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"Leaky Cisterns"- Jeremiah 2:4-13, Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16-- Aug. 28, 2016

"Leaky Cisterns"- Jeremiah 2:4-13, Hebrews 13:1-8, 15-16-- Aug. 28, 2016

I’m not sure it’s still taught in school, but I remember –vaguely– learning about the various "ages"–the stone age, iron age, bronze age, all those ancient designations of hazy history, lost in the mists of time, challenging me to imagine exactly what or who we were talking about. Were these merely primitive, simple, quasi- human people, barely upright, carrying clubs and wearing rough animal skins, grunting out primitive communication? Or, as was popular when I was growing up, were they more like Fred and Wilma Flintstone, chatty, endearingly flawed, loving their children and pets, going about their daily work, using technology, which, though largely made of stone and metal, was still remarkably useful?

Since we’re talking about a period of time that spanned centuries, if not millenia, the truth is probably somewhere in between, or, honestly, probably never exactly like Fred and Wilma. Still, when we read the Bible, particularly the Old Testament which took place largely in what we call "the iron age,"–between 1200 and 500 BCE-- we would do well not to underestimate the complexity, sophistication, and thoughtfulness of the writers and their communities, and to

listen to their questions, their fears, their wrestling with life in a way that might have something to teach us.

Take, for example, this passage from Jeremiah which Scott read for us, probably from the 6th century BCE-- "O house of Jacob and all the families of Israel–thus says the Lord: what wrong did your ancestors find in me, that they turned far away from me and went after worthless things, and became worthless themselves? ...For my people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living water, and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water."

In ancient Israel, and in all dry cultures, it is imperative to save water. Even today in the region of southern Israel and Egypt, the average rainfall is less than ½" a year–which means, of course, that some years it’s even less. Access to drinkable water, in fact, is one the primary sources of conflict, not only in the Middle East, but everywhere else. Even in Flint, MI and No. Bennington, VT.

Way back in the Iron Age, technologies for saving water were developed, and one of the main ways was in cisterns, usually made of limestone. Buried in the ground, bell-shaped, with a kind of grate or filter over the narrow top, these cisterns could hold gallons of water to see the people through the dry seasons...unless, of course, cracks developed in the limestone and went undetected or unrepaired. In which case, the precious water would leak out into the surrounding ground.

We know what happens to life when there is no water. It quickly becomes death. Of course, the residents of Louisiana know what happens when there is too much water in the places where human beings want to live, but no water in a desert is sure death. "Living water" though, fresh, pure, life-giving water, as Anathea Portier-Young writes, "living water rains, runs, flows, and swirls. It washes away impurity, transports nutrients, constitutes leaf and stem, blood and bone. Where water flows, life abounds. Where water stagnates, disease takes hold. Where there is no water, life cannot even begin." [workingpreacher.org, 8/28/16]

"They have forsaken me, the fountain of living water," God says through Jeremiah, "and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water." They have gone after other gods, Jeremiah says, "prophesied by Baal," defiled the land, forgotten what God has done.

Jeremiah is talking about idolatry here, the first of the 10 commandments–"You shall have no other gods before me." But don’t be fooled. Idolatry isn’t just about worshiping gods like Baal in ancient Israel. The gods of idolatry have many names. "The tricky part [about idolatry, says Portier- Young] is often, when we’re doing it, it doesn’t seem like we’re worshiping false gods; or it seems like we’re pursuing good ends, that are pleasing to the true God; it seems like we’re doing what is necessary for our survival." (Ibid.) Here’s one little visit to idolatry some of us have made-- "I just want a place where my family can live comfortably, and you know with all the kids’ and our stuff, it has to be pretty big so that there’s room for everyone and everything...Not that we spend much time there, because we’re always working or running around to this or that practice or game or meeting, and honestly, we really can’t help with that community project because we’ve got to go shopping ...and...." It’s a slippery slope. Good gifts–like family and friends–can become ends in themselves, more important than even the Giver of those gifts, who, in the midst of all those obligations and appointments and good things with which we fill our time, calls us to go beyond our comfort zones, to see not only our own good but the greater good, to go deeper, to the source of Living Water.

And it is so easy to let the cracks in those cisterns where Living Water can be found to go unnoticed, or to start as tiny little fractures that before we know it, have turned into big cracks, and then when we even notice that we’re thirsty, find that the cistern is empty. It has been a busy couple of weeks here at church–my post- vacation calendar for August has been full of meetings, people have stopped by the office to catch up or express concerns about something that’s going on, I’ve tried to get out to see folks whom I haven’t seen in a couple months now, all that sort of good and necessary stuff. When I remember, I try to take at least 20 minutes out at in the later part of the afternoons to sit quietly and just be, but that hasn’t always happened this week.

So, imagine my chagrin when I opened up the bulletin for this morning’s worship which Erin had faithfully run off and folded to find the "preparation for worship" and the "prayer of confession"...empty. Talk about becoming an object lesson for your sermon! I wish I could say it was intentional, but I’d be lying.

Now, emptiness is not always a bad thing. Too often we fill empty space with words or activity just to fill the space but it still is pretty empty. We’d be better off leaving that empty space for God to fill. In fact, that’s what Jesus did on the cross–emptied himself completely, so God could fill him up with resurrection life.

So what can we do to keep ourselves reasonably sound vessels or cisterns for the Holy One to fill, or preferably, for God, the Holy One, to flow through? How often it comes back to practices, to our habits, to those daily or weekly reminders that our ancestors in faith–even back in the Iron Age or in the first century of the Common Era–back to the ones they discovered helped them remember who they were and Whose they were. The letter to the Hebrews contains some good ones–"Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers...

remember those who are in prison..." I can’t tell you the number of people who’ve told me when they’ve reached a certain point in their lives where the strength or agility of their bodies no longer allows them to do the things they used to do–"I feel so useless," they say. "I can’t do anything." Here’s some things you can do: "Let mutual love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers...remember those who are in prison..." If you watch the news, mute the commercials and pray for the people whose distress you’ve just witnessed in the 2 minutes somebody’s trying to sell you something–remember those who are in prison or in famine or flood or earthquake...pray for them. Every one can do that, as well as actively loving and showing hospitality to strangers. "Let marriage be held in honor by all"–whatever marriage or life-long commitment you are involved in, if any. Explore what it means to honor that. "Keep your lives free from the love of money, and be content with what you have...remember your leaders, those who spoke the word of God to you..." I beg for your prayers–obviously, I am in sore need of them–though I would caution you about "considering the outcome of my way of life and imitating my faith." But pray also for our next pastoral leader, still an unknown, and for those who have taken on leadership positions in our church–the Pastoral Search Committee, our moderator and vice-moderator, those who serve on boards and committees, those who direct and sing and play in our choirs, and all the others who offer their skills and best efforts.

"Through Christ," the writer of Hebrews says, "let us continually offer a sacrifice of praise to God..." Remember to give thanks even in the midst of or at the end of the most hectic day. You know I’m a fan of gratitude journals. And maybe at the beginning of each day, as you take your last sip of coffee or tea for the morning, say our commission to yourself, to remind yourself how you are to be as you set out.

Finally, "do not neglect to do good and to share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God." Take care of the cisterns. Don’t let your life dribble out in empty gestures, words, and activities that will ultimately not quench your thirst. Pay attention. So we can say with confidence, with the writer of Hebrews: God will never leave us or forsake us. "The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid." Thanks be to God. Amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark
Sun and Fun Day

Sun and Fun Day

The Sun and Fun! festival on Saturday August 20 at Second Congregational Church, was a day to celebrate the environment and local community.   It featured live music, kids' activities, and over 25 different community and environmentally friendly groups, including an eclectic mix of groups who meet regularly at the church - from beekeepers to quilters. Live and lively music was provided by The Hale Mountain Pickers.  Lunch was prepared by a local professional chef and her team, all from the congregation.

Kids' activities included face painting, giant-bubble making, and parachute games.  Kids and adult together held the edges of the colorful parachute and walked in a circle to the beat of a drum, stopping when the drum stopped, to dive under the parachute for candies.  The Battenkill Conservancy brought tubs of river water with live fish and crustaceans for kids to watch and even scoop up temporarily with small nets. Kids and their parents painted several large murals.

At 11 am the Adult Story Telling Hour- much like NPR's “The Moth Story Hour” - featured stories of a boy's awakening to the beauty of Nature, a child making friends with a large toad, a young man's arriving in Cambridge only to discover his girlfriend lived in Cambridge in another state, the rescue of a wild bird whose foot was trapped in ice, and a couple waiting for rescue on a remote river in northern Alaska.

At noon a demonstration on how to build your own backyard compost system was taught by a Master Composter, using kitchen food scraps (no meat or dairy) brought by people attending.  At 1 pm, at the Solar Forum, panel members discussed solar feasibility, set-up, financing and more.

The first Sun and Fun festival in August 2015 started as a celebration of solar panels installed on the church roof, but planning quickly expanded to include environmental groups and the various groups that meet at Second Congo.  Kids played under the solar shower, made S'mores with a solar oven, made huge bubbles and got to dance to native American drumming.

Sun and Fun was not a fundraiser but to have a good time connecting with others in the local community.  Admission was free and the great-value lunches priced just to cover the cost of ingredients.  The first 100 visitors received a Sun and Fun red and black re-usable shopping bag, and there were drawings every half hour for prizes, culminating with two grand prizes at the end of the day.

The festival was one of many ways that folks of Second Congo reach out to the local community, in a range of activities, all year round.  They hold that everyone is welcome to activities at the church, wherever that person is on life's journey and whether or not that person is religious.

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"Great Cloud of Witnesses"- Hebrews 11:29-12:2, Luke 12:49-56-- Aug.
14, 2016

"Great Cloud of Witnesses"- Hebrews 11:29-12:2, Luke 12:49-56-- Aug. 14, 2016

The passage from Hebrews which David just read for us describes an alternative universe opening ceremonies of the Olympics–wave after wave of unlikely teams and ragged bands, led by curious flag-bearers and misfits, and out in front, carrying the torch, is Jesus, lighting the world with a flame that the darkness cannot overcome. Unlike our universe Olympic games, there is no medal count, no awards ceremonies. In fact, the author confesses, "Not one of these people, even though their lives of faith were exemplary, got their hands on what was promised. God had a better plan for us..."

Such a great cloud of witnesses! As we approach the 180th anniversary of our congregation, I’ve been thinking of those who’ve run the race before us, especially those I’ve had the privilege to know–Pat Haines, Gene Clark, Ginny Irwin, Marge LaRowe, Kelly Wright, Ellen Barnard, Anita Bellin, Pepper Morrison, the danger, of course, of even starting that list, is leaving out so many. Who are others who come to mind for you, maybe before my time? The portraits of former pastors on our back wall cheer us on, and, thanks be to God, the furthest one to the right is still very much alive in our midst.

In my own life, I think back to those who have given me life and witnessed in their time–my brother Bob, whose book of sermons I went back and checked to see if he had preached on this passage, my dad–CROP Walk recruiter extraordinaire, lifelong elder in the Presbyterian church, teacher of many lessons; my father-in-law Russ, who encouraged me and modeled the best of a "learned ministry" for me, my grandmother, who was a church organist for over 35 years...Such a great cloud of witnesses. Multiply that by the streaming clouds of glory behind each one of us gathered here this morning, and we get just a glimpse of the mighty multitude in which we stand.

"By faith," the letter to Hebrews says, "Israel walked through the Red Sea on dry ground. The Egyptians tried it and drowned. By faith, the Israelites marched around the walls of Jericho for seven days, and the walls fell flat. By an act of faith, Rahab, the Jericho harlot, welcomed the spies and escaped the destruction that came on those who refused to trust God."

By faith, by an act of faith....amazing things happened. Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David and Samuel and the prophets–this litany of war heroes, kings, judges, priests, and prophets triumphed and were sung over. Unnamed women received their dead by resurrection. And yet also, even with faith, others were "stoned to death, sawn in two, killed by the sword; they went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, persecuted, tormented.... wandered in deserts and mountains, and in caves and holes in the ground..."

Faith, or trust in God, is no guarantee of a medal, or any kind of success, by the world’s standards. When we ask, "How could God have let this happen?" when an innocent is killed, when a good person fails or suffers, it reveals our expectation that there ought to be some kind of reward for following the rules, for being "a good person," for "having faith," a reward of the likes of a gold medal, a prize of some sort, an "atta boy or atta girl," at the very least. When our foremothers and fathers of faith witnessed these great acts of faith met with torture or failure or death, it called into question their belief in a just God. They too asked, How can God allow this to happen? And so building on their experience of the risen Christ, still present, still powerful even after death, they developed elaborate theologies of the afterlife–streets paved with gold for those trampled in the mud, crowns for those who had been beheaded, endless torment for those who in this life committed acts of cruelty and depravity. From Dante’s Inferno to C.S. Lewis’ The Great Divorce, great works of literature have been inspired by this question of faith and justice.

The writer of Hebrews has another inspiration–"Yet all these, though they were commended for their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better so that they would not apart from us, be made perfect." Peterson’s translation makes it even clearer– "God had a better plan for us: that their faith and our faith would come together to make one completed whole, their lives of faith not complete apart from ours."

...Their lives of faith not complete apart from ours. What an amazing statement! Abraham and Moses’ lives of faith not complete apart from ours. Mary Magdalene–receiving her dead by resurrection–her life of faith not complete apart from ours. All those martyrs and mystics, the ones we may have heard or read of, but so many others whom we haven’t, their lives of faith connected to our lives of faith to be made perfect or whole. That adds a new layer of meaning to what we choose to do with our lives, doesn’t it?

All those lives of heroes and unknowns connected to us, not by some miracle of celebrity or saintly worship, but because their lives were not fundamentally so different from ours. They too knew suffering and discouragement. They doubted. They were afraid. They begged God to deliver them, to undo what seemed to be inevitable. Just as every one of those Olympic heroes, male and female, sacrificed and endured pain, doubted themselves, were tempted to give up, suffered injuries and set-backs. Our forbears in faith who built Second Congregational Church endured endless meetings, lost love ones, saw their buildings burned or exploded, worried over budgets, wrestled with their calling.

This "great cloud of witnesses" knows the cost of the life of faith; and they are cheering us on.

And here’s the thing–just as "it was God’s plan that their faith and our faith would come together to make one completed whole, their lives of faith not complete apart from ours"–just as that is true going backwards from our lives, so it is true that generations after us are even now reaching back to us–to complete our faith and to connect with theirs. Our obligation is not only to those who have come before us, but also to those who will come after us. We owe it to them to reach forward, to let that shot of adrenaline in our souls inspire us and encourage us to keep a growing edge forward, to keep risking. In our commitment to preserving and healing the planet upon which they will live, in our efforts to learn new musical forms and melodies, in our commitment to finding ways to minister with and to people who are unlikely to seek us out, in our exploration of new technologies and formats for communication and worship, in our sharing of our financial resources into the future–in all these ways, we are cheered on by the great cloud of witnesses and prepare our place in the cheering section.

Each one of us has a part to play, for each of us is part of this great circle, reaching for completion. Our Native American brothers and sisters have a clear sense of this–

In the circle of life we each have a special gift, a special function. In the Native worldview there is no in or out; everyone in the circle is necessary. The gift and function of each person are necessary for the benefit of the whole family of human beings and those that walk, crawl, swim, and fly. We are all relatives. It is this wisdom of compassion, seeing things in their balance, that is so significant in turning aside illusions of scarcity and bringing peace to our own hearts... [Dhyani Ywahoo, Voices of Our Ancestors]

"Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith..." Or, as Peterson puts it,

"Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God—he could put up with anything along the way: Cross, shame, whatever. And now he’s there, in the place of honor, right alongside God. When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that story again, item by item, that long litany of hostility he plowed through. That will shoot adrenaline into your souls!"

May these words be courage and encouragement, comfort, hope, and even joy, for the living of these days. Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark
Mary's Banner Blurbs

Mary's Banner Blurbs

Two weeks after Easter and we, like the disciples, still can’t quite imagine what has happened.  Join us in worship at Second Congregational Church at 10 a.m. this Sunday as we walk the Emmaus road and discover the Risen Christ in our midst.  Following a Time for the Children in All of Us, children up through grade 5 are dismissed for A Joyful Path, and nursery care is provided.  Charlotte Knighton is our guest musician for the morning, and Rev. Mary Lee-Clark’s sermon, based on the story from Luke 24, is entitled, “Known in the Breaking.”

A time of fellowship and refreshment for the whole church family follows in Webster Hall.

Second Congregational Church is an Open and Affirming, Green Justice Congregation of the United Church of Christ.  We welcome to our work and worship all people of faith or in search of faith, without regard to age, race, economic condition, disability, or sexual orientation.  Our building is located at 115 Hillside St. and is wheelchair-accessible.  For further information, call the church office at 442-2559 or see our website at www.bennscc.org.

 
"Hope Muscles"-- Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16, Luke 12:32-40-- Aug. 7, 2016

"Hope Muscles"-- Hebrews 11:1-3, 8-16, Luke 12:32-40-- Aug. 7, 2016

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." Sometimes a sentence or phrase floats up from the page, shimmering with truth and mystery, calling us to dive in more deeply–and surely this beginning of the 11th chapter of Hebrews is one of those sentences--"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."

In a world of such upheaval and conflict, in a political season of battering claims and divergent visions, in a time in the life of the Church–and our church in particular–when old forms and methods seem increasingly ineffective and the shape of the new remains to be seen, it is more important than ever for those of us who claim to be people of faith to be clear about what it is we hope for. "Faith is the assurance of things hoped for..."

Krista Tippett, creator and host of the Public Radioprogram, On Being, writes, "In a century of staggering open questions, [like, Will the earth survive?] hope becomes a calling for those of us who can hold it, for the sake of the world." [Becoming Wise: An Inquiry into the Mystery and Art of Living, p. 233] Hope as a calling is a far weightier claim than the way we often throw the word around– "I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow." "I hope he chooses me." "I hope you like it." Hope is a calling, for the sake of the world.

To be cynical and hopeless in our day and age is easy. Every day there are news stories and revelations to reinforce one’s cynicism. The cynics–those who believe that everybody’s a crook, that nothing’s really going to change for the better, that the church is dying, that nothing’s going to make a difference, that The System’s rigged and always will be–have plenty of company and support. Cynicism is easy because it doesn’t have to lift a finger to change anything.

Hope, on the other hand, is a conscious choice that often goes against the grain. "Hope," writes Krista Tippett, "like every virtue, is a choice that becomes a habit that becomes spiritual muscle memory. It’s a renewable resource for moving through life as it is, not as we wish it to be." (Op cit., p. 11) Hope is not the same thing as optimism, or wishful thinking, or idealism. "It references reality at every turn and reveres truth," Tippett says. "It lives open-eyed and wholeheartedly with the darkness that is woven ineluctably [unavoidably] into the light of life and sometimes seems to overcome it."

"Spiritual muscle memory"–I love that image. You know what muscle memory is– it’s what your hands automatically do when you’re kneading bread or folding the laundry, if that’s what you’ve done week after week, or day after day. It’s how your body knows what to do when you throw a ball or hit a golf ball or put your skis on, if you’ve practiced enough. There’s plenty of muscle memory on display these next 2 weeks of the Olympics. Muscle memory is how your fingers know where to go and what to do on a piano keyboard or with trumpet valves or the fret of a cello if they’ve done that often enough.

"Hope, like every virtue, is a choice that becomes a habit that becomes spiritual muscle memory." We have to practice hope. We have to make it a habit, like brushing our teeth. And such a practice has nothing to do with denying that things are difficult, that at the moment, we may feel sad or in pain or anguish. In fact, research is now confirming what Paul wrote in his letter to the church in Rome– "We know that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because hope is God’s love being poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit."

Brene Brown, sociologist at the University of Houston who studies issues of shame and vulnerability and courage, says that "hope is a function of struggle." [struggle or suffering produces endurance...character...hope] Too often we as parents try to shield our children from hardship and disappointment, but in fact, we are doing them a disservice by doing that. Brown says, "I see students come to us who have never had experiences, real experiences, with adversity. And how that shows up is hopelessness...Hope is a function of struggle."

"Hope is not an emotion," Brown says. "Hope is a cognitive, behavioral process that we learn when we experience adversity, when we have relationships that are trustworthy, when people have faith in our ability to get out of a jam." (Cited by Tippett, op cit., p. 250) How many of us can relate to Brown’s reflection, when she says, "The moments I look back in my life and think, God, those are the moments that made me,’ were moments of struggle." (P. 251) Moments when we failed or were fired, moments when we spoke the truth that nobody wanted to hear, moments when we went through an illness or crisis or the death of a loved one or a relationship, those are the moments that make us, that give us spiritual muscles for hope.

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." Eugene Peterson puts it this way–"The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith, is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living [another way to think of ‘hope’]. It’s our handle on what we can’t see."

I also love what Madeleine L’Engle said about "Some things have to be believed to be seen." That’s another spiritual practice–seeing, noticing, the things that are hopeful, that give us hope. As Paul wrote in his letter to the Ephesians, "Beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things." Notice these things. Keep a gratitude journal, give thanks each morning for the gift of the day, full of God’s presence and power. Brush your teeth. Practice hope.

Krista Tippett, through hundreds of interviews and conversations with theologians, ethicists, scientists, civil rights workers, artists, musicians, community organizers, says that the shape of "emerging wisdom about our world is largely...quiet. It’s animated by projects and people you didn’t know to look for. It’s joined by points in space and time that have no obvious reason to be important." (Op cit., p. 234) We can be points on this map, points of hope and new life, though our imaginations haven’t quite bought into the new indicators of "importance." Almost everything that is truly bringing new birth and hope is happening "under the radar," as we say, though Tippett contends, "the radar is broken."

That’s essentially what author Paul Hawken, who in his book Blessed Unrest, discovered when he chronicled literally tens of thousands of grassroots efforts, political, ecological, social, that are operating "under the radar." The analogy he draws is like that of the earth’s immune system, like the white blood cells in our bodies, which are rallying to heal the body and fight off the forces that would destroy it.

Anne Lamott, referencing Emily Dickinson, says that "hope inspires the good to reveal itself." Imagine what an incredible calling it is for us, as people of faith, to have hope, for the sake of the world! To inspire the good to reveal itself, to hold a space for children and young people and people of all ages who are still growing to discover the best in themselves, to imagine how we might evolve as a spiritually conscious race, preserving the best of the human spirit– including those gifts of the Spirit like kindness, patience, humility, goodness, self-control, gentleness, generosity–those things which we in the church have known for centuries, yet have too often forgotten. We too can be points on that map of emerging human wisdom.

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things unseen." "Fear not, little flock, [Jesus said] it is the Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom." That is God’s hope for us!

Our world is abundant with quiet, hidden lives of beauty and courage and goodness [Krista Tippett assures us]. There are millions of people at any given moment, young and old, giving themselves over to service, risking hope, and all the while ennobling us all. To take such goodness in and let matter–to let it define our take on reality as much as headlines of violence–is a choice we can make to live by the light in the darkness...Taking in the good, whenever and wherever we find it, gives us new eyes for seeing and living. [Ibid., p. 265]

This looks like mere bread and juice, but with the eyes of faith it is so much more–it is the bread of life and the cup of blessing, joining us with Christ and one another, with all the world, nourishing us to become hope and courage, in the midst of our vulnerability and failure. So let us take up the calling of hope, for the sake of the world, and let us keep the feast. Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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