By Paul Dungey, Elder
The apostle Paul, in his letter to the faithful followers of Christ in Rome, explains that “faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word about Christ” (Romans 10:17). 
One’s faith journey begins with hearing and believing the gospel message: “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life (John 3: 16). 
Hearing the Word is the first step!
However, people with hearing impairments may be unable to participate fully in worship or have a meaningful worship experience when they cannot clearly hear and understand the readings of Scripture, the Sermon, or the lyrics of hymns or anthems being sung.
Westminster Presbyterian Church’s welcome statement affirms “the full inclusion of all God’s people in the life and ministry of the church.” To that end and over the years, the people of Westminster Church have worked to make the church campus and its facilities more accessible and inclusive. The church strives to provide smooth walkways and doorway thresholds for people maneuvering wheelchairs and walkers, accessible restrooms, secure stairway railings, and a properly functioning stair-lift to the second-floor Great Hall space.
A newly installed Assisted Hearing System (A.H.S.) is Westminster’s latest accomplishment towards making our sanctuary space more accessible, inclusive and welcoming! 
Individuals with hearing impairments can significantly benefit from utilizing an assisted hearing systems in public spaces. An Assisted Hearing System enhances audio clarity, making it easier for users to engage in conversations and enjoy events without straining to hear. 
Key beneficiaries of an A.H.S. include people who are hard of hearing or deaf, who can access clearer sound and enjoy a better experience in public venues; older adults with age-related hearing loss; individuals with Auditory Processing Disorders, who may struggle to process sound in noisy settings; and the general public, who can benefit from greater audio clarity and fewer background noises and distractions.
After careful research, Westminster Presbyterian Church opted to have a Bettear brand Auracast™ Assisted Hearing System installed. The A.H.S. is connected to the public address system in the sanctuary and it delivers a high-fidelity, low-latency Auracast™ broadcast audio signal. 
Individuals may connect their Auracast™ or Telecoil™ compatible hearing aids to the A.H.S. Others wishing to benefit from the A.H.S are provided the use of a Bettear RTX Receiver and a set of wired headphones or earbuds.
Westminster’s Auracast™ Assisted Hearing System has been configured so it may be used with the church’s sanctuary public address system or combined with the church’s portable public address system. In the latter mode, the A.H.S. can be used when the congregation gathers on the front lawn of the church’s campus for summertime outdoor worship services, or for off-site church events, such as an Easter Sunrise Service.
When attending a worship service or event at Westminster, individuals may ask an usher or one of the Deacons of the church to assist them on how to connect to the Auracast™ Assisted Hearing System.
The installation of the Auracast™ Assisted Hearing System at Westminster Presbyterian Church was made possible by financial gifts from the congregation, and from grants from the Cayuga Community Fund (https://cnycf.org/our-affiliates/cayuga) and the Hearing Loss Association of America – Rochester Chapter (https://www.hearinglossrochester.org).
The first page of Westminster’s Glory to God hymnal states that “Christians meet for worship on the first day of the week, the day Christ Jesus rose from the dead. We gather to praise the triune God, confess our sin, and seek God's grace. We hear the good news of the gospel and celebrate the Lord’s Supper. We go forth to glorify God through the service of daily living. The service for The Lord’s Day is a service of word and sacrament. Together they form a unified liturgy; one is incomplete without the other.”
Hearing the message is the beginning of faith.

by Rev. Adam Demetros
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There’s a lesser-known story in the Old Testament about a young man by the name of Mephibosheth that doesn’t get as much attention as it should. Mephibosheth’s story begins back when King Saul’s dynasty began to tragically fall apart. The Philistines had just killed King Saul and Prince Jonathan (Mephibosheth’s father) in battle, and the members of King Saul’s household were terrified because they assumed that the Philistines would come for them next and kill everyone they found, as was their custom. And there was also David and his guerilla army of nomads to worry about, because David was the next in line to be king.
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After the battle, the managers and stewards of King Saul’s household quickly grabbed anything that wasn’t nailed down and they fled for the hills. A nurse grabbed ahold of baby Mephibosheth, but in all of the chaos and hurry to get out of the house she dropped him, and for the rest of his life he was crippled in both of his feet. But thankfully the story doesn’t end there.

Many years later, David is firmly established as the new king. He’s well-liked and secure in his position, but he has never forgotten about his dear friend Jonathan who died in battle. So, one day he asks his advisors, “Is there anyone left in the household of Saul, to whom I may show the kindness of God?” And they bring before the king a man named Ziba, who was the former chief steward for Saul, and he responds to David’s question by saying, “There’s only one person that I can think of, he’s a son of Jonathan who’s crippled in both feet.”

It’s interesting that this is the only description that Ziba gives of the son of Jonathan. He never calls him by his name. He never utters the name Mephibosheth. It’s almost as if his disability has taken over his identity. He’s only known as Jonathan’s crippled son. Nothing more. But when King David meets him, the first thing he says is, “Mephibosheth!” As if to say, “You have an identity. You are more than how people define you. You are more than what’s happened to you. You are more than your limitations.”

King David doesn’t care that this young man has a disability. What he cares about is that he made a promise to his dear friend Jonathan to always care for his household, and he intends to keep that promise. So, he commits to showing Mephibosheth the kindness of God.

After Ziba gives this description of Mephibosheth, David doesn’t waste any time asking a bunch of questions. He just asks, “Where is he?” Which is basically the same question that God asked in the Garden of Eden when Adam and Eve hid from God in shame after eating the forbidden fruit. And it’s the same question that echoes throughout the Gospels when Jesus came to seek and save the lost. Because the truth is that we have all be made lame by the pain and conflicts of life, and we have all been dropped into something.

Notice that the question is not, “Who’s to blame for your problems?” or, “What’s wrong with you?” or even, “What happened?” No, the only question is, “Where are you?”

Ziba responses to the king’s query by saying, “He’s in Lo-debar." Which translates to “a place without pasture," or to put it more simply, “a barren place.” That’s where Mephibosheth has had to live all those years after his father’s death, a barren place. And it’s also where we find ourselves anytime we allow others to define us by our disabilities or shortcomings. It takes us to a barren place without hope.

Like Mephibosheth, many people in our society have physical disabilities. They don’t hear, or see, or speak, or walk, or look like everyone else. So, our society has decided to label them by these categories. And as a result, many have lost their God-given identities and have been left to limp around in Lo-debar, a barren place. Which is why, like King David, we’re called to show the kindness of God to those who have been hurt by the harsh realities of this world. We’re called to seek them out, call them by name, and show them kindness because it’s what they deserve.

The Hebrew word for kindness that’s used in this biblical text is “hesed," and it’s used throughout Scripture primarily to describe God’s kindness and love for us. Which is important because it’s a much stronger understanding of kindness than we’re used to. It invokes the kindness of a God who’s steadfast, faithful, and binds us to himself through sacrificial giving. It depicts a kind and caring God who’s determined to keep us under his protecting care and goes out of his way to show us love, even when we don’t deserve it. That’s hesed and it’s what we desperately need in our society today.

by Jill Fandrich

The Bible is full of stories, and wonderful ones at that—Joseph and his coat of many colors, Baby Moses, David and Goliath, Queen Esther, Samuel, Soloman, Samson, Jonah, Daniel, and many more. We think of the Bible as one book, but it’s really a collection of many books which in themselves are collections of many stories. The ancient Israelites and the early Christians were skilled storytellers, who passed down stories in an oral tradition for many years before they were written down.
 
Biblical stories tell about God and God’s interaction with humankind. They are dramatic and varied, sometimes troubling and confusing, and sometimes contradicting each other. We don’t have to believe that all the stories in the Bible are factually accurate, but we can believe that they are true in the sense that they convey deeper meanings. 
 
This summer at my church (Westminster Presbyterian in Auburn), we are offering a “Summer Sabbath” program for young children during Sunday worship to introduce many of the foundational stories from the Old Testament to our children and youth. Caitlyn Clink, our newly appointed Youth and Family Program Coordinator, is teaching the lessons, using a curriculum called “Redeemed, Renewed, Reformed,” created by Amanda Demetros. During the 9:30am worship hour, Miss Cait and a second adult volunteer present the story, and then lead the children in an activity or craft to help them remember and understand it.
 
So far this summer, we’ve learned about Joseph, his dreams, and his jealous brothers, Baby Moses being saved from the Pharoah by his loving and ingenious sister Miriam, Ruth finding love and community in a new place, Queen Esther bravely standing up for the Jewish people, and Samuel being called by God as a young boy. Coming up we’ll hear how the boy David bravely fought the giant Goliath, how Joshua brought the walls of Jericho down, how Samson demonstrated great strength, how Daniel endured being thrown into a den of lions, and how Jonah ran away from God’s instructions to save the evil people of Nineveh.
 
These stories speak to all ages. Many of the Old Testament stories, when read by adults, have some dark and disturbing twists. For kids, they’re exciting and inspirational. But at all levels, there is a common theme. Even though the Old Testament is many different books written by an assortment of unknown authors and covering a very long span of time, the message that keeps occurring in story after story is that God loves us, that God keeps asking us to do his will, that we keep trying and failing, and that God continues to love us anyway.
 
When we teach these stories to young children, we hope they remember that God calls all sorts of people to follow him — old folks like Abraham and Sarah, boys like David and Samuel, girls like Miriam, women like Ruth, Naomi, and Esther, and lots of people who are flawed, stubborn, grumbling, willful, and prideful. We want them to know that God is calling them too. And we hope that they will eventually respond as young Samuel finally did, saying “Here I am, Lord.”
 
In the fall, we will return to offering our Children’s Worship Center, a “mini sanctuary” for children to worship in an age-appropriate setting, singing, offering prayers, sharing communion, and following the same order of worship which the adults follow in the sanctuary. In the Worship Center, we share Biblical stories with young children, using wooden figures and simple retellings of the Old and New Testament stories. We tell the stories and let the children absorb them on their level. We ask “wondering questions” and hope that we are raising children who will make these stories their own, internalizing them and sharing them their whole lives.
 
The overarching narrative of the Bible is the story of who God is and how God interacts with humankind. The story continues through our retelling. When we share these stories, we continue the tradition of witnessing how God is present in our lives. As children and as adults, we ponder anew how they speak to us in our lives.

by Jill Fandrich

I love to walk. Getting 10,000 steps on my health app is rarely a problem, even on days when I’m just doing errands or working around the house. Hiking is one of my favorite activities, especially on the beautiful Finger Lakes trails. But walking isn’t just exercise. It’s a spiritual discipline too.

Walking has long been a religious practice. Early Christians would make pilgrimages to sacred places, walking hundreds of miles to holy sites. Even today, hundreds of thousands of people walk one of the many ancient pilgrimage trails of the Camino de Santiago each year, culminating at the cathedral where the remains of the Apostle James are purportedly interred.

I recently traveled to Portugal and Spain, where I hiked portions of the Portuguese Camino route. I cannot and do not claim to have “walked the Camino” because my hiking was only a sample of the entire trek, which can take more than a month to complete. I did, however, learn more about the experience and met pilgrims along the way who were undertaking the entire journey.

Originally a Christian pilgrimage, the Camino now attracts people of many faith traditions or no faith tradition at all. People from all over the world come to walk the paths leading to Santiago de Compostela in Galicia Spain. In fact, the symbol of the Camino is the scallop shell, with its many lines converging into one point, representing the converging paths of the Camino, as well as the many paths we take to find God or meaning in our lives.

All along the Camino, we saw shrines where pilgrims had left stones, photographs, toys, articles of clothing, or other small mementos. Many people walk the Camino to deal with problems, grief, or challenges. As they walk, they leave these small tokens at the shrines as a symbolic act of putting down a burden and moving on.

Walking the Camino is symbolic of our life journey. It is often breath-takingly beautiful, encompassing mountaintops, oceans, fields, flowers, and rivers. It also has sudden rough patches, steep climbs, boring portions on paved roads, and challenging areas where you want to give up. Encountering challenges, persisting when it’s hard, moving on, appreciating beauty, finding joy, walking sometimes alone and sometimes with others… the Camino is a beautiful analogy of life itself.

I attended the Pilgrim’s Mass at the Cathedral in Santiago on the evening we reached the city. It was entirely in Spanish, so I didn’t understand it all, but it began with the priest welcoming pilgrims from every nation, specifically naming all the countries in the world from which people came. It was incredibly moving.

Not everyone could or can experience the traditional walk along the Camino or other pilgrimage routes around of the world. But there are other alternatives. In medieval times, churches would build labyrinths so that people could achieve a similar experience by walking a small path. A labyrinth is different from a maze. In a maze you can get lost. In a labyrinth, there is one path to the center and one back out. But the path twists and turns, making you feel like you are almost to your goal, but then veering away to the outer circle. You walk a labyrinth patiently and slowly, finding your way to the center and then going back out the same way to live your faith in the world. Labyrinths are a meaningful way to use your body in spiritual practice. Locally, you can find a beautiful labyrinth behind the United Ministry of Aurora on the shore of Cayuga Lake.

My church, Westminster Presbyterian, offers monthly contemplative hikes at area parks and trails. Led by member Brian Teucke, we gather once a month on a Saturday morning to walk in the beauty of God’s creation. We begin with a short devotion or prayer, then walk the first half in silence. We break the silence on the second half of our walks, enjoying fellowship and conversation with fellow “lovers of the trail.”  The beauty of the lakes, waterfalls, rivers, vineyards, fields, and woods are reminders of God’s creation and our duty to be good stewards of the natural gifts we are given.
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Walking is a way to exercise your soul as well as your body. There are some who pray by bowing their heads and folding their hands. I pray by lacing up my hiking shoes and putting one foot in front of the other. 

by Jill Fandrich

We all have multiple names. I am Jill, Mrs. Fandrich, Mom, and (my favorite) Grandma. We really only know people in terms of their relationship to us, and the names we are called by reflect those relationships.

It’s no surprise then that there are many names for Jesus.

Even in his own time, people didn’t know what to call Jesus. Three of the Gospels relate the story of Jesus asking his disciples “Who do people say that I am?” The disciples answered, “Some say John the Baptist, some say Elijah, and some say Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” Jesus then asked them, “Who do YOU say that I am?” Peter, one of the disciples, responded, “You are the Messiah, the son of the living God.” Even those closest to Jesus didn’t agree on who he was.

Here’s a list of some of the names for Jesus:
Christ
Messiah
Emmanuel
King of Kings
Prince of Peace
Lamb of God
Saviour
Redeemer
Light of the World
Bread of Life
Good Shepherd
Rabbi/Teacher
Son of Man/Son of God
 
There are a lot more. Some sources say there are over 200 in the Bible, but you get the point.

So who is Jesus, anyway? Why so many names? Why isn’t there a simple way to talk about the central figure of the Christian faith? Is one more “right” than the others?

As a lifelong Christian who struggles to describe my beliefs, I find this plethora of names to be helpful, and even quite comforting, to my understanding of the Christian faith. If Jesus truly is both divine and human, which is a central tenant of Christianity, that’s a concept that is way too big to define in a single way. The many ways we talk about Jesus is like a multi-faceted prism, each shining light on a complex concept.
Let’s look at a few of the names and what they mean. The name Jesus itself means “Saviour.” Christ means “the Anointed One” and it is a title, not a surname. Most scholars think that Jesus’ “given name” was probably Joshua (Yeshua in Hebrew), which means “Yahweh saves.” “Yeshua” became “Jesus” to the Greeks.

“Saviour” and “Redeemer” reflect the belief that Jesus died for peoples’ sins on the cross, thereby “redeeming” them from the original sin of Adam and Eve. This doctrine, called “substitutional atonement,” is basic to many Christians, who believe that Jesus died on the cross to atone for the sins of mankind, being the “substitute” for God’s wrath. “Lamb of God” also invokes imagery of sacrificial lambs, a reference to the Abrahamic traditions of sacrificing a valuable animal as an act of worship.

“King of Kings” and “Prince of Peace” are also names of Jesus. Jesus wasn’t royalty, and neither was the Kingdom he proclaimed. Jesus was born to a humble family, worked as a carpenter, chose fishermen as his disciples, and hung out with outcasts, prostitutes, tax collectors, lepers, and widows. Jesus lifted up the people who were on the fringes and loved the people who no one else loved. The Kingdom of God he tried to bring to earth was one of love and peace.

Jesus is also called “Good Shepherd” and “Rabbi”. Although we don’t know many shepherds these days, the image of a good shepherd leading and protecting his flock would have resonated with first century people. “Rabbi”, which means teacher, reflects Jesus as a storyteller, instructor, and wise leader of a new understanding of faith. The New Testament is full of Jesus’ parables, illustrative stories which explain a concept or a point in creative, memorable language.

One of my favorite names for Jesus is “Emmanuel,” a name meaning “God with us.” The story of the nativity resonates with me more than any other because I love the concept of God taking human form to dwell among people. “Son of Man and Son of God” also describes the incarnation of God as a human being.  

Jesus himself used metaphors to describe himself. There are many “I AM” statements in the Gospel of John, like “I am… the bread of life… the light of the world… the true vine.”

What I call Jesus and what someone else calls Jesus can both be right. The many names of Jesus reflect a complexity of religious thought that can’t be described in just one way. Who do YOU say that Jesus is?

By Brian Teucke

Anyone reading this can say that during their lifetime, the United States has launched some form of economic or military intervention abroad. We usually hear about these actions through headlines claiming the U.S. acted to “protect U.S. interests” or “spread democracy.” These narratives make it easy to assume the United States is a “global force for good.” As Christians, we may even interpret foreign policy decisions as a kind of international charity, similar to Christ’s care for “the least of these.” Yet when we step outside mainstream narratives and revisit history more critically, a far more troubling, and decidedly un-Christian, reality emerges.

That reality is American imperialism. We are often taught that imperialism belongs to the past (the Roman or British empires), but Merriam-Webster defines it as “the policy, practice, or advocacy of extending the power and dominion of a nation… by direct territorial acquisitions or by gaining indirect control over the political or economic life of other areas.” Applied to modern history, that definition becomes uncomfortably relevant. Ever hear of Cuba? How about Maduro? In nearly every hemisphere, the United States has exercised political, military, or economic dominance that fits Webster’s description. 

The Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) has addressed foreign intervention in language that directly challenges imperialism. The church has stated that intervention “must not cloak the pursuit of economic or narrow security interests” and “should advance the general welfare of all the inhabitants… and not become a tool by which powerful elites further cement their power.” In 2016, we renounced “violence as a means to further selfish national interests, to procure wealth, or to dominate others.” 

The church has also reflected on its own global engagement, particularly in mission work. The Rev. Mienda Uriarte recently called Presbyterians to “de-center ourselves… away from thinking we are primary agents, benefactors and senders,” recognizing instead that we are partners in God’s mission. 

Taken together, these teachings call us to reject domination cloaked as benevolence and to de-colonize our interactions with people in other countries so that our mission work doesn’t become the religious counterpart to US imperialism.

If Presbyterians in America are to live faithfully, we must unmask both the intent and impact of U.S. imperial policy. Is “defending U.S. interests” synonymous with serving the vulnerable? Do our interventions meet the church’s own moral criteria? Are we willing to stand in solidarity with those harmed by our government’s actions?
Reconciling U.S. foreign policy with PC(USA) commitments to peace is difficult. While the full impact of American imperialism cannot be summarized in a single Citizen article, even a cursory history provides sobering evidence.

Throughout the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, U.S. policy, through wars, covert regime change, sanctions, and dominance of global finance, has reshaped societies across the globe. The wars in Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan alone cost trillions of dollars and resulted in hundreds of thousands, and by some estimates over a million, deaths, along with mass displacement and ecological destruction (Agent Orange, massive carbon emissions, and pollution left by military occupations). In Central and South America, U.S.-backed coups and counterinsurgency campaigns in Guatemala, Chile, Nicaragua, and El Salvador left tens of thousands dead, uprooted Indigenous and peasant communities, and replaced democratically elected governments with right-wing regimes. And for those who complain about migrants in this country, much of the migration northward over the past half-century cannot be understood apart from the destabilization and violence, precipitated by the US government, that helped drive that displacement. 

A consistent thread in many of these interventions has been this country’s obsession with overturning popularly elected socialist governments. Whether in Guatemala in 1954, Chile in 1973, Nicaragua in the 1980s, or Cuba for more than six decades, U.S. policy has often treated experiments in socialism not as political alternatives to debate, but as threats to be dismantled. Human lives and ecosystems are sacrificed in defense of capitalism and its global expansion.

Presbyterians should also consider who benefits materially from US imperialism. Since 9/11 alone, the United States has spent more than $8 trillion on wars and related military operations, while annual defense budgets now exceed $800 billion. A significant share of that spending flows to private defense contractors whose profits rise alongside global instability, and these budgets routinely pass Congress with strong bipartisan support. In the end, weapons manufactures are handed massive profits by both Democrats and Republicans, while global working people suffer. 

Well, what about sanctions? Sanctions just go after the bad actors in power, right? Wrong. Economic sanctions, often described as “targeted,” have inflicted broad harm. In countries such as Cuba and Venezuela, sanctions have restricted access to medicine, financial systems, fuel, and development, disproportionately affecting civilians. Though advertised as peaceful alternatives to war, sanctions function as economic warfare, pressuring entire populations in hopes of political change. Would it surprise you to learn that sanctions are another area in which Democrats and Republicans seamlessly work together?

Meanwhile, major media outlets describe interventions as efforts to promote “freedom,” “democracy,” or “national security.” Talking heads emphasize humanitarian rescue, deterrence, or counter-terrorism, softening the language of domination. These euphemisms obscure the material costs. They rarely mention how public spending is diverted from domestic needs and is instead spent on contributing to environmental damage, global instability, and human suffering. 

As people of faith, we must reflect seriously on these realities. Who has benefited from U.S. imperial policy, and who has suffered? Has our world become safer or more peaceful as a result of repeated interventions? How has imperial blowback affected our own communities through refugee resettlement, strained budgets, or veterans living with lasting physical and psychological wounds? 
Is any of this necessary?

We often hear the United States described as a “Christian nation.” For Presbyterians, the more pressing question is how closely our nation’s foreign policy resembles the teachings of Christ. If our theology renounces domination and calls us to uplift the “least of these,” then we must examine whether our government’s actions reflect those convictions or contradict them.

Brian Teucke is co-chair of Worth Uniting Cayuga and an elder at Westminster Presbyterian Church in Auburn.

By Audrey McNally
 
Lent, which begins on Ash Wednesday (February 18th this year), is a period of forty days preceding Easter, and excluding Sundays. Lent is often observed as a time of repentance, penitence, and abstinence, depending upon the teachings of a particular church body or one’s personal beliefs. Some faith practices advocate ”giving up” earthly pleasures such as foods, alcoholic beverages, or indulgent activities. Other traditions encourage “taking on” spiritual or humanitarian endeavors, such as Bible study, giving to worthy causes, or working for social justice. 
 
At Westminster Presbyterian Church, our members seek to approach the Lenten season with a balance of both sacrifice (giving up) and spiritual formation (taking on) with our annual “Soup & Study” tradition. Each Wednesday night meeting of this five-week series consists of a simple soup supper followed by a period of study or devotions. For over twenty years, Soup & Study has had an enthusiastic following and has explored such varied subjects as Bible study, sacred music styles, creative arts, journaling, and alternative worship formats.
 
This year’s Soup & Study will once again feature a musical theme with a Lenten devotional book titled Were You There? Lenten Reflections on the Spirituals by Luke A. Powery (Westminster John Know Press, 2019). Intended as a daily devotional with forty separate entries, each one consists of several scripture readings, the lyrics of a selected spiritual, reflections on the song, and a closing prayer. 
 
Spirituals, also known as Negro spirituals, merged African cultural experiences with the realities of being held in bondage. Therefore, the story of their development is closely aligned to African American history and changed according to the era in which they were sung, gradually evolving into the derivative musical genres of the blues and gospel songs of the 20th century. Before the abolition of slavery in 1863, spirituals were sung as work songs or after the regular worship services (which at the time featured mainly hymns and psalms). In rural meetings, spirituals enabled people to share joys, pains, and hopes, exchange coded messages, unite people, and keep their culture alive throughout the generations.
 
Spirituals were often rooted in Biblical stories of both the Old and New Testaments, referencing themes of deliverance and liberation, and were also inspired by the message of Jesus Christ and the “Good News” of salvation. As the author Luke Powery states, spirituals “can be a sign of hope and the presence of God in the midst of agony. This is why they are called the ‘Spirituals’ because they are the Spirit’s song and the Spirit will not be stopped and will blow through every season of life, even liturgical seasons like Lent”. 
 
“Were You There?” is a well-known, beloved African American spiritual and a fitting title for a Lenten devotional because its theme deals with Christ’s crucifixion.
 
Were you there when they crucified my Lord? (were you there?)
Were you there when they crucified my Lord? Oh!
Sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
 
This spiritual is an especially meaningful and emotive one for me (and many long-time Westminster worshippers) because for years it was reverently offered as a Holy Week solo by a beautiful man and soul, Charles Hardy, in a powerful baritone voice. His singing of “Were You There? would bring tears to one’s eyes and chills to the spine. Charles Hardy passed away on his 80th birthday on January 15, 1995. I remarked to his son Jack that I would give anything to have a recording of his Dad singing “Were You There?”. 
 
All are welcome to join us for the 2026 Soup & Study series held each Wednesday evening (following Ash Wednesday) on February 25, March 4, 11, 18, and 25 at 5:30-7:00 PM in the church’s Social Room (church building). Soup is served at 5:30 PM with devotions commencing at 6:15 PM, led by Pastor Adam Demetros, Elder Linda MacKay, Elder Susan Marteney, Dr. Amanda Demetros, or Elder Paul Dungey. Deacon Donna Riester will provide piano accompaniment. A copy of the book is not required. For anyone seeking quiet meditation or prayer, the Memorial Chapel will also be open to visitors during those times. Additional information can be obtained by contacting the Westminster Church office at (315)253-3331. Will you be there for “Were You There?”
 
Audrey McNally is an elder, member of the Worship Committee and Westminster Choir, and moderator of the Christian Education Committee of Westminster Presbyterian Church.

by Jill Fandrich
There are two places in Auburn which are near and dear to me—Westminster Church and Seymour Library. I’ve been a member of Westminster since my husband and I settled here in 1980, and I’ve had my library card for just as long. Wherever I’ve lived, I’ve been a regular at both a church and a local library. They are both holy places, in a broad sense of the word. And while they serve different functions, there are many similarities between them.

Auburn is blessed with one of the best libraries I’ve ever seen. It hits all the marks for being what a library should be. And when I started to think about what those marks are, it made me realize that many describe what a church should be too.

Libraries welcome everyone, and so should churches, whether you’re a regular, a first-time visitor, a tourist, or someone who hasn’t stepped foot in one for years. You can be an unhoused person or the wealthiest person in town and you’ll be treated the same way. All ages are welcome-- the youngest infant, the active toddler, the aloof teenager, the harried adult, and the lonely senior. Libraries are intergenerational, blending and engaging people of all ages and walks of life. Churches should be like this too, embracing everyone who walks through the doors.

Questions are welcome! Libraries live for them; churches should too. A library exists to explore ideas. It is chocked full of books. reference materials, and people who will help connect you with information and ideas. No question is too small or trivial. The library is there to help people explore the big, and the little, questions of life. So too should a church. Whether you consider yourself “religious” or not, all people ask the “big questions” in life—Is there a higher power?, What happens after death?, What is the purpose of life?, Why is there war, hatred, poverty?, Who is my neighbor? A church should welcome these questions, not to give answers but to explore the possibilities. The questions are as important as the answers.

Libraries celebrate history, traditions, and memories. Seymour’s history room preserves Auburn’s history in print. The building itself holds personal memories, with parents bringing their children for story time in the same room they enjoyed as toddlers. A library is a place which brings the past, present, and future together. So does a church. The “old, old stories” are told in new ways, providing an age-old perspective on life, love, service, and meaning for individuals and the community alike. Churches link us to our past, help us understand our present, and give us hope for the future. ​.

 Libraries have knowledgeable, friendly, caring people who are there to help you. Librarians are trained professionals with incredible skills, but more importantly, they are really cool people who love to help others. They don’t know everything; they just know how to find everything! Churches help people too. People come into church with all sorts of needs and wants, and more often than not, a church will help them find what they’re looking for.

Library buildings and church buildings are incredible. I love to go into libraries when we travel. Some are old, historic edifices which feel like walking into the past. Some are modern marvels of glass, moving shelves, and natural light. Some are small and simple storefronts. I love visiting churches too. I am always amazed by the architecture, the art, the history, and stories that these buildings tell. Libraries and churches are stories in stone. And the challenges of maintaining them, restoring them, retrofitting them for modern use, and financially supporting them are shared by libraries and churches alike.

Libraries are community gathering places. They host lectures, workshops, films, book groups, music performances, and art displays. In a time when people are socially isolated, libraries are a place to be with others. Churches are community gathering places too. Their worship space, kitchens, gyms, and meeting rooms are ideal for concerts, lectures, films, forums, meetings, classes, and meals. Churches can and should be “third spaces” in today’s isolated and siloed world.

Libraries are orderly, peaceful places which exude a sense of belonging, respect, and hope. The books therein might contain radical ideas, but the library itself is a serene place. The same can be said of churches. There is a reason why sanctuaries are called that; church can and should be a place of refuge and security.

Libraries aren’t all perfect and neither are churches. Both strive to meet very high ideals. I’m lucky to have a great library and a great church in my life, and I value them for many of the same reasons. I hope you find places like this in your life too.
 

by Jill Fandrich

​My relationship with the Christmas season is “complicated,” as they say. On the one hand, I love Christmas. I love the Christmas story, the traditions, the nostalgia, the family time, and the generosity and good will it engenders (most of the time) in people. But I also struggle with the commercialization, the greed, the frenzy, and the unrealistic expectations for perfection and joy. How do we manage “the most wonderful time of the year” when sometimes it’s not particularly wonderful? 

Christmas is very different for me and my husband now that we are retired empty nesters, but I’ll never forget how hectic it was when we were both working and our kids were young. Office parties (lots of them), school concerts (three kids at different schools), community events, shopping at crowded malls on weekends, writing Christmas cards, baking cookies, spending time with our aging parents in two different locations, decorating our house, wrapping presents into the wee hours on Christmas Eve, pageant rehearsals and special services at church, caroling at nursing homes, and generally running ragged from Thanksgiving to New Years Day. 

In those years, there was a popular book which my church would sometimes pull out to provide “helpful” advice for families. It was called Unplug the Christmas Machine, and it was a well-meaning attempt to get people to slow down and focus on the important things during the holidays. It was also terribly guilt-inducing. I remember wanting to follow its advice, knowing what it said was right, and being absolutely unable to cut back because everything we did seemed important. 

Time has taken care of a lot of “unplugging” in my life. Our kids are grown and have homes and families of their own. We can dote on the grandkids, and it’s fun for us rather than stressful. We try to all get together for the holidays and it’s great when we do, but ok when we can’t. They have jobs, in-laws, and busy schedules, and we support their decisions to balance accordingly. Do I miss the old days? Yes, in some ways. I miss the excitement and I miss the family and friends we’ve lost. But life moves on, as it should. 

The pandemic also broke a lot of the expectations for “perfect holidays” because we had to make do with limited travel, less together-time, and choosing safety over traditions. Holiday parties were canceled, church services were all online, people (including families) couldn’t gather in large groups. But Christmas still happened, Jesus was still born, and God was and is still with us. The pandemic forced us to reset our expectations, and changed our perspective about what was and is important. 

So Christmas is complicated, no matter what phase of life you’re in, which is why my church offers a special Longest Night Service each year. It is always held on December 21, the winter solstice, the day with the least sunlight and the most darkness. It is a service which recognizes that holidays can be difficult for people who are going through dark times in their lives. It is hard to have a “holly, jolly Christmas” when dealing with illness, grief, loss, loneliness, uncertainty, financial hardships, depression, or change. Even just the general feeling of disappointment that our lives aren’t like the Hallmark movies can be difficult. These things and the lack of light in northern winters can make us all feel like we are in the “longest night.” 

We welcome everyone who would like a quiet, safe place to acknowledge the dark times in their lives and their hopes for better tomorrows. The Longest Night service offers a message of hope and a place of welcome. It will be Sunday evening, December 21, at 7pm in the Westminster Church chapel at 17 William St in downtown Auburn, and all are welcome. 

One of my favorite bible passages comes from the Gospel of John; it says, “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness shall not overcome it.” On the longest night of the year, we light candles to remind us that the next day and every day after will be a little bit brighter. It is one of the most powerful messages of the Christmas season, and one we hope to share with whoever needs to hear it.