dry by bewailing these difficult times. Especially do not lose hope. Most particularly because, the fact is that we were made for these times. Yes. For years, we have been learning, practicing, been in training for and just waiting to meet on this exact plain of engagement.

I grew up on the Great Lakes and recognize a seaworthy vessel when I see one. Regarding awakened souls, there have never been more able vessels in the waters than there are right now across the world. And they are fully provisioned and able to signal one another as never before in the history of humankind.

Look out over the prow; there are millions of boats of righteous souls on the waters with you. Even though your veneers may shiver from every wave in this stormy roil, I assure you that the long timbers composing your prow and rudder come from a greater forest. That long-grained lumber is known to withstand storms, to hold together, to hold its own, and to advance, regardless.

In any dark time, there is a tendency to veer toward fainting over how much is wrong or unmended in the world. Do not focus on that. There is a tendency, too, to fall into being weakened by dwelling on what is outside your reach, by what cannot yet be. Do not focus there. That is spending the wind without raising the sails.

We are needed, that is all we can know. And though we meet resistance, we more so will meet great souls who will hail us, love us and guide us, and we will know them when they appear. Didn’t you say you were a believer? Didn’t you say you pledged to listen to a voice greater? Didn’t you ask for grace? Don’t you remember that to be in grace means to submit to the voice greater?

Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world all at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach. Any small, calm thing that one soul can do to help another soul, to assist some portion of this poor suffering world, will help immensely. It is not given to us to know which acts or by whom, will cause the critical mass to tip toward an enduring good.

What is needed for dramatic change is an accumulation of acts, adding, adding to, adding more, continuing. We know that it does not take everyone on Earth to bring justice and peace, but only a small, determined group who will not give up during the first, second, or hundredth gale.

One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines like gold in dark times. The light of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares, builds signal fires, causes proper matters to catch fire. To display the lantern of soul in shadowy times like these – to be fierce and to show mercy toward others; both are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity.

Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willing to show it. If you would help to calm the tumult, this is one of the strongest things you can do.

There will always be times when you feel discouraged. I too have felt despair many times in my life, but I do not keep a chair for it. I will not entertain it. It is not allowed to eat from my plate.

The reason is this: In my uttermost bones I know something, as do you. It is that there can be no despair when you remember why you came to Earth, who you serve, and who sent you here. The good words we say and the good deeds we do are not ours. They are the words and deeds of the One who brought us here. In that spirit, I hope you will write this on your wall: When a great ship is in harbor and moored, it is safe, there can be no doubt. But that is not what great ships are built for.

[By Clarissa Pinkola Estes, http://theunboundedspirit.com/we-were-made-for-these-times]

My brothers and sisters, the Captain is on board. So may we set sail on this journey into Advent.

Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

 
"Connected through Grief"-- John 18: 33-38a-- Nov. 22, 2015

"Connected through Grief"-- John 18: 33-38a-- Nov. 22, 2015

At the end of a week of such violence and heartbreak–not only bombings and shootings in Paris and the ongoing search for accomplices in Belgium and beyond, but also hostage-taking in Bamako, Mali, ongoing violence in Iraq and Lebanon, in Afghanistan and Nigeria, in cities of our country, in places known and unknown to us, in places near and far, violence and brutality and hate- and fear-mongering–at the end of such a week, like so many other weeks, how can we possibly claim that Christ is sovereign over all the world?

"Are you a king?" Pilate asked Jesus on that dark night in the praetorium. "My kingdom is not from this world," Jesus answered. "If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here."

Notice that he said, "My kingdom is not from here." He didn’t say, "My kingdom is not here." The kingdom that Christ reigns is not about location–not some other-worldly place–but the reign of Christ is about relationships. It is not about relationships of violence, like a kingdom here in "the world," as John refers to it–"If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews." Your kingdom, Pilate, is run by violence, and in your kingdom people like me get beaten and crucified. In your kingdom, and kingdoms like yours, people blow themselves up, mow down innocents at restaurants and concerts, return hatred with hatred, violence with violence. "But as it is, my kingdom is not from here...I came to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice." And Pilate asked him, "What is truth?"

As Nancy Rockwell wrote, "Jesus freely walks into the city [of Jerusalem] knowing the truth that Pilate doesn’t know...the truth that life [and love] cannot be stopped by brutality and cruelty. Pilate looks to the world to see where power lies and where power rises, and sees only the absence of power in Jesus." [patheos, 11/22/15] Only the absence of power in Jesus, in this man who this time the next day would be dead and laid in a tomb...utterly powerless. Except that we know what power was at work in him, a power that brutality and cruelty could not ultimately stop. It was the power of resurrection, the power of love, the power of kindness, the power of relationships that are not based in violence. "Are you a king?"

Still, in the midst of the bombs, in the midst of the beatings, in the midst of the gaping holes of grief over loved ones–these and others-- lost suddenly or over a long, agonizing time, life and love do not feel so powerful. It feels like heartbreak. It feels like being torn apart. It feels like utter powerlessness. "Are you a king?"

Parker Palmer writes that "Heartbreak is such a constant that every ancient wisdom tradition seeks to answer three questions: How can we prepare for heartbreak? How should we hold it when it comes, as it always will? Where will we let it take us–toward more death or new life?" [onbeing, blog, 11/18/15]

I shared yesterday at Marge Page’s funeral that last weekend, days after the Paris bombings, Michel Martin of National Public Radio had told of friend of hers–a neighbor, a teacher–who had died. "I mourn her," Martin said, "because I know her and appreciate her, but I also mourn her because the grieving of one merges into the grieving of others." Each grief merges not only into other griefs we’ve experienced, but also into the grief that all human beings share. "We bereaved are not alone," Helen Keller wrote. "We belong to the largest company in all the world–the company of those who have known suffering. When it seems that our sorrow is too great to be borne, let us think of the great family of the heavy-hearted into which our grief has given us entrance, and inevitably, we will feel about us their arms, their sympathy, their understanding. Believe, when you are most unhappy, that there is something for you to do in the world. So long as you can sweeten another’s pain, life is not in vain."

How do we prepare for heartbreak? "Attentive students of life [Parker Palmer writes] learn to exercise the heart day in and day out, allowing life’s ‘little deaths’ to stretch us in ways that make our hearts suppler." Little deaths like, spending yourself, disappointments, failures, the death of a dream or a relationship, "every day a little death," as the song from the musical "A Little Night Music" puts it. "Then," Palmer says, "when larger forms of suffering strike, our hearts can break open rather than apart–giving them a greater capacity to hold life’s pain as well as its possibilities and joys." [op cit.]

How do we hold heartbreak when it comes, and where do we let it take us? We share in the great company of the bereaved, as Helen Keller says, and use our experience to lighten the load of others, for one thing. And also this wisdom from the wonderful Palestinian-American poet Naomi Shihab Nye--"Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside," she writes, "you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing." Her poem called "Kindness" is deep medicine and wisdom for a day like today and a world like ours.

Before you know what kindness really is

you must lose things,

feel the future dissolve in a moment

like salt in a weakened broth.

What you held in your hand,

what you counted and carefully saved,

all this must go so you know

how desolate the landscape can be

between the regions of kindness...

... Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,

you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.

You must wake up with sorrow.

You must speak to it till your voice

catches the thread of all sorrows

and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,

only kindness that ties your shoes

and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,

only kindness that raises its head

from the crowd of the world to say

It is I you have been looking for,

and then goes with you everywhere

like a shadow or a friend. [cited by Palmer, op cit.]

"In a world that can be as heedless and as heartless as ours," Palmer writes, "kindness must grow from deep roots if it is to be strong and sustainable." Our faith must grow from deep roots, if it is to be strong and sustainable, if it is to carry us through our loss and grief and into the new days of hope and resurrection and life.

On this Reign of Christ Sunday, we pledge our allegiance to this Sovereign–

"When we speak about wisdom," wrote the 4th c. bishop Ambrose of Milan, "we are speaking of Christ. When we speak about virtue, we are speaking of Christ. When we speak about justice, we are speaking of Christ. When we speak about peace, we are speaking of Christ. When we speak about truth and life and redemption, we are speaking of Christ." So may wisdom and virtue, justice and peace, truth and life and redemption and kindness rule our lives and our world, as we give thanks and remember this day.

Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark
Pet Pourri

Pet Pourri

[fsg_photobox rows="3" cols="3" autoplay="true" link="attachment"] An inter-generational work-bee on Saturday November 14 was a lot of fun. We made toys, fleece beds, treats and more for dogs and cats, as well as seed wreaths for birds. These environmentally friendly gifts for animals and animal-lovers will be sold at the Pet-Pourri table, a new and special feature of the 2015 Snowball Bazaar. Crafted by the Eaarth Advocates group (plus two boys who came to help the church clean-up) during two Saturday work-bees, they were made under the supervision of a professional veterinarian of our congregation. This project of the grassroots group Eaarth Advocates continues the group's work to promote what we can do to care for our planet, individually, as families, as a church and community, and in the wider world.
Fall cleanup

Fall cleanup

[fsg_photobox rows="2" cols="3" autoplay="true" link="attachment"] Despite the cool and windy Saturday, a good turn-out of hardy congregation members brought rakes, leaf blowers and tarps to collect the fallen autumn leaves and spruce up our church grounds before winter. Coffee, donuts and homemade chocolate chip cookies helped to warm the hard-working crew, which finished all the leaves before noon.
"When Enough Isn’t Enough"-- 1 Samuel 1:4-20, Mark 13:1-8 --Nov. 15,
2015

"When Enough Isn’t Enough"-- 1 Samuel 1:4-20, Mark 13:1-8 --Nov. 15, 2015

Yesterday morning I re-read the sermon I had written on Friday and decided it wasn’t enough. It was perfectly adequate, but it wasn’t enough for the world we were reminded we live in after the attacks in Paris Friday night. Of course, it’s the same world that people in Iraq and Beirut and Afghanistan know all too well, but we who see ourselves in the people of Paris only seem to acknowledge that world when people who look like us and our children are victims of such horror and violence.

All of a sudden, those apocalyptic scenes from our Mark reading–where great stones and buildings are toppled, there are wars and rumors of war, where nation rises up against nation, kingdom against kingdom, there are earthquakes and famine–all those scenes of things falling apart don’t seem quite so wild-eyed and crazy. And Jesus’ warning about not being led astray by false messiahs also comes to mind. Let’s not rush to conclusions, not be too quick to hurl the bombs in return. Let’s try not to make the same mistakes over and over again.

Mark’s community lived in times no less uncertain than our own. Tensions with Rome were leading up to the destruction of Jerusalem and the toppling of all those impressive stones of the Temple, or perhaps already had. Those early Christians still expected Jesus to return in equal power and set all things right. The problem of living in times of confusion, challenge, and distress is that we are tempted to be impressed by the wrong things–like fire power, like prestige, like glib answers, like economic wealth, like over-the-top presentations, like the promise of somebody else coming in to clean up your life, make it all better.

"This is but the beginning of the birthpangs," Jesus said. Yippee. So much for making everything right. Uncertainty and insecurity is the name of the game apparently, so you’d better know who you are and Whose you are in the midst of all this–beloved children of God. "The antidote to uncertainty, it turns out," David Lose says, "isn’t certainty, but courage; and the best response to insecurity is the confidence that comes from knowing that God esteems you worthy of dignity, honor, and love." [inthemeantime, 11/15/15] You are a beloved child of God. And we know that it is fear–not courage-- that is exactly what the false messiahs and powers that be of the world are counting on.

A classmate of mine in my Positive Psychology course has started an organization in Cleveland, OH called "Thrive Cleveland," which is doing all sorts of creative things to help people in Cleveland–you guessed it–thrive. Right now, they are in the third and final day of a "Scare Your Soul Challenge." "At least once in your life...[their promotional website says] you did something that was brave and generous and important. The only question is...when will we care enough to be brave again?" (Seth Godin) "Sometimes, being happy isn’t all about being comfortable. Sometimes, being happy is all about being brave." "The science of happiness teaches us that we really maximize our happiness when we push our comfort zones, and do those things we know are holding us back. Taking on challenges reinforces what is good in each of us,

and the result is amazing–we are LIT UP by our successes and we want to take on even more."

So the Scare Your Soul Challenge is this: "For one 3-day period (Nov. 13-15) we invite you to conquer some of the fears and obstacles which hold you back. Fear that is preventing you from writing that novel, launching that business, taking on the next fitness challenge, or even connecting with the people you love the most." One young girl is going to the top floor of a tall building. Another man is making some long put-off medical appointments. An older woman is going back to physical therapy after 4 years. What if you brainstormed to think of 3 actions that would scare you, excite you, or inspire you? Start with one small thing. It doesn’t have to be sky-diving! One of those scary, but maybe inspiring, things might be taking the first 5% of every pay check and giving it away–to help light up the world, to give to the church or wherever you see God at work in the world. Scare Your Soul Challenge.

Those of us who are white have the privilege of not living everyday with the fear that our skin color or bone structure will be an issue, and more, will be the subject or object of violence, verbal or physical. Knowing that so many of their brothers and sisters will never have the privilege of going to college, the students of color at the University of Missouri might have settled into their fear or simply "counted their blessings," simply said, "It’s enough that we’re here." Instead, when the university president and administration responded with a stunning lack of empathy to the racial slurs hurled at the black student body president and black student organization, and when a swastika painted in human feces was smeared on a residence hall, the students said "Enough!". A 25 year-old graduate student, Jonathan Butler, sensing the deep disconnect and even hostility from the white students, announced that he would go on a hunger strike until President Tim Wolfe resigned or was removed from office. He signed a DNR [do not resuscitate] order and updated his will. Jim Wallis of Sojourners wrote, "His extraordinary action was exemplary of how non-violent action that risks an individual’s safety, security, and even life can inspire others to act–even a football team." [Sojourners, 11/12/15] Black members of the football team, supported by their coach, refused to practice or play until Butler started eating again, and when it became apparent that the university would have to pay Brigham Young University a million dollars if they refused to play the upcoming televised game, the president resigned. Enough was not enough. We have to something, start somewhere. Systems will not fix themselves.

Who knows how many years Hannah put up with the looks, the comments, her own self-loathing, before she walked past the priest Eli and laid her heart open to God. "Count your blessings," someone might have said to Hannah. "Count your blessings–you’ve got a husband who loves you, who even gives you double portions of meat. You are cared for, with food and shelter. Isn’t that enough?"

But being barren in those days meant having no future, for children were thought to be the only security–the ones who would care for you in your old age, the ones in whom at least your memory would live on. Simply existing wasn’t enough. Plus, it didn’t look like there was much of a future for Israel. At the end of the book of Judges, which describes the setting at the beginning of 1 Samuel, the tribes had all dispersed to their own territories and, the conclusion of Judges says, "In those days there was no king in Israel; all the people did what was right in their own eyes."

Writer Anais Nin wrote poignantly and powerfully, "And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." So Hannah risked the scorn of the priest, the consternation of her husband, and went straight to God with her vow. And Hannah, having unburdened her soul, left the temple radiant in her faith. Indeed, her request was granted, and some time later, she gave birth to a son, whom she named Samuel. At last, not only she had a future, but so did Israel, as Samuel would ultimately become a judge and the priest who anointed Israel’s first king, Saul, and finally David.

"Count your blessings." Isn’t it enough that you have a loving family, a comfortable place to live, reasonable financial security, fairly good health? Of course, our culture doesn’t know the meaning of "enough," and bombards us with all sorts of messages that keep us chronically wanting something more–a nicer car, a bigger house, or a house with a more open floor plan, a smarter smart phone, more channels on our tv, a faster time in our races, a higher ranking in our sports league, a few less pounds, a few less wrinkles and gray hairs.

That’s the kind of life that makes sense to others, but does it feel right to us? Even when we’ve got the raise, or moved into the house, or won the race, is it enough? Is the approval of others enough for us? What would it take for you to blossom? " The path to enough," writes Anna Shirey, "begins when we decide to quit settling...when we risk being vulnerable with God with [our] heart’s desire." [Anna Shirey, thelabyrinthway.net] Have you ever allowed yourself to identify your heart’s desire?

There is a powerful shift when we give our heart its voice, Shirey says, when we let go of the predictability of life, perhaps being misunderstood by others, even the jealousy of others who are stuck. "And somehow in our deepest selves we intuit our life becomes more about sacrifice, about letting go, than in building up." (Op cit.)

What if we did that as a church? What if we let go of the predictability of what we do? That is, in part, what Doug Pagitt suggests being "Church in the Inventive Age" is about. What if we opened up our building at night to house homeless people for a month or two or three during the winter? What if we supported and worked in an afterschool program for kids who have nowhere else to go? What if we didn’t worry so much about what others thought of us?

Hannah’s longing to have a child was ultimately not merely a selfish desire. "Our desire, our longing for freedom," writes one woman, "is an expression of all of Creation waiting to be born–this time through us." [Shirey, op cit.] When you see these things," Jesus said to the disciples–nations at war, structures unraveling–"they are the birthpangs of the future." God is alarmingly free to act," as one writer puts it. [Micah Kiel, workingpreacher, 2012] When she dedicates her son to God, Hannah sings a song that would become the model for another woman’s song when she becomes pregnant unexpectedly. "Magnificat," we call that song of Mary, "My soul magnifies the Lord, because he has thrown the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the poor."

So even into our troubled world, a world of bombings and suicide bombers, of refugees streaming from countries made unbearable by violence and cruelty and poverty, even into our world the song is still being sung. "Listen," one prophet writes, all those wars and rumors of wars?

Listen: It’s all true, or it’s freaked out fearful chatter, or who knows,

but then what anyway? All is prologue and prelude, lift up your

heart to the universe: the ultimate word and song are yet to come:

sonnets of peace, grace notes of lovingkindness, rumors spreading

of Spirit filling up the desolate space between when all this

cosmic crucifixion will rest and then rise a sanctified singularity."[Michael Coffey, Ocotillo Pub, Nov. 14, 2012]

"All is prologue and prelude. Lift up your heart to the universe: the ultimate word and song are yet to come." May we live into that world with hope, with courage, with generosity, and love.

Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark
"You want me to give what?!"- I Kings 17:8-16, Mark 12:38-44-- Nov. 8,
2015

"You want me to give what?!"- I Kings 17:8-16, Mark 12:38-44-- Nov. 8, 2015

Two widows, both possibly in their last days, both at the end of their resources certainly. The word "widow" in Hebrew means "silenced one," "one who has no voice" [Seasons of the Spirit, 11/8/15] –and neither of these women, like so many other women in the Bible, are given a name. So, no time, no resources, no voice, no name.

And yet, here we are, 2 and a half, and 2 millenia later, hearing their stories, looking somehow to connect their stories with our story. On the surface, there doesn’t seem to be much similarity–like a "bridge too far"--the one woman, in the middle of a drought, gathering up sticks for firewood on which to make what would surely be the last meal for her and her son, for there was only a handful of meal and a little oil left in her jug. And along comes the prophet Elijah, asking for some water–in the midst of the drought–and a little morsel of bread, which was all that that handful of meal and drib of oil were going to make. "Give me all you’ve got left," Elijah might as well have said to her, except that he wasn’t a robber. In his asking and in her giving, they opened up the spigot to an ever-flowing stream of sustenance. "She went and did as Elijah said, so that she as well as he and her household ate for many days. The jar of meal was not emptied, neither did the jug of oil fail, according to the word of the Lord that God spoke by Elijah."

The other woman slips into the offering line at the Temple, barely visible among the long robes and grand gestures of the scribes and clergy. [Always makes me a little uncomfortable robing when this Scripture reading comes around in the cycle] She empties the little coin purse and slips in the contents–a couple of coins that together are worth about a penny. And nobody notices her or her offering–except Jesus. He notices her. "She out of her poverty has put in everything," he comments to his disciples–and to himself, "all she had to live."

Jesus is within days of dying himself, as this scene takes place in Jerusalem, during what we now call Holy Week. If the widow has indeed put in all she had to live, she too will die a few days later, as one commentator has pointed out [Debie Thomas, journeywithjesus, 11/1/15]. Notice that Jesus doesn’t exactly praise the widow’s offering, but he does notice it–notices her courage, her dignity, her self-sacrifice, her pre-figuring what he will do in the days ahead. "She gave everything she had, all she had to live on."

This is not a ready-made illustration for a Stewardship campaign sermon. If anything, it’s a condemnation of the religious institution that lifts up the wealthy who have way more than they need to live on and which bores people with their long prayers. "Long prayers are miserable enough," commentator Mark Davis remarks. "Pretentious long prayers? Even worse." (leftbehindand lovingit, 11/8/15] As soon as the widow slips away, Jesus and his disciples leave the Temple, and when one of them remarks at the grandness of the building, Jesus says that it’ll all be destroyed with not one stone left standing on another. Any institution that devours the vulnerable and bloats its treasury so the wealthy can have more is doomed for destruction. We can only imagine Jesus’ review of the newly released books on the Vatican’s alleged diverting of money given to benefit the poor that ended up supplying the Curia with luxuries.

Perhaps it is, in part, this betrayal by religious institutions of all types that has contributed to the current situation in this country and Europe where more and more people identify themselves as "spiritual but not religious." Have we asked people to commit their lives to an institution, or to God? If it has been only to the institution, then that institution may be in decline to the betterment of all. If we can preserve the real treasure of the institution–the community, the practices, the resources that enable and empower people to live out their love of God and neighbor and their best selves–then that is an institution worth revitalizing, to support people in their love for God.

We, of course, are in the midst of our stewardship campaign, but the issue really isn’t about money. It’s about what the money is for. Can we use our money to give voice to the voiceless, to bring into our midst those who have been shoved to the margins of our society? Do we use our money to help our neighbors live with dignity, to have the food and shelter and healthcare they need? Do we use our money to provide resources for people to come together for support and mutual accountability, to learn the practices of faith, to explore ways to embody "whole life living," which is what the widow pointed to? Do we use our money to spark imaginations about the abundance that exists in the midst of what appears to others to be merely scarcity? So we use our money to help people love God? Do we use our money to light up the world?

The widow of Zarepheth was not at all sure that Elijah’s request was anything but an abuse of desert hospitality which would simply hasten death. But, as Cameron Howard writes, "The widow’s doubt, as well as her profession of faith, may also be our own. It is easy to believe in death-dealing powers, for that is what we witness in the world every day. It is much harder to imagine the power of love that conquers death." [workingpreacher.org, 11/2013]

It is hard to "imagine the power of love that conquers death" when all around us, with every newscast, every item on our newsfeed, and many conversations on the street, we see and hear only about death and dying, really. The life that is lifted up is shallow, fleeting, solitary, needing to be desperately preserved and clung to. But we have an alternative to offer, an alternative that is generous, self-giving, communal, expansive. "Generosity connects us with the energy of the universe and the wisdom of God," as Bruce Epperly writes, "which will provide for our deepest needs." [Faith Forward, Patheos, 2010]

The rich, the successful, the "winners" are the ones held up by our society and, too often, by the church, to be noticed. They are the ones whom God has blessed, we even say. Except that Jesus said, "Blessed are the poor," not because it’s fun or healthy or even desireable to be poor, but because there are no illusions about being self-sufficient and all-powerful and in control when you’re poor. Jesus noticed the widow dropping in her two coins. Do we take the time to notice those who have no voice or power? Do we try to understand what it is like not to be in charge of your day, your time, even your body? Can we imagine what it is like to have to respond to crises everyday, another child getting in trouble, something wrong with the car so you can’t get to work, the money you had saved in an envelope to go toward the rent stolen to buy drugs? Do we notice, and if we do, is it only with judgment? Don’t be too busy to notice, Jesus says, or too spiritual, or too self-absorbed to notice.

The gospel–the good news–in all of this is in the God revealed in Jesus [David Lose, inthemeantime, 11/8/15], the God who gives God’s whole life, God’s whole self for us and for the world. The invitation into God’s kingdom is the invitation into whole life living, whole-hearted living, pouring ourselves out for others because the stream of living waters–the fountain of Love-- never runs dry. When death-dealing powers seem to be all around us, we can trust in the love that not only embraces but conquers death. Notice the ones who are giving of themselves; join together with them and encourage and remind one another of the divine energy and wisdom at work in the world, set loose in the world. If you want to call that coming together "church" insofar as you embody Christ in the world, so be it. Invest in it. Support it with your time, your talent, your treasure, your whole lives. So may we light up the world.

Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark
Sunday Bulletin Announcements

Sunday Bulletin Announcements


Birthdays and Celebrations



December 20 - Eileen Peckham, 91
December 21 - Veronique O'Brien
December 22 - Jack Haynes
December 23 - Alec Nicol, 22

Christmas Altar Flowers— If you wish to bring poinsettias for the Christmas Eve Altar, please have them in by Tuesday, December 22. If you’d like to give them in someone’s memory or honor, have the name(s) into Rebekah by Tuesday, December 22nd as well.

Wednesday December 23, 6pm Handbell choir rehearsal

Christmas Eve—
5 p.m. Service of Candlelight, Carols, and Music of the Season, beginning with the Second Congo Brass at 4:30 p.m. Time of catching up with new and old friends over a cup of hot cider follows in Webster Hall.
10 p.m. Service of Communion, Candles, and Carols.
If you'd like to sing in the pick-up choir for the late service, speak with Mary or Bruce Lee-Clark.
A free-will offering for the Food and Fuel Fund will be received at both Christmas Eve services. Make checks out to Second Congregational Church, with “FFF” in the memo.

Sunday, Dec. 27- 10 am worship - Time to relax and reflect upon
Christmas with carols, stories and a baptism. There will be no Godly Play.

Reading Group - The Reading Group will gather after worship on Sunday, January 3, for discussion of books on the second reading list. Theme - Books about the Bible. The leader will be Jan Lerrigo. You are welcome to attend whether you have read books from the list or not.

Annual Meeting is just around the corner! All members of The Second Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, of Bennington, Vermont, are warned to be present on January 24, 2016 for the Annual Meeting of the Church. The Annual Meeting will begin immediately after lunch which will follow the worship service.
Please have all reports submitted electronically to the office by January 11th.

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