Archives for January 2013

The Past, Present, and Future Word

January 27, 2013 By Andy James

a sermon on Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10 for the Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
preached on January 27, 2013, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

I started off my holiday Monday this week as I suspect many of you did, settling in front of the TV for a bit to watch the second—or fourth, depending on how you count it!—inauguration of President Barack Obama. I try very hard not to inject my politics into this pulpit—though over a cup of coffee, a meal, or a beer I am quite willing to tell you who I vote for and why I do it!—but I will say that I have been a fan of President Obama since he first appeared on the national scene at the 2004 Democratic Convention, back when he was a state senator from Illinois who was running for the US Senate. Still, I believe that the inauguration is not so much a political moment as a national one, a time when we come together to be surprised yet again by our strange ability to transfer the most powerful office in the world peacefully from one person to another.

In this second inaugural address, I most appreciated how President Obama connected his goals for his second term to the founding principles of our nation. He quoted the Declaration of Independence

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

Then he made our challenge clear:

Today we continue a never-ending journey to bridge the meaning of those words with the realities of our time.

Over and over again in his speech, he linked these principles of the past with the realities of the present:

We have always understood that when times change, so must we; that fidelity to our founding principles requires new responses to new challenges; that preserving our individual freedoms ultimately requires collective action.

While we all may disagree on exactly which actions are required to make these past ideals reality in the present and future, this challenge to connect who we have been with who we are now is our great call in this changing age.

This is the same challenge addressed in our reading from Nehemiah today. Nehemiah was governor of Judah in a time when the people had just returned from exile in Babylon and were seeking to rebuild Jerusalem and reestablish their common life and identity. Today’s reading tells of an early gathering of the people as they prepared to rebuild Jerusalem. In the face of uncertain days, they gathered to hear the Torah, the books of the law, read by the priest and scribe Ezra so that they might be reconnected to their past and sort out how they ought to live in the present and future. They listened intently as Ezra read from early morning until midday. Along the way, other priests and scribes—whose difficult-to-pronounce names fill the verses of our reading that we skipped!—helped the people to understand the law, offering interpretation of what was being read and helping them to see what these words—several hundred years old even then!—might mean for them.

The people of Judah couldn’t just listen to the old words and immediately act as their ancestors had— they needed guidance and wisdom to figure out how the old things applied to those new days. As commentator Kathleen O’Connor puts it

To rebuild their faith and their cultural life requires recovery of their pre-Babylonian worldview, yet they must reimagine it for the new situation, because their history has undermined their faith. (Feasting on the Word, Year C, Volume 1, p. 267)

The ancient words were still there, still offering deep wisdom and hope, but without some sort of interpretation, they would mean mean nothing. Again, Kathleen O’Connor puts it beautifully:

This reading about the reading of [the law] does not inflict the rigid orthodoxy of the past on the gathered people but urges them to meet God anew in the changing times in which they find themselves. (p. 271)

Just as Ezra and Nehemiah gathered the people to hear the ancient scripture and interpret it anew for their time, just as our president challenged our nation at the beginning of his second term to hear anew our core values and sort out what they should look like for us today, so I believe that we in the church are invited to do this same thing, to sort out how we are to understand the Bible in our own day and how to live out our faith in the midst of our own changing times.

Even though God is always faithful and does not change, as our last hymn reminded us, sometimes we must change. Just as the people of Judah heard the word and interpreted it anew for their world after exile, so we may have to live out the Bible differently now than we did fifty or one hundred or 141 years ago. Just as our nation is challenged to make its founding principles applicable to new and different days, so we may have to find new pathways for our church in a changing world.

And so today as we journey into our annual meeting of this congregation, I think we are called to remember these ancient moments of reinterpretation and sort out how we might do the same thing—how we are to listen for what God is calling us to do in this time and this place, and respond in faith, hope, and love as we journey together along the way. We are called to consider real change in this place, not just a willingness to wait long enough for things to change, to hope and pray that we will magically return to what we once thought we were, or even to pray fervently yet simply that God will act in our midst. In these days, we need real and concrete action by us for a new and different way of embodying God’s presence in this congregation and for this community. I don’t have clear guidance for what we must do differently or what must change in order for us to survive and thrive again as a congregation, but I do know that simply doing what we have done before and expecting different results is a recipe for failure.

Now our congregational meeting today is only the beginning of this process. We will certainly hear reports and consider a few small actions like electing new leaders for the coming years in our midst, but there is little else that we can do today. Instead, the real work comes in the everyday life of this congregation and our world, the places where the rubber meets the road, the moments when we sort out how what actions we will take in response to God’s Word and the situation of our world. Toward that end, you’ll hear more in the meeting today about a discernment and conversation process over the next few months that I and the session hope will help us to see where we are and where we are going. I hope that you will make a commitment to participate in this process, to add your voice to those who long for something new to take hold in this place, to step up and take action to be a part of God doing something new in and through this First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone. We need your presence, your voices, your commitment, and your action in the days ahead, for just as the people of Judah did not live out the words of the law on their own, just as President Obama cannot fix what ails our nation on his own so we too gather in community to sort out what God is calling us to do, to hear the Spirit speaking in our midst again and again, and to be restored and made new for the joy of the days ahead.

So may God’s presence be among us as we gather, God’s Word be loud and clear and understandable in our ears, and God’s new creation be our goal as we live and work together for the days ahead. Lord, come quickly! Amen.

Radical Hospitality, Extravagant Grace

January 20, 2013 By Andy James

a sermon on John 2:1-11 for the Second Sunday of Ordinary Time
preached on January 20, 2013, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

Over my seven and a half years in Whitestone, I have developed some habits and routines. Some of them have changed since I moved out of the manse last year, but others remain constant.

Saturday night is the most routine part of my routine. Because I have to work on Sunday morning and be at my best, I very rarely make plans to go out to a concert or show or even to visit with friends, and if I do, I’m almost always home by 9:00! So I have a standing dinner date with myself at the same restaurant every week, where I sit at the bar and enjoy a quiet dinner as the world speeds by all around me. I’ve been doing this for four or five years now, and I am definitely a regular in every sense of the word—all the staff there know me by name and make sure that I am taken care of!

About a year after I started this routine, I noticed a strange thing happening. One night, the glass of water that appeared upon my arrival turned into wine! Not actually the same glass, of course, but wine also appeared alongside the water! Was it a Saturday night miracle? Or was it just a turn of hospitality? Or maybe a bit of both?

Today’s gospel reading from John recounts Jesus’ first miracle, a wedding night miracle with a turn of hospitality that tells us a lot about who Jesus is and how he approaches his life and ministry. This wedding must have been a big deal—Jesus and his disciples and his mother were all there. But apparently this wedding wasn’t a big enough deal for the host to keep extra wine on hand, and they ran out. When Jesus’ mother got wind of it, she went to Jesus and told him about it. I’m not quite sure why she went to him with this news, much as I have sometimes wondered why my own mother tells me some things, and I don’t think Jesus got it, either. Confused, he asked her directly, “What concern is that to you and me?”

Jesus didn’t want anything to do with the situation, but his mother clearly thought he could step in and make a difference. He disagreed. “My hour has not yet come,” he proclaimed. It was not yet time for him to perform a miracle and make his real identity known. While the party may have needed more wine, Jesus needed more time. Still, Jesus’ mother would not take no for an answer. Without even responding to Jesus, she went to the servants and told them to follow Jesus’ instructions.

So Jesus, probably still mumbling under his breath about his overbearing mother, got involved in the crisis at the wedding. He told the servants to fill some water jugs that would have normally been used for ritual washings, but they were empty by this time of the night. After they had been filled, Jesus told the servants to draw some water out of them and take it to the chief steward. The steward was very impressed with this new wine, so he called the groom over to tell him of his surprise, for most hosts serve the good wine first and save the worst for last, but in an act of strange and wonderful hospitality he seemed to have saved the best wine for the end of the party. Little did either of them know that one of the guests had saved the day through a little nudging from his mother, pulling off both a miracle and a radical turn of hospitality.

I think this miracle is a fitting beginning for John’s gospel—or for any story of the life and ministry of Jesus. First, this story shows us a Jesus who is humble and reluctant to use his powers when the time is not right. He does not seek to show off his miraculous abilities but rather wants and needs to wait until the time is right. His goal is not for people to believe in him—although his disciples certainly do—but instead to fulfill God’s purposes all along the way. He is afraid that if he acts too soon or in the wrong way, he might not be able to live out God’s intentions, so he keeps quiet about what he can do until he believes that the time is right.

This story also shows us a Jesus who can do amazing things with something that everyone else just assumed was getting in the way. Those huge empty pots seemed to be useless until Jesus got hold of them, but somehow something incredible happened when they were filled again. Not only was there suddenly more wine—it was better than what they had had before! Jesus makes this a pattern throughout his life and ministry, constantly pushing the people around him to reimagine what they can do with their lives and moving beyond expectations to do new things with the gifts that God has given us.

And most of all, it is fitting that John begins his story of Jesus’ life and ministry with a sign that ultimately points to radical hospitality and unlimited grace. Jesus overturns the cultural expectation—and common-sense determination!—that you start with the best wine and move toward the worst, thinking that the guests will be drunk enough not to notice the bad wine at the end of the party. But when Jesus’ act brings new wine that is better at the end of the party, he suggests that hospitality really matters, that even when something might not be understood or appreciated it should still be given, that everything we do to make people feel welcome is a part of showing God’s love. And this seemingly simple act shows us that Jesus will be working to express this new and different and radical way of living in all that he says and does, that he will not be afraid to welcome all people or to do things that seem strange or uncertain if they ultimately show God’s love and care for all people.

In the end, Jesus’ reluctance to perform this miracle, his ability to transform even the emptiest of barrels, and his radical hospitality help us to see a glimpse of everything that he will be up to in his ministry even as it is just beginning. This is an incredible challenge for us. We can’t turn water into wine—unless you happen to own or operate a restaurant where you want to care for your regular customers! Even so, this story challenges us to look for other ways that we can embody God’s radical hospitality and unlimited grace.

After Hurricane Sandy, Stony Point Center did just this. While there was little or no damage at the Center itself, hundreds of people who lived in nearby low-lying areas along the Hudson River found their homes flooded or washed away. Most of these people didn’t have a lot to begin with, and many were immigrants who do not speak English or who lack proper documentation. After the storm, many of these people started showing up at the Center looking for a place to stay. No one was turned away because of inability to pay or any other reason, and word of this open-door policy spread quickly among those whose homes were damaged or destroyed by the storm.

This was an amazing moment of hospitality for everyone. The Center had a number of empty beds because of cancellations related to the storm, so they had plenty of space to offer. They became certified by FEMA as official disaster housing, so the government paid for many of these guests, and other donations to disaster relief through Presbyterian Disaster Assistance helped cover additional expenses. And the people who made their way to the Center had found quite possibly the best place they could. Not only did they have a bed and meals for as long as they needed it, the Center staff’s ability to speak Spanish and experience working in immigrant communities helped make connections to other social support systems that would have been far more difficult to find otherwise. Simply by doing what seemed right and opening their doors to everyone in need, Stony Point Center became a place of refuge for those in greatest need and embodied the same radical hospitality and extravagant grace that Jesus showed at the wedding at Cana and throughout his ministry.

So maybe we don’t have any empty jugs laying around, maybe we don’t have storm victims waiting on our doorstep wondering if they can have a place to stay, and maybe we can’t even turn one man’s glass of water at dinner into wine without him asking for it, but maybe we can offer others even a little glimpse of the depth and breadth of God’s hospitality for us so that we might extend that welcome to everyone through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

A New Beginning

January 13, 2013 By Andy James

a sermon on Isaiah 43:1-7 and Luke 3:15-17, 21-23 for Baptism of the Lord Sunday
preached on January 13, 2013, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

Sometimes you just have to go back to the beginning. In the midst of our very complicated and complex world, it is easy to forget where we began. In the face of changing times and places, we can easily end up someplace that isn’t where we intended to be—and that just isn’t faithful to to the original intentions of our journey. So sometimes we need to remember where it all began and do what we can do to reclaim that beginning once again.

For us as Christians, going back to the beginning means going back to baptism. Now baptism may not actually be the beginning of the story for us—just like Jesus, all of us lived some part of our lives before we were baptized, and some of us may have even begun our Christian lives before our baptisms—but baptism is the official, formal mark of new beginning for us as Christians, the time when we see how God claims us and makes us new, the moment when we are given a sign and seal of how we are made one with Christ in his death and resurrection. So when we think of Jesus’ baptism as we do today, we go back to the beginning of our stories and remember our lives of faith as we remember how the beginning of Jesus’ story in his baptism connects to the beginning of our story in our baptism.

Each of the gospels tells this story of Jesus’ baptism, but the version we heard from Luke this morning is a little different. First, unlike any of the other tellings of Jesus’ baptism, Luke puts this story much later in his narrative of Jesus’ life because of the detail he offers about Jesus’ birth and childhood. Like many of us, then, the Jesus of Luke’s gospel has some history of life and even of faith before he is baptized, so this moment in the water is the culmination of many things that come before it even as it suggests an incredible journey ahead.

But even with this extra detail on the front end, Luke brings the story in line with all the other accounts of Jesus’ baptism by dealing with John the Baptist. Based on the amount of attention that John gets at the beginning of the gospel story, John must have been important to early Christians, and most scholars think that John’s followers were around for quite a while after his death. But John’s message is not easily appreciated these days. He didn’t have much positive to say to anyone and demanded repentance from everyone. He attracted a lot of followers, but I’m not quite sure how. John’s first words according to Luke don’t exactly make people welcome. Would you appreciate being called first “You brood of vipers!”?! Even so, many of his first listeners wondered out loud if he was the Messiah, but John made it clear that there was something and someone greater on the way.

But Luke’s story does make John seem a little different. Only Luke tells us that John and Jesus were relatives of some sort, most likely distant cousins. But Luke also notes that John was put in prison by Herod before he tells us that Jesus had been baptized by him. This all happened in the two verses that were left out of our lectionary reading this morning, because it doesn’t make for particularly good storytelling and complicates an easy passage from John to Jesus. According to Luke, then, Jesus was baptized along with others in the crowd, but strangely enough Luke doesn’t directly identify John as the one who did it.

Amidst all these interesting twists in Luke’s telling of Jesus’ baptism, what really seems to matter here for us as we consider our own baptisms is not who did the the baptizing or the proper order of the story but what happened after Jesus’ baptism. First, after Jesus was baptized, “the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove.” What a dramatic moment for Jesus, to have this clear appearance of God in his life at the very beginning of his ministry! Now I suspect that our baptisms were considerably less dramatic than this one, but even so, the Holy Spirit was present and active in our baptisms, too. And just as Luke gets John the Baptist out of the picture of Jesus’ baptism, so it should be with us too, for in the end, God is the primary agent in baptism for Jesus and for us. Baptism is not about the pastor or priest who applies the water, the denomination in which the sacrament is celebrated, the amount of water involved, or even the time in life when it happens—baptism is about how God breaks into our world and steps into our lives to mark us and claim us as God’s own even with a little bit of water.

But after this movement of the Holy Spirit, Jesus heard a voice from God: “You are my Son, the beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Even though he surely knew it beforehand, Jesus’ baptism showed him once again who he was and gave him the strength and hope to face the challenges of the journey ahead. And so it is with our baptisms, too. Just as Jesus began his life of ministry with this assurance of love and grace from God, so we too begin our lives as Christians with the sign and seal of water that shows us that God loves us. Just as God’s claim and call on Jesus’ life was made clear in these words, so we in our baptisms also learn that God claims us and calls us to walk in new life. And just as Jesus found strength and hope in this moment at the beginning of a long and difficult ministry that would eventually lead to nothing less than his death, so we emerge from the waters of our baptisms with the confidence that we are God’s beloved children who are called out of the water and sent into the world to join in what God is already doing to make us and all things new.

In our baptism, just like Jesus, we hear the words of the prophet Isaiah loud and clear, directed at us:

Don’t fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name; you are mine.

When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;

when [you go] through the rivers,
they won’t sweep over you.

When you walk through the fire,
you won’t be scorched
and flame won’t burn you.

I am the Lord your God,
the holy one of Israel, your savior.

Because you are precious in my eyes,
you are honored, and I love you.

I give people in your place,
and nations in exchange for your life.

These are powerful words, worthy of the power of baptism that begins the Christian life. We rarely realize it when we stand at this font at whatever age, but the waters in this bowl are far more powerful than even the strongest waves of Hurricane Sandy. We hesitate to affirm it when we welcome our children into our common life with this sacrament, but even the smallest bit of water on our heads in baptism means that we no longer belong to ourselves, to our families, or even to our church—but to God. And we may not always recognize it or remember it, but God’s claim on us in baptism never leaves us. We can do nothing to wash off this indelible mark. Even when we try our best to deny God’s place in our world or God’s claim on our lives, baptism shows us that “God loves us too deeply and too completely to ever let us go.”

And so as we remember and celebrate the baptism of Jesus today, moving from a season of celebrating his birth into more ordinary days, may the baptism of Jesus remind us of our own baptisms, of our beginnings in this life of faith, where we are claimed as God’s own forever and shown that God will go with us through the waters, the rivers, the fire, and everything else that is before us. And so today may we go forth sustained by this unforgettable sign and seal, remembering our beginnings once again, living out this unconditional love from God as we live with others and make it clear to everyone we meet that they too are claimed and loved by God now and always.

So remember you baptism, your beginning, and be thankful, in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Light for the Journey

January 6, 2013 By Andy James

a sermon on Matthew 2:1-12 for Epiphany
preached on January 6, 2013, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

Several years ago, the computer company Microsoft ran an ad campaign that asked a simple question: “Where do you want to go today?” While their way of thinking about computers may drive me crazy, I think Microsoft was on to something in picking up this theme of journeys.

Journeys are everywhere around us, and we take them constantly. Whether our commute is a couple minutes or a full hour, the workers among us make a journey to work every day. We take longer journeys sometimes when we set out on vacation or to visit family or friends who do not live nearby. And when we get down to it, our whole lives are a journey, as one of our most dear departed saints often said, with wonderful and challenging twists and turns and exciting and surprising stops all along the way. And so every day, we ask that question, “Where do you want to go today?”, not because Microsoft insists on answering it for us but because life is a journey that will take us to countless interesting places that will make us different from when we started.

Journeys are a very important part of our faith tradition, too. The Old Testament begins its focus on the great patriarch of Judaism Abraham by recounting his journey to Canaan at God’s command. The Israelites defined themselves as a people by their journey from slavery in Egypt to freedom in the promised land—with a forty-year detour in the wilderness along the way! And both Matthew and Luke include journeys as they tell their different stories of Jesus’ birth.

Our reading today as we celebrate Epiphany tells Matthew’s version of events, recounting the journey of the magi as they made their way to Bethlehem to meet Jesus. It had to have been a pretty memorable journey, although probably not as much like what we think. We don’t know exactly where they came from or even how many of them there were, regardless of the certainty of our opening hymn today (“We Three Kings”) but these magi set out for Palestine knowing nothing more than that they were looking to welcome the newborn King of the Jews. They didn’t meet up with shepherds or angels along the way, but they did find their way to King Herod, who was so deeply troubled at this apparent newborn threat to his carefully-constructed power that he ended up killing all the male infants of Bethlehem. After this strange encounter, when the magi finally found the newborn king, he didn’t look a lot like most kings would, but they nonetheless showed him honor with their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And as these magi prepared to return home, it became clear that their journey had sparked something more in their world, but their journey to meet this newborn king was not complete until they could return home by another road.

With the story of the journey of the magi fresh in our minds, Epiphany is a good time to think about the journeys that shape our lives. It comes very quickly after our American culture celebrates New Year’s, so many of us have already been thinking about what we will do differently in 2013—and if your life is anything like mine, many of those different intentions have already been missed! Epiphany comes after we have spent time preparing for and celebrating God’s incarnation in our midst, and we can hopefully remember the lessons of these days as we consider the journey ahead. And Epiphany is at the perfect time of the year, right when the days start to get longer, right when the light starts to come back into our world, for us to begin to see more clearly the road ahead.

So as another Christmas comes to an end, as another year begins, as another Epiphany gives us light and inspiration for the journey, where will our journey lead us? Will we see a star and follow it as the magi did? Will we embark on a journey that looks a bit different from what we have known before because of what we see going on around us? Will we welcome the opportunity to journey in faith or just focus on making the best of what we have in the here and now?

Whatever our intentions, the journey of Epiphany is not easy. It doesn’t come with a clear road map—the magi can certainly tell us that. We may have a star to guide us along the way, but there are still likely to be unexpected and unwanted twists and turns for us, just as there were for the magi. We may be asked to do unexpected things, to go to unexpected places, to meet people who don’t look like we expect them to look, to stand up to those in power to say that there is something bigger going on here. And sometimes we may even get so confused or distracted or discouraged that we forget why we are on this journey in the first place—but we too have seen something that keeps us wondering, something that insists that we ask questions, something that guides us all along the way.

The same star that guided the magi to Bethlehem still shines in our world today. It may not shine in the night sky guiding us to a house in a small town in Palestine, but it’s still there. The star still shines among those who take God’s invitation to live in justice, mercy, and peace seriously. The star still shines where the divisions of this world are set aside, where racism and sexism and xenophobia and homophobia are not tolerated, where people let go of the ways of the past and embrace new hope for the future. The star still shines where people work to make the lives of others different, where God’s presence is fearlessly offered, where peace is made possible and real. And the star shines where people gather together in trust and in hope that God is still at work in our world.

So if the star is shining, we can follow it—even if we ourselves are part of that light sometimes! We can ignore the other stars that tempt us and distract us and keep focused instead on the light of the world that gives us life. We can walk in the way of the magi, journeying toward something we don’t fully understand, opening ourselves to the possibilities of something new, continuing on our way amidst all the unexpected moments of the journey so that we too can welcome the Christ child, offer our own gifts, and pay him homage before we go on our way home transformed by what we have seen and experienced. And all along the way, we can help make the light of this star bright so that others can see it and join us along the way.

Writer Anna Briggs offers us a wonderful exhortation for this Epiphany that you saw some part of as our prayer of preparation today. Now hear her whole call to this journey of Epiphany:

Once a small star led wise seekers to Bethlehem,
Now bright lights dazzle and lead us astray;
Worldlywise people, seduced by prosperity,
How can we hope to find Jesus today?

Seek out the family who circle their precious one,
Body or mind needing care night and day;
See the star shining where costly love’s pouring out;
How can we hope to find Jesus today?

Turn to the neighbours who stand by the outcast one,
Labelled, rejected, with nowhere to stay;
See the star lighting the exiled one’s homecoming;
How can we hope to find Jesus today?

Watch for the country that welcomes the stranger in,
Fleeing from hunger, from tyranny’s sway;
See the star shine where the door’s ever opening;
How can we hope to find Jesus today?

Mark where a nation renounces its weaponry,
Sharing wealth round to provide work and play;
See the star shine where the earth finds new cherishing;
How can we hope to find Jesus today?

Offer your gifts where the seeking ones yearn for them,
Welcome the love which they more than repay;
Healing comes swiftly where human hearts turn again;
Turn to the star and find Jesus today.

May it be so for us. Amen.

A 2012 Recap

January 1, 2013 By Andy James

There’s a family tradition for us to send out Christmas letters. So far, I’ve resisted the temptation—until this year. This one has been eventful enough, I suppose! So I share it here as well as by mail…

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

While I am sending cards incredibly late this year, I hope this letter still reaches you before the Christmas season comes to an end. It has been a busy and eventful year, and I figured I would share a few things about it with all of you!

my new apartment, decorated for Christmas

First, on June 1 I moved to a new apartment in Queens as part of the church’s decision to sell its manse. I’m still serving as pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone, and my new home is still less than a mile from the church. I love my new place, although I’m not quite as able to welcome visitors as I once was. However, as a one-bedroom apartment, it is much more my size than the five-bedroom manse!

Iona Abbey in Scotland

Then, in July and August, I took a wonderful and much-appreciated sabbatical. I traveled first to Pittsburgh to attend the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (USA), then in August I spent a week with family and friends in Mississippi and Alabama. But the real highlight of this time was twenty-five days in Scotland and Iceland! In Scotland, I visited friends in Portmahomack, then joined up with a group on pilgrimage to church sites in Edinburgh, St. Andrews, Stirling, and Glasgow. I concluded my time there with a week on the Isle of Iona, an absolutely incredible spiritual site with history dating to the sixth century. On the way back to the US, I spent four days enjoying the incredible natural beauty of Iceland. It was a trip of a lifetime! The most lasting piece of my sabbatical persists even now, though: I grew a sabbatical beard!

identified as “talent” at the White House

This fall, after completing several major leadership responsibilities in the church and presbytery, I took up singing with the New Amsterdam Singers. We are a group of about seventy gifted and committed singers who rehearse weekly in Manhattan and take on challenging music for our three concerts each year. In December, I was part of a smaller group who were invited to sing at the White House as part of the holiday tours. It was another once-in-a-lifetime experience!

It has been good to hear from many of you during the holidays this year. I hope and pray that your Christmas was joyous and your New Year is filled with much love! Look me up whenever you are in New York City—it is always wonderful to see friends!