It’s been a horrific week for ordinary people in Israel and Palestine, where atrocities and suffering beyond words have happened on both sides. It’s been a heartbreaking week for anyone who cares about peace and justice, and we rightfully fear for where this violence will lead. I don’t have anything particularly wise to say about this; nor do I have the heart to say more than a few words about it. 

Today, the day before Easter, is the last day of what’s called Holy Week, which starts with Palm Sunday. There are several holy days that are often observed this week that mark the events that lead to Jesus’ death, as told in the gospel stories.

There was a spirit of peace in our gathering for worship this morning, and it started with a lovely prelude that Melody played on the piano. In those moments, I felt a peace start to fall over our gathering, and I felt it in my heart. I could have listened to Melody play a lot longer, because that music, and the sense of goodness it brought among us, felt like such a balm and a blessing.

I’m often reminded of the saying, “Preachers preach the sermons they themselves need to hear.” It’s true, at least in my case. Ahead of Sunday, I often ask myself, “What do they need to hear? And what do I need to say?” I don’t usually ask, “What do I need to hear?” But the sermon often ends up reflecting that in some way or another.

Two years ago today the pandemic stopped us from gathering for Sunday worship in our sanctuary. What a journey we have been on since then! I woke this morning feeling tired and sad, for all that we’ve been through, for all that has been lost. It’s been harder for some than for others, but it’s been a lot for everyone, hasn’t it?

Around this time of the year I often remember a poem that begins with these lines:

In February
all of a sudden there’s a lot more light,
and it’s a warm light.
Snow melts off the roof…

Three weeks ago, we took our Sunday worship out of the sanctuary and back to Zoom, because of the high Covid infection rate these days, due to the Omicron variant. I’m been heartened by, and so grateful for, the responses I’ve heard from some of you; your appreciation that we are taking precautions to keep folks safe. But I shouldn’t be surprised—all through this pandemic you have been good-hearted and courageous about facing what is, and trying to make the best of it.

I’m fortunate to have a little boat, which I use to fly fish in saltwater during the summer months. I love getting out on the water at first light, when there aren’t many boats out yet, and when the striped bass are often feeding! When the fall comes, I have mixed feelings about the season coming to an end. It goes by quickly here in New England, so it’s kind of sad to pull the boat out of the water and put it away for the winter. But it also feels like something of a relief. Do you know what I mean?

This September, after almost eighteen months of offering worship online, we came back into the sanctuary for Sunday worship. For the previous year, we’d been recording worship in the sanctuary, and I’m pleased with how well that worked. And still this felt different, like crossing a threshold. It was a big deal to start gathering together again, and as good as it felt to be taking this step forward, it was also a big adjustment. I know that many of you aren’t ready yet, and I honor that, and hope that you’re finding ways to connect to our worship life and community life in these days. If I can be helpful with that, or if you just want to talk, please reach out to me!

It’s been a while since I’ve written here! I was away on sabbatical for four months, and have been meaning to write a new blog post since I came back in early May, but there have been others things to pay attention to. And here we are, in mid-summer!

Looking at this picture makes me strangely happy. I took it in late March, as I was heading out on a pilgrimage to Utah, a trip which included three days driving out and three days driving back, and two weeks of walking, fly fishing, some camping and lots of solitude. And I pretty much loved it all.