by Jill Fandrich

​​These columns are due a week before they appear in print, which sometimes puts me in a bit of a time warp. As I write this, I am wrapping Christmas presents, mailing a few last cards, and getting ready for the arrival of my family. When you read this, all the presents will be unwrapped, the cards will be received, the tree will be down, and the kids will be gone.  For the moment, I have one foot planted in the expectation of Christmas and one foot planted in post-Christmas daily life.  But in reality, isn’t that pretty much how life is-- living out our stories, rooted in the past, living in the present, and hoping for the future?
 
In the church world, Christmas celebrates the birth of Jesus—the arrival of God on earth as a baby in human form, sent to live among us.  Everything about his birth is a surprise.  His birth is announced by an angel. He is hailed as a king, yet his parents are humble people. He is born in a strange place surrounded by animals. The first people to worship him are shepherds, and later, wise men from other countries. Even his parents wonder what child they have brought into the world.
 
The surprises keep coming.  Jesus grows up. There are very few stories about him as a child, so in a few quick weeks at church, we skip right to the stories of Jesus as a man, being baptized into public ministry by his crazy cousin, John the Baptizer.  Then he starts hanging out with all the “wrong” people--the marginalized, the poor, the sick, the ostracized, the despised—preaching a message of love and a vision of a world turned upside down. “The first shall be last and the last shall be first.” “Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth.” “Love your enemies.” “Turn the other cheek.” “Don’t worry about tomorrow.”
 
It’s easy to get caught up in the “gentle Jesus, meek and mild” imagery of the nativity, picturing Jesus as a sweet baby who doesn’t cry, growing up to be the ultimate nice guy. The Christian message has often been portrayed that way. But actually Jesus was a radical and his message is hard. He called out the hypocritical religious leaders, calling them “You brood of vipers.” He challenged the political leaders of the day. He told people that they would have to give up everything to follow him. He befriended prostitutes and tax collectors and lepers and criminals. This is the baby Jesus, the Christ child, whose birth we just celebrated at Christmas, and whom we now are called to follow through his strange and challenging life right through to his death on a cross.
 
Jesus came to earth to live among us and to show us a different way to live. He was called Emmanuel, which means “God with us.” He gave us a vision of a world in which all people are loved and valued because all are children of God. He lived a life of sacrifice and a life of service. The challenge to us is to live that life in today’s world. How do we spread God’s love today? Who are the marginalized among us? How can we show God’s love to others, including those who are hardest to love? The work continues and it is up to us to be God’s eyes, ears, hearts, hands, and feet today.
 
Every year, when Christmas celebrations are over and we return to our “normal” lives, I reflect on one of my favorite poems by Howard Thurman. Thurman was an African-American Baptist minister, theologian, scholar, writer, and civil rights leader. His theology of radical non-violence influenced a generation of civil rights activists, including the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Thurman expresses in this poem what “The Work of Christmas” is all about:
 
The Work of Christmas
When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and the princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among brothers,
To make music in the heart.
 
May the work of Christmas continue in your life and in mine.

by Patrick Heery
​Be honest. Some of us started our Christmas shopping months ago. A defiant few were even singing Christmas songs or putting up their decorations the day after Halloween. Today may be the first Sunday of Advent (that time in the church calendar when Christians light their candles and prepare for joy that has yet to arrive), but most of us would prefer it if Christmas Day just hurried up and got here.
Personally, I can't blame the world for wanting to rush ahead to Christmas. Christmas is happy. We open presents and sing carols. It's when all that we've been hoping for becomes reality: The Christ child is born and we are saved. Living through Advent, on the other hand, is tough. The nights grow longer, darker, and each day, the manger is still empty.
Mary, mother of Jesus, must have felt the same way, as she waited for God's promise to be fulfilled. When the angel first appeared to Mary, she was an unwed teenage mother, living in the rural hills of Palestine. God's promise to bless her and to change the world through her probably sounded like a cruel joke. The world she saw wasn't changing. The religious elite still snubbed people like her. The Roman Empire still ruled with iron and shield. The poor were still hungry, and the rich still didn't care.
All she saw were ruins. There are a lot of things in ruins these days. Every day, I pray with people facing cancer, job loss, family crises, depression and just plain weariness.
We look out and see loved ones slipping away because of illness or age. We see a church, once full and bustling, now empty and captive to fear. We see a democracy in crisis — and a world enthralled with greed and power, consumed by violence and poverty, unashamed of its objectification and assault on women, held under the dominion of racism and bigotry.
We may ask why we were born into such times. We may wish that we could go back to the time when we were innocent of this grief — or maybe just rush ahead to the happy ending of Christmas.
Karl Marx once described Christianity as an opium of the people, meant to dull our senses to the pain and injustice around us, to blunt the sharp uncertainty of Advent. And perhaps he would be right if the Bible did indeed rush to Christmas (and later to Easter). But Marx was wrong. Because what we see in Mary is no cowering servant to illusion. We see a woman who does not retreat but meets the reality of life head-on. In her song, she tells the story of struggling people, and of a God who — far from whisking them out of reality — plants them squarely there, amid the ruins, that they, like relentless roses through cracked stone, would push, push and push until those ruins are rebuilt and God is visible to all.
God tells Mary that she was made for such a time as this. Appointed, anointed, called — she is the prophet of a God who does not give up. The prophet of Advent, without whom there would be no Christmas.
And so she praises God, even when there's nothing yet visible to praise. She sings, even when there is no song to be had, because she sees the world not only as it is, but also as it can, and will, be.
A world of mercy, where God scatters the proud and brings the powerful down from their thrones, where God lifts up the lowly and fills the hungry with good things. A world where ruins become the seat of God's glory. Where the unwed pregnant girl becomes the mother of God.
Mary fights for this world. And not just her, but every worshiper in every empty cathedral, every man who won't stop praying, every person who won't stop loving, every first responder who plunges in, every caretaker of the aging and dying, every refugee at the border, every woman declaring "Me too" — all Emmanuel, Jesus coming to us. The heralds of Advent.
Let us sing like Mary. Let us sing our Advent song and not rush to Christmas. We are the poets and makers of tomorrow. We are the shepherds telling everyone, the mother singing, the angel announcing, the child leaping, the star pointing: God is coming.
We are the eyes through which God looks hope upon these ruins.

by Jill Fandrich
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We celebrate All Saints Day at Westminster on the on the first Sunday of November by holding a special worship service in which we remember our members, friends, and family members who have died this past year. We light a candle as each name is read, and toll the church bells in their honor. It is a solemn, beautiful, poignant service to remember the saints among us.

Presbyterians believe that all people of God are saints. The apostle Paul in his letters to the early churches addressed the members as “saints,” not because of what they accomplished but because of who they were as followers of Christ. We recognize the holy in all people of faith, not just those who are martyrs or miracle workers.

The Presbyterian Church (USA) website says this: “Rather than putting saints on pedestals as holy people set apart in glory, we give glory to God for the ordinary, holy lives of the believers in this and every age.”
I love that phrase “ordinary, holy lives.” It is best illustrated by the people we will be remembering today. Among the many family members and friends for whom we will light candles today, five we remember were members of Westminster Presbyterian Church. Let me tell you a little about each of them.

Doris Bierer died last year at the age of 102. She grew up in the church, in the days when it was still called Second Presbyterian. Doris’ family was actively involved in the church, and Doris remembered attending Sunday School and youth activities and dances. She continued her love of God and her church throughout her whole life, which she lived quietly and humbly. In later years, when she could no longer attend, she would correspond with my Sunday School students, answering their individual letters with detailed descriptions of what the church meant to her. She was a generous supporter of Westminster in her own quiet way.

Betty Schemerhorn was another lifelong Presbyterian of strong Scottish stock. Betty and her husband Earle were active in so many ways, as elders and deacons, teachers, volunteers, and faithful worshipers-- classic “pillars of the church.” Betty’s severe appearance and tight gray bun belied her warmth and generosity of spirit. She was a woman of few words, but those she used were well chosen and wise.

Marge Pyhtila joined the church later in her life to be a part of the congregation that her daughter loves and serves. Marge had a wonderful smile, and quickly made friends with all ages. She enjoyed being in worship and keeping in touch with her church family after she became more homebound.

Marilyn Fandrich, my own dear mother-in-law, grew up in First Presbyterian Church, where she taught Sunday School, sang in the choir, and was active in their women’s group. She knitted countless blankets over the years to give away to others. She joined Westminster only a few years ago, at a time when her health was failing. Right up to the end, even when other words failed her, Marilyn could belt out the words of all the old familiar hymns.  

John Gary Rhodes sang in the Westminster Choir, filling the sanctuary with his beautiful tenor voice. He especially loved singing duets with his daughter Lori Rhodes Pettit, our organist and choir director. Christmas Eve services will not be the same without Gary’s solo of “Oh Holy Night.” His exquisite voice was matched by his passion for the words he sung, taking us soaring with him as he led worship through the gift of song.

What I’ve just described are the ordinary, holy lives of saints. These and many others are the saints who walk beside us, who teach our children, who take care of the sick, who make us laugh, who feed the hungry, who say kind words and offer smiles to strangers, who give of themselves, who welcome the marginalized and friendless, who share their gifts, who love the unlovable, who follow Jesus’s commandment to “love one another as I have loved you.”

We sing “For all the saints who from their labors rest, who thee by faith before the world confessed, thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest. Alleluia! Alleluia!” We give thanks for the saints of God we know and love, those still living and those who have died.

​Alleluia indeed. 

by Jill Fandrich

​Jesus was a storyteller. Some of the most intriguing and provocative teachings in the New Testament are parables which Jesus shared with his listeners. Parables are short stories which illustrate a lesson.  They help people understand an idea without telling them directly what to believe.
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We share bible stories, including some very complex and challenging ones, with very young children in the Children’s Worship Center at Westminster, using figures to tell the stories visually as well as with words. Most stories are told with wooden figures stored in baskets. The parables, however, are always presented in gold boxes. We start each parable by holding the box and saying, “I wonder if this is a parable. Parables are very precious like gold.  This box looks like a present. Parables are like presents that have already been given to us. This box has a lid. Parables seem to have lids on them. When you lift the lid, there’s something precious inside. Let’s lift the lid and see if this is a parable.”

Then we tell the story, simply, without elaboration, just as Jesus did. When we are done telling the story, we sit back and ask what we call “wondering questions” which allow the children to consider what the story means or how the characters felt. There are no right or wrong answers.

How we share parables with children actually works for all ages, including the listeners in Jesus’ time and in our own. The beauty of parables is that the listener must interpret the meaning himself. Parables were a common literary technique in Jesus’ day, a time when most teaching was oral not written. Jesus did not invent parables, but he used them masterfully.   

Let’s look at one of Jesus’ most famous parables “The Prodigal Son.” In this story, a father has two sons. The younger son asks for his inheritance, which he takes and squanders on loose living. Broke and starving, he returns home to contritely ask his father if he can live with the pigs and eat the food they eat. Instead of berating the younger son, the father welcomes him with open arms and throws a huge party to celebrate his return. The older son who has dutifully worked alongside his father all along is angry at his brother’s joyful reception, grumbling that no one ever threw a party for him. The father tells the older son that his brother was lost and now is found, which is reason to rejoice and celebrate.

This story never fails to elicit strong reactions in people. Some sympathize with the older brother, some with the younger, some with the father. Some find it joyful; some think it isn’t fair. Jesus let the story sit with his listeners with no explanation. He could have said, “God’s love is freely given to everyone, regardless of whether or not they deserve it.”  But, the message is powerful when relayed in a story that every listener can identify with.

Jesus not only taught using parables; he used his stories to challenge his listeners and turn their assumptions upside down. Consider the Parable of the Good Samaritan, which is much more than a nice tale about being kind to others. The traveler who was robbed and wounded and left in a ditch was a good Jew. The ones who passed him by, ignoring him and refusing to help, were a rabbi and a priest, supposedly pillars of society. The one who stopped and helped was a Samaritan, a hated man from a culture long despised by Jews.  In the story, the Samaritan didn’t just stop for the wounded Jew. He bound his wounds, exposed himself to danger, took him to safety, and paid for his lodging and care. Hearing this story would have unsettled Jesus’ listeners about how their world was supposed to be. It still does for us today.

A modern-day storyteller, the Rev. Fred Rogers (aka “Mr Rogers”) said, “What a tough job to try to communicate the gift of Jesus Christ to anybody. It can’t be simply talked about, can it? Jesus himself used parables—so I guess that’s our directive: try to show the kingdom of God through stories as much as possible.”

Interested in learning more about Jesus’ parables? Rev. Patrick Heery will lead a Wednesday Noon Study series on the parables beginning September 12 in the church education building. Bring a bag lunch and engage in discussion about these challenging and life-changing teachings. 

Want to make a Presbyterian squirm? Just say the word “evangelism.”

Evangelism has some negative connotations, bringing to mind slick television preachers, street-corner pamphleteers, and door-to-door missionaries. And yet, evangelism is a perfectly good word. It comes from a Greek term meaning “bringing good news.” The earliest evangelists were Jesus’ friends and followers, who gladly told others about his life and teachings.

Evangelism is nothing more than telling how God is at work in our lives and in the world. Sharing that story can be done many ways, by lifestyle, words, attitudes, and actions. We share God’s love through our love for others by showing compassion, feeling empathy, putting others first, building relationships, and seeking justice.
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We also use words.  We tell our stories. 

Pastor Patrick Heery of Westminster Presbyterian Church says this, “That’s how the Christian church began—by telling a story on Pentecost. A story of a God whose heart ached so much for us that God became one of us, suffered with us, stood up for the hurting and the oppressed, showed us a different way to live, to love, and then conquered death for us, conquered everything that separates the divine and the human, till there is only God only love, only Christ resurrected. To be a witness is to tell this story. Not just as it is written in the Bible, but as we have experienced it.”

Patrick goes on to give examples of his own story, how a shy little boy with a speech impediment found his voice because church members believed in him when few others did, how the Westminster family rallied when he and his wife lost twin babies last year, how he experiences God in nature and leads monthly contemplative hikes with others who find God there as well.

Others are sharing their stories too. Westminster member Paul Dungey, speaking to the congregation last month about what evangelism means to him, quoted a paraphrase of Matthew 5:14-16 from The Message: “You are the light of the world. You’re here to be the light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We’re going public with this, as public as a city on the hill… By opening up to others, you’ll prompt people to open up with God.” Paul encouraged everyone to take the light of Christ out with them at the end of worship, and “Let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!” as the children’s song says.

Member Rich Newman also spoke to the congregation about his understanding of evangelism. Rich remembered “learning religion” from his father, a depression-era farmer, who taught his son that it is important to help others, make the world a better place, and to be good stewards of the earth, plants, and animals. As Rich became involved with churches, he learned that they are not the end point, but rather the vehicle to make the world a better place. He spent over 20 years as a youth group leader, guiding teenagers into a life of service to others with Jesus as the model. Kids from other churches, other religions, even un-churched youth, joined the group because they saw it made a difference. This is how Rich sees evangelism.

What is my story? You might be surprised to know that even though I write this column, I find it hard to talk about my faith, probably because it is a work in progress. One of the reasons I love my church is that it encourages questions, doubt, different opinions, and struggling with hard questions. There are no pat answers to the difficult questions that arise on our individual spiritual journeys. At Westminster, I am allowed to use my head as well as my heart to experience God.
Evangelism should include an invitation, so here is mine: Give church a chance. Churches are full of people like you who wonder about the meaning of life, what happens after we die, who or what is God, and how they can make the world a better place. Visit several churches to find one where you feel welcome.  If you’d like to give Westminster a try, come any Sunday at 9:30am or visit us on “Rally Sunday” on September 9, when we kick off our program year with a special service and an all-church picnic.

There. That wasn’t so hard.
 
 
 

by Jill Fandrich
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Does the term “Sunday School” evoke images of children in musty church rooms memorizing Bible verses and learning catechisms in classes taught by kindly old ladies? If so, you may be surprised to learn of the radical history of Sunday School which began by offering free education to the poor-- a bold example of churches addressing societal needs and changing lives.

Sunday Schools date back to the late 1700s in Great Britain when poor children worked all week in factories. Education was a luxury for wealthy families who hired tutors or sent their children to private boarding schools.  Churches recognized the need for the industrial poor to be educated so they established Sunday Schools which taught reading and writing, using the Bible as the textbook. The American Sunday School system followed the same model, providing a combination of literacy and spiritual education for the working poor or rural families on the only day available for them to attend “school.”

As public education became available to all, churches became community centers for youth, still offering Sunday schools for religious education. My church, Westminster Presbyterian, built its 3-story education building in the 1930s. At the time, the entire building was used for youth programs, with the first floor dedicated to the “cradle roll” and primary children, the second floor to juniors, and the third floor to senior students. The building included a gymnasium-style Great Hall with a stage, kitchen, and classrooms, and was used not only for Sunday School, but also for scout troops, high school dances, basketball games, and midweek youth programs. In the 1950s, the women of the church started an innovative weekday nursery school for young children in the community.

Times change.  Families change. Communities change.  Today, many people do not attend church. Those who do tend to do so sporadically. Many children alternate weekends with different parents. Some are busy on Sundays with sports or camping. Many parents work weekends or nights. Others feel marginalized from faith communities, having been excluded or unwelcome in past experiences. And yet, the desire to know God is still there, maybe more than ever in these challenging times. How can churches continue to share God’s love in bold and innovative ways with today’s families? We are exploring that at Westminster.

Believing that faith formation is a lifelong endeavor, we still offer Sunday School for children and for adults. However, unlike the classes of yesteryear which focused heavily on memorization and doctrine, our approach is to help students young and old experience the mystery of faith, struggle with the difficult questions, and discover how God is present in their lives. We connect faith to daily living, always exploring how to put faith in action.

Sunday School is still important, but it only reaches the families who come to church on Sundays, and our vision is larger than that. We want to take faith outside the walls of our church, and find God in nature and in our neighborhoods. We want kids to learn, and also to serve, care, and act. Seeing the needs in our community, we want to serve marginalized youth who have been rejected by churches because of their sexual and gender identity, children with special needs for whom traditional church experiences are difficult, and modern families completely new to church or whose schedules don’t allow for regular church attendance. We are growing a new youth and children’s ministry at Westminster called REACH (Relate, Explore, Act, Care, Help).

Westminster’s vision for REACH is:
· A place that welcomes all children and youth and empowers diversity
· A life journey in which all generations collaborate to nourish faith, raise up leaders, and meet the needs of the community
· A chance to wonder by asking big questions and exploring faith through  nature and the arts
· A modern spiritual practice involving the whole community.

We’ve already begun. We are partnering with the Q Center to offer support groups for LGBTQ+ youth. We are planning youth versions of our popular adult contemplative hikes. We are involving youth in identifying community needs and finding ways to address them. We are finding ways to stay connected throughout the week, using new technologies and social media. We are hiring a youth and children’s ministry coordinator to develop these efforts alongside the kids and families.

The world changes, but God’s love is constant. We are excited to share God’s transformative love with today’s youth, children, and families in new and exciting ways.

​by Jill Fandrich
I’ve been a Sunday School teacher off and on for most of my adult life. It’s a joy to watch children grow spiritually as we share bible stories, music, prayer, and a sense of wonder in worship and lessons. While I hope that I’ve played some role in the faith development of Westminster children, I know that the most important models of spirituality are their parents, grandparents, and family-- not “professional Christians.”

We often want experts to teach our children. Certainly, experts are needed when we want children to learn special skills like music, sports, or academics. But faith is not “taught.” It’s interwoven with our lives and a part of who we are, not a skill to be learned. But it does take some intentionality to share faith with children.

How to do this? It’s unrealistic to ask busy families to add more things to their already overscheduled lives. Family spirituality is not another thing to put on your To Do list. Instead, the goal is to see God’s presence in the sacred moments that are already part of our lives, and when you see these holy moments, acknowledge them, name them, and celebrate them.

Bedtime is a good place to start. This is often a time when families are winding down and sharing a few quiet moments before turning out the lights. Many parents develop bedtime rituals (songs, stories, and a goodnight kiss) to help children transition into sleep. This is a perfect time to recognize God’s presence. Traci Smith, in her book Faithful Families, suggests saying a brief blessing over a baby as he/she is laid in the crib each night. It takes seconds to say something like, “May God fill you with love, joy, and peace tonight, tomorrow, and all the days of your life. Amen” or even a very simple “God bless [child’s name]. Amen.” This habit, if said every night, becomes a regular practice for both parent and child, acknowledging God’s presence and power in their lives.

Bedtime is also a good time to share God’s stories. Almost all parents read to their children at night. Add a good bible storybook to your children’s bookshelves, and read from it on a regular basis. One of my favorites is Desmond Tutu’s Children of God Storybook Bible (the book we present to young families in our church). It emphasizes God’s will that people live together in peace, and features illustrations by artists from all over the world, making it inclusive and multi-cultural in portraying the people of God. An added benefit to reading bible stories to children is that parents learn these stories as well. Many adults are not familiar with the bible. A good bible storybook is a great way for parents to become familiar with the stories which shape our faith.

Look for other children’s books which portray God’s love too, and include them in your children’s libraries. Books like Global Babies (Global Fund for Children) or Whoever You Are(Mem Fox) show that all children are created in God’s image.  Love, compassion, and peace are themes of many children’s books.

Children love to look at pictures of their family. When looking through a scrapbook or walking by photos in your homes, point to a photo and say “God bless Grandma and Grandpa” or other family members. It’s a lovely way to remember the love of family and the love of God at the same time.

Gratitude is a spiritual practice to be shared with children. Be mindful of those moments throughout your day when you are thankful. Some are obvious—food at mealtimes, for instance. Try making a simple mealtime blessing a practice. Expand the gratitude to talking about how the food got to your table, and say “thank you, God” for farmers, truck drivers, warehouse workers, store employees, and whoever prepared your meal. In other moments (car rides, bed time, doing chores together, taking walks) talk about things for which you are grateful. Be mindful of the daily blessings we take for granted—our homes, our family, our jobs, our health, our friends—and name them out loud.

And finally, take your children to church. Children learn God is important if God is important to you. Find a church at which you feel at home and become a part of it.
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Be mindful of the holy moments which are already in your lives. Once you make it a habit to see them, you and your children will find God everywhere.

by Jill Fandrich
Palm Sunday marks the beginning of Holy Week. For 40 days, Christians have observed the season of Lent, a time of preparation for the celebration of Easter. Holy Week recalls the story of Jesus’ last week on earth, his death and resurrection.
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I teach Sunday School at my church, and every year I struggle with how to share the powerful stories of Holy Week and Easter with elementary age kids. This isn’t Christmas, with a baby in a manger and animals and shepherds and angels all nicely wrapped in a story full of light and hope and promise. Holy Week tells a disturbing story of betrayal, suffering, pain, and loss. How do you explain a crucifixion to a child? Yes, the Easter message is one of hope and resurrection, but even Jesus’ victory over death is a challenging concept for kids. To be honest, it’s a tough one for adults too.

Adding to the challenge is that kids rarely get to hear all the Holy Week stories, so the build-up to Easter is often disjointed and incomplete. Attendees at Palm Sunday worship will hear about Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, where he is greeted with crowds waving palm branches and shouting “Hosanna!” (rough translation “Hurray!”). The next Sunday is Easter, and churches will be filled with flowers and light and brass musicians and crowds of worshipers proclaiming “Hallelujah!” (rough translation “Rejoice!”). What happened in between to make Easter so special?

Many churches, including mine, offer services during Holy Week which recall the events of Jesus’ final days, thereby telling the whole story. Jesus’ last supper with his friends and followers is remembered on Maundy Thursday, so-named because the English word Maundy is derived from a Latin word which means “commandment.” At Jesus’ last meal with his friends, he gave them a new commandment to “love one another as I have loved you.” At Westminster, our Maundy Thursday service is combined with a meal (a potluck, in our case); the worship and fellowship are intertwined, just as they were at the last supper. We share communion by eating a meal together and also sharing bread and juice, following Jesus’ instruction to “Do this, remembering me.”

On Good Friday, several Auburn churches gather for a Tenebrae service (this year at Saints Peter and John Episcopal Church) which tells the story of Jesus’ betrayal, arrest, and crucifixion through readings, music, and the extinguishing of lights, ending with worshipers leaving the church in silence and darkness to await the resurrection.

Only by experiencing the passion of Jesus’ final days does the joy of the Easter message make sense. Easter celebrates Jesus’ victory over death and therefore ours too. Attending mid-week Holy Week services helps children hear the whole story with others, in the love and security of their families and faith communities. Carolyn Brown, who has written several books about children and worship, advocates for children attending Holy Week services, saying, “Not only do they hear the whole story, but they hear it with the whole congregation. They sense the strong feelings around the stories and learn that these stories are very, very important to all the people gathered there.  So, they listen more intently and claim the stories as their own.” Being present on Maundy Thursday or Good Friday, children can imagine themselves seated at the table or standing at the cross.

But is the story too hard for children? Jesus’ last days were filled with betrayal, loneliness, doubt, pain and violence. It’s not appropriate, in my opinion, to focus on the whipping, nails, crown of thorns, or the details of a horrible death by crucifixion.

But, the story of Jesus' suffering and death is not as unfamiliar to children as we may like to believe. Children know pain. Some know death. They know what it's like to feel lonely, to feel afraid, to feel bullied, to feel hurt. We need to tell the story in an age-appropriate way, describing how people were mean to Jesus and eventually hurt him, and how Jesus could have run away but he didn't because he loved people too much to abandon them. This story connects with children’s own pain and lets them know that they need not experience it alone. It’s a story that also tells them it does get better, that there is hope beyond pain, and that God doesn't abandon them in the dark but leads them to the light. That's a story every child longs for. And I suspect, every adult too. 

By Patrick D. Heery
 
This year, I made a New Year’s resolution to go to the gym at least three times every week. It seemed like a positive, but still not overly ambitious, goal. Do you want to know how many times I have been to the gym since New Year’s Day? Zero. I haven’t stepped foot in a gym. I have, on the other hand, eaten an inordinate amount of ice cream.
 
Apparently, 80 percent of New Year’s resolutions fail by February.
 
It’s not that we don’t desire change. Most of us want to live more faithfully, more purposefully, more joyfully. Most of us want to spend more time with our families, community, and God. And yet, it always seems to be an aspiration for the future. We say we’ll change—when we’re not so busy, when we don’t need to worry about bosses or paychecks or the losses that come with living.
 
The problem is that these changes seem to belong to a different world that’s just not here yet.
 
You hear preachers like me ask you to be selfless, to volunteer, to love your enemies, to pray and worship, to advocate justice and read Scripture, to honor Sabbath each week, and you think: yeah, that all sounds good, but I live in the real world, where I don’t have time or energy for all that; and even if I tried, the rest of the world would still go on being its busy, selfish, hurtful place.
 
With so much suffering, the truth is that the world of the cross can seem impossibly distant from the world of the resurrection.
 
Yet, the apostle Paul, in 2 Corinthians 5:20-6:10, insists that the time for discipleship, for faith, for change, is now. “Now is the acceptable time,” says Paul. “Now is the day of salvation!” Not when things get better, but now.
 
This may seem like an odd message for Lent, when we spend 40 days waiting for Easter, waiting for the world to change.
 
But Lent isn’t about waiting for Easter. It’s about getting ready for Easter. It’s about living as if Easter is coming. It’s about cutting away the old world from our life—all the anxiety, all the busyness, all the materialism, all the ego and greed, all the divisions and hate, all the unbelief—and creating a life that looks like the kingdom of God. A unified life of peace, and love, and worship. A life devoted to caring for the least of these, to lifting up the orphan and the widow, the poor and the stranger. A life that recognizes in each moment the presence of God and proclaims that presence to the world.
 
Paul believes this is possible because, for Paul, the cross (that old world of death, of sin) and the resurrection (that new world of life, of salvation) are now linked. And the link is Jesus Christ. His sacrifice, his love, overcame the division. He climbed up on that cross and broke it—because he refused to live by its terms. He refused to condemn his enemies. He refused to hate. Refused the easy way out. Refused cynicism and despair. He choose to live like Easter was already upon him. And because he made that choice, he became the highway between this world and God’s.
 
If we wait till we feel different, till the world has changed, we will never become the people we want to be. The only way we get there is if we choose today to live like we belong to God’s kingdom now.
 
But here’s why this isn’t just another New Year’s resolution: regardless of what choice we make, Christ has already made that choice for us. We have already been claimed by God’s love, by this new and beautiful world we find so elusive. We’re not being asked to change our lives; we’re being asked to believe that God already has.
 
I hope that you believe, that you choose to live as if you are already a citizen of God’s new world. But the miracle is that, even if you don’t, even when the old world crowds in and claims dominion over you, God already sees you as the reconciled and beautiful child of God you want to be. God sees you this way, because God looks at you through Christ.
 
Lent is your chance to believe, and to know that even when you don’t believe, God still does.