Week of March 17

Set me as a seal upon your heart;
Tattoo me on your arm;
For love is stronger than death,
Fierce enough to overcome the grave.
Waves of water cannot extinguish love,
No disaster can drown it,
No amount of wealth can replace it.

Song of Solomon 8:6-7

(paraphrase by Rev. Jack Perkins Davidson)

Dear Friends,

It is hard to be human.

We hear the news from New Zealand of the atrocious mass shooting at a mosque, a gunman killing scores of faithful Muslims as they attend afternoon prayer. Our hearts break at this devastation, and over the hatred, fear and violence that caused it. We hear news of an airline crash in Ethiopia, killing all those aboard the flight, followed on the heels of the crash in Indonesia. Our hearts break for all those lives lost, and for the families shattered by grief. And too, each of us carries our own burdens of grief, loss, loneliness, trauma, and suffering.

It is hard to be human.

Yet, even as we know deep in our bones—on the molecular level-- that we “are dust, and to dust we will return”, we are also promised that love is stronger than death: that the love we have for another one cannot be conquered or overcome, and that nothing can separate us from the love of God.

This week Carter and I will be engaged in a sermon dialogue focused on the cross. Titled “Cross Talk,” we will attempt to speak to what the cross means to us and why the cross, however we understand it, stands at the heart of Christianity.  As we move deeper into Lent, and sit with the reality of a world that at once holds suffering and joy, I believe the cross can be a place where we discover the God who knows first-hand how hard it is to be human, the God who meets us in our own suffering, and promises that the final word is not death, but love.

 Yours on the Lenten journey,

Jennifer

Meditation

The greatest temptations are not those that solicit our consent to obvious sin, but those that offer us great evils masking as the greatest goods.

-Thomas Merton

Week of March 3

Dear Friends,

John Pavlovitz writes in an article:

“Everyone around you: the people you see in the grocery store, pass in traffic, sit near at work, encounter on social media, and see across the kitchen table – are all experiencing the collateral damage of living. They are all grieving someone, missing someone, or worried about someone.  Many of their marriages are on shaky ground.  Some are late on their mortgage payments.  Most, if not all, are struggling to find peace and push back some form of fear or anxiety. “

Every human being experiences the collateral damage of living.  We lose things – seasons of life, people we love, jobs, good health, and so on.  We chase things in hopes of finding security, purpose or pleasure.  (We discover that the chasing leaves us less than fulfilled.) We allow things to become monotonous and then wonder about the presence of joy.  The struggles of life are omnipresent.  

If we randomly polled a million people worldwide, the results would almost certainly tell the same story.  An overwhelming majority of the population would report that life is hard … that is not for the faint of heart.  In one of the best-selling books ever, “The Road Less Traveled”, Scott Peck begins with this very declaration.  He seems to say, “Face reality, not fantasy.  Shape your expectations accordingly.  Otherwise, all of life is tainted with disappointment and frustration.”

I believe the reality of struggle and collateral damage is one of the most compelling reasons to have a spiritual life.  Faith instructs us on how to see with clear and honest eyes.  Faith doesn’t ignore or deny any of life’s challenges.  It understands that life is short, that accidents happen, that decision-making is imperfect, that consequences are real.  It teaches us to let go, to forgive ourselves and others.  It invites us to make meaning in the midst of loss and heartache.  It NEVER loses sight of love and its promise of new life.       

Who wouldn’t want that kind of faith – a faith that meets us where we are?!  It is a life-line.  It is ground to stand on.  It is the meaning-maker.  Sometimes, it becomes our joy.  

John Pavlovitz concludes his article with these words, “If most of the people you meet are encountering the collateral damage of life, why not go easy?”  That too is faith at work.  

See you on Sunday.  

Carter

Week of January 24

Dear Friends,

Last Monday, I attended a day-long workshop held at Princeton Theological Seminary on “Preaching in the Digital Age.” Among other depressing facts, I learned that since the introduction of smartphones, our attention spans have collectively dropped from an average of 12 seconds down to 8 seconds. As a point of reference, goldfish were found to have an average attention span of 9 seconds. (It’s anyone’s guess how that was measured.) Perhaps more interesting was the research that suggests we are much more likely to remember what we see and hear together, as opposed to what we hear alone. 

In light of the fact we have become so visually-oriented, the conference suggested that preachers consider moving away from solely verbal-auditory preaching (listening to the preacher speak) to incorporating visuals, screens, images, interactive and multisensory tools.

As a self-confessed Luddite, I found myself resisting this advice. I am not sure that having more screen time, more images, more visual clutter in a world where we are inundated with those things is necessarily a good thing.  Most of us experience enough “noise” in our lives that keeps us from fully hearing and engaging with one another, not to mention allowing us the chance to go deep within ourselves. I think we’d all agree there is something special about the visual “quietness” of the Talmadge Hill sanctuary. With its clean lines, simple details, and clear, glass windows that let in the natural surroundings, we can mentally rest a bit, and settle into our own heads and hearts as we worship together.

And yet, might preaching be enhanced at times by having some images accompany the sermon message?  Could there be a place for some interesting visual elements that engage or challenge our imaginations more fully? Should we not be bringing all five of our senses to bear as we seek to experience God in the world and in worship?

Spoiler: I don’t have any concrete answers at the moment, but it is a topic I will be thinking about and exploring as I continue working on my preaching. I know I am open to being stretched and trying new things in my preaching. I would love to hear your thoughts and opinions, and welcome any advice and input.

 Faithfully yours,

Jennifer

Meditation

"Joy is hidden in compassion. The word compassion literally means "to suffer with."  It seems quite unlikely that suffering with another person would bring joy. Yet being with a person in pain, offering simple presence to someone in despair, sharing with a friend times of confusion and uncertainty... such experiences can bring us deep joy.  Not happiness, not excitement, not great satisfaction, but the quiet joy of being there for someone else and living in deep solidarity with our brothers and sisters in this human family. Often this is a solidarity in weakness, in brokenness, in woundedness, but it leads us to the center of joy, which is sharing our humanity with others."

-Henri Nouwen, from Bread for the Journey