Good morning Beloved! 

Recently, I had a couple of conversations about whether to include some particular pieces of music in our worship service. For one of those compositions it was pointed out to me that, although the composer was known to have written some beautiful and beloved hymns, the author had also credibly been accused of misdeeds and unethical behavior. And while I agreed with the decision to not use that music, it sparked some philosophical and theological reflection within me.

Fifteen years ago, during Eden Church’s Small Groups and Pilgrims Potluck, Eden did not set out to start programs. Eden listened.

Padres Unidos was already organizing in this community. Parents were already naming what their families needed. Eden took notice of what was already going on. Relationships formed. Leaders emerged. And out of that listening programs were co-created with the community, Comida Para Cherryland and Las Compañeras.

We met with Padres Unidos again this past Friday. The listening has not stopped. Needs have changed. Strengths have emerged.

This morning’s text from Revelation was likely the inspiration for a well-known painting by an artist named Werner Sallman. Now, you may not have heard of Werner Sallman, but I’d be willing to bet that many of you  are familiar with his work. I wouldn’t put his work in the category of “fine art,” that you might see in a museum, but his paintings are widely known and much beloved by many. 

Good morning Beloved! 

Although I have been playing guitar since I was in middle school, I had never tried to play a ukulele until about ten days ago. Although I certainly anticipated that learning to play it would require some adaptation, I largely assumed it would be more of a cerebral challenge that a physical one. You see, the ukulele is tuned differently from a guitar and while the chord shapes are similar to those for the guitar, the pitches are different. So the shape that produces a D chord on a guitar, produces a G chord on the Uke. And the shape that produces a G chord on a guitar, produces a C chord on the Uke. So I assumed learning to play the Ukulele would largely involve remapping my synapses so that my brain would transpose the pitches in my mind to a new set of shapes in my fingers.

No one carries the whole story of Eden. Some of us carry decades. Some carry a few months. Some know Eden through Sunday worship; others through our direct services. Different threads. One story.

Or, as Paul says: many members, one body. Muchos miembros, un solo cuerpo.

Church, this month, Christians around the world observe the Season of Creation, remembering God as Creator and Sustainer of all life. And as part of our Sacred Rest series we have ventured into Meditation, Camping, a Taizé worship service, participated in rituals, had a Nature Walk, and just yesterday morning, we had 24 church and community members as part of a Spanish language Emotional Wellness Healing Circle Workshop with Pastor Rhina Ramos from Ministerio Latino. And as Pastora Rhina is Salvadoreña, of course there were pupusas. We also had wonderful guitar music from the illustrious Peruvian singer, Rosa Los Santos. 

I first moved away from my home town in my early twenties. I had been a commuter student at college, and had lived in a few different student apartments, but was never more than a 20 minute drive from my family home.  So my first real encounter with homesickness, besides being away at summer camp as a kid, was when I moved half a state away to pursue a Master’s degree. 

Good morning beloved! 

Over the last month, we have been exploring the idea of sacred rest and considering some of the spiritual practices that people routinely engage in. Today, I would like to talk a little bit about the ancient practice of meditation. And then I will invite you to join me as I lead us through a guided meditation.

In the tradition of the contemplative community of Taizé, France, there is no written sermon for this service. We invite you to find sacred rest in the hearing of scripture and music.

It is 1982, the summer after I graduated from high school. I am 18, and my three friends and I are power-walking through the Louvre museum, as one does when one has allotted only three hours to see a museum that has a collection of over 500,000 art objects. In this museum full of famous paintings, we are fixated on making our way to perhaps THE most famous painting. We stride through the galleries without pausing. But in one gallery, out of the corner of my eye, I notice a painting that draws my attention. I turned to look at it, and it seems as though time stops. I am totally captivated. I’ve never seen a reproduction of the painting before, and I have no idea who the artist is, but there’s something about it that draws me in. Something about the contrast of light and dark, something about the main figure that I see in the painting, something about the quietness of the scene that makes me—compels me—to stop and notice. Time seems to stop for a moment. As I remember this moment in my mind’s eye, all the sound in the room disappears. All the voices, the movement fade away. And I am alone in the room with this painting.

In the beginning, God consecrated not a place, but time.

Read the opening of Genesis slowly and you notice something easy to miss. God makes light and calls it good. God makes land and sea, sun and moon, creatures of every kind—tob, good, and good, and very good. But the first thing in all of Scripture that God calls holy is not a mountain. Not a garden. Not a temple. It is a day.

“So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it.”

Before there was ever a sanctuary, there was a Sabbath.

Nearly three thousand years ago, someone in the Greek world started telling a story about a soldier trying to get home. And we have never stopped telling it. The Greek poem is attributed to the poet Homer. It would be written down centuries after him. Today, Tennyson’s echo still reverberates, “To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.” James Joyce moved the whole Odyssey into one ordinary Thursday in Dublin. Tolkien, who loved Homer, quietly refused him—his hero is not a clever king but Samwise Gamgee, an ordinary gardener who keeps walking no matter what. Now there’s an Face of Faith! And the Coen brothers set the story in Depression-era Mississippi with a bluegrass soundtrack and a river baptism. The epic fits nicely into Nolan’s filmography as he is beholden to what happens when extraordinary human ability collides with profound moral complexity.