Letters Archive—2021

To the Saints in Santa Fe

These letters from Pastor Harry and church leaders explore the challenges we face as people of faith in a complicated and fearful world, not unlike the world that Paul faced, and not unlike the world that Dr. King faced down.

These letters are distributed to the congregation via our email newsletter. To sign up for our eNews, contact our Office Manager.

 

December 28, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who has inspired people through the centuries.

An Archbishop from South Africa died this week at the age of 90.

Desmond Tutu.  Truth and Reconciliation.  Stood up to Apartheid.  Helped to free his country.  Inspired people across the world.  A ready smile and infectious laugh.  Tough as nails.  Spoke of, wrote about, and lived the power of God’s love.

When I heard of his death Sunday morning during the first service, I should have paused our prayers, run from Pope Hall to the back of the sanctuary and tolled the bells for all to hear.  They should still be tolling.

I never saw a report of his death in the news I look at each morning on my phone. The New York Times, Washington Post, CNN, The Guardian, the Atlantic, USA Today, Lost Angeles Times, many others, did not mention it.  At least on my phone, it never showed up, though I did hear a segment on the radio.  Regardless, it wasn’t enough.  It isn’t enough.

We should never forget about this amazing man and the life he lived.  How he changed South Africa, and the way we understand the importance of truth and reconciliation in the aftermath of the dark days of Apartheid.

Ask our own Andrew Black who worked with the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa and met Bishop Tutu.  A photograph shows both of them smiling into the camera.

Ask anyone who has ever stood up and spoke out against oppression.  Ask anyone who has ever struggled for human rights.   Ask anyone who has ever tried to love their enemy.  They will tell you about Bishop Tutu and how important he was in their lives.

Ask anyone and everyone who has met Bishop Tutu and they will tell you he treated them like they were the most important person to him in the world, at that moment.

I never met him, though I ever so wish I had.  Still, we all have his legacy.  And his inspiration.  And his words in our hymnal written to a tune by John Bell, the writer of many Iona songs:

“Goodness is stronger than evil; Love is stronger than hate; Light is stronger than darkness; Life is stronger than death.  Victory is ours, oh, victory is ours, through the God who loves us.”

Grace and peace, and deep thanks for the life and work of Desmond Tutu, who taught us the strength of goodness, love, light, life, and God’s love.

Harry

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December 23, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, of whom angels break into song.

“Glory to God in the highest.”  Raise your hand if you feel like saying that this year.  Anyone?

Christmas Eve is tomorrow, and the forecast is rain.  News radio talks of Covid, endlessly, and the January 6th investigation.  We miss family and friends.  An article in the New York Times this morning states it best:  We grieve our old normal.

But did you hear?  The angels are still singing this year.  Despite everything going on.  What’s more, these messengers of God (that is the literal translation of an angel) sing at night to a desperate, distraught, and depleted world.

“Glory to God.”  Irenaeus in the 2^nd century said this means “a human being fully alive.”  I love that phrase.  It’s a good question to ask ourselves this year.  Are we?

“In the highest.”  We’re not talking here about cathedrals and robed choirs and kings and majesty.  Highest mean that God has come up with another plan to save humanity by coming down to our level through a baby born to poor parents in a backwater town.  Here, the lowest become the highest.  Here, the angels sing.

I think the angels are giving their best concert of the year.  And just in time.  In a world that chatters endlessly about violence and hatred and strife, and in a church where we wonder what we have to offer the world if we can’t do what we’ve always done in the past.

What we have is not a commodity to sell but an angels’ song.   When we suspect the world is unraveling God lifts us up through the joy of a baby, and new birth, and the hope and promise that that God will never, ever let us go.

That’s worth singing about.  Even if it’s in the rain tomorrow night.  Even if it means we need to adapt and improvise to stay safe.  And even if we all can’t be together, rest assured, the angels still will sing.

Peace and joy,

Harry

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December 7, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, about whom angels sing good news of great joy.

This whole joy thing is difficult anytime, but especially this time.

Today we remember Pearl Harbor.  Today we try to get in the Christmas spirit.  Today we read and hear our daily news and it will probably be little different than yesterday.  So much for joy.

The prophet Zephaniah was experiencing one of these times, our times, in the first two chapters of his Old Testament book (in the Minor Prophets section) when he recounted “The Day of the Lord” as one of darkness, not light, when human expectations are shattered.  Other Old Testament colleagues shared similar stories on what it is like to be human.

How are we supposed to be joyful when even God can’t get in the spirit?

I don’t know about you, but I simply can’t conjure up joy.  Believe me, I have tried but joy seems indifferent to my bidding.  We can sing all the carols we want, watch comedies full-stop on Netflix, and eat spoonful after spoonful of ice cream, but joy isn’t impressed.

As is often the case, perhaps we are looking for joy in all the wrong places.  What if joy resides deep in the heart of God?  What if joy is something we can’t find ourselves, but is something given to us by God?  No carol, movie, or ice cream will bring us the joy we are looking for.  No amount of good we do will guarantee that joy will appear, despite how hard we might try.

The people did nothing to warrant Zephaniah writing about God singing with joy in chapter 3.  Many scholars suggest these later verses were written after the Exile when the people had returned home from Babylon.  God started the tune and invites us to sing along, and rejoice, and remember that we are God’s own, renewed and restored.

I especially like the phrase “let not your hands drop,” where dropped hands in those times meant utter despair.  Scholar Margaret Odell suggests this envisions a new way of being.  Though there is still evil in the world we are strengthened by God’s presence, no longer paralyzed by fear, but ready to sing, shout, and rejoice.

And to light a third candle, a pink one, that defies the darkness and gloom.  We’ll do that this Sunday, despite the news of the day’s events, and because of the awful things going on the world.  God is still singing with joy, Zephaniah assures us, and invites us to learn the tune.

Thanks be to a joyful God, this Advent, this Sunday.

Harry

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November 16, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who calls us to live

“Our jaws should drop open in amazement,” the late religious commentator Phyllis Tickle said at an Emerging Church conference in 2013.  “I think we’re seeing a shift in Christianity as dramatic as that first Pentecost wildfire.”  She died two years later and did not witness the jaw-dropping world we live in now, pandemic and all.

I love her words.  Jaw-dropping.  Amazement.  Dramatic.  Wildfire.  Would you describe today’s Church in these ways?

I hope we will, if not now, then soon.  The early church was jaw-dropping in its vision, amazing that it survived the Roman Empire and empires since, and dramatic in the ways it changed people’s lives and the world.  It could only be described as a wildfire.

Phyllis Tickle also said we are entering “The Age of the Spirit,” and I am intrigued and excited where, if true, this age might take us.

For us, this year, it is taking us to the Beloved Community, that great vision of a just and peaceful world.  I hope you will respond generously to our Pledge Campaign for 2022 as we continue to build this Beloved Community and counter the destructive rhetoric and behavior in our society.  The task is immense, I know, but I trust in this age of the Spirit, in these jaw-dropping, amazing, dramatic, and wildfire times, that God’s love will prevail.

Please join us this Sunday, November 21, in person or online, when we will be collecting and blessing our pledges (please call the church if you need a pledge packet).  Together, we can make a real difference in addressing the challenges and needs of our world.

Grace and peace,
Harry

Note: This is my 200^th letter to you since the beginning of the pandemic.  Thank you for reading!

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October 26, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who healed a blind man on the way to the cross.

What if I told you that, as followers of Christ, we are part of God’s healing in the world?

What if I added that what we do makes a huge difference in the world?

What if I countered all this turmoil and dissention in the world, and all the naysayers that are certain nothing good can come out of today, with the audacious suggestion that there is a way?

Well, I am doing that today.  Yes, we can.  Yes, we can because the blind beggar, when hearing that Jesus was close, threw off his cloak, sprang up, and came to Jesus.

If you recall the story from last Sunday, Bartimaeus, literally “Son of Honor,” is still blind when he does this.  He only has the promise that Jesus called him.  Even so, he cast off his only possession (if you are blind that is a foolhardy thing to do!), sprang up (when was the last time you acted in such a way?), and came to Jesus.

What if we, like Bartimaeus, expected good things to happen?  Expected God to heal him?  Expected that he would see, and that sight is possible even though we live in dark days?

God is healing still.

In the coming weeks we will have the opportunity to throw off our cloak, spring up, and follow Jesus during our Annual Pledge Drive, November 7-21.  The theme is “Building the Beloved Community.”  Notice it is not “we have built,” or “we are almost done building,” or “look how pretty it is now!”  There is much work to be done.  Indeed, such a lofty vision as the Beloved Community is ever and always before us, and always something we strive for.

I believe we need to work for and live into such a beloved community.  I believe the world needs this as much or more than we do.  What I don’t believe is, that since it seems so far away, and so hard to get to, that we shouldn’t try.

What if I told you that, as followers of Christ, we are part of God’s healing in the world?

Grace and peace,

Harry

 

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October 21, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who saw all life as belonging to God.

“The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world” (John 1:9).

John Philip Newell, whose blessing we recite every Sunday, tells of a presentation he gave in Ottawa many years ago using this verse from John’s prologue.  He talked of how Celtic Christianity invites us to see the light of God in everyone and in everything.  A young Mohawk elder was invited to be there specifically to observe the connections between Celtic and Native wisdom and then stood and spoke with tears in his eyes.

“As I have been listening to these themes, I have been wondering where I would be tonight, I have been wondering where my people would be tonight, and I have been wondering where we would be as a Western world tonight, if the mission that had come to us from Europe centuries ago had come expecting to find light in us.”

I think of this as we wrestle with issues surrounding the history and treatment of our Pueblo neighbors in our Sunday morning Adult Education/Acts II class.

I think of this as we discern God’s calling in a time of a Pandemic.

I think of this as we struggle as a nation to understand how we treat each other.

There is so much fear and anxiety.  So many beliefs clashing against each other.  So much hatred spewed forth on social media and in public discourse.

Imagine where we would be if we saw the light of the sacred in the “other” and in our world?

I have not written to you for almost a month as my time and thoughts have been drawn back into the busyness of modern living and trying to figure out how we might regain being church.  I realize now that I have been searching for ways to see light, that light in each of us that enlightens the world.

In the coming weeks, maybe months, I will be sharing ideas you have shared with me, and those I have witnessed and read about, that might help us a congregation chart our path forward, so that we might be people of light, and share that sacred light with the world.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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September 23, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who calls us to love one another and the world.

Building the Beloved Community.

You will be hearing a lot about this phrase in the coming weeks, and much longer.  It is the theme of our Pledge Campaign this fall, but it is more than that.  It encompasses a wide vision for the church, from our current Sunday morning Adult Ed/Acts series Matthew 25 Today to how we look at ourselves, the way we experience church, and how we live in the world.

The phrase Beloved Community was coined by philosopher-theologian Josiah Royce, founder of the Fellowship of Reconciliation, in the early 20^th Century.  Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was a member of this organization and brought deeper meaning to it, first with the Montgomery bus boycott, and then to the Civil Rights struggle which he saw as the realization of the Beloved Community.

The Beloved Community encompasses ideals and goals such as caring, compassion, non-violence, reconciliation, elimination of poverty and hunger and all forms of racism and violence.  In the words of Coretta Scott King, it is “a state of heart and mind, a spirit of hope and goodwill that transcends all boundaries and barriers and embraces all creation.”

I see it in the work we are already doing, in our mission and advocacy work, in our blessing of the children each week in worship and in our Child Development Center, in our music and education programs, in Andrew’s Installation service last Sunday.  And so much more.

Yes, building this Beloved Community is a tall order.  Building it in a world such as ours seems even more daunting.  But let’s begin, and begin again, and build on what we are doing already, and see more ways to be faithful, and live in community, and care for one another and do so in the spirit of Jesus who indeed can make all things new.  Let’s go deeper and farther than we’ve ventured before and see where it takes us.

Addressing the deep, systemic problems of the world requires a bold vision.  There’s been too much tearing down of late.  Let’s begin to build, build upon what’s already been done, and join others in building, the Beloved Community.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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September 21, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who calls us to ministry.

If you missed it, here is what you missed.

A perfect day.  The trees doing their best impression of a cathedral.  The mountains watching from balcony seats.  The grass, rare as ever in Santa Fe, beneath our feet while sitting on folding chairs.  The wind stirring things up, blowing loose bulletins around, and settling down again.

A bagpiper leads a procession of northern New Mexico.  Most are Presbyterian clergy, though many are not, and, together in black robes and red stoles, we make our way to the front row through chairs, now in disarray to avoid sun splashes through the cathedral branches.  The pipes sing of amazing grace, of beautiful Scotland, of a beautiful faith.

People speak.  Those in robes tell stories, lifting joy for all to see, and filling open spaces with hope and possibility.  A few dogs sleep among the chairs, content.  Tears well up in my eyes several times, brimming with the unmistakable feeling that something new and big and wonderful is happening here.

One tells of how he had once lifted up a child in baptism some forty years ago, and now he is charging this very same child, now grown, now a pastor, now newly installed, to love God and all the people here, and everywhere else.

Gifts are given, prayers presented, the sun is shining, and the wind is stirring something grand.

At the end, before we greet each other and paper bags of cookies and Texas sheet cake are dispersed, this same forty-years-ago-baptized pastor stands before us all, with his wife and baby daughter next to him, and gives a blessing.

For those moments, in that afternoon of blessing, there was no place else I would rather be.

Welcome Andrew Black!  Welcome, Andrew, to this ministry as Associate Pastor.  Welcome to our homes and into our lives, into these days of confusion and mayhem, and when things seem alright again.   Walk beside us, and before us, and behind us, in the many joys and challenges of following Jesus.

Your Installation Service this past Sunday was an extraordinary experience.  I, for one, can’t wait to see where we go from here.  And I wouldn’t it miss it for the world.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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September 17, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who was willing to change course.

Before his encounter with the Syro-Phoenician woman in Mark 7, Jesus’ ministry was only for the Jews; afterward, its scope would be the entire world.

Jesus changed his mind following this Gentile woman’s persistence in pleading for him to heal her daughter, but it wasn’t easy.  Already in the most dangerous territory for a Jew, Jesus then crisscrossed Gentile lands from Tyre to Sidon to the Decapolis, then Magdala near Capernaum, reversed direction to go back north to Caesarea Philippi, then to a mountaintop and the Transfiguration, and back down again to Galilee.

Change takes us to all those places as well, as the pandemic persists that we look anew at the scope and practice of our own ministry.  Try as we like, we are unable to do the things we did before and by no means is this easy.  We can’t stay safely in Galilee anymore.

So, with Session’s approval Wednesday night, I will be gathering a small group of people to look at how we do ministry in a pandemic world, assessing the areas that call out for change, while gathering your ideas and those of colleagues and experts across the country on how to be most effective and faithful in these times.  We will bring our recommendations to session by January.

Today’s ministry requires us to adapt, be flexible, and cultivate resilience.

One present example:  Beginning September 26, Adult Education/Acts II will meet 8:30-9:30 and worship 9:45-10:30.  In the name of health and safety, this temporary switch will take advantage of better sun and warmth later in the morning and allow us to stay outside to worship longer into the fall.  We will continue Worshiping at 11 am in the Sanctuary.

As we see with Jesus, it is always a journey.  May we seek to remain faithful as change swirls all around us and teaches us new ways we can be church.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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September 10, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who continues to teach us how to live.

Jesus sighed.

That’s what it says in our Scripture on Sunday, in Mark 7:34, when Jesus is about to heal a man who is deaf and has an impediment in his speech.

Jesus talks, walks, tells stories, eats, rests, confronts, and heals, but he only sighs here and in chapter 8.  That’s all.  I wonder why, especially since I find myself sighing all the time with the state of our world.  I realize I am a “sighing man” from way back, and my sighing is working overtime of late.

My latest sigh has stretched out since the day the country closed down in March of 2020, and how the pandemic has been altering our world, in significant ways, in tragic ways, in church ways, ever since.  It even closed down the church last weekend.

To keep this sighing at bay I started writing to all of you.  Since March 17, 2020, through posts called “For this Time” to my current “Letter to the Saints,” I have written to you 193 times, commenting on our times, how scripture can guide us, and how we might continue to believe that God is with us still, no matter how terrible and uncertain these times have proven to be.

Five words kept surfacing throughout:  adaptable, flexible, creative, resilience, and kindness.  I want to take these words with us into this uncertain future of ours.  Indeed, I hope they have already hitched a ride, because they will help us see another, brighter day.  We will be a better church and better people because of them.

We used them last Sunday when we had to make the hard decision to close church due to some pandemic precautions.  Thank you for your understanding (wait, I think that’s another one!).  We’ll use them again as we come back to church this Sunday for both services.  If you cannot come, you are invited to join us by live-stream for the 11 am service.

Note:  Because the weather looks good for Sunday, we will continue to hold our 8:30 Morningsong service on the Rooftop Garden, and will do so as long as the weather holds out.   

So, let’s doing some sighing together, not just for what has happened to us and the world around us but for the good things that are still to come.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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August 27, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who worshiped God, “as was his custom” (Luke 4:16).

Welcome back to worship, pandemic-style!

Since July 4 th , we have held both Sunday services, the Rooftop Garden service at 8:30 am and
the 11 am Worship in the Sanctuary, and it has been so good to be back in person!

Yet, there have been changes, as you may have noticed, and there will be more as we respond
responsibly to Covid and its variants and the current spike in cases. With the steady wisdom of
our Health Task Force comprised of church members who are in the medical and science fields,
and who keep on top of the latest Covid news, we have been safe thus far. It’s an admirable
record which we plan to continue!

1. So, here is the latest for you to know should you wish to come to worship this Sunday (I can’t
   say “and every other Sunday” because we don’t know yet what the advice will be then):
   To insure safe-distancing chairs on the Rooftop Garden will be placed farther apart, and
   blue tape will mark off every other row of pews in the sanctuary.
2. Masks shall be properly worn at all times in the church building. We have extras at the
   entrances should you forget yours. Please make sure you wear it properly, snug over
   the mouth and nose. The only ones not wearing masks are those who are singing
   the anthem and the worship leaders when they are leading. In the Sanctuary there
   is a safe distance between the chancel and the pews. We have fans blowing in fresh
   air from the balcony.
3. We will sing only two verses of each hymn.
4. We ask during candle lighting that you remain a safe distance apart as you stand in
   line.
5. We have offering boxes by the doors of both worship spaces.
6. Following the services, we ask that you greet each other outside in the fresh air.
7. As we are a community which cares for the well-being and safety of all, session
   continues to expect people who attend worship to be vaccinated.
8. Should you wish to stay home you can watch the service live on our You Tube channel
   or view a tape of it later at your convenience.

I never dreamed that worship could be so complicated and difficult, just to do so safely. Then I
think of all the Christians throughout the centuries who suffered for their desire to worship
God, sometimes because it was illegal, and sometimes because Christianity was a threat to
those in power.

May we, then, be no threat to one another as we worship, do so safely and joyfully, and be
open to the winds of God’s spirit in our lives today.

Grace and peace,
Harry,

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July 27, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who calls us to ministry by following him.

There is great cause for rejoicing!

On July 18, the congregation unanimously approved the Rev. Andrew Black as our new part-time Associate Pastor.  This comes after the Associate Pastor Nominating Committee recommended Andrew following an extensive process guided by Presbytery; after the pandemic slowed down the process which started in late 2019 and approved at a congregational meeting in late January 2020; and long after I came to Santa Fe in late 2011 with the promise of an Associate Pastor to assist all of us in carrying out the church’s mission and ministry.

Yes, this is a time for great rejoicing!

Andrew will begin in mid-September.  We will hold an Installation Service on Sunday, September 19, when he will be officially installed as Associate Pastor. 

The Search Committee spent many hours developing a list of duties which includes work with youth and young families, support for the mission and social justice ministry and its outreach to the community, further develop initiatives to bring the church’s message to the community, worship and preaching, assist with pastoral care, and perform other pastoral duties and administrative responsibilities, as assigned.

Between now and September we will be working to fine-tune these responsibilities so that Andrew and I cover all areas of the church’s ministries in ways that best utilize our skills and experience.  (Note:  It’s part-time right now, planning that he will become full-time at a later date, so please adjust expectations that Andrew will be with us everywhere, all the time, from the start!)

I like what the Search committee wrote when considering this position: “It will address the challenges and needs of our society through a ministry that is authentic, adaptable, risk-taking, relevant and courageous.”

The pandemic has taught and reminded us that we must continue to be agile and open to new forms of ministry that will stretch us and challenge us.  As Covid is ticking upwards, again, with the Delta variant and society struggling to come to terms with masks and vaccinations, we all will need to be fluid in living out our faith, as we have been these many months. 

All the more reason to celebrate Andrew’s new call, one that will help us live into the vision before us.  I am so very excited about the church and its ministry, now and in the years to come.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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June 24, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who offers us insights into God’s spirit.

Sabbath Moments.

Today is the final day of these weekly videos hosted by Jeannie Bowman who, since April 23, 2020, has been faithfully offering these Sabbath Moments each Thursday in our E-News.

The title aptly describes what they have been about:  moments each week to ponder and learn the profound beauty of Sabbath insights and practices.  O, how they have been needed during this time, and how they have enriched and sustained our lives.

In a time when life was upended with the pandemic, Sabbath Moments calmed us down.

When change was happening all around us, and within us, Sabbath Moments offered enduring wisdom.

When the news was all too much to bear, Sabbath Moments made things bearable, at least for those moments we watched, and hopefully for far longer.

In the ordinary rhythm of our days, they have been a reminder that life has so many extraordinary things to see and experience.

So, thank you, Jeannie, (and to your husband, Darryl, who was most often behind the camera!) for your loving attention to God’s spirit in our lives, for sharing your insights and your passion with us, for taking the time to put these Sabbath Moments together, and for doing them so very well.

While new videos conclude today, the whole series is available to watch again on our Sabbath Moments webpage and in the Sabbath Moments playlist on our YouTube channel.

Grace and peace, and may the gift of sabbath moments be with you, and sustain you.

Harry

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June 18, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who always found a time and a place to worship God.

Why worship?

The Babylonian exiles returned to Jerusalem and the first thing they did was worship.  They rebuilt the altar and the Temple and couldn’t wait to do burnt offerings (Ezra mentions burnt offerings five times in the first six verses of chapter 3) morning and evening.

I might have talked to a real estate agent first, or opened a bank account, or searched for a good coffee shop for a chai tea latte.  Worship may have come a bit later.  Like when Sunday rolled around, or when I got around to seeing if there was a Presbyterian Church nearby.

But the exiles had worship on their minds.  Was it because they felt God was responsible for bringing them home?  Was it because worship had something to do with their feelings of worth and well-being?  Was it to experience God’s presence through rituals and singing?  Did they yearn to experience the sacred in their lives?  Was it a way to offer thanks?  Or was it to feel good again, be part of a community, together finally, at home in a physical space but also an emotional and spiritual one as well, giving them a place in the world?

I suspect any, or all, and other reasons, apply to us as well.

For two Sundays we have gathered on the terrace in front of the sanctuary doors at 11:00 am for around thirty minutes to Worship on the Triangle, standing or sitting (please bring a chair, if you wish) under a beautiful tree.  We’ll do this for two more Sundays.

This Wednesday, June 23, 5:30-6:00 pm, we will be resuming our in-person Celtic EvenSong Service in the Sanctuary. 

And yes, we will be returning to in-person worship Sunday, July 4, at 8:30 am on the Rooftop Garden and 11:00 am in the Sanctuary (Hallelujah to both!). 

Why worship?  Come and find out, again.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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June 15, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, whose Church has produced many saints.

One was Dean Lewis.  He passed away yesterday morning.

Dean was a force, no matter where he was or what he was doing.  I first heard his name when my church in Ohio became a sister church to the Presbyterian Church in Caibarien, Cuba.  Dean was one of the people who made that happen in our denomination.  It was “Dean this,” “Dean said that,” “Dean said we should do this instead,” and it always worked.  When Jenny and I first arrived in Santa Fe over nine years ago, we were thrilled to meet Dean and his wife Marianne, and enjoy a meal at their home located on the way to Ghost Ranch.

Over lunch we heard stories of Dean’s amazing career in the Church.  He and my Dad were born in the same year, 1926, and were classmates at Yale Divinity School.  While Dad served local congregations across the country his entire ministry, Dean worked in the various levels of the Presbyterian Church.  Notably, he was founder and executive secretary of the Presbyterian Cuba Connection (1996-2018), long-time General Assembly director of the Council on Church and Society, and Program Director at Ghost Ranch for many years.  He was always working to free people from racism and injustice, always organizing, always inspiring others.

So, I ponder Dean’s death as Father’s Day approaches.  It will be the first Father’s Day without my own Dad, having passed away last July.  Now, Dean.  A generation is passing, those who lived through World War II, entered seminary at the dawn of a golden age when church was an integral part of society, responded to the challenges of the 1960s and 70s (Dean was on the Presbyterian response team following the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church bombing in Birmingham), guided the church through controversies and downturns and remained faithful still.  They served the Church, and did great things for it, skillfully and lovingly.

Thank you, Dean, for all the wondrous things you have done in your illustrious life.  Thank you, Dad, and all those servants of the church in your generation.  The baton is ours now.  May we run as you did.  May we take up where you left off.  May we be faithful still.

Grace and peace, with great thanks,

Harry

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June 8, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who saw, and spoke of, the unity of all people.

When the Babylonian exiles returned, they gathered as one person in Jerusalem, so says Ezra 3:1.

Wait!  One person?  The entirety of the previous chapter states there were 42,360 people who returned, some even mentioned by name and town.  How in the world could this many people be looked upon as one person?

It must have puzzled the translators of the New Revised Standard Version, the version of the Bible we use at church, because “as one person” is omitted.  Many other translations keep it in and, by doing so, it becomes a radical statement for our day and circumstance.  We don’t do anything, say anything, or believe anything “as one person” in our society, whether it be January 6^th, the last election, voting rights, gun violence prevention, the environment, infrastructure, immigration.  Pick a topic and we are divided.  And it is paralyzing us.

That’s why I am so intrigued by this “as one person” phrase, why it was put in and why translators chose to take it out.  I liken it to the phrase “common good” which we seem to have taken out of our vocabulary in recent years.  How do we know the “common good” when we hold so little in common?

So maybe we start here, then include Ezra chapter 2, and acknowledge all the different people, their names and towns and families, and try to see them “as one person.”  One of Thomas Merton’s famous insights might help.  On the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in downtown Louisville, he said “I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers.”

Might Fourth and Walnut be for us Grant and Griffin streets as we gather this Sunday morning at 11 am for worship on the triangle, under the tree, in front of the sanctuary doors, in-person, seeing one another again?

I don’t know if we’ll regard all of us gathered there “as one person,” or have Merton’s awareness, but merely coming together is a start, and how good that will be.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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June 4, 2021

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June 3, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, whose God is creating something new.

They “made a beginning.”  That’s what it says in the Book of Ezra, nestled in chapter 3, when the exiles from Babylon returned home to Jerusalem, to their homes, and to the Temple.

If I were in their shoes (sandals?) would I want to go back to the way things were before they were carted away some sixty or seventy years earlier?  Most were probably born in Babylon, knew nothing else, while the few who remembered Jerusalem probably had grand visions of what it once was, not the ruins they saw before them.

Wasn’t it a better time back then (no matter when that better time was)?  Memories often do that, not always, but often.   Memories keep us in the past, keep us doing the same old things in the same old ways because it must have been better then, right?  Remember the Hebrew slaves who, in their wilderness wanderings, thought it better to be back in Egypt, in slavery?

Surprisingly, the exiles didn’t think that way. Instead of reaching back to the past they “made a beginning.”  How might we “make a beginning” as we return from our own pandemic exile?

The previous chapter recounts, painstakingly but lovingly, all the people who returned, many listed by name, attached to a town, followed by the number of their descendants, totaling thousands upon thousands.  Do we remember the people in our community, and honor those who went before us?

Restoring the altar and Temple was a community project–no one person instigated it–as if worship was such a part of them that they simply did it.  Is this how we look at worship, as essential, as a place for all of us, while making room for people not like us?

Making a beginning can be joyous.  Ezra tells us all the people gave a great shout, singing and praising and giving thanks, when the foundation was laid, but others who had seen the original temple wept with a loud voice.  Weeping and shouting blended together.  There’s room for both.  Can we be ourselves in the joyous times as well as the weeping times?

Come then, after fourteen months in exile, and return this Sunday at 11 am outside the doors of the sanctuary, on the triangle where Grant and Griffin streets meet.  We’ll have a short 15-minute service, and be together again, to remember, and, yes, to “make a beginning.”

Grace and peace,

Harry

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May 27, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who calls us to remember and imagine.

Memorial Day weekend, 2021.  As many of us celebrate the beginning of summer this weekend it is good to remember why there is a Memorial Day in the first place.

It began shortly after the end of the Civil War, a war that took more lives than any in U.S. history.  Held on May 30^th until 1971 when it was changed to the last Monday in May, Memorial Day was originally known as Decoration Day, a time to decorate graves with flowers, hold family gatherings, and participate in parades.

So many people died in the Civil War–620,000 soldiers, along with an undetermined number of civilians– that it precipitated the need for the establishment of the first national cemeteries.

Now Memorial Day is a time to remember all who have died in U.S. wars.  Counts vary but one source says the number of deaths is 1,354,664 for both soldiers and civilians.  More than double this when you count the wounded.  Then multiply it by the number of families and friends who have grieved and suffered over these losses, without end.

My Dad would still be teary-eyed when talking about Sam, his best friend growing up, who was killed in the Battle of the Bulge, and receiving word of his death on Christmas Eve, 1944.

Sam had been planning to become a doctor.  Now imagine all the skills, talents, creativity, and ingenuity the world will never know, the cures never realized, the inventions never invented, the compassion and love never experienced and given.

And what about the millions of lives who never show up in our statistics, those who were killed who we deemed our enemies?  How jarring it is to hear Jesus tell us to love our enemies.  How hard it is to realize the destruction wars have brought upon all of creation.

So, yes, let us remember our fallen soldiers this weekend, but may we also imagine a world Jesus talked about, where we will one day put down our weapons and learn war no more.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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May 26, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ,

This is the final week of our Great Heritage-Bold Future Campaign.  Begun back in 2015 and, after two years of planning, it was launched in 2017, the year of our 150th anniversary.  Pledges and gifts, including those for the National Fund for Sacred Places campaign, total close to $2 million!

It has been an amazing, faith-filled effort from all of you to raise these funds to maintain and enhance our beautiful building, address crucial infrastructure concerns, support scholarships for our Child Development Center, and help homeless youth through the fine work of the non-profit organization Adelante.

Yet, we are not quite finished.  Anticipated work and ministry have been left undone because there is still $100,000 of outstanding pledges.

I recall an earlier building campaign, noted in the Book of Ezra, which chronicles the return of the exiles to Jerusalem after years of captivity in Babylon.  Chapter 3, verse 6 indicates that, “according to their resources” people gave “to the building fund sixty-one thousand darics of gold, five thousand minas of silver, and one hundred priestly robes.”

I’m not sure what a daric or a mina is, and I’m fascinated that one hundred robes were given, but, apparently, it was enough to get the work done.  Notice, though, “according to their resources.”  It is completely understandable, then and now, if circumstances have changed and one is unable to fulfill a pledge.

But if you just forgot, or have waited until the last minute, please consider fulfilling your pledge.  Even a daric or a mina, whatever they might be, would help as we put to use these gifts to enhance our ministry and its work in the world.

Regardless, the campaign closes this Monday, May 31, Memorial Day, and we end it with deep thanks to the leaders of the campaign, and much gratitude to all of you for making it such a fine success, and a part of our life and ministry these many years.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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May 18, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who took walks around the neighborhood, all the time.

Everyone now and again, a commencement speech catches my attention.  Like when Bob Hope addressed graduates years ago and simply said, “Don’t go.”

Then there’s the time three weeks ago when the Rev. Jimmie Hawkins, Director of the Office of Public Witness of the Presbyterian Church (USA), gave an online address to 25 graduates of Union Presbyterian Seminary in Richmond, Virginia, and said “Just as you have come out of the pandemic a different kind of disciple, so shall the Church.”

“The Church you go forth to serve will not be the same one you encountered when you began seminary,” Hawkins said. “The Church has demonstrated that it’s nimble, more so than anyone could have imagined. COVID did not destroy the church, but demonstrated the resiliency of people of faith, who are not as rigid as people might have imagined.”

It feels good to hear the Church is nimble and resilient!  I hope we are.  To avoid rigidity setting in it will no doubt take some stretching exercises.  Neck exercises so we can look in all directions.  Bending over to touch our toes instead of bending over backwards trying to do all that we did before.  Reaching our arms up and being surprised the sky is not the limit.

Hawkins gives us additional instructions: “If our congregations expect our churches to grow, they are going to have to reflect the diversity of their neighborhoods. If our denomination hopes to remain relevant, it must diversify in both leadership and constituency.”

OK, so maybe we do our exercises out there, in our neighborhood, and other places.  Stretch our legs a bit, and a lot.  Walk like Jesus did.  Meet people who are not like us.  “Lift people up,” to quote Hawkins one last time, “who have been beaten down.”

Sounds like this might be our own commencement address in a post-pandemic world.

Apparently, “Don’t go” is not an option.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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May 17, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who is always on the move.

Before we turn our attention this Sunday to Pentecost, let us look back at the Easter season.  What did we learn?

The one idea that won’t let me alone is this:  The new life, this transformed life, never lets us stay too long in one place.

Taking a cue from the fact that Jesus stayed in the tomb no more than two nights and a day, those who saw the empty tomb didn’t stay there but were on the move, running sometimes, telling people, witnessing, proclaiming, being blessed.

We read what happens when the disciples stay in their room, clinging to it, with the shades drawn and the door locked.  Jesus enters, as a spirit might not bothering with a door or a wall, and tells them “peace with you.”  In Greek, it means “to talk to each other again.  If you choose to sit, at least talk to one another.

Jesus moved on and his followers claimed to see him in many places.

At the very close of these post-resurrection appearances Jesus doesn’t say to build a church.  He doesn’t say to start forming committees.  He doesn’t say to write policies and creeds.

Jesus says go.  In Mark, Jesus tells scared women to go Galilee.  In Matthew he tells the women to go tell the other disciples in Galilee and then says to go forth into all the nations.  In Luke, they are to tell all the nations, beginning with Jerusalem, then Jesus takes them to the nearby village of Bethany and blesses them.  In John he says go tell the disciples he is alive.

Go, tell, bless.  As the pandemic loosens, where will we go, and what will we say when we get there?

Grace and peace,

Harry

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May 10, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who would often go to the mountains to pray.

Ghost Ranch.

Place of my earliest memory (when I was 1 1/2 years old in 1961).  Destination of many vacations growing up.  Focus of a few trips with my church in Ohio (after months of planning).  Site of great sorrow for it was here that my family and I heard that my brother Ray was killed in a car accident.  And now I am privileged to serve on its Board.

Ghost Ranch.

As I have profound memories of this sacred place, I am sure many of you do as well.  Our church has had close relationship with the Ranch through the years.  I remember well the Sunday when the son of Arthur Pack (editor of Nature magazine who gave the Ranch to the Presbyterian Church back in 1955) showed up in worship.  He was an old man by that time and when he introduced himself during our welcome time there were audible “oohs and aahs” echoing across the sanctuary.  In these parts the name Pack is royalty.

Ghost Ranch.

This spiritual retreat and educational conference center of the Presbyterian Church (USA) has offered thousands and upon thousands of courses and programs through the years.  It has been closed during the pandemic, except for online offerings, but is now opening for the summer.

And it has requested our help to get things ready for people to return.  Would you help?  We need one more person (or couple) for May 14-16 and four or five more for May 21-23.  Free room and board.  Come after dinner on Friday and leave after lunch on Sunday.  Please refer to the announcement which has been in the E-News for several weeks.

Ghost Ranch.

This is your opportunity to spend a few days in one of the most beautiful places in the world.  It’s free and it’s close to home.  Able to go?  Please contact Delicia in the church office, frontdesk@fpcsantafe.org.  Oh, I hope you will.  And take photos to share with the rest of us!

Grace and peace,

Harry

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May 7, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who teaches us what love means.

One Valentine’s Day a little boy gave a card to his teacher, but he was embarrassed by what it said so he scratched out the “I love you” and scribbled “I don’t mind you” instead.

“I don’t mind you” is not a many-splendored thing, nor does it inspire poetry or art or music.  Love does that.

But what is this love, the word used so many ways in our culture, and what does Jesus mean in John 15 when he says to “love one another as I have loved you”?

H. Richard Niebuhr, one of the great theologians of the last century, described this love in his book, The Purpose of the Church and its Ministry.

When we love one another, Niebuhr wrote, we rejoice just thinking about the other.

We accept the other for who he or she is.

We don’t try to refashion the person as a replica of ourselves.

We have a loyalty to the other’s cause.

We want what’s best for them.

Jesus did this for his friends.  The word translated “friend” (philos) is from the verb “to love a friend” (phileo).  When Jesus speaks of “friends,” he is really saying “those who are loved.”

Jesus announces this new understanding of their relationship as he is about to leave his disciples.  They become those who are loved.  Imagine if we regarded our friends this way?  And imagine if our friendship circles widened to include our neighbors, our community, our world?

Grace and peace,

Harry

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April 29, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who started a renewal campaign.

Who would think that vines could lead to a revolution?

I can’t believe it either, but there it is in John 15, the last of the “I am” statements in the gospel, where Jesus says, “I am the true vine.”  What?  Not quite making the connection?  Keep with me.  It took me some time to see it, too.

It starts with a vine.  The best grapes are produced closest to the vine where the most nutrients are concentrated.  Because the branches are apt to grow and wander all over the place, they are pruned so they stay close, allowing more and healthier fruit to grow.

It’s easy to wander.  How often do we spend our time on unimportant matters?  How often do we do “church things” that have nothing to do with the Reign of God, or with God’s love and justice and forgiveness?  Life is complicated and takes us in all kinds of directions, swirling and gnarling our way through the day, like vine branches.  Just look at your To-Do list or your checkbook (wait, do you still have one?) to see your priorities.  How do they look to you?

John says when we are pruned, when we stay close to the vine, to Jesus, we begin to bear fruit. Then amazing things happen.  Like Paul in the early church throwing off old ways and welcoming Gentiles.  Or St. Francis shunning wealth in order to love God’s creation, in a simple way, one animal and one bird at a time.  Then there’s the 16^th century reformers like Calvin and Luther who forged new paths of faithfulness, and the Anabaptists who sought change without resorting to any type of violence.  And what about the movements of the last two centuries, freeing slaves, women’s suffrage, child labor laws, nonviolence, and civil rights of all kinds?

The church has been involved in each one of these, and more.  Not because it was easy–oh, how easy it is to look the other way, or look inward—but because it stayed close to the vine, to Jesus, and acted out the Gospel message.

How are we staying close to the vine today?  How has the pandemic opened our eyes to new ways of spreading the Gospel’s clarion call to love more deeply and to care more profoundly?

Answering these questions can lead us to a renewal that brings not only vitality and hope but a new revolution that happens to be very old, of staying close to Jesus and his ways.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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April 27, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who walks with us in our fears.

I walked home alone.

It was the end of my junior year at Evanston Township High School, summer was almost here, baseball season had just ended, and I was told when I got home from school I would know if I really had Hodgkins Disease or not, an often fatal cancer with no cure at that time.

I frantically looked for friends as I hung around the outside doors.  We would walk the mile or so to school each morning but now they were nowhere to be seen.  So, I walked home alone, dreading that, and dreading, even more, what I would hear when I got there.

Would my life be over soon?  Would it be painful?  How do I say goodbye?  These questions pounded at me as I walked.  Wait, I am too young!  I feel perfectly fine.  I can’t be sick!  Can I?

“Abide in me as I abide in you,” reads this Sunday’s scripture from John 15.  Jesus gathers his disciples around him to prepare them for the hardships and death he is about to face.  He consoles them by inviting them to a deeper relationship and urges them to abide in him.  It’s a word of hope, not despair, and one of trust and reassurance, of finding one’s true home in Jesus, and the peace that this brings.

Looking back, would those words have made a difference as I approached my house?  Would reciting John have calmed me down?  Would I have known some peace?  And know it now?

My mom greeted me at the door.  I looked closely at her face for any sign of knowing.  She looked calm.  Maybe I will be Ok, I thought.  Maybe the earlier diagnosis was wrong?   Isn’t that right, Mom?!  Then she told me the results had not come back yet.  Maybe tomorrow.

Tomorrow came and, yes, I had cancer.  My life would change and I’m still trying to figure out whether it was good or bad that it did.  My journey has been filled with both, like all lives.

Still, I wonder sometimes what it would have been like if my friends had been there that day.  To walk with me.  To buffer the terror that I felt.  To soothe my anxiety.  Who’s to know?  And who’s to know if I really was alone?  Who’s to know whether Jesus walked home with me that day?  Or that he’s been walking with me ever since?

Grace and peace,

Harry

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April 22, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who walked by the sea, taught in fields and on mountainsides, and told us to notice the birds of the air.

I was eleven years old and living in Pasadena, California, when the first Earth Day was established.  It opened our eyes to the degradation we had caused and the harm looming before future generations if we did nothing about it.

By that time that day was recognized in the spring of 1970, I had lived in Pasadena for three years, and still longed for my old hometown of Wooster, Ohio, with its clouds, snow, trees, lakes, all things green, and air that was always clean (or at least I thought it was).

Only later years did I realize one major reason why I longed for Ohio.  It was the smog.

In Wooster, we had fog once in a while and it was fun and spooky.  Before we moved, I was told Pasadena had smog instead.  Fog and smog sounded very similar, but I soon experienced the difference.

Fog doesn’t make your lungs hurt when you walk five blocks home from school.  Fog doesn’t sting your eyes.  Fog doesn’t make it hard to catch your breath when you are playing.  Fog doesn’t cause an alarm to go off at school preventing you from going outside for recess.

Smog does.  The only thing smog had in common with fog was its ability to white out the 7,000-foot San Gabriel mountains two miles north of my home.  The smog was so bad that we couldn’t see them for days at a time.  Friends would visit from back east and comment after a week’s visit that they thought we lived by mountains.  Where might they be?

I understand the air quality in Pasadena is much better these days, and I am grateful for all the work that has led to that, but I also know there are countless places across the world today where it is just as bad or even much worse, where it hurts to breathe.

One day once a year won’t repair and restore the earth, of course, but I hope this Earth Day reminds us again of our responsibility to care for all God’s creation, to work and sacrifice so that all the world might know the sacredness of the earth, of its lands and seas and skies, and the holiness of being able to breathe, and to breathe deeply.

Grace and peace

Harry

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April 21, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who calls us to be a people of hope.

The jury just came back with a verdict on the killing of George Floyd.

My eyes are welling with tears.

For the family of George Floyd and all the other families of color who have endured the wrenching pain of losing a loved one and, until today, losing in the courts.

For all the people who woke up this morning, as Van Jones said on CCN, and dared to hope.

For all those who have marched in protest in the past year, and in all the years before, who dared to hope that their steps might lead to a renewed humanity, where all people are cherished, no matter our color or history.

For those who will continue to march, to organize, to challenge, to lift up, to hope, again, that justice will prevail and roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

For those who will be undaunted in keeping the dream alive, that we are born to live together in peace, to share our lives together, to lift people up and be lifted up by others, to join hands because when we do, we won’t hurt anyone, not on a corner in Minneapolis, not on a playground in Cleveland, not in an apartment in Atlanta, not in all the towns and cities and rural places of our nation.

For the determination of those who see this as a dawning of a new day, like the sun’s rising in a garden, and a tomb is empty.

For all of us living in the exile of injustice for too long, and who now see a path leading away from Babylon.

Oh, there is so much more work to be done but for now, for today, this moment, let’s hear the voice, again, that prepares the way of the Lord, where every valley will be lifted up, and all this uneven ground be made level, and the rough places a plain that leads to a better America.

My eyes are still welling with tears.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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April 19, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who opens our minds.

It is still the season of Easter and I am still offering thoughts on the marks of the resurrection.

We have looked at five thus far, all taken from John 20:1-19:  Peace comes when we talk to each other again.  We are to carry out Jesus’s message to the world and not keep it private.  Despite his doubts Thomas persisted and stayed within the fellowship of the disciples.  We come to realize Jesus acts the same way God does.  We believe in Jesus even though we haven’t seen him.

Now the sixth mark of the resurrection, this time from Luke 36b-48:  Our minds are opened to understand the Scriptures.

I hope we are doing this already.  I hope we open the Bible and read the stories there.  I hope we come to those stories not with our minds made up on what they mean, but are open to new interpretations, and the Spirit of God somehow getting between us and the words to help us see a different life offered there.

When I face a new sermon each week, sometimes I think I know what the scripture says so that my sermon will be easy.  When this happens, I am always, and I mean always, shown a different path.  The stories always take me in a different direction, despite my objections.  Did I say it happens every time?  Yes, every time.

I think this principle is also at work in how we approach the life and work of the church.  Whenever we say “this is how the church should be” or ‘this is what the church should be doing” it is best to step back and look at it anew.  Let Scripture inform us.  Let the stories of God open us to new understandings not available to us before.

We should be doing a lot of this kind of work in the days ahead as we begin to come out of the pandemic and “back to church.”  Many of our sacred ways of being and doing may not be where God is calling us now.  We will look different because we are different.

A sixth mark of the resurrection then, is to approach this re-formation that we are in with an open spirit, an open mind, with open eyes.  We never quite know where God is taking us and, boy oh boy, I don’t want to miss the ride.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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April 16, 2021

I have said those words as my own benediction at the end of every service I have led for the past 37 years.

The same blessing passed down from father to son, from generation to generation, back to the blessings of Jesus.  He gave many of them, and always different, from the Beatitudes to the one in the post-resurrection story of John 20:1-19:

Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe.

Jesus was addressing Thomas but is addressing all of us, from that moment to our own.

Jesus’s last blessing.  His last benediction.

We have not seen the Lord, as did Mary Magdalene, Peter, James, Thomas, and the others.  But we have an even greater blessing than they did.  They believed because they saw the resurrected Christ.  We are faithful to him without ever having seen him, because we believe the testimony others have given to us and because we may have experienced in our own lives the power of the resurrected Christ.

The fifth mark of the resurrection.

Grace and peace, to you who have not seen and yet believe.

Harry

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April 15, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who knew Thomas’ doubt, and our own.

Eight days after Easter the disciples were still in the house, still scared, and still behind locked doors.  Apparently, even the sight of Jesus was not enough to shake them into new life.

Let John take it from here:  Jesus came and stood among them, and he said, “Peace be with you all.”  Then he spoke to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and see my hand and place it in my side.”

Jesus was responding to Thomas’ earlier statement that he would not believe until he touched the wounds of Jesus.  Jesus invited him to do just that, and we expect to see Thomas’ hands reach out to Jesus.  But he doesn’t.  There’s no need.  Jesus is there and transcends any doubt he has.

Then comes the statement from Thomas that I promised you in my last letter, the greatest confession of faith recorded in the New Testament:  My Lord, and my God!

Jesus is Lord, Thomas exclaims, Lord of the world, the community, his own life.  But Thomas, in his statement, also sees Jesus as God, the one who speaks to us what God would speak, who acts in our lives as God would act, who guides as God would guide, who forgives us as God forgives.

My Lord, and my God.  The fourth mark of the resurrection.  That Jesus has a claim on us that reaches beyond our doubts, that goes so deep that we begin to see that Jesus is acting the way God does.  He is not merely a prophet, as some would have him, or simply a nice, kind man, or a man with a revolutionary spirit who lost to the Romans, who failed to overcome their control and oppression.

No, Thomas says, after much wrestling and tussling, he is my Lord, and my God. 

After much wrestling and tussling, what statement about Jesus might we make?

Grace and peace,

Harry

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April 14, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who helped Thomas to see.

Let’s reclaim Thomas.  He is perhaps the disciple most like us, and the one most aligned with our 21st century worldview.

Thomas was not with the other disciples when Jesus came into the room, according to the story in John 20:1-19.  When they told Thomas they had seen Jesus he was not ready to accept their testimony.  Unless I see in his hands the print of the nails and place my finger in the mark of the nails, and place my hand in his side, I will not believe.

“Will not” in Greek is a double negative and is the strongest statement of doubt a person can give.  Thomas gave it.  Welcome, Thomas, to our century!  We know what you mean.  We have so many words bombarding us all the time that they become cheap.  Truth has been attacked and in retreat.  We are forced to believe in only what we can see and touch.

It’s a hard place to be.  It makes our world smaller.  It makes us suspicious.  It makes us doubt other people’s experiences and beliefs and ideas.

The great thing about Thomas is this:  he persisted.  He needed a vision of triumph as vivid as the former vision of defeat; a vision of resurrection that could blot out the vision of the cross.  He didn’t leave.  He didn’t give up.  He didn’t disparage the others for their experience.

And most notably, Thomas did not break fellowship with them.  Henri Nouwen wrote in his Genesee Diary:  Although Thomas did not believe in the resurrection of Christ, he kept faithful to the community of believers.  In that community the Lord appeared to him and strengthened his faith.  I find this a very profound and controlling thought.  In times of doubt or unbelief, the community can carry you along; it can be the context in which you recognize the Lord again.”

So, Thomas gives us the third mark of the Resurrection:  despite his doubts, he persisted, and he stayed.  Otherwise, he would have missed proclaiming one of the great statements of the Christian faith.  Join me next time and we’ll find out what it is.

Until then, grace and peace,

Harry

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April 7, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who breathed new life into creation.

The second mark of the resurrected life:  Carry out Jesus’ mission in the world.

Now I know we are supposed to do this all the time, not just after Easter, but the story in John 20:1-19 makes it clear that we can’t stay in this Easter evening room.  It’s all about getting out beyond the locked doors of our lives.

As the father sent me, so I send you.  Notice who Jesus sends.  Disciples who try their best but still cower in locked rooms.  People like Peter who deny Jesus multiple times.  People who fall asleep in the garden and fall away when things get tough.

In short, Jesus sends people who heard this story for the first time in the early church, and people like you and me who have heard it most of our lives.

While this commissioning may seem daunting, we don’t go out empty-handed.  John tells us Christ’s spirit will be with us as we carry out his mission.

And then this:  John says, Jesus breathed on them.  The same word, you recall, means breath and spirit.  Jesus’s act carries us back to Genesis and God breathing life into the first human.

Jesus, acting in God’s stead, calls into being the new creation, when he breathes upon his disciples and bestows upon them the spirit of the new life.  Receive the Holy Spirit, he says.

With today’s pandemic mask-wearing we have reduced the number of people breathing on us.  With this story we have opened the door to a new life where we breathe in God’s spirit.

So, may we all take a deep breath today.  This second mark of Easter is all about a new creation that we proclaim to the world, with our voices, our actions, our ingenuity, our openness, and the very breath of our being.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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April 5, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, the one whom death could not contain.

Happy Easter!  Though we could not be together for the second year in a row, and singing those majestic hymns of Easter, I hope you still found reasons to proclaim, “He has risen!”

Happy Easter, then.  Which begs the question:  what exactly are we to be happy about?  I may not need to remind you, but I will:  Easter has its own season lasting until Pentecost Sunday, May 23.  It’s not over.  We have many weeks to explore the “happy” behind Easter.

We begin with John 20:19-31 which takes place the evening of Easter when the disciples have locked themselves in a room, perhaps the same room in which they had shared the last supper with Jesus only a few nights earlier.  They had come with Jesus to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover with him and instead found themselves immersed in the terrifying events of his arrest and crucifixion.

Even though they had heard from Mary Magdalene that Jesus was raised from the dead and that she had actually seen him, their only response was to lock the doors for fear that enemies of Jesus might come to arrest them and subject them to the same fate that he had suffered.

Then Jesus comes.  “Peace be with you,” he said as he entered the room, his resurrected body bearing the marks of pain and suffering from the cross.

The “peace” of which Jesus speaks is the “shalom of God,” to use the Old Testament phrase. It is life at its best, the sense of well-being, when heaven touches earth. “Peace” in Greek meant “to talk with each other again,” usually after some break in the relationship.  The relationship between Jesus and the disciples had been broken with their desertion and his death.  Now it is restored.  They are talking with each other again.  This is peace.  The first mark of Easter.

It must have been a joyful moment when the disciples saw Jesus and heard his offer of peace.  In this instant the Kingdom of God was fully present.

Happy Easter, then, that we might enjoy restored relationships and the peace that comes from talking to each other again.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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April 2, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who hangs on a cross today and the day loses its light.

This is my 100^th letter to you, dear saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places, and it falls on Good Friday, of all days.

It would have been tidier and more joyous if it arrived on Easter.  I suppose I could have planned better, or skipped today, so that Easter becomes the focus–spring and light breezes, bunnies and chocolate, and all such things.  Oh, yes, and new life.

We might imagine Jesus would have preferred to skip today as well, the darkest of days filled with humiliation and sheer pain.  But he didn’t and we can’t either, though most of us do.

One can’t experience new life without some kind of death.   It is the premise of Ignatian spiritual direction.  Of its four movements, the third one is placed in the Garden of Gethsemane for these few short days.  And it often takes the longest to get through.

Decide to follow Jesus to the cross and we, too, must go through some kind of death–a way of life, a belief, a habit, self-doubt, a goodbye.

Read the stories of the spiritual giants and moral leaders of our day and those past, and I would be very surprised if each of them did not go through some kind of death.  Gandhi, King, Mandela, Chavez all had those “Good Friday” experiences, and came out all the stronger and wiser.  It is one major reason why we remember them to this day.

So, we remember Jesus today.  In the dark.  Few of us would ever venture close enough to hear his seven last words or see the pain wracking his body.  Maybe all we can do is admit to the darkness at 3 pm.

There’s no benediction here.  No good words.  We’ve all had days like that.  This is one of those days.

Grace and peace, and the hope that Good Friday does not have the last word.

Harry

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April 1, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who challenges his disciples to follow him in the darkest of times.

Wednesday and Thursday of Holy Week are the start of those darkest of days, and test our resolve to continue with Jesus.

So far this week we could blend in with the “whole crowd” that “are “spellbound by his teachings.”  Now there are fewer people in the scenes with Jesus’ eye turning to us.  Will we stay awake tonight in the Garden of Gethsemane and follow Jesus to the cross, or will we fall asleep and fall away?

This is the third and decisive movement of spiritual direction in the Ignatian tradition.  If we follow Jesus it will lead to the cross but also, then, to new life.  The male disciples fall asleep, of course, and keep their distance from Jesus from this day forward.

Not so for the woman who anointed Jesus with costly ointment last night.  She has been regarded through the centuries as the first Christian, since she actually believed Jesus and his talk about his death and resurrection.  What a contrast she is, not only with Judas, but with all the disciples and, I dare say, with many of us.

Oh, there’s more to Thursday evening with each passing minute and story, bringing Jesus, and us, closer to the cross.  It’s all there in Mark 14.  I encourage you to read the story for yourself.  It’s meant to be experienced first-hand, and not through the filter of others.

I hope you will keep with it.  It’s easy to drop off about now.  These darkest of times can be hard to take.  Then there’s Good Friday tomorrow.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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March 30, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who is now in his final week.

We often don’t get going on Holy Week until Thursday with the last Supper and the Garden of Gethsemane.  But it is a full week for Jesus and the more we walk with him, the better we will understand the flow of the story leading to the cross and beyond.

Yesterday, the Monday of Holy Week, Jesus sees, then curses, a barren fig tree and proceeds into Jerusalem to cleanse the temple and overturn the tables of the money changers.

Today, Tuesday, is a busy day, taking up almost three chapters of Mark, 11:27-13:37, a total of 115 verses (the most of any day in Holy Week).  Two-thirds of Tuesday takes place on the large open-air courts and porticoes of the temple where Jesus debates temple authorities and their associates.  They hope to entrap Jesus and discredit him in the presence of the crowd.  Jesus holds his own.

It is on this day we hear Jesus tell his questioners, “Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s, and to God the things that are God’s.”  Hitler and his Nazi party, as well as monarchs through the ages, used this phrase to legitimate their authority.  American Christians used it during the civil rights era to criticize acts of civil disobedience.

It is on this day that a Scribe asks Jesus, “Which commandment is the first of all?”  Here is one of the few times that Jesus directly answers a question posed to him; to love God, not Caesar, above all else.  Then to love our neighbor as ourselves, refusing to accept as normative the divisions in our world, between the respectable and the outcast, rich and poor, friends and enemies, Jews and Gentiles.

It is on this day that Jesus watches a poor widow put her last two coins into the temple treasury.  It is not so much a picture of the woman’s devotion as it is an indictment of the temple system that manipulates the poor to give all they have.

Imagine if we skipped Monday and Tuesday?  We would miss Jesus standing up against the powerful systems that dominated and oppressed.

Stay with us.  There’s still more to come tomorrow.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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March 26, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who remained quiet when we might have chosen to talk.

My father wrote hundreds and hundreds of sermons throughout his 40-year ministry but the one I remember most was entitled “The Quiet Christ.”  I have looked for it since, even going through some boxes of his sermons, but I can’t find it.  The quiet Christ.  I was so moved by it when I was young.  I wish I knew what it said now.

We know in the trial, that Jesus said only “You have said so.”  With an array of trumped-up charges hanging over him he had nothing to say.  He remained silent.  The quiet Christ.

It is hard for us to imagine that an accused one would remain silent when given the opportunity to speak.   Our culture speaks all the time.  If the house is quiet, we turn on the TV just to hear someone talking.  We can’t wait to get a word in edgewise when someone else is speaking.  News programs are available 24/7.  Zoom meetings depend upon people talking and need mute buttons to keep us quiet.  We fill up our worship services with words, and more words.

Jesus, by contrast, does not speak again until he is on the cross.

Why not tell Pilate of his innocence?  Why not look at the crowd and remind them that he never said he was King of the Jews (indeed, he never used the phrase)?  Tell them again that he was preaching about, and living out, the Kingdom of God and its righteousness?  Give names of those he healed?  They would certainly vouch for him, right?

In reality, none of this would have made a difference.  Jesus knew that.  He had preached his sermons and did his healings and lived as he knew he should.  What good would words do now?  The system of domination and violence, in which he lived his entire life, would think little of his words in its constant pursuit to retain and increase power.

So, the quiet Christ.  What do you make of it?  Maybe Dad had an answer, but it’s lost to me now.  Maybe you have an idea, and we can discuss it.

Or maybe we need to sit in silence, even while the world is chattering, and simply watch and listen to the quiet Christ.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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March 25, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who was brought to a trial he could never win.

The system of violence has been on full display, most recently in Boulder and Atlanta, and on January 6 and practically every day throughout human history.  So, also, at Jesus’ trial Good Friday morning.

Barabbas was an insurrectionist and, as such, would do anything necessary to get rid of the Romans.  It is easy to see such people as strong and courageous, fighting for a cause.  Barabbas represents all of us who think that violence is necessary to achieve a goal.  It is our “go-to” response when situations get tough or confusing.

The chief priests incited the crowd and then the crowd does what crowds do.  Seldom is there a peaceful ending.

Barabbas’ name further confuses people into thinking violence is working for a noble cause.  Bar means “son of” and abbas, well, you guessed already.  It is the name Jesus used for God, an intimate name like Daddy or Papa.  Bar-abbas means “Son of God!”  Perhaps Mark is trying to tell us it is easy to glorify violence.  Perhaps Mark is trying to indicate the crowd was confused about who to pick: Barabbas the Son of God or Jesus the Son of God?  Violence is very good at convincing us that it really isn’t violence.

The crowd?  It was most likely carefully screened.  Only those who favored the Empire would ever make it through the guards into the palace of Pilate where this trial was taking place.  The violence system doesn’t do well with unbelievers.

Finally, Pilate.  He was the Governor of Judea from 26 to 36 AD and was responsible for two things:  collect taxes for Rome and quell unrest.  The emperor was always watching and would remove him immediately if he failed in either.  Judging by his long tenure, Pilate did his job well.  Any sympathy we might have for Pilate, seemingly caught in an awkward position and leaving the decision up to the crowd, is off base.  The trial was a sham.  Jesus didn’t have a chance.  The system was always going to win.

Except maybe not.  In my next letter we will look at Jesus and what he does to confront the violence system.

Until then, grace and peace,

Harry

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March 23, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who blessed those who mourn.

Another day, another shooting.  So far this year there have been 9,436 shooting deaths in the United States.  By the time you read this there will be more.  That’s 115 deaths a day.  Someone just asked if we are in a war zone.  Yes.  Just ask the residents of Boulder after 3 pm yesterday, and Atlanta last week.

Gun violence in America.  Can we name a place in our country that is free from it?   It is an epidemic seemingly without a resolution.  It is a self-inflicted wound.  It’s a myth that guns make us safer.  It has entrenched itself into the soul of America.

So, I sit here today remembering the ten who lost their lives simply because they went to a grocery store:  Denny Stong, 20; Neven Stanisic, 23; Rikki Olds, 25; Tralona Bartkowiak, 49; Suzanne Fountain, 59; Teri Leiker, 51; Kevin Mahoney, 61; Lynn Murray, 62; and Jody Waters, 65.  I remember Officer Eric Talley, 51, father of seven, who went to protect them.

May we remember their names more than we remember the shooter.  I hope we also remember their families, their friends, and their communities.

Then, how might we help?  What can we do to stop this gun violence?

I think about Boulder which had its ban on assault weapons struck down by a Colorado judge ten days ago.  I worry about New Mexico which finds it hard to pass any real gun violence prevention legislation.  I mourn over our nation which is apparently fine with electing leaders who do not regard gun violence prevention as important, let alone a priority.

Then, I think about what it means to follow Jesus who taught and lived non-violence.  At his trial before Pilate the crowd chose Barabbas, the one who used violence, over Jesus, the one who didn’t.  Why?

I have to admit, I am having a hard time now imagining what a society free from gun violence looks like.  And it’s getting harder every day.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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March  22, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who was brought to a courtroom to be tried by Pilate.

In a few days it will be Palm Sunday, a high point in Jesus’ popularity, and one of the few times we can act out a Biblical story by waving palms and shouting “Hosanna,” which means “Save us!”

But this time, and for the second year in a row, we will not do so at the Plaza.  But maybe that’s OK.  Maybe this year we need to be elsewhere.  Like the trial of Jesus.  We usually get to skip this scene, along with all the other stories of the Passion which take the entirety of chapters 14 and 15 in Mark, but it is to our detriment.

For casual onlookers, the final days of Jesus go straight from palm waving to the empty tomb with barely a shrug.  But the stories in between are some of the most consequential of our faith.  Some traditions promote the reading of these two chapters in their entirety in worship at one sitting.  The story is powerful and needs no elaboration.  We will do this at our video Maundy Thursday Tenebrae service again this year.

For the remainder of this week, in my letters to you, I will focus on the main characters in this courtroom scene:  Barabbas, Pilate, Jesus, and the crowd.

There is no indication the disciples were present at the trial.  And if they were, their voices were not heard above the din of the crowd.  Perhaps they were just ignored.   No matter.  We need to be there.  We need to witness what happened that day.

We won’t be waving palms, surely, but perhaps we might still sing “Hosanna.”  Staying with Jesus through his trials, in the courtroom and soon on the cross, may provide a key to experience what “save us” is all about.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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March 18, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who proclaimed that the Kingdom of God is near.

Six predictions for the post-pandemic church.

This title of a magazine article caught my eye as it touches on a topic I have been thinking a lot about over the past year.  And writing about.  And just beginning to read about.

And what we will soon Zoom about.  We are privileged to have John Buchanan, who served as pastor of Chicago’s Fourth Presbyterian Church for 27 years, sharing his ideas on the post-pandemic Church beginning Sunday morning, April 18, 9-9:50 am on Zoom.  If anyone can help us, John can!  Among his leadership in so many areas of the Presbyterian Church, he served as Editor of The Christian Century, one of the flagship magazines of the Christian Church.

That’s where this article comes from.  It was written by Peter W. Marty, son of noted church historian Martin Marty, senior pastor of St. Paul Lutheran Church in Davenport, Iowa, and the current editor/publisher of The Christian Century. 

Peter was also a good friend and classmate at Yale Divinity School.  I looked him up online just now and read paragraph after paragraph of his accomplishments since we graduated.  A bit daunting to imagine someone doing so much in his life all while being senior pastor of a 3500-member church.  Thank you, Peter, for sharing your many talents and gifts!

And, also, your predictions for the post-pandemic Church:  1.  The social capital connected with congregational life will be increasingly valuable in a post-pandemic culture.  2.  Worship during the pandemic has taught us that churches can be liberated from a fixation on counting.  3.  Our extended experience with the virtual church may allow us to appreciate our buildings as hubs for mission without idolizing them.  4.  There is some outsize work ahead for pastoring in an age of conspiracy and disinformation.  5.  Intimacy, proximity, and personal presence will carry more genuine authority in a post-pandemic church than touting a large (virtual) platform.  6.  The long pandemic gap should have congregations eager to address racial inequity, unconscious bias, and the everyday experiences of Black Americans.

There is much ponder and discuss, much to get our heads and hearts around, and much to prepare for, but also much to be excited about as we move, hopefully soon, out of the pandemic and into a world God has waiting for us.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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March 17, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who offers an alternative vision to a world of domination, violence, and death.

I think it would be better to hold up a placard with “John 12:31” on it.

If you remember last week, John 3:16 was the focus of my message.  You may also remember back in the 1980s when a rainbow-wigged man would hold up a sign with John 3:16 on it.  “For God so loved the world,” the famous verse begins.

But I think John 12:31 is better for our time: “Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out.”  Here’s why:

Charles L. Campbell, Professor Emeritus of Homiletics at Duke Divinity School, suggests “the world” (kosmos in Greek) is not describing God’s creation but rather an “organized opposition to God’s purposes through structures and institutions that hold humans captive to its ways.”  He suggests Kosmos be translated as “The System” which is driven by a spirit or force that John calls the “ruler of this world.”

To me this definition, like a spotlight, shines understanding on what Jesus was seeking to accomplish throughout his ministry.  He was exposing “the System.”  Consumerism, which promises the more we buy the happier we will be, also often relies on sweatshops.  The domination system set up for winners and losers often perpetuate racism and sexism.  The myth of redemptive violence may be the most powerful of all, that violence in any and all of its forms can bring about peace and reconciliation.

What other parts of “the System” can we identify?  How might we expose them and bring them to the light of day so that they lose their power?  Dr. King exposed the ugliness of racism and white supremacy through images of firehoses and dogs turned on black men, women, and children, splashed across the television for all the world to see.  What might we do?

John 12:31 says that Jesus will drive out the ruler of this world, though we know “the System” won’t go away so easily nor without a fight.  Unfortunately, a “John 12:31” sign at a sporting event won’t be enough.  It still takes a cross, a death in some form, then new life, and followers of the Jesus’ Way who continue to lift up, and live out, God’s alternative vision for the world.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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March 15, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who encouraged people to see life in a new way.

The church, and about everything else, closed its doors a year ago this past week.  What lessons have we learned since then in the midst of the pandemic?

Here’s one:  In facing all the constraints put upon us we have found ways to adjust.  Some is by sheer necessity.  Others have arisen from creativity, imagination, patience, and forgiveness.  Much of what we do now comes from Zoom.  Who would have guessed?

Remember St. John’s Episcopal Church in Lafayette Park?  The church where the former President stood in front of its sign, holding a Bible upside down, after the area was cleared of protesters with tear gas and rubber bullets?

Yes, that one.  Known as the Church of the Presidents and in close proximity to the White House it has had to ask serious security questions since that day.  How do we address the security of the building and still have our arms open to all people?

St. John’s, already a victim of an earlier fire in a basement bathroom, was concerned about their priceless stained-glass windows being harmed.  So, here’s what they did:  They put plywood over the windows and hired graffiti artists in the neighborhood to paint them one Saturday when they invited the surrounding community to come and enjoy a food, music and games outside and socially-distanced.

Not only was the neighborhood invited to be part of their community, but the Smithsonian  plans to display the plywood “windows” once they are no longer being used so all can see the creativity of these moments.

What ways might we be creative in these times of the pandemic and beyond?  How might we imagine our own constraints (indeed, the Greek word for sin means “all that constrains you”) and obstacles as opportunities for innovative ministries that reach out into the community?

While others only saw a tired and constrained life, Jesus saw new life in a new creation and left us footprints to follow him.  While the Smithsonian probably won’t be calling us, it will still be great fun to put on some walking shoes and see where Jesus takes us.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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March 9, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, whose “God so loved the world.”

The bullet was stopped by a two-inch metal strip right below the window on the driver’s door.

Otherwise, a year ago yesterday on our way to celebrate our birthdays with family in Tucson, my wife Jenny would have been injured or possibly killed, heaven forbid, by a random bullet aimed at our car as we exited I-25 to get gas at Santa Domingo Pueblo.

It left us stunned, then grateful we weren’t hurt, then angry that someone would do such a thing, then dismayed that shootings happen with such frequency that few are news-worthy anymore, then mad again that legislators are doing so little to keep guns away from those who should not have them.

While we escaped tragedy, the shooter escaped as well, yet to be found.  And our state and national legislators continually escape taking a stand on gun violence prevention.

Just yesterday I was told the Senate decided not to advance a bill that would strengthen the ERPO (Extreme Risk Protection Order) law that temporarily removes firearms from a person who poses a significant danger to others.  The current law is very weak, and was intended to be.

I have been involved in gun violence prevention for almost two decades, first in Ohio and now here, but never before has a gun and its lethal power touched us so closely.  Never before has a gun almost killed my wife.

New Mexicans to Prevent Gun Violence, of which I am co-founder and co-president, is an all-volunteer group of wonderful people dedicated to preventing gun violence through a many-pronged approach, including education, gun buy-backs, legislation, and working with youth.  We encounter victims of gun violence in our work, but never before could I imagine what it is like for the countless people who have lost loved ones or been injured and traumatized themselves.  Now I can.  All because a person who shouldn’t have a gun had one.

Oh, Jesus, what do we do?  Will calling our elected officials do any good?  Will conversations about peace make any difference?  What do we do when God so loves the world, but we are still shooting each other?  Oh, Prince of Peace, what do we do?

Grace and peace, with deep gratitude that Jenny is alive and well and we could celebrate our birthdays together again this year.

Harry

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March 8, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who never attended a church committee meeting.

Idea #2:  Transform meetings into opportunities for deepening faith and renewing the church.

Last Friday I began offering ideas (Idea #1:  Child-honoring) for all of us to ponder and envision as we move through the pandemic in order to discern who we are, who we want to be, and what we should be doing as a faith community.

So, committee meetings.  In the first decades of ministry, I was out an average of two or three nights a week at church meetings.  That’s what a pastor does, right?  Growing up in a clergy family, I hardly remember a night when my Dad was not out at some committee meeting.  When my oldest brother was young, he insisted on attending a meeting to see where Dad was all the time, and he reportedly came back disgusted, saying it was “just a big talk-out.”

We can do better and be more faithful doing it.  The theme of my doctoral thesis back in the early 1990’s was “How to Run Effective and Efficient Committee Meetings” (you can tell by the title that those I attended mostly were not) but the focus soon changed from being effective and efficient to being faithful and life-giving.

In my previous church in Ohio, we began meeting in coffee houses and homes.  We always had food in front of us.  We shared stories.  Talked about scripture.  Laughed a lot.  Built friendships.  We changed the name committee to ministry or some other word that best fit the group.  We had fun together.  Other people wanted to join.  We looked forward to the next gathering.  And amazingly, we still did the work of the church, better and more faithfully.

I tried to promote this when I came to Santa Fe but apparently it wasn’t the right time.  Maybe Zoom has allowed us to see that meetings can be done in a different way.  I hope so.  I hope we might be open to new ways of being church that transforms the way we meet and live together.

As I reflect on the stories of Jesus, he didn’t spend his time in “big talk-outs” as much as he did at meals, telling stories, listening to people, addressing their needs, and sharing the good news that they are loved deeply, ever so deeply.

What if this was our experience of church?

Grace and peace,

Harry

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March 3, 2021

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March 2, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who often went to a lonely place to pray.

Open to the guidance of the Holy Spirit.

These words, coming directly from the Foundations of Presbyterian Polity in our Book of Order, preface our mission statement.

These words are essential to what lies ahead.  No matter what we do, how well we plan, how prepared we think we are for the days ahead and those beyond the pandemic, without being open to the guidance of the Holy Spirit we will find ourselves, well, wandering in the wilderness.

To be open to the Holy Spirit means we have some discerning to do.  Discernment, according to Charles M. Olsen in his book, Transforming Church Boards into communities of spiritual leaders, means to “see” or to “know” or to “acknowledge” what is.  ‘Through questions, silence, reason, dreams, and images we begin to see what God is up to.  We can’t completely describe it or control it.  It is to see the movement of God, perhaps only in the dust kicked up by the wind.  It is to see from God’s perspective.  The discernment process is one of uncovering the decision—not of making it.”

There are many decisions before us.  What we will keep, what we will add, what we will leave behind?  Last week I wrote about child honoring.  What else will we add to our list?  What is God calling us to be and do?  What will be transformed?  How will we be transformed?

Who are we to presume the will of God?  Discernment is mysterious, elusive, and perhaps the most difficult road we can take.  It is also the most faithful.

With all the uncertainty of our days, and fears for the future, I can think of nothing better, or harder, than to be open to the guidance of the Holy Spirit.  May we do this together in the days to come.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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February 26, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who welcomed children into his arms.

We change the world by honoring our children, all the world’s children.

This is the premise of a book, suggested to me by a church member, entitled, Child Honoring:  How to Turn this World Around.   It is edited by Raffi Cavoukian, known the world over as Raffi, songwriter, singer, and children’s advocate.  Included is a Forward written by the Dalai Lama, and writings by experts on societal transformation based on honoring our youngest and “most vulnerable players.”

Sad to say, we aren’t very good at doing this.  One in six children live in poverty, the highest of any age group in the United States.  Of 41 nations ranked on child poverty, the United States was fourth from the bottom.  We seem to struggle with “all things children” from teacher pay and struggling public schools to the high levels of toxicity in our environment.  The list is long and outlines how we have failed our children through our nation’s priorities and policies.  As I write this, I can’t get out of my mind the images of children placed in cages in detainment centers on our border.

Thank you, then, to our Child Development Center (CDC), for your amazing and dedicated work in teaching children and supporting their families.  Thank you, the congregation of the First Presbyterian Church of Santa Fe, for continuing to support the CDC when many church-based schools have closed.  Thank you to our children’s and youth ministries, and the adults who lead, guide, and support them and their families.

In the coming weeks and months, as we hopefully come out of the pandemic and begin to use our building again, I will be offering ideas on what our church might look like.  What will we take with us from our pre-pandemic days?   What will we leave behind?  What new things might take us deeper and further into our faith and farther into the community?

I can think of no better place to start than to do to some child honoring, which, if Raffi is right, might indeed transform the world.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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February 25, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who welcomed children into his arms.

We change the world by honoring our children, all the world’s children.

This is the premise of a book, suggested to me by a church member, entitled, Child Honoring: How to Turn this World Around.   It is edited by Raffi Cavoukian, known the world over as Raffi, songwriter, singer, and children’s advocate.  Included is a Forward written by the Dalai Lama, and writings by experts on societal transformation based on honoring our youngest and “most vulnerable players.”

Sad to say, we aren’t very good at doing this.  One in six children live in poverty, the highest of any age group in the United States.  Of 41 nations ranked on child poverty, the United States was fourth from the bottom.  We seem to struggle with “all things children” from teacher pay and struggling public schools to the high levels of toxicity in our environment.  The list is long and outlines how we have failed our children through our nation’s priorities and policies.  As I write this, I can’t get out of my mind the images of children placed in cages in detainment centers on our border.

Thank you, then, to our Child Development Center (CDC), for your amazing and dedicated work in teaching children and supporting their families.  Thank you, the congregation of the First Presbyterian Church of Santa Fe, for continuing to support the CDC when many church-based schools have closed.  Thank you to our children’s and youth ministries, and the adults who lead, guide, and support them and their families.

In the coming weeks and months, as we hopefully come out of the pandemic and begin to use our building again, I will be offering ideas on what our church might look like.  What will we take with us from our pre-pandemic days?   What will we leave behind?  What new things might take us deeper and further into our faith and farther into the community?

I can think of no better place to start than to do to some child honoring, which, if Raffi is right, might indeed transform the world.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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February 24, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who began to teach us that he must undergo great suffering.

“Get behind me, Satan.”

This well-known phrase, found in Mark 8:33, Sunday’s lectionary text, stands out from other Jesus quotes.  Here he seems angry, equating Peter with Satan.  It is a bit startling, as if Jesus had finally had enough of Peter’s talk, of his disciples, of the whole crazy idea of starting on the road with these erstwhile companions.

But hold on.  Not quite.  The phrase means getting behind Jesus.   It means not getting out in front of him.  That is one of the great temptations, is it not, to think that we have the answers, and they are better than Jesus’ take on life?  Didn’t Jesus live 2,000 years ago in a simpler time?  We know what’s best for us now in this challenging, whirlwind of a world we live in, right?

It’s the same attitude that brought people to the Capitol on January 6 with Jesus flags waving, believing they were storming those hallowed halls with his blessing.  They had gotten out in front of Jesus, believing they could speak and act in his name.

Peter thought so, as well.  It was all glory for Peter in the first seven-plus chapters of Mark, watching Jesus with pride and wonder as he healed and taught, with great crowds following him.  It’s a pretty heady time for all of them, all glory and no suffering.  Who wouldn’t want that?

Jesus, for one.  Mark 8:31-38 is a pivotal point in the Gospel, a crossroad, a moment when we understand the Gospel is not all fellowship and community, healing and hope, but more like carrying a cross, a frightful symbol back then, a burden fraught with sorrow, fear, and death.

This is all part of the Lenten journey.  Do we decide at this point to keep following Jesus or do we say we’ve had enough, that the ride’s been fun so far but now is the time to hop off?

Before you make up your mind, did you catch something else Jesus said?  The disciples had no response to it, as if they didn’t or couldn’t hear it then, but nestled in all the words about rejection and death was “after three days he would rise again.”  They missed it, even at the empty tomb.  Will we as well?

Grace and peace,

Harry

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February 22, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who showed us a God who will never, ever let us go.

The man who saved my life died last Tuesday.

John Detterick was a leader in the Presbyterian Church (USA), headed the General Assembly Council (now the Presbyterian Mission Agency) for eight years and before that the Board of Pensions for five years.  Prior to these denominational church roles he was President of the Sears Financial Corporation and a member of the First Presbyterian Church in Lake Forest where I served as an Associate Pastor in my first call.

John was there in my darkest days when seemingly all options had run out in my struggle with Leukemia.  After John left Lake Forest for Philadelphia to lead the Board of Pensions, a drug of last resort, Interferon, appeared to show some promise but its cost was astronomical, and insurance would not pay for it.  Desperate, I called John for help and advice–I had nowhere else to turn—and after listening to my story he said he would see what he could do.  The next day he called to say that the Board of Pensions would pay for the Interferon treatments, which turned out to be over nine years of nightly shots.

John literally saved my life, as did Interferon, the Board of Pensions, the doctors and nurses who cared for me at Rush-Presbyterian St. Luke’s Hospital in Chicago, the congregations I served in Lake Forest, then Cleveland, my family, friends, and even nuns in Germany who were praying for me.  They, all of them, carried me on their shoulders when I didn’t feel I could go on anymore myself.

When I arrived in Santa Fe over nine years ago, lo and behold, John was moderator of the Presbytery.  He had grown up in Las Vegas, NM, and had come back home after his retirement in 2006.  Years later, when doctors gave him 3-6 months to live, he stretched it into six years, all the way to last Tuesday, proving that a diagnosis would not define him, in the same way those out-of-reach medical bills would not be the final words of my life.

Thank you, John, for your amazing, faith-filled life, how you made it possible for me to keep on living, how you kept going yourself, and the many ways you exemplified a loving, compassionate, life-giving Church along the way.

Grace and peace to you, John, and to your family that includes so many of us.

Harry

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February 18, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who was tended by angels in the wilderness.

Whatever you do, don’t hit it up the middle.

These words came back to me yesterday at the start of Lent as I often equate it with the start of spring training.  Both are a time of preparation and both herald the coming of spring (Lent is the shortened form of the Old English word lencten, meaning “spring season”).

So, I walk to home plate with those words from my manager in my head.  “Whatever you do . . .”  It was the final game of the Cleveland Indians Fantasy Camp at their training facility in Florida when the old pros played the campers.  My Ohio congregation had given me this week as recognition of my ten years of service with them.

On the mound was legendary pitcher, Bob Feller, “Rapid Robert,” regarded by many as one of the top five pitchers in baseball history, who once threw a pitch in 1946 clocked at 107.6 mph.  Sixty years later, when I stood at the plate reciting over and over, “don’t hit it up the middle,” he was 87 and his once famous high leg kick was reduced to a few inches off the ground and his first two pitches to me bounced in front of the plate.

The third pitch was low and inside, but I swung anyway, taking what could be my only chance to avoid a walk, hitting a one-hopper to short that was hit so hard I barely made it half-way down the line before I was called out.  Others might say I was simply slow.

No, I didn’t hit it up the middle, though I did visualize tomorrow’s headlines, “Fantasy Camper Knocks Out Legend Bob Feller.”  Yet I did feel like I had hit a home run by talking with him throughout the week (he called me “The Rev,” a nickname that soon caught on), and the time I overheard him remark about “The Rev’s” ability on the field.

Bob Feller, who lived in a beautiful house a mile from my home east of Cleveland, died of leukemia four years later.  One day, after leading a graveside service in a small cemetery in the woods south of his house, I wandered past a grave marker with a lone baseball on a small pedestal.  No name.  No dates.  No words.  I asked the funeral director about it.  “That’s Bob Feller,” he told me.  Yes, that’s Bob Feller.

Grace and peace to you on our Lenten journey, with thanks to Bob Feller and how my life intersected with his in this very small way, reminding me how lucky I am to have met him, and that I did not hit it up the middle.

Harry

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February 16, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who went out into the wilderness for forty days.

February 16^th throughout history has been a rather non-consequential day.  There is nothing about it to celebrate.  It is no 9/11 or January 6, November 22, or August 6.  If anything, it is a “day before” kind of day as we look to Ash Wednesday tomorrow and the beginning of Lent.  Even today’s Mardi Gras is shut down in New Orleans due to Covid.  Places here in Santa Fe are shut down due to snow.

Yet today is important, nonetheless, as we decide whether or not to embark on our annual Lenten journey.  The forty-day trip, not including Sundays, will take us to the early morning of Easter and the empty tomb.  For the early church it was a time of preparation and penitence, not giving up chocolate or losing weight.

For us it just might be the day we decide to deal with our biggest temptation of all.

Mark 1:9-15, the lectionary reading for Sunday, holds within it the temptation of Jesus in the wilderness.  It’s only two verses, 12 and 13, but is profoundly important for Jesus, and for us.  The scene is the final one before Jesus embarks on his ministry.  Forty days alone save for wild beasts, angels waiting on him, and Satan’s temptation.

The temptation?  Unlike Matthew, Mark does not say, but the verb he used indicates the temptation before Jesus was to use one’s own powers for ministry and not God’s, to believe oneself so strong that he did not need God, or so weak that not even God could help him.

The next time Jesus would be tempted in this way would be in the Garden of Gethsemane.  But the power of that temptation must have stayed with him each day of his ministry, for he advised his disciples to pray that God would not lead them into temptation.  We pray the same prayer.

Is this our temptation as well, thinking we can go it alone, that we have the power to accomplish what we want, or that life is simply futile and the challenges too great?

I need some time to ponder this.  Maybe forty days, maybe longer.  Will you join me?  We can start tomorrow.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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February 12, 2021

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February 9, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who reminds us in life and in death we belong to God.

My Mom died five years ago today.

She had suffered from Parkinson’s for the last twenty years of her life, enduring it valiantly, with grace, and without complaint, at least as far as I knew.  We all watched with dismay and grief as she gradually lost her ability to function, to talk, to move, to communicate.  One of the last things she told my Dad, when her speech was still intelligible, was “I am so thankful.”

It was Mom who first called me one night in Cleveland about the opening at this church.  Reading from the ad in Christian Century magazine she concluded with “Doesn’t this sound like the right church for you?”   A lot of conversations, synchronicities, trips, deliberations, excitement, and meeting wonderful people led us here, but it all began with Mom.

My family and I sat by Mom’s bedside as she slowly drifted to another place.  Days went by and I delayed my return to Santa Fe until my family told me to go back home.  Mom knows you love her.  You need to get back.  Among other things, I was scheduled to give the opening prayer for the New Mexico Senate.  I finally relented.  I saw her one last time alone, said my goodbye, and flew home from Kalamazoo.

Two days later I received a call from my brother.  I looked at the clock from the front of the Senate Chamber and it said 11 am (the same time that I am writing this, it turns out) and I told Richard Murphy, then chaplain of the Senate who was sitting next to me, that my Mom had just died.  He offered to do the prayer, but I said I could still do it and I did, after first telling the senators what had just happened.

To my surprise, a few moments later the Senate President led the entire Senate in a moment of prayer, for Mom.

Mom did amazing things in her life and now, at its end, a farm girl from central Ohio is being remembered by the New Mexico Senate.  How cool and wonderful.

And how thankful I am today for my Mom.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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February 4, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who saw “the whole city gathered around the door.” (Mark 1:33)

People who lived in the surrounding area of Simon’s house had just heard of Jesus’ healing powers, his exorcising a demon in the synagogue earlier that day and now curing Simon’s mother-in-law of fever, and that evening they came to him with their illnesses and distress.

The word Mark uses for “cure” is therapeuo from which we get the word therapy.  It did not originally mean “to cure” or “to heal” the sick but “to treat” them.

Wait!  Jesus didn’t heal everyone who came to him?  You mean, some may have limped away the same way they came?  Some still couldn’t hear?  Or see?  We’ll never know.

What I do know is this:  we can be healed without cancer ever leaving our body, our heart repaired, or our eyes able to see again.  Healing can come when someone spends time with you, truly listens without interruptions because you and your story are supremely important.  Healing can come from touch, like what Jesus did earlier in the story when he took Simon’s mother-in-law by the hand and “lifted her up” (the same word Mark used for Jesus’ resurrection in 16:6).  Healing comes when someone says your illness is not your fault, as was often believed in Jesus’ day and sometimes in our own.

I still see the counselor in front of me, years ago, when I told him (I didn’t mean to; it just came out of my mouth) I believed I was responsible for my cancer.  I started to explain my misguided reasoning and he stopped me, looked straight into my eyes and said, “Harry, you are not responsible for getting cancer, nor do you have the power to cause it.”  Immediately, tears poured out, I couldn’t control them, and with them the silent weight I had been carrying for years.  (Even in this moment of remembering my eyes are welled with tears.)

What if we were to become “treaters,” listening deeply, responding with compassion, being present for others, remembering Jesus who did the same?  We could leave other healing to God, to Jesus, to others.

In a world like ours, what if we knew that healing can really happen, in all kinds of ways?

Grace and peace,

Harry

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February 2, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who healed Simon’s mother-in-law in her home.

“As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house . . .”

Thus, a new story begins in the fast-paced opening chapter of Mark’s Gospel and reflects the early Christian movement where many of Jesus’ followers came from the synagogues and began meeting in homes.

Here, Jesus goes to a home and heals Simon’s mother-in-law.  Then, that evening after the Sabbath had passed, Mark says the “whole city” was gathered around the door bringing “all who were sick or possessed with demons.”

So much for our thinking that church is a single, separate building.   So much for our thinking that we “do church” on Sunday mornings then go about the rest of our lives the rest of the time.  So much for our thinking that the church has only one address.

We know all too well the pandemic has taken our faith community from a church building into our homes.  Yet, how good to know it is scriptural and the natural meeting place of the church community!

How and where has church changed for you since the pandemic began?  For me, my church work, aside from venturing into the sanctuary twice a week to video worship, centers around my kitchen table laden with laptop, cell phone, papers, files, Zoom meetings, and books.

In some ways our church has been ahead of this trend through ministries such as Second Family and the “We’re Neighbors” ministry of the Deacons.  What other ways are we moving beyond traditional church boundaries?

Covid is changing the way we are the church.  While we look forward to getting back to our beautiful church building, we are also experiencing church right now, much like the early Christians, when Jesus leaves a church structure and meets us at home.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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January 28, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, whose God can surprise us in unexpected ways.

What is God calling us to be and do, here and now?

Apparently, according to a recent Google search, First Presbyterian Church of Santa Fe is a Senior Poodle Rescue!

No, I’m not kidding.  We put in a search for “Senior Poodle Rescue near me” a few days ago and our church showed up behind Feline and Friends New Mexico and Santa Fe Animal Shelter and Humane Society.  We even received 12 hits!

I have no idea why we would show up on such a list (we ranked third!), unless our little dog Pippin, a Poodle mix, had something to do with it.  Maybe he feels showing up in our worship videos has rescued him in some way.  Or being showered with love when he enters the church building.

If you have any ideas let me know.  Throughout scripture God is often rescuing people.  Maybe you have been rescued as well?  While the church does many things I don’t often (or often enough) think of it as a place of rescue.  Maybe I should.  Maybe Google and Pippin are on to something.

The pandemic is forcing us to look at who we are, again, and what we do, right now and in the post-pandemic world to come.  We’ll talk about it this Sunday at our 9:00 am Acts II class called “Christ and Culture.”  This question will stay close as we continue ministry in these challenging times.

I expect we will keep the many good things we do as a church, be led to others, and leave some  things behind.  I’m just not sure what to do with a senior poodle rescue.

Grace and peace,

Harry

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January 22, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, who called disciples by the Sea of Galilee.

All the oaths, songs, poems, and speeches are now a few days old.  Tough days lie ahead with crises on many fronts.

What do we do now?

Jesus tells us to follow him.  If we did, we might gain our sense of direction.

Jesus takes his new followers to Capernaum, to a synagogue where he heals a man with an unclean spirit, and people are amazed.  When was the last time you were amazed?

Then Jesus takes us to the house of Simon and Andrew and heals Simon’s mother-in-law.  How might we bring healing to our families?

That evening, at sundown, the whole city is gathered around the door and Jesus cures many who are sick and casts out many demons.  How might we bring healing to our community?

The next morning, while it is still dark, Jesus goes to a deserted place to pray.  Have we prayed?

His disciples find him and tell him everyone is searching for him.  Are we searching for him?  Has he found us yet?

He then takes them to neighboring villages and proclaims the message to them.  Do we know his message?  Do we proclaim it?

And this is just the opening hours of his ministry!

Jesus calls us to follow him.  What if we really do?  And what healing might take place?

Grace and peace,
Harry

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January 20, 2021

Dear Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus Christ, on a day when a new President is being inaugurated.

“Now after John was arrested.”

I think we all might imagine what follows these words from Mark 1:14.  “Now after John was arrested Jesus goes into hiding afraid for his life.  Hopes are dashed.  All the ideals of John have been squelched, his voice silenced, despair covers the land, and God grows quiet.”

But that’s a 2021 mindset speaking.  It’s the 21^st century speaking, and every other century before it chiming in.

What Mark tells us is completely different.  Surprising.  Refreshing.  In the darkest of times (make no mistake, the arrest of John, Jesus’ mentor and forerunner, was a profoundly dark moment) Jesus didn’t give in to despair but comes to Galilee proclaiming good news saying, “the time is fulfilled, and the Kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe the good news.”

So for us.  The time is now.  It is not the best of times but it is our time.  God’s time.  And God’s time is the right time.  When God’s love is shared, when walls of hatred are toppled, when cries are heard and soothed, when wounds are tended and healed, when we turn in a different direction, able to hear the winds of the Spirit, and give our hearts to good news, that God and God’s ways will overcome, and we will again glimpse our greatest hopes and honor the sacredness of all life.

May it be so on this day of the inauguration, after John was arrested, when Jesus came to Galilee.

Grace and peace,
Harry

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January 13, 2021

To the Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus, in whom “Scripture teaches us of Christ’s will for the Church, which is to be obeyed.” *

Please stay away from the Roundhouse this weekend.

This request comes from the Mayor as all fifty capitals are bracing for the possibility of violence.  In light of what we have witnessed this past week in Washington D.C. it is wise advice, one that was echoed at a recent Board meeting of New Mexicans to Prevent Gun Violence.   Members of this group, of which I am Co-President, recalled times that we have been afraid in our work to reduce gun violence and we all agreed being present at such a proposed rally is both dangerous and counter-productive.

Instead, come and see.

In our scripture lesson for Sunday, John 1:43-51, Philip offers this invitation to Nathaniel to come and see Jesus.  He didn’t recommend a book about Jesus.  He didn’t hold a class on Jesus’ teachings.  He didn’t pressure or coerce.  Philip simply says come and find out for yourself.

Come and see Jesus by reading the gospels yourself.  I won’t tell you what I have seen—see for yourself.  Experience him.  Ponder his teachings.  Reflect upon his life and his death, and the new life people saw in him.

This is quite the antidote to what is swirling all around us, including a second impeachment just announced this afternoon.

Come and see, not what might happen at the capital—again, please stay away—but by experiencing the life and spirit of Jesus.  It promises to be of great help as we live through these days, and beyond.

Grace and peace,
Harry
* Book of Order F-1.0203

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January 12, 2021

To the Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus, whose “Church is to be a community of hope, rejoicing in the sure and certain knowledge that, in Christ, God is making a new creation. This new creation is a new beginning for human life and for all things.” *

History.  Hardship.  Heroes.  Hope.

I came across these four words recently in an article about the Cleveland Browns winning their first playoff road game last Sunday (the first since 1969!) and how their new Head Coach turned around the culture of the organization.

He did it with “the four H’s.”  The head coach had players take turns sharing their personal stories in team meetings; their history, hardships, heroes, and hope.  They came away a closer team, able to understand and identify in one another their common humanity.  It was the foundation for a long-awaited winning season that has lifted the city of Cleveland.

Now I know there may be few football fans among you, let alone a Browns fan which requires great fortitude and blind loyalty (trust me), so why mention this story when we are reeling from the storming of the Capitol last week and fearful of violence in the days to come?  Because we need a little break from the heaviness of these days, at least for a few minutes, and turn our attention to those things that connect us and bring us closer together.

The Greek word for peace, Irene, has at its root the idea of talking to one another.  The Browns did it and it changed a culture.  Maybe talking and sharing might change our culture as well.  At least it would be a start.

History.  Hardship.  Heroes.  Hope.

Grace.  Peace.

Harry
* Book of Order F-1.0301

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January 8, 2021

To the Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus, whose “Church participates in God’s mission for the transformation of creation and humanity.” *

So, what now?  As workers clean up the aftermath of Wednesday’s assault on the Capitol, and upon our democracy, we have opportunities to discern our own response as followers of Christ
(All that is listed below are on Zoom with detailed explanations in this eNews.)

Attend the “Presented by Men’s Breakfast” tomorrow morning, 8:00-9:00 am to meet Kirt Rager, the new director of Lutheran Advocacy Ministries, which is our advocate at the Round House.

• Join us this Sunday, January 10, for the beginning of a four-week series on “Christ and Culture,” 9:00-9:50 am.I am largely scrapping the lesson I had planned this week to make way for a discussion of this week’s events and the path before us.

• Engage in the “Dismantling Racism” class that has been meeting faithfully since Juneteenth (June 19^th ) of last year and is now forming Action Circles.After much discussion and discernment it’s now a call to action.

• Today the “Dismantling Racism” class began seven weeks of Listening Lessons.  Read the information in this eNews and join us each Friday at 10 am.

While you are looking in the eNews see the many other gatherings that you can participate in—fellowship, education, music, spiritual exploration, Bible studies, prayer and service.  This is the church in action.

We offer two virtual Worship services each week to sustain, inspire, and ground us in our efforts.  We gather, live on Zoom, each Sunday morning at 10 am.

I am very honored to serve as pastor of this congregation.  I am very excited about how we will respond to the many grave issues surrounding us.  In such dark and challenging times I am very heartened and relieved to know that Christ is before us and beside us showing us the way.

Grace and peace,
Harry
* Book of Order F-1.01

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January 7, 2021

A Day of Epiphany

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January 6, 2021

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January 4, 2021

To the Saints in Santa Fe and other far-off places:

Greetings in the name of Jesus, who, “by the power of the Spirit . . . came to live in the world, die for the world, and be raised again to new life.” *

New Year’s Eve in Cuba in 2003.   Members of my Ohio church and I were visiting our sister church in Caibarrien, a city of 50,000 people which sits on the north coast of the island, not far from Sagua La Grande.  As darkness (no streetlights made it really dark!) overtook the town we accompanied our Cuban sisters and brothers to the plaza for festivities and amazement.

The festivities came from the annual (and extravagant) float competition between the two parts of the city, those who lived in the flat land and those who lived in the hills.  The amazement came from the fireworks that showered down upon us.  Apparently there were absolutely no regulations for fireworks and we spent our time looking up to the sky, oohing and aahing, and then racing for cover as the fireworks sizzled to the ground.  Back and forth, screaming and laughing.

On our way back we passed old row homes, most in disrepair because of lack of materials and money, where people were tossing buckets of water into the street.  Others were burning effigies.  It was quite a night.

How do we leave one year behind and welcome the new?   One way is the Renewal of Baptism in worship this Sunday when we remember Jesus’ baptism in Mark 1:4-11 (note how early and important this ritual is for Mark) where Jesus comes out of the Jordan water, sees the heavens part, the Spirit as a dove descends on him, and a voice from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

I think of the fireworks now as the Spirit descending on us; the laughing and dashing as new life;  the buckets of water as the Jordan cleansing our lives; the effigies burning away all that we want to leave behind as we see God’s new 2021 creation before us.

May you remember your baptism this Sunday, and the start of a new year, as amazing and welcome markings of the Christian life.

Grace and peace,
Harry
* Book of Order F-1.01