From the Pastor's Study - July 2020

How long, O Lord; will You ignore me forever?

How long will You hide Your face from me?

How long will I have cares on my mind,

grief in my heart all day?

[…]

But I trust in Your faithfulness,

my heart will exult in Your deliverance.

I will sing to the Lord,

for He has been good to me.

               Psalm 13

The other day I once again hit that all too familiar wall of feeling like “how long, God, is all of this going to go on?” The uncertainties of living in an altered world are exhausting. If the pandemic hasn’t worn us out, then certainly the challenges of protests and calls to address a deep history of racism and the outgrowths of deep historical inequalities weigh heavily on the heart and soul. There are calls for us to be moving toward a different way of being in our world, but those calls always mean that we need to be willing to grow and to be transformed in our ways of thinking and being on every front. That challenge quickly feels overwhelming and I find myself hearing again the words of lament that play out throughout the Psalms and much of scripture. But what I love is that almost always those words of lament conclude with words of trust and faithfulness, singing and goodness. Psalm 13 contains that dichotomy so beautifully. In those words I hear not only a proclamation of hope, a way where we see no way, but I also hear a tendency that scripture offers in lots of different ways – whether it’s multiple stories of creation, or multiple accounts of kingdoms, or multiple accounts of the life of Jesus that are each unique and often different enough that they beg not to be simply harmonized. It’s a lesson that we could learn a great deal from in our own world in these moments when the polarization seems to have grown ever greater on so many fronts. I keep feeling a deep resistance to the binary thinking that is being so constantly fueled in our world. The simplicity of us and them, of self-righteousness or demonization, feels so counter to God's witness of love.

I preached a few weeks ago about the power of a spirit of curiosity. I had that Psalm running through my head this week and smiled as I entertained that spirit of curiosity about how the Psalmist could proclaim abandonment and lament right alongside of faithfulness and exultant singing. If two such potent emotions can exist alongside one another, then why not engage our spirit of curiosity with some of the other things that seem destined to strain our beings?

Jesus tells us that we are to love our neighbor as ourselves… he teaches us to pray Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done… there’s this beautiful challenge for us to treat the other as a reflection of God. To learn and listen from those who may see the world very different from ourselves. To counter everything from pandemic restrictions, to race relations, to questions about how to handle monuments to an imperfect history with the kind of generous curiosity that might help us to learn God's ways.

Most weeks you will hear me praying in church for justice. Theologically justice aspires to treat everyone and everything as God-breathed. For people it is the understanding that we carry the very image of God in our being. It pushes us to work toward a fairness that honors and learns to love and cherish the story of everyone, as well as to understand that God's blessings have not been equally shared through the ages.

We have a lot of work to do in growing into the responsibility of reflecting God's love… this week I’m feeling like part of that begins by again practicing holding both/and instead of either/or thinking. By grace God has called all of us to be the body of Christ, when we work together in all of our diversity, and honor all the parts of that body, then we draw a little closer to that kingdom proclamation of walking in God's faithfulness and knowing the song of God's goodness in our lives.

God’s Shalom I pray,

Pastor Eric

From the Pastor’s Study – June 2020

“By the rivers of Babylon—
there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion.
On the willows there we hung up our harps.
For there our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying,
“Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”
How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?”  - Psalm 137: 1-4
 
I am humbled by the way that the Psalms move from lament to prayer, despair to praise. I think that before I really understood the context of Psalm 137 I knew its power. It was set to Reggae music that played through the night in my college art studio and spoke to me again as I heard these words lifted up by Peter, Paul, and Mary. But when the words really gained life was as I spent enough time with the story of Israel to understand the despair of being exiled from home and needing to remember how to find joy and grounding in an un-chosen and un-welcome reality. For the Israelites, the Babylonians had laid siege to Jerusalem/Zion and had taken much of the population into that strange land by waves. The experience of trying to find God in the midst of that scattering, that diaspora state, becomes a powerful memory n the shaping of Judaism and then Christianity. Throughout history, God's people have sought God in those moments when their entire world was turned upside down.
Of course, we find ourselves in another scattered state of being. Slowly our communities are opening and we are trying to put back together the ways of life that we cherish. If we are wise, we realize that thus far we have been very lucky not to have watched the global wildfire of pandemic take hold here… but a good measure of that has looked more like luck than care or respect for this invisible threat. A brand-new virus has scattered us to our homes and to a new reality of social distancing and increased care for how we are to interact. As our world has changed, there is great cause for grieving. Significant life events are postponed or almost unrecognizably altered: graduations, weddings, funerals. Jobs and workplaces have changed and, for some, vanished. Teachers, pastors, and all of those people who have answered a calling to be in constant interaction with others have found themselves in a strange land of phone calls and computer interactions. There is a great grief that cries out from within many of us and it sounds a lot like those exiles sitting down by the river’s shore and weeping for what we remember of the past.
What we know of Israel’s time is that the time of exile also became a defining time for the people. I read scholars who attribute our having a written Hebrew Bible to that period of not being where the people wanted to be. If we read that Psalm, we hear the weeping and the lament… but I have also always been drawn to the sitting down by the water and hanging the harps on the branches of the willows. That image holds echoes of the 23rd Psalm’s story of restoration and care. Even in the midst of our trials, if we look up, we encounter God's life-giving activity: the waters of Babylon and a willow tree. Or for us, the loud proclamation from God is that God is very busy in our world in all that blooms and grows and has life in this season. If we only look up from our distress, we cannot help but to see signs of God's life and grace all around us.
There is a song to which I was just introduced that took words that are attributed to an unknown Jewish author during the second world war… the details of the attribution are quite unclear, but the text is incredibly simple and powerful:
“I believe in the sun, even when it’s not shining.
I believe in love, even when I don’t feel it.
I believe in God, even when God is silent.”
We are living in a time when we are encouraged to remember how good it will be to be together again, a time when our laments of grief might again be turned to songs of joy. But like the faithful through the ages, we don’t know the timing of that return. So in this moment, in this place wherever it may be, we are invited to open our hearts in faith and to believe and to trust and to see God's hand at work all around us.
May God continue to bless us and to bind us together across time and space as we hold fast to hope and love.

We have been working hard to discern how and when we might be able to gather again for worship…
There are some in our community who have been expressing their longing to be able to reconnect in some safe physical way. There are others who are content to ere on the side of caution and wait until all is once again safe for us to gather. This is new territory for all of us, and all that we are learning from a health/science standpoint suggests that things will not change dramatically anytime soon. We are also aware that gathering inside our sanctuary with a large group for a prolonged period (some say more than 15 minutes) greatly increases our risk should.
In the effort to support our community we have been exploring the possibility of worshiping outdoors a couple of times this summer – being outdoors where we are mostly not re-breathing the same air is a significantly safer option for us. We finally secured some dates earlier this week for us to be able to experiment with this kind of gathering. We are required to have no more than 25% capacity in the park (the same guidance that we would be under when we are finally cleared to open the church). It is also required that everyone maintain a six-foot social distance, and wear face masks. These services will be a learning experience for us to see if we can gather together in a way that allows us to see each other’s sparkling eyes peaking over a mask, to share in worship, and still to be as safe as we can be. All the health guidelines suggest that large gatherings of people over a sustained period of time presents the greatest risk for transmission of this new corona virus. Being outdoors will help mitigate the risks but cannot remove them. For those who wish, let us humbly gather and witness to how we can love one another enough to seek to keep each other safe and set a faithful example for our community. For those who feel uncomfortable gathering or are in any high-risk group, we will continue to post our worship services online.

A letter from Pastor Eric

26 March, 2020

Dear beloved community,

We are all finding ourselves in an altered reality these days. It feels very strange not to be gathering and visiting and doing what Church has done for millennia… and yet I keep taking very seriously the command that Jesus gave us to love our neighbors no exception. There have been lots of times in the midst of ministry where I’ve heard people intone that if we are to love our neighbors as ourselves, then we are probably not doing a very good job… you see, we often don’t love ourselves or take care of ourselves as we should. We are being reminded daily with the instructions to wash and pray, to social distance and to call and support one another in our interconnected world. As we hear stories about a virus that is “novel,” utterly unique to human beings and our immune systems, that COVID-19 doesn’t discriminate… we remember that all our lives are woven together in more ways than we can imagine. That connection might be frightening to some, but it should also be a beautiful reminder that God is offering us to see our neighbors near and far as connected to our lives and our stories. I was recently reminded of the expression “liminal space.” That’s not a phrase that is probably familiar to most people, but it’s an incredibly powerful idea. It’s the idea of that space between the already and the not yet. It is a space that, within our journeys of faith, we are always traversing. Scott Stoner shared: The author and theologian Richard Rohr defines liminal time in this way: "It is when you have left, or are about to leave, the tried and true, but have not yet been able to replace it with anything else. It is when you are between your old comfort zone and any possible new answer. If you are not trained in how to hold anxiety, how to live with ambiguity, how to entrust and wait, you will run...anything to flee this terrible cloud of unknowing." He goes on to say that ancient cultures referred to liminal space as "crazy time," because it is like nothing we have ever experienced before. Think of it as that space, that time, when a flying acrobat has let go of one swinging trapeze and is in mid-air, anxiously seeking the grasp of another who is swinging their way. Often in ministry, I have encountered that moment at the threshold as sacred time when God's presence might catch us unaware and bless us unexpectedly. I have been listening to people in this moment offering expressions of deep grief as their routines and the things that they enjoy doing most, the things that offer them purpose in life, have been stripped away very rapidly. The litany of separations is profound… and we all know it. At the same time, yesterday I saw more people out walking as families, as individuals, than I have seen on any weekday afternoon that I can recall. I’ve been hearing about people reaching out to long lost friends by phone and internet. I’ve heard about more families gathering to watch a movie together, or to read books, or to play a game. I am reminded so often of our first exchange student who used to intone: “pick an attitude.” We often don’t to choose our circumstance, but we get to choose our response. There is a core proclamation of our faith that God journeys with us wherever we go… but much of the time we don’t pay all that much attention to God's presence or to God's invitation to a deeper relationship with that love that never ends. Our tidings this month is quite different than usual. There are not activities identified that will gather us together physically – though there are a number of opportunities to connect virtually, and we may seek to offer more as time goes on. We have been recording worship services and uploading them to YouTube with links to our website and Facebook, I’m grateful to have a talented family (even with the addition of a very musical French exchange student) that has been willing to share in creating what we hope is sacred space for those able to tune in. E-mail communication has become increasingly important for those who have access to that form of communication. If you’ve not been hearing from church, then it means that we don’t have current information for you – please use this time as an opportunity to call or email church to update our records. Where I have been struggling to stay connected is with those who aren’t on-line. It will take all of us to keep sharing the love of God with all those members of our family and beyond. I’m also very aware that there are many for whom this time is causing particular hardship not just emotionally, but also physically. Please, please, let the church know if there are needs of which you become aware and we will try to creatively do what we can to help. A friend sent a poem from Kitty O’ Meara that many of you have seen. This retired Chaplain and teacher from Madison offers us words that I share as prayer for us in the days ahead: "And the people stayed home. And read books, and listened, and rested, and exercised, and made art, and played games, and learned new ways of being, and were still. And listened more deeply. Some meditated, some prayed, some danced. Some met their shadows. And the people began to think differently. And the people healed. And, in the absence of the people living in ignorant, dangerous, mindless, and heartless ways, the earth began to heal. And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again, they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new images, and created new ways to live and heal the earth fully, as they had been healed."

May we know that God is with us in this time upon our sacred journey,

Pastor Eric

A letter that is already obsolete... We will NOT be holding worship March 15th

March 13, 2020
Dear Beloved Community,
The last few days have reminded us that we have entered unprecedented territory.
As we have listened to the World Health Organization proclaim that we are now in the
midst of a pandemic, and we have watched our nation scrambling to discern how best
to contain and combat a novel viral infection we are quickly assessing how this might
impact us as a worshipping and gathering community.
It is in times of crisis that we need our faith most. At the same time, the very gathering in
community that feeds our souls may not be the most prudent course of action for the
health of ourselves or our community.
I have never been a pastor through a pandemic, so we are going to navigate this
journey together. We continue to be in conversation with the Wider Church and to
monitor the directives of the CDC and WHO to try to root our response in science rather
than fear. We will follow the direction of the Wisconsin Department of Health Services
and any specific guidance that comes from our county in terms of closures. We will also
stop holding services should the school districts close. We will not stop doing ministry in
whatever new and creative ways God may offer to us.
We will gather for worship this weekend . . . we’ll have hand sanitizer available; we’re
working to increase our efforts to sanitize surfaces in which we commonly come in
contact. We’ll be refraining from handshakes.
Friends, I encourage you to continue to take lots of precautions:
 For those who are elderly or with current health concerns - it is wisest to practice
social isolation
 Wash your hands with warm water and soap long enough to recite the Lord's
Prayer!
 For those who experience any symptoms of cold or flu - stay home and contact
your doctor if you think you need testing for COVID-19
 We’ll be looking into the possibilities of using technology for meetings, Bible
studies, and worship services as quickly as we can.
 Ensure sufficient food and paper supplies, prescriptions and hygiene
essentials…but please don't hoard. Allow your earthly siblings to have sufficiency
as well!
Please DO stay connected with one another as together we discern how to grow
stronger as God's beloved community. I had the following words from Rabbi Yosef
Kanefsky forwarded to me this morning. “Every hand that we don’t shake must become
a phone call that we place. Every embrace that we avoid must become a verbal
expression of warmth and concern. Every inch and foot that we physically place between ourselves and another, must become a thought as to how we might be of help to that other, should the need arise.”
We have heard that both Cedar Community’s assisted living and health care center as well as Kettle Moraine Garden are no longer permitting visitors from the outside for at least the next 30 days. Most of our college students and professors either have heard or are anticipating hearing that their campuses will be closing and classes moving online in the next few days or weeks. And for all the others whose lives and livelihoods are disrupted, let us hear that as in invitation to practice love and connection in new ways.
Finally, I would share with you the words that our Conference Minister Rev. Franz Rigert shared with us last night: crafted by the Rev. Dr. Hannah Adams Ingram (a University Chaplain):
Oh God, I'm Spinning Out: A Prayer
There is so much I do not know
There is so much I cannot see
There is so much I cannot control
In the moments I feel powerless, I will take a deep breath
trusting that I am tasked only with doing my part, not the whole
In the moments I feel unsure, I will take a deep breath
trusting that I am not alone and that together, our wisdom will be richer
In the moments I feel anxious, I will take a deep breath
trusting that there is no depth I can fall out of reach of the Spirit that holds me close
What I do know is that my life and love and worth extend far beyond my work
What I can see is that spring follows every winter and new life pokes out from cold ground
What I can control is my breath and the love I inject into a world so clearly lacking it
"And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love."
Remember - Care, Caution and Calm. And keep the faith! My prayers of love, support and encouragement abide with you,
Pastor Eric