Our Blog

Dear Brothers & Sisters in Christ,

This Sunday, September 19th we are so excited to see so many of you in person and to continue to welcome many of you on Zoom. We move forward changed people – because the last 18 months have changed us individually and as a worshipping community and we have begun to reflect on our need to heal and how God’s love factors into that process.

We have journeyed and continue to journey together through this pandemic, through the election, through the fight for racial and economic justice, through our support of the families at PS 15, through the birth of babies, through weddings, through separations, through job losses and transitions, through remote schooling, through moves, through birthdays and anniversaries, through the illnesses and deaths of beloved family members and friends. When you see each other in person this Sunday, know that you look into the eyes of your brother or sister, that person too has changed, just like you have.

We come from people who know what it is to journey: from Moses and the Israelites to Joseph and Mary to Jesus and his disciples. And just as it was for them, God has been here with us, even in those moments when we haven’t felt God’s presence, or have been disappointed or have been too tired. We too have been here for each other, we have loved each other, prayed for each other and learned to be Christian community in a much deeper way. Let us take this learning forward with us – to connect with, care for and love each other as Jesus continues to teach us.

In peace with love,

The Mothers

Please see the Zoom & In-Person guidelines below for each of the services:

This Little Light @ 8:30am  - A service for children 0-5 with their families

Weather permitting we will continue to worship on the lawn. We are requiring that all people over the age of 2 wear a mask in order to ensure the safety of all present. RSVPs are no longer necessary and the bathrooms are open. Get ready to dance & sing!

Please bring:

• A mask to wear;

• A blanket to sit on;

• Instruments and

• A joyful spirit of participation!

If you or your child are feverish, coughing, sneezing, achy or sick in any way, please stay home. Err on the side of caution. We are here every weekend, missing one service is OK.

Main Service @ 10am in person & on Zoom

The Sanctuary:

• Opens 10 minutes before the service;

• There are two hand sanitizing dispensers at the entrance of the church;

• Masks are available for folks who do not bring their own;

• All windows will be open;

• The fan will be on;

• Seats are placed at least 3 feet from each other. Please do not move them.

In Person:

We have room for 65 people in the church.

• Doors open: Folks will be allowed in the church 10 minutes prior to the service. We know folks are excited to be here, but we want to limit the amount of time we are indoors.

• Masks: All persons inside the church building are required to wear a mask at all times, included while singing.

• Seats: We are excited about our new padded, super comfy cathedral chairs! Seats are spaced at least 3 feet apart. We ask that you do not move them.

• Pews: If you are a family unit or couple coming, we have reserved pews for you all to sit together. We ask that individuals allow families and couples to sit in the pews.

• Bulletins: We will have printed bulletins with all of the music, readings and prayers. If you are coming with someone and can share, that would be great.

• Singing: Singing is permitted.

• Communion: Communion in one kind (the bread) will be distributed to all who want to receive. Parishioners will remain in their seats and the clergy will come to them.

• The Passing of the Peace: In the past, the passing of the peace has been a raucous joyful time in the church. For now, we will be passing the peace from our seats, with no physical contact (no hugging or hand shaking) and move quickly to the offertory.

• The Offering: While most folks now give online, if you wish to give in person there will be an offering plate near the doors of the church. We will not be passing an offering plate.

• Exiting the Church: We ask that folks not stay in the church after the service. Please be patient and let the folks in front of you leave so we don’t congregate by the doors.

• Bathrooms: Our bathrooms are now all unisex. What was the women’s bathroom is open to all and also functions as a family bathroom with a changing table.

• Stairs: If you need to access the bathrooms downstairs, please use the stairs near the entry to the church. The stairs near the organ will not be accessible for use.

• Food & Drink in Church: Because we are keeping our masks on at all times, there is no food and drink allowed in church, even for our youngest friends. If your child needs a drink of water or a snack, please bring them outside.

• If you are not feeling well, please choose to stay home and join us on Zoom. We continue to put the wellbeing of everyone at the center of what we are doing.

The Zoom:

We are really excited to let folks know that our Zoom run through this week went really well! We have a great microphone that picks up the music, the readings and you will get to see Deacon John, The Mothers, Saya, the readers and the Choir. Deacon John will be welcoming you to the Zoom and hopefully as other folks enter the sanctuary, they will get a chance to say ‘hello.’ The service will feel different because it is the service of Holy Communion, whereas we have been doing Morning Prayer. The first part, The Liturgy of the Word will look and feel most like Morning Prayer and include all of the readings, the Prayers of the People, the Sermon and some hymns. You are welcome to stay for the whole service but also want to say that if you choose to leave after the peace before The Holy Communion begins, that is ok.

• You will receive a weekly Zoom link and link to the bulletin;

• We recommend you print the bulletin out so you can follow along;

• Deacon John will share the lyrics to hymns and prayers;

• We encourage you to type your prayers into the chat during the Prayers of the People and Deacon John will share them with the congregation;

• We want your feedback! Please let us know how you are experiencing the Zoom moving forward.

If any of you have questions about our protocols or there is something we have not addressed, please be in touch with us. We have tried to cover all the bases but we may have missed something that is important to you so please let us know. You can contact us here.

You can listen to the reading and reflection by clicking here.

Job 19:21-27

Have pity on me, have pity on me, O you my friends,
for the hand of God has touched me!
Why do you, like God, pursue me,
never satisfied with my flesh?

‘O that my words were written down!
O that they were inscribed in a book!
O that with an iron pen and with lead
they were engraved on a rock for ever!
For I know that my Redeemer* lives,
and that at the last he* will stand upon the earth;*
and after my skin has been thus destroyed,
then in* my flesh I shall see God,*
whom I shall see on my side,*
and my eyes shall behold, and not another.
My heart faints within me!

Oh how much I like reading Job. My response to him is always so deep hearted, my skin crawls with the sense of injustice – I feel right there with him. I’m guessing many of us have had Job moments at some point in our lives, and possibly in the last year. Why oh why God are all these calamities befalling me? It’s really easy to get stuck in a cycle of retribution theology – that is, if I’m good, then only good things happen to me, and if I am experiencing difficulty or am suffering, then God is punishing me. No matter how much we hear or read that God does not work this way, we can’t shake our attachment to this idea that God rewards us and punishes us based on our behavior. I think it is because it is too overwhelming to think that many things happen randomly and that we are not in full control, no matter how much we convince ourselves that we are.

I also really identify with Job because he is so indignant, so angry, so upset by the injustice of what he has experienced and the lack of help he’s getting from his friends and from God. He wants to write his experience down with an iron pen on a rock so that an account of his suffering will be around forever…and his account is still around and yet his suffering had an end. His suffering had an end and then what when his suffering ends? Has he changed? What will he remember of his experience if anything?

In this moment in time when I have so little control and I am desiring for COVID to be over I am so in it and I know I have so many thoughts like: I like that our family is not overscheduled; I like eating dinner together every night; I like my neighbors so much and having time to talk to them on the street; I miss taking the subway; I can make do with so much less than I thought I could; I need my friends more than I remembered and I don’t need to schedule a time to talk to them; I can be resilient even when I think I can’t be, and so on… but what about this time next year? Will I have forgotten what I have learned about myself this year? Or will I be like Job? This time will end and a new period of my life will begin without much thought of what I, what we, have been through? I’ve read that this is what happened after the 1918 flu to the point where there are only a handful of novels written about the theme and those were written in the 1930’s. I hope I’ll hold onto this experience in its totality, writing this on my heart and not on stone, so that it becomes a part of me.

God hasn’t punished me this past year – the chaos of life has swirled something fierce and I have learned from it – that God is always with me, even in my darkest moments and there is much to have learned this year to hold onto in the years to come.

You can listen to the reading and reflection by clicking here.

Psalm 22.1-18

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? *
and are so far from my cry
and from the words of my distress?

O my God, I cry in the daytime, but you do not answer; *
by night as well, but I find no rest.

Yet you are the Holy One, *
enthroned upon the praises of Israel.

Our forefathers put their trust in you; *
they trusted, and you delivered them.

They cried out to you and were delivered; *
they trusted in you and were not put to shame.

But as for me, I am a worm and no man, *
scorned by all and despised by the people.

All who see me laugh me to scorn; *
they curl their lips and wag their heads, saying,

"He trusted in the Lord; let him deliver him; *
let him rescue him, if he delights in him."

Yet you are he who took me out of the womb, *
and kept me safe upon my mother's breast.

I have been entrusted to you ever since I was born; *
you were my God when I was still in my
mother's womb.

Be not far from me, for trouble is near, *
and there is none to help.

Many young bulls encircle me; *
strong bulls of Bashan surround me.

They open wide their jaws at me, *
like a ravening and a roaring lion.

I am poured out like water;
all my bones are out of joint; *
my heart within my breast is melting wax.

My mouth is dried out like a pot-sherd;
my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth; *
and you have laid me in the dust of the grave.

Packs of dogs close me in,
and gangs of evildoers circle around me; *
they pierce my hands and my feet;
I can count all my bones.

They stare and gloat over me; *
they divide my garments among them;
they cast lots for my clothing.

Be not far away, O Lord; *
you are my strength; hasten to help me.

Psalm 22 begins with the cry: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” This cry of utter despair and abandonment is echoed by Jesus on the Cross. This cry cuts me to the core—if even God has abandoned me, what possible hope is there? Here we are, on Good Friday morning and, to me, this psalm vividly tells the story of Good Friday. Here we plumb the depths of human desolation as we walk with Jesus to his death on the cross.

I have always been struck by the extreme language of this psalm--“as for me, I am a worm and no man”, “all who see me laugh me to scorn”, “I am poured out like water”, “my mouth is dried out like a pot-sherd” (my favorite), “Packs of dogs close me in” and many more. I used to think these verses were too extreme, they certainly didn’t apply to me personally!

But, as I think about it more, I think, yes, the psalm is extreme yet isn’t human life often extreme? This is the gift the psalms give us—all the range of human experience and emotion in all its beauty and horror.

Like others, I may have the illusion that I am protected from these extremes, but I don’t know what is to come. Of course, I have not been immune to suffering, loss and feelings of estrangement. Psalm 22 runs the gamut.

What I find encouraging is that such a despairing psalm keeps going back to the goodness of God. Even at the beginning the psalmist recalls that their ancestors had put their trust in God and were redeemed by God. The psalmist acknowledges God’s care from birth. This is a reminder that God has cared for me all my life, even when I was totally unaware of God’s presence. Or the times when I felt abandoned and alone, even abandoned by God.

For this year of pandemic, I am thinking of last March, when suddenly our lives were constricted, almost everything shut down and we were confined to our homes. We were surrounded by the threat of the coronavirus. I think of the verse “Packs of dogs close me in, and gangs of evildoers circle around me.” The psalmist prays: “Be not far from me, for trouble is near, and there is none to help.”

Late in March both Martin and I came down with Covid. For ten days I ran a temperature. Meanwhile, the quiet was disturbed by the wails of sirens from the ambulances rushing to the hospitals near us.

Several times the ambulance did not go rushing by, but stopped in front of our house and went into the home of our next-door neighbors. Martin witnessed our neighbor Eda being carried out the house by EMS workers. Later, we learned that her husband Roy had died of Covid.

We were lucky; we both recovered. We got through it. Yet, in thinking back, I seemed to be operating on automatic pilot; my fear had shut me down. So this is what the psalm means to me now. The cry: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”—it doesn’t mean that God has actually forsaken me, I know that God will never forsake me. Instead, it is the human feeling of being forsaken by God (and by everyone else). It is I, in my fear and aloneness, who has forsaken God. I have shut off the connection, just when I most need the comfort of God’s presence. Over and over, us humans retreat into ourselves in time of trouble. Over and over, we must teach ourselves to be brave and open ourselves to the love that God provides.
This is the journey of the Cross.