We have a request to make our own pizza this week----so we will meet in the Walker Room to make pizza. 4:30 pm. I need folks to bring ingredients!!
Also, bring your favorite board game. I have Monopoly, Outburst (my personal favorite) and Pictionary.
HAPPENING!
Happening #23 is May 2-4, 2008. It is open to anyone in High School. If you are interested, see me, I have registration forms.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
For Parents of Confirmation Kids
I know you all would like a copy of our curriculum. I am not using a curriculum beyond The Book of Common Prayer. All the confirmands have been given their own copy of the BCP and I want them to bring them to class each week. I have emphasized with them that the Confirmation Liturgy is an adult re-affirmation of the Baptismal vows taken on their behalf when they were infants (or young children) To that end we have reviewed what I am calling The Examination portion of the Baptism Liturgy (BCP pages 302, 303). We have defined what each question is actually asking and then tried to answer the questions. It would be useful to review these questions with the kids as their answers (and the struggle to get there) were profound and thoughtful.
We will now embark on an investigation and explanation of the Eucharist.
Please provide me any and all feedback! Thanks.
God's Peace with You All,
Cathy
We will now embark on an investigation and explanation of the Eucharist.
Please provide me any and all feedback! Thanks.
God's Peace with You All,
Cathy
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
The next social gathering has been changed to March 2 at 4:30 pm.
Remember, we are doing J2A lessons at 10:15 every Sunday morning and the Sunday evening gatherings are just for fun. Confirmation now meets in the Youth Room at 10:15 am and the older kids meet with Allie in my office at the same time.
Servers this week: John and Jeremy Fithian. Meet me at the altar by 8:40 am for instructions. Thanks.....Cathy
Remember, we are doing J2A lessons at 10:15 every Sunday morning and the Sunday evening gatherings are just for fun. Confirmation now meets in the Youth Room at 10:15 am and the older kids meet with Allie in my office at the same time.
Servers this week: John and Jeremy Fithian. Meet me at the altar by 8:40 am for instructions. Thanks.....Cathy
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Next social gathering
March 9, 4:30-6:30 we will gather for another relaxed evening. We can watch another Pink Panther movie, we can do something else. What do you think?
Servers for this Sunday, February 17th at 9 am:
Casey, Doug, Juliette and Ian.
Servers for this Sunday, February 17th at 9 am:
Casey, Doug, Juliette and Ian.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
latest sermon
Transformed by Darkness
Preached at Parkside Lutheran Church on the Last Sunday in Epiphany, Year A, Transfiguration
Do you remember, as a child, not wanting Christmas to end? I distinctly remember late in the afternoon on Christmas thinking, oh no a whole year before we get this again. I felt the same way on my birthday . I guess it is a human tendency to hold on to the good as long as we can. To keep what feels like the best thing ever locked up in a keepsake box to never let go. We like to capture those moments, don’t we? I can’t help but think this year, wasn’t it just Christmas, how can it almost be Lent? I want Epiphany to last longer. I am not ready for Lent!
Today, in the story of the Transfiguration of Jesus, As soon as Peter sees Moses, Elijah and Jesus, he wants to hold onto the moment. He does not want it to get away. He immediately says, ok let’s pitch some tents for them so they can linger here and we can have more and more of this glory. Before Peter can even get one sentence spoken he’ s interrupted.
God says, oh no Peter, you aren’t going to hang onto this moment, this is my Son and I love him You’re going to listen to him on this mountaintop and you’re going to listen to him down there, in the valley, when all the glory and wonder will be attacked and defiled. God knew the joy of this mountaintop experience would quickly be followed by trial and tribulation. Such a quick turnaround was hard to fathom, but it happened.
And here we are, just getting the last of the Christmas decorations put away, the wreath, the crèche, and the last of the lights tucked away in the attic. The wonder of Christmas which folds so nicely into the events during Epiphany—the Holy Name, the Baptism of Christ, The Presentation of the Infant Jesus at the Temple. Christmas and Epiphany were so short, can it possibly be time for that fateful trek to Jerusalem? I don’t want to go! I don’t want to hear anything more about this suffering, this crucifixion, this death. I want to linger in the wonder and joy of miracle births, glorious baptism and fantastic miracles. I am not ready for Lent.
But then again, who is ever really ready for Lent? Lent can be hard. Lent can be sad. Lent is nothing like Advent, when we get to spend a few weeks in hopeful anticipation of a miracle in Bethlehem. No Lent is about absence, it is about denial, it is about suffering.
Or is it?
Lent may be all of those things, we certainly do pare down our ornaments in the church, we stop saying Alleluias…it is not a big party time. But is it really nothing like Advent? I wonder.
Advent is about anticipation, anticipation of how Joseph will respond to Mary’s news of her pregnancy, how a baby born in a barn will grow up to save the world. Advent anticipates the wonder of Christmas. But Lent is about anticipation too. Not the mistletoe and eggnog type of anticipation, but anticipation nonetheless. Anticipation of the long night in Gethsemane, the agony on the cross, the desolation of Holy Saturday all leading to the miracle of the empty tomb.
In Advent we hear many Bible readings about the end of time, battles raging between good and evil, fire and brimstone. In Lent we hear of Jesus’ long trek into Jerusalem, of him getting mad in the temple, of Jesus being disappointed by his friends, of him retreating to the mountaintop for quiet prayer. Advent and Lent are full of difficulties, so why go through this at all?.
Why do we even need this anticipatory time?
Why not, in this age of instant gratification don’t we get rid of the preparation time, the time of anticipation, the waiting? Why don’t we just go right into Christmas and Easter?
Because without waiting, the event loses something. Without struggle the accomplishment doesn’t mean as much, without being thirsty the water just doesn’t taste so good. Without the cloudy days, the sunny days lose a little luster.
In San Diego, it is sunny 360 days of the year. Now that may sound appealing to Buffalonians in February, but my sister, who lives there, says that it can get a little tiring. She likes it when she visits our family home in Chicago where the weather, like here in Buffalo, changes day to day. The sun, she says, seems brighter in Chicago. There is something about the sun shining after days of gloomy clouds which makes the sun seem so much brighter,. So much warmer. So inviting. There is something about putting the baby Jesus in the manger on Christmas, instead of at the beginning of Advent which makes Christmas feel more special. There is something about Easter morning when all that we have denied ourselves in Lent, or extra disciplines we have added, feel so worth it. So much like we really worked toward something. The struggle makes the accomplishment that much sweeter.
Have you ever taken off in an airplane on a dark stormy day and a few minutes after take-off the plane enters gorgeous glistening blue skies? Or have you ever been struggling to find the right word, or get a series of numbers to add up just right or struggled with that last ingredient in a recipe? It can seem so muddled so confusing and then suddenly it all becomes clear, that perfect word comes to you, the last digit in-putted adds up to the right answer, a pinch of basil makes the whole recipe work.
Revelation comes out of this confusion, out of this darkness.
Today’s readings are full of experiences shrouded in doubt and darkness suddenly clarified and glorified in brilliant light. Moses climbed the mountain, and came back down, transformed. Elijah, climbed up the mountain and came back down, transformed. Jesus climbed the mountain and came back down transformed. But to get there, to get to the mountaintop they each had to battle through the darkness of doubt and despair.
Mountaintop revelation does not come without its costs. It isn’t easy getting up, it isn’t easy coming down. But life, life happens down here, not on the mountaintop. Life happens between Christmases, between Easters and between Feasts of the Transfiguration. Life happens to you and to me day in and day out. Our lives aren’t full of huge revelations; our lives have clouds and fog, with glimpses here and there of bright light. Yes, our lives have hope but they also have despair… our lives are full of ups and downs. How many of us can say we have had mountaintop experiences? I hope a few of us, but most of us haven’t and quite possibly won’t. So what do the mountaintop experiences of today’s readings have to teach us?
That life is full of paradox-- that good seems to come out of bad, that darkness is followed by light, that confusion leads to revelation.
To get to the mountaintop, Moses had to enter a dark cloud. At the Transfiguration God’s voice came out of a great cloud, Jesus’ resurrection occurred from within the dark desolation of a tomb. There is something about the dark, the gloom, the clouds, the emptiness. It readies us for awareness. A sunny day followed by a sunny day doesn’t have nearly the impact of a sunny day after a cloudy day. To truly appreciate a gift we need to remember what it was like before, what it was like without that gift. The disciples, on the evening of Easter Day were walking along the road to Emmaus lamenting the defeat of their hopes and dreams in the crucifixion of Jesus. As Jesus walked along with them, he let them lament, he let them wallow in their loss and then, after breaking bread with them their eyes were opened and they saw that indeed it was true, He was Alive. Could they have seen him without their lamentations of woe? Sure, but would he have seemed so brilliant? No. If I held onto Christmas, skipping Lent, and moved right to Easter, would Easter happen? Probably. But would it mean as much? I doubt it. Because life just doesn’t happen on the best days of our lives, on the mountaintops , it also happens in the valleys, in the sunshine and in the clouds.
So go ahead, revel in Christmas and Easter, in your birthday and in your memories of glories past. Just remember that in the inevitable darkness of despair, a light will flicker and then-- when you least expect it--flash into the brilliance of your own transformation, your own transfiguration. Because that is what our faith gives to us: a transforming, transfiguring lamp shining in the darkness. AMEN.
Preached at Parkside Lutheran Church on the Last Sunday in Epiphany, Year A, Transfiguration
Do you remember, as a child, not wanting Christmas to end? I distinctly remember late in the afternoon on Christmas thinking, oh no a whole year before we get this again. I felt the same way on my birthday . I guess it is a human tendency to hold on to the good as long as we can. To keep what feels like the best thing ever locked up in a keepsake box to never let go. We like to capture those moments, don’t we? I can’t help but think this year, wasn’t it just Christmas, how can it almost be Lent? I want Epiphany to last longer. I am not ready for Lent!
Today, in the story of the Transfiguration of Jesus, As soon as Peter sees Moses, Elijah and Jesus, he wants to hold onto the moment. He does not want it to get away. He immediately says, ok let’s pitch some tents for them so they can linger here and we can have more and more of this glory. Before Peter can even get one sentence spoken he’ s interrupted.
God says, oh no Peter, you aren’t going to hang onto this moment, this is my Son and I love him You’re going to listen to him on this mountaintop and you’re going to listen to him down there, in the valley, when all the glory and wonder will be attacked and defiled. God knew the joy of this mountaintop experience would quickly be followed by trial and tribulation. Such a quick turnaround was hard to fathom, but it happened.
And here we are, just getting the last of the Christmas decorations put away, the wreath, the crèche, and the last of the lights tucked away in the attic. The wonder of Christmas which folds so nicely into the events during Epiphany—the Holy Name, the Baptism of Christ, The Presentation of the Infant Jesus at the Temple. Christmas and Epiphany were so short, can it possibly be time for that fateful trek to Jerusalem? I don’t want to go! I don’t want to hear anything more about this suffering, this crucifixion, this death. I want to linger in the wonder and joy of miracle births, glorious baptism and fantastic miracles. I am not ready for Lent.
But then again, who is ever really ready for Lent? Lent can be hard. Lent can be sad. Lent is nothing like Advent, when we get to spend a few weeks in hopeful anticipation of a miracle in Bethlehem. No Lent is about absence, it is about denial, it is about suffering.
Or is it?
Lent may be all of those things, we certainly do pare down our ornaments in the church, we stop saying Alleluias…it is not a big party time. But is it really nothing like Advent? I wonder.
Advent is about anticipation, anticipation of how Joseph will respond to Mary’s news of her pregnancy, how a baby born in a barn will grow up to save the world. Advent anticipates the wonder of Christmas. But Lent is about anticipation too. Not the mistletoe and eggnog type of anticipation, but anticipation nonetheless. Anticipation of the long night in Gethsemane, the agony on the cross, the desolation of Holy Saturday all leading to the miracle of the empty tomb.
In Advent we hear many Bible readings about the end of time, battles raging between good and evil, fire and brimstone. In Lent we hear of Jesus’ long trek into Jerusalem, of him getting mad in the temple, of Jesus being disappointed by his friends, of him retreating to the mountaintop for quiet prayer. Advent and Lent are full of difficulties, so why go through this at all?.
Why do we even need this anticipatory time?
Why not, in this age of instant gratification don’t we get rid of the preparation time, the time of anticipation, the waiting? Why don’t we just go right into Christmas and Easter?
Because without waiting, the event loses something. Without struggle the accomplishment doesn’t mean as much, without being thirsty the water just doesn’t taste so good. Without the cloudy days, the sunny days lose a little luster.
In San Diego, it is sunny 360 days of the year. Now that may sound appealing to Buffalonians in February, but my sister, who lives there, says that it can get a little tiring. She likes it when she visits our family home in Chicago where the weather, like here in Buffalo, changes day to day. The sun, she says, seems brighter in Chicago. There is something about the sun shining after days of gloomy clouds which makes the sun seem so much brighter,. So much warmer. So inviting. There is something about putting the baby Jesus in the manger on Christmas, instead of at the beginning of Advent which makes Christmas feel more special. There is something about Easter morning when all that we have denied ourselves in Lent, or extra disciplines we have added, feel so worth it. So much like we really worked toward something. The struggle makes the accomplishment that much sweeter.
Have you ever taken off in an airplane on a dark stormy day and a few minutes after take-off the plane enters gorgeous glistening blue skies? Or have you ever been struggling to find the right word, or get a series of numbers to add up just right or struggled with that last ingredient in a recipe? It can seem so muddled so confusing and then suddenly it all becomes clear, that perfect word comes to you, the last digit in-putted adds up to the right answer, a pinch of basil makes the whole recipe work.
Revelation comes out of this confusion, out of this darkness.
Today’s readings are full of experiences shrouded in doubt and darkness suddenly clarified and glorified in brilliant light. Moses climbed the mountain, and came back down, transformed. Elijah, climbed up the mountain and came back down, transformed. Jesus climbed the mountain and came back down transformed. But to get there, to get to the mountaintop they each had to battle through the darkness of doubt and despair.
Mountaintop revelation does not come without its costs. It isn’t easy getting up, it isn’t easy coming down. But life, life happens down here, not on the mountaintop. Life happens between Christmases, between Easters and between Feasts of the Transfiguration. Life happens to you and to me day in and day out. Our lives aren’t full of huge revelations; our lives have clouds and fog, with glimpses here and there of bright light. Yes, our lives have hope but they also have despair… our lives are full of ups and downs. How many of us can say we have had mountaintop experiences? I hope a few of us, but most of us haven’t and quite possibly won’t. So what do the mountaintop experiences of today’s readings have to teach us?
That life is full of paradox-- that good seems to come out of bad, that darkness is followed by light, that confusion leads to revelation.
To get to the mountaintop, Moses had to enter a dark cloud. At the Transfiguration God’s voice came out of a great cloud, Jesus’ resurrection occurred from within the dark desolation of a tomb. There is something about the dark, the gloom, the clouds, the emptiness. It readies us for awareness. A sunny day followed by a sunny day doesn’t have nearly the impact of a sunny day after a cloudy day. To truly appreciate a gift we need to remember what it was like before, what it was like without that gift. The disciples, on the evening of Easter Day were walking along the road to Emmaus lamenting the defeat of their hopes and dreams in the crucifixion of Jesus. As Jesus walked along with them, he let them lament, he let them wallow in their loss and then, after breaking bread with them their eyes were opened and they saw that indeed it was true, He was Alive. Could they have seen him without their lamentations of woe? Sure, but would he have seemed so brilliant? No. If I held onto Christmas, skipping Lent, and moved right to Easter, would Easter happen? Probably. But would it mean as much? I doubt it. Because life just doesn’t happen on the best days of our lives, on the mountaintops , it also happens in the valleys, in the sunshine and in the clouds.
So go ahead, revel in Christmas and Easter, in your birthday and in your memories of glories past. Just remember that in the inevitable darkness of despair, a light will flicker and then-- when you least expect it--flash into the brilliance of your own transformation, your own transfiguration. Because that is what our faith gives to us: a transforming, transfiguring lamp shining in the darkness. AMEN.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Last week's acolyte training was good, thanks for your participation. For those of you who missed it, we will have a second training in March. Stay tuned!
- This week Greyson, Eric and Doug are the youth scheduled for serving at 9am.
- Confirmation class--we get back together after what feels like forever. This week's question is: what keeps you close to God?
- Youth Group with Allie. We are talking about sharing a Lenten discipline. Speaking of disciplines, tomorrow Lent begins. I know a lot of people give something up for Lent and if that helps you in your relationship with God, great. For me, since I was a teenager I have added something during Lent. One year it was flossing my teeth. I have been doing it ever since. This year I will say Compline every night before bed, and I will buy six mosquito nets from Episcopal Relief and Development (one for every week of Lent). What will you do?
See you Ash Wednesday!
Deacon C.
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