Pastor’s Word

by Rev. Dale Azevedo, Sr. Minister

Right now, as you read this, I’m taking a bit of vacation. We are visiting Elizabeth’s family to celebrate her father’s birthday. As I write this the day before we leave, I am hoping it will be a good time, filled with laughter and reconnection. Some family we haven’t seen in years and many of the cousins haven’t gotten together since they were little (and now they have children of their own!). Rekindling relationships is good. Feeling connected is good. I would argue, even, that being connected is essential! To ourselves, others, and God.

In August, I will be taking another week away. That week will not be a week of vacation. Instead, I will be reconnecting with God. Two Sundays ago, Racquel preached on listening to God, “hearing rain long before it comes,” even when there is no evidence of its eventual appearance. I am taking that week to be away and listen for the rain that is coming.

Also right now, we are emerging from the COVID pandemic. At least, we think and hope we are emerging out of the pandemic. Yet, if we look at our church with eyes open, we see how much we are missing. Life, including church life, has not returned to “normal.” We are in a new reality, missing much of what we used to have. Our pews, our ministries, our outreach, our programs, are all far emptier than they used to be.

If we want to see all these items fill back up, we cannot continue with “business as usual.” We need to be intentional. We need to make the effort. “Dying is easy…Living is harder.” (A quote of George Washington’s from the musical Hamilton.). Churches all around us are dying. All we must do to follow suit is sit back and wait for people to return or for the community to come through our doors. They won’t. And we’ll whither like so many faith communities around us. The need, right now, is to be intentional, to put in the hard work, to make the necessary changes to our usual business in order to be relevant in our community. In other words, it’s up to us to engage the community, and our members, and the needs we see around us. Only then will we live. And only then will we truly emerge from the pandemic.

The trick is to know what to do and how to do it.

Therefore, I am taking a week to listen.

Racquel spoke about listening to spirit as it emerges before it is seen or felt in our midst. Frankly I have no clue how to be the church in a post COVID world. Oh, I have guesses. I have thoughts. But are they right? Will they work? How do we bring them to reality? These are the questions we still need to answer.

For this reason, I am taking a week (four days really) in August to go camping and listen to God. This is not a vacation. I am planning on intentionally listening to the Spirit, exploring the possibilities, and weighing our options. I am hopeful that some powerful insights will come to me. I anticipate some realizations to arise about who we are and how we can once again live out our mission to “worship God, embrace all people, minister to one another, work for justice and peace, and render loving service to God’s world.” Afterward, I plan to bring these ideas back to you for consideration from the Church Council, our ministry teams, and our membership.

I’ve never done this before. I’ve known other ministers who do this annually; every summer take a week away to listen to God and prepare the following year’s ministry. I’ve always wanted to do it, but never have. This year it seems essential to our future. We have so much potential, so many opportunities before us. But we have limited strength and resources. Where is it best to place these resources? What are the best ways to make an impact in our community and beyond? How do we live out the call of Christ in this time and this location? I see a great future for us, but in order to get there we need to know where to go and how to proceed. I invite you to take some time and think on this as I will be. Hopefully, in doing this together, God will speak, we will hear the rain even before it comes, and we will rejoice in the refreshment it brings.

Think of me August 14-18. And I look forward to sharing with you what I hear.

by Rev. Racquel Ray, Assoc. Minister (Acting)

You may have heard that because of last month’s electrical storm in our area, several of our church’s electronic components were damaged (and since repaired). Lightning struck so near to our church, seeking ground, that it traversed our building. Animals are said to ‘go to ground’ when they sense danger. Grounding is also a physiological technique to seek wellness and equilibrium in times of anxiety or stress.

So, what does it mean to seek grounding? And why does creation itself seek grounding during times of distress? Genesis 2 tells us, “God crafted the human from the dust of the humus and breathed into its nostrils the breath of life, and the human became a living soul. And the Sovereign God planted a garden in Eden, in the east, and there placed the human who God had formed. Out of the ground the sovereign God made grow every tree pleasant to the sight and good for food, and the tree of life in the middle of the garden, along with the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.” God instructed the human to till and tend the garden and gave the human instructions to eat freely (with one exception of the tree of knowledge of good and evil). Not only is the human grounded in the garden, tilling and tending, but is also of the ground itself. Going to ground is like returning to the beginning.

As the James Webb Telescope images are revealed, there is a vast cosmos that humans have yet to experience. The spectrum from dust of the earth to infinite cosmos is incalculable. We’re at once mesmerized by the unknown and rooted in our local dust. Author Sallie McFague writes in The Body of God, An Ecological Theology, “The common creation story radicalizes both oneness and difference…On our tiny planet alone biologists have found in a single square foot of topsoil one inch deep and average of 1,356 living creatures…from one millionth of a gram of matter, unimaginable unity, has evolved unimaginable diversity, not only in the vast galactic realms of the observable universe but also in equally inconceivable ways, on our planet. (McFague, 1993)

McFague reminds us that the common creation story prioritizes embodiment. When humans tackle the difficult challenges of life on this planet and the equally difficult task of making meaning of that life in relationships with others, we are doing so as embodied creatures. For Christians, Jesus exemplifies this experience. He taught us how to live as embodied humans individually and corporately.

As we face those challenging moments and peoples in our lives it is easy to forget Jesus’ example of behavior. And it is even more difficult to see ourselves as equally embodied creatures made from dust and set in a garden to tend and till. Forgetting that basic creation story can bring us to disconnection from creation and the Creator.

Grounding brings us back to embodiment and connection. Lightening seeks ground, animals burrow, and humans need connection. We crave connection to creation, the earth, plants, animals, and other humans. Grounding is the process of reconnecting to creation. Natural health practitioners, massage therapists, Reiki masters, and many ministers know how to take time to reconnect to creation as they care for others. I have a friend who puts her hands in the dirt after each massage to release the client’s energy and reconnect her own to the earth. I know people who carry rocks or gem stones in their pockets to remind them of their connection to the earth. Some like to walk barefoot outside. Many like to hike and garden.

I find reconnection in nature by hiking within a forest of enormous trees, walking on the beach or the bike path, or tilling and tending my garden. I am reminded that as I bring in this summer’s abundant harvest (so far kale, asparagus, black raspberries, blueberries, green beans, yellow squash, and herbs) I am reconnecting, grounding, with creation (the garden) and the Creator (the Sovereign God). It is in these moments where I am able to process stress with better perspective and patience. It is in these embodied actions that I am able to listen deeply to myself, others, and God.

She was sitting alone on the grass, kneeling by the white flag placed along the walkway to the State House. A few tears gently rolled down her cheeks. It was a bit of a miracle. The flag before her was just one of 3609 white flags placed along the walk. It was her husband’s flag. The day before some of his coworkers from the DOT came to the memorial, decorated a flag especially for their fallen friend, and replaced one of the plain white flags, with the one the made honoring him. Among the sea of flags, she found the one. It was a chance for her to grieve, to say goodbye to her husband whom she lost during the years we’ve been fighting COVID.

Some of us know all too well the stories of the families that have been unable to grieve in the usual ways during the pandemic. Funerals were not allowed, or only held outside, or restricted to 5, or 10, or 15 people. Many were unable to be with their loved ones when they passed and could only stand outside a nursing home window, waving to or praying for their loved one. Like so many other aspects of life during the pandemic, dying has been different. This week, the state Council of Churches provided an opportunity for Rhode Islanders to grieve publicly for their loss.

What also made the story of this particular woman so powerful, was that the minister who approached the young widow happened to be the same minister who spoke with her late husband’s coworkers when they stopped by. She was able to hear their stories and then pass them along to her. A blessing many fold.

The blessing for me is that I was able to be a part of it, to witness it, to see God working in these mysterious and amazing ways. Just by being present at the memorial as a chaplain, I was able to affirm that her husband mattered, that someone (many someone’s, actually) was willing to take the time to honor and remember him, even if we never knew him. And by meeting her, and sharing in this act of remembrance, I was able to honor both him and the love they shared together.

3609 flags.

This woman’s story is just one of thousands from our state and over a million in our country. In many ways most of us have moved past Covid. Life, although not the same as it was, has returned to something that resembles “normal.” We anticipate that this trend will continue. But some things will never return to the way they were. We are different. The world is different. How Covid has impacted us and our culture is yet to be fully realized. The same way that the Great Depression or World War II changed those who lived through them, this has changed us.

An interesting reality is that we may have some say on how this happens, on what changes are carried on going forward. If you could choose how you would like the world to be different “post-pandemic” what would you decide?  How would you change things? What would you like to be different? And then, an interesting follow-up question is, “What are you doing now to help make that so?” We are not just victims being tossed around by the winds of change. We have agency to impact those winds and enact change.

A few weeks ago I chose to participate in the Rhode Island State Council of Church’s Covid Memorial. I chose to go this week and be present. And in doing so, I impacted at least one woman’s journey, one woman’s experience of grief and love. And I impacted myself as well. What can you do today to make this new reality we are living into a better reality than the one that came before?

by Rev. Racquel Ray, Assoc. Minister (Acting)

A few weeks ago, I stepped on the scale and realized that my weight was heading in the wrong direction. Pandemic isolation, stress, and compounding grief has caused us all to face changes in our routines. For me, I let go of regular physical exams and dental care. I have an excellent primary care doctor. She is very patient with me and encourages me toward wellness. But, through the pandemic, many of our providers’ offices were closed. And I did not want to risk exposure to other ‘pods’ than my work and home social circles. So, I neglected my basic healthcare over the past two years.

I have talked to enough colleagues and congregation members about this to know I am not alone. We often neglect our physical health when we are in times of high stress. Often, the body is neglected when we face hardships. Why is it that on our hardest days we often forget to eat or hydrate? On the most stressful days we forget to rest (or struggle to do so). During the times when we most need to be nurtured, human nature is to do the opposite. Why do we treat ourselves worse on the days when we need the most care?!

Over the past few months, I have been returning to routine care. Like many of us, that initial primary care appointment was stressful and led to an avalanche of follow-up appointments. Annual screenings, a trip to the dermatologist where I was diagnosed with pre-cancerous cells and have several spots treated with liquid nitrogen, and a new physical therapy routine for elbow tendonitis. I am still facing dental anxiety after experiencing dental nerve damage last summer which led to months of speech therapy for a slur (that is now hard to detect). I want wellness.

This is ‘too much information’ for a pastor to share with the congregation. Normally, we don’t disclose our personal stories or struggles so much. But, in this season as we try to redevelop ourselves as a community it is important to see that we have all been deeply affected by the past two years. We have faced tremendous loss and grief. We have lost loved ones. We have lost our jobs or transitioned jobs. We have watched our children regress academically. And we have all endured a cultural trauma which has left many of us disoriented and yearning for normal routines.

Our bodies hold this trauma. We hold the visceral stress of the past within our bodies; the aches and pains, the inflammation, the muscles memories become compartmentalized and parked within our physical beings. Wellness requires us to let it out. Wellness requires awareness, sharing, and seeking support. Wellness requires action!

Wellness is about finding equilibrium between all of our aspects of being physical, financial, relational, and Spiritual. Physical health is about a healthy balance of rest and activity, nutrition and hydration, work and play. Financial health is about finding a balance between security and enjoyment. Relational health is about finding a balance between ourselves and others. Spiritual health is about finding a balance between ourselves and the Divine. Wellness is a balance between our own individual being and our place within our communities; being fully present in ourselves and the spaces we inhabit.

Our bodies are Divinely created in the character and image of God. Our bodies are therefore sacred. Our body is the physical manifestation of the Divine within us. It is how we interact with the world around us. It is how we join the congregation as the larger ‘body of Christ’. In the Communion feast, it is our body that abides with the Body of Christ the broken bread and the spilled cup. Our bodies are the sacred vessels that hold the Body of Christ. And it is our bodies that carry the sacred flame of the Holy Spirit within.

God became flesh in the body of Jesus of Nazareth. God cared for the body of Elijah ensuring he was fed by ravens and the widow. The Israelites were fed in the wilderness by bread from Heaven. Mary gave of her body as a vessel to the Holy. Jesus used his body in ministry to touch the leper and the blind for healing. It is clear in the scriptures that the human body matters. It was the body of Jesus that was broken, abused, and sacrificed – and resurrected.

The Apostle Paul writes in the first letter to the church in Corinth, “All things are lawful for me, but not everything is beneficial to me. Everything is lawful but not everything is edifying” (1COR 10:23). I’m reminded that though we are able, as Christians, to eat what we like and use our bodies as we wish, we must also be mindful of what benefits us. What serves our bodies well and what does not? Wellness is about knowing what is beneficial.

I really appreciate the United Church of Christ’s covenant of care with its ministers. In the ministerial code, ministers are encouraged to care for all creation including ourselves. We must maintain a basic understanding of mental health and wellness, practice self-care and life balance among other wellness examples. My colleagues and I will often encourage each other to wellness, “How are you taking care of yourself this week?” or “I’m glad you’re taking some vacation time.”

I wonder how this collaboration toward wellness can blossom in our congregation. I want a Wellness Ministry. I would love a community where we encourage each other toward health, balance, vibrance, and wellness. As part of our care of creation we ought to care for each other and our wellness as individuals and as a community. Can we have Wellness Wednesdays? Can we have a walking group? Can we host a Yoga Class? Can we create a swim club at the YMCA? We are known as the ‘rainbow doors church’. Some call us the ‘happy church’. Can we also be the ‘healthy church’?

by Rev. Dale Azevedo, Sr. Minister

I’ve spent much of the afternoon today wrestling with what to write for this week’s blog. One thought that gained prominence was “Keep hope alive!” I couldn’t initially place the origins of this quote, but it resonated with me. It seems an appropriate response given the state of our world and nation. There are definitely days I feel hopeless, or at the very least, hope deprived. But that sounded a bit too down for today. Digging a little deeper into the origins of that quote brought me to Jesse Jackson and his failed second bid for the US presidency in 1988. Yeah, I am not going there today.

A bit later, after discounting a few other potential blog themes, my mind was pierced with an odd realization: I want a potluck supper. I want a potluck supper? What is that all about? Do I really want a potluck supper or a church dinner? I was immediately brought back to memories of church dinners at BCCUCC before the pandemic, back when we would gather in fellowship hall with 100-200 people and have a wonderful pasta (or some other comfort-food) dinner. (Recollections of the “community plant-based dinner” don’t bring to light such warm feelings, though.)

I wasn’t quite sure why this thought was coming to me today. Do I even like potluck meals or church dinners? My introverted side has always railed against the idea of getting up and going out to join folks at church for a meal. Can’t I just stay home and sit by myself or enjoy a calm quiet meal with my family?

Yet, thumbing its nose at this introverted reaction is the other part of me that recalls enjoying the company of “strangers”, of sitting around a table with folks I rarely, if ever, eat with and sharing in conversation on topics I otherwise would likely never engage. There was something about being “community”, about “belonging”, about learning something more about my church family that brought out the warm fuzzy feelings in me.

Some nostalgic part of me is missing that experience. That’s part of the reason I jumped on the chance with Andrea and Racquel to hold a picnic after church on Jubilation Sunday. But that one experience, that one Sunday late morning after church, didn’t cut it. Apparently, I’m still craving something that a potluck supper represents.

That’s when I realized that this idea of a potluck supper must be something more for me. I can remember being a small child and visiting my grandparents in Nova Scotia. One of my grandfather’s favorite pastimes was attending church socials, church dinners. It didn’t matter where the dinner was or what church was hosting it, it seemed that he always packed us all into the old Lincoln Continental and drove for hours just to find the perfect strawberry shortcake dinner held by some church. This really must have messed with my introverted side as I truly was eating with countless strangers (in a foreign country no less)! I do have to admit, though, that we had some pretty good strawberry shortcake!

I think part of the lure of the vaunted potluck or church supper is the nostalgic value. It reminds me of simpler times. It reminds of the church pre-pandemic. It reminds me of my early days in ministry where I, as the new young minister, would move from table to table greeting guests and sitting down for a brief chat and welcome strangers to our church. It reminds of bringing Seth (now 23) as a toddler to the “ladies’ luncheon” where everyone was his grandmother and told him he didn’t need to eat his vegetables before starting into dessert. And he was so innocent and cute…and I wasn’t so far off myself.

Right now, after 30 years in the pulpit, church seems so complicated. Church is about budgets, and meetings, and policies. We worry about active shooters and livestreaming and safe church policies and social justice issues. I miss the “romanticized” old days when church was seemingly about community and connection.

But I cannot pretend that everything was easier or better in the “old days.” In my last church we had years where the treasurer would email me every Monday with the offering numbers from the Sunday before and, together, we would decide which bills would get paid and which we would allow to go to collection. Again, just a few years out of seminary, my closest classmate ran off with his organist while his wife was expecting their 3rd child. He was defrocked (and rightly so). And later, one of the local colleagues who I worked very closely with, took his own life after he was confronted by the state police with accusations of sexual misconduct with minors. The “old days” were not necessarily better days.

But saying that, I’m still longing for a potluck supper. I think I’m longing for connection. I’m longing to sit down with you, members of my flock (I hope that isn’t too pretentious), and share in a common meal. To break bread together. And laugh together. And cry together. And reminisce together. And dream together. And be the church together.

Do you miss that? Are you looking for that? If so, perhaps we can schedule a potluck supper sometime soon? Maybe in late June or July? I’d really like some deviled eggs or a nice casserole. But what I’d really like is your company and your connection. What do you think? Shall we do it? Let me know…

by Rev. Racquel Ray,  Assoc. Minister (Acting).

There are moments in our lives when we just have to STOP and PRAISE GOD for all of our  blessings! May has been full of those moments for me.

We have all been through trials over the past few years. The struggles have been real. And we have had to find ways to cope. We have had to grasp for routines, pray for peace, beg for healing, and actively seek joy. The current cognitive disassociation of finding joy while others are suffering is an ongoing challenge. And yet, we must count our blessings, give thanks, and praise God when we do.

The apostle Paul wrote to the church at Ephesus, “…since I heard about your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all God’s people, I have not stopped giving thanks to God for you. I always remember you in my prayers, asking the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, to give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation so that you will know him better. I pray also that you will have greater understanding in you so you will know the hope to which he has called us and that you will know how rich and glorious are the blessings God has promised his holy people.”

Glorious are the blessings God has promised. Glorious, yes. Easy, no. Some are a surprise gift. Some are hard won. And sometimes, the blessings we have received are not obvious in the moment. There are times when hindsight reveals our blessings from the past.

In Hospice care, I often heard stories from the families of the dying. They related how grateful they were that they were able to gather while their loved one was still healthy enough to participate. They shared stories of that last seventy-fifth wedding anniversary, that birthday, or that family reunion. The events that were challenging to plan and execute, that were difficult to do, became the last time their family was able to gather before their loved one died. The blessings of their last family gathering, and the memories held in photos and heart’s memories were glorious. Easy, no. Worth it, yes.

As I sat with the dying throughout the pandemic, I learned the sacredness of life. Life, which can be difficult, or joy filled, is precious. I heard stories of Veterans, families, marriages, and lives well lived. I heard stories of war, the Great Depression, loss, grief, and pain. The heaviness of life and death was Holy. As I accompanied nursing home residents through their final breaths, I appreciated the life and vitality of my own family. On my commute home my mantra became, “time to turn to the living…”

In order to process the heaviness of grief, I needed to embrace the joy of living as a counterbalance. The beauty of a sunny day, the sparkling laughter of a child, the silliness of a puppy, the taste of favorite foods, the smells of good coffee, and the satisfaction of rest all became vital to my wellness. They all became glorious blessings.

Finding our blessings is not always easy. It is so easy and our human nature to focus on the negative – of which there is plenty! The pandemic death toll in the country has passed the million mark, there is war in Europe, multiple mass shootings, divisive news media can all keep us spiraling into negativity.

Yet, if we sit and feel our present moment, we sense our blessings. In my office I hear the sound of children’s laughter and learning in the T.O.T.s preschool. I smell the essential oil diffusing. I see the gentle rain sprinkling on greening grass and flowing river. I feel the hope of a growing and vibrant congregation. I taste fresh coffee from my favorite shop. God is here in this place!

When we are able to sense the present, we are aware of the ‘now’ and we can celebrate in it. It is one level of awareness to sense one’s blessings. And, it is another level of awareness to celebrate them!

My Ordination service on May 1st was a celebration! It was the culmination of twenty-five years of ministry, ten years of school, hundreds of books read, thousands of pages written, many beloved ‘villages’ supporting, and the love to which God has called us all. It was the evidence of the joy I share for this work and for my family. It was a celebration of strong and kind ministers that have supported my journey. Easy, no. Worth it, yes.

A week ago, I was in New Haven for the delayed from 2020 Yale University Commencement. My classmates and I left campus without goodbyes or ritual in March of 2020. This past weekend, Yale brought us back and threw us a party! Sure, it would have been easier to skip it; to continue normal routines of home and church. But, I’m so glad I went! The celebration and reunion, the worship and closure was a blessing! Easy, no. Worth it, yes.

I offer this as our congregation navigates the balance between celebrations and safety. When we gather as communities, we are exposed to the risk of covid. And we are all struggling with decision fatigue of whether to stay home or join community. We want to be safe. We also need community. It is a continuing risk vs. reward journey. And there are blessings and benefits to both options of staying in or going out.

I concur with Paul and “I pray also that you will have greater understanding in you so you will know the hope to which he has called us and that you will know how rich and glorious are the blessings God has promised his holy people.” I pray that God will “…give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation so that you will know God better” in the present blessed moments. And I pray that you will find many ways to safely celebrate the sacred moments fully aware of God’s rich and glorious blessings in your lives.

by Rev. Dr. Dale Azevedo, Sr. Minister

Sitting down to write my blog this week, I realize that I often write and preach about the challenges we face and not so much about the joys we experience. Yes, when discussing our challenges I generally do try to place a positive spin on them or be sure to bring faith into the discussion. But still, the general point is one of challenge and overcoming struggle. So, this week I have decided to write my blog about joy.

The reality is that I have many moments of joy that fill my days and weeks. I just don’t always give them the importance I ought. Sometimes these moments are profound experiences of recognition. But, more often they are subtle pauses of realization that things are “good.”

I would like to pay more attention to these moments and be sure to share them with others. It is far too easy to get bogged down in all that may be wrong with the world; like that is the way we are wired. Is there a way to change our wiring? I think there is. And that is by drawing specific attention to joy we feel when we feel it, and recall such feelings when we don’t.

One of the most regular times I experience joy is at the end of worship. It can happen during worship, but it comes more often in the moments that follow. One could say this is simply the relief of “making it through” what amounts to a very stressful time. (Yes, for those who lead worship it can be very stressful and anxiety provoking. Even after 30 years!) No doubt there is some sense of relief each week, but there is also often something more. There is a feeling of joy that comes from gathering as community, sharing a common experience, and uniting with one another and God. There is something deeply moving for me about coming together for an hour (or so) and being of one mind and one spirit. It is beautiful and joyous.

Another time I feel great joy is while stepping out into the sunshine. Granted this doesn’t happen in August when it is 93 degrees out, but just about the entire rest of the year these moments are a blessing that I recognize and celebrate. There is something that overcomes me when I step out of the house or office into the glorious sunshine of a warm morning or afternoon. If you are fortunate, you can sometimes catch me just walking around with my arms outstretched and my head inclined to the sky absorbing all the vitamin D I can get. It may be simple. It may seem foolish. But it is a joy that comes over me and I want to take it all in!

I also feel joy at the successful completion of a project well done. This can be designing a newsletter for a club or group I am involved with, finishing a repair on the Jeep, or even raking the yard like I did this past weekend. (Although, to be honest, yardwork seldom brings me this level of joy!) This experience of joy seems related to that which I mentioned above at the conclusion of worship. But this experience seems directly connected to a release of creativity. There is a problem that needs to be addressed. There are challenges that must be overcome. And creative solutions are used to achieve a desired result. This experience of creativity and success brings me joy.

I can think of other examples too, like reconnecting with family or friends, seeing my sports teams triumph, or even hearing the laughter of a small child. The examples can probably go on and on.

What brings you joy? Take a moment and really think about it. It’s easy to say we don’t feel joy or to come up with some basic platitudes. But instead, take some time and think of a few concrete examples of when you have found joy. Go way back if you need to. Because once you know what brings you joy, then you can either celebrate it or work to incorporate more of it into your life. That’s what I’m doing. That’s why I’m writing this blog now. Because I want to feel the joy I am writing about. Knowing what brings me joy and writing about it is actually bringing me joy. That’s awesome!

So, try not to get too bogged down in all that brings you down. God wants you to be aware of the suffering and hurt in the world. But God also wants you to partake of the joy and love present as well. It is one reason why we were created!

by Racquel Ray, Assoc. Minister (Acting)

The Triduum, Three Holy Days, are for me the most sacred days of the liturgical year. Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday are considered one continuous liturgy in remembrance of the Passion of Jesus.

Each Christian denomination has their own tradition around Holy Week which consists of the days from Palm Sunday to Easter Sunday. The traditions mark Jesus’ return to Jerusalem wherein the crowd lays branches and cloaks along the road Jesus travels on a donkey; the remembrance of Jesus driving the money changers out of the Temple; the chief priest and scribes questioning Jesus’ authority and conspiring against him; the anointing of Jesus’ feet by a woman unnamed in two of the Gospels, a sinner in another Gospel, and Mary of Bethany according to John’s Gospel; the institution of the Communion meal as Jesus shared the Passover supper with his disciples; the watch and prayer in the Garden; Jesus’ arrest and trial; Jesus’ torture, crucifixion, death, and burial; the silence of Holy Saturday; and the Easter Morning earthquake at sunrise, the stone rolling away, and the empty tomb. The Triduum specifically recalls the Three Days from Thursday to Saturday of Holy Week.

Holy Thursday or Maundy Thursday remember Jesus’ commencement of the Communion, the night of Jesus’ washing the Disciples’ feet, and Jesus’ prayers in the Garden of Gethsemane while the Disciples tried to keep watch. Jesus’ violent ambush and arrest narrative are part of the lectionary. Some traditions will add a community foot washing to the worship service on the Thursday of Holy Week. In past ministry contexts, I have washed the feet of nearly 100 youth, recently diagnosed cancer patients, or washed the hands of seniors and healthcare workers in the nursing home during the pandemic.

Holy Friday or Good Friday recall the events of Jesus’ trial before the crowd, the chief priests and the elders, the Roman Governor Pontius Pilot, and the Jewish King Herod. The crowds asked for the release of Barabbas not Jesus and calling for Jesus to be crucified. Jesus receiving a scarlet robe and crown of thorns from the Roman soldiers who taunted, “Hail, King of the Judeans!” Jesus’ carrying of the cross being offered assistance from Simon of Cyrene. Some traditions will observe the events with a Way of the Cross service or Stations of the Cross following Biblical and extrabiblical traditions of Jesus journey from Jerusalem to Golgotha.

Holy Saturday or Easter Saturday is a day of emptiness. The one day of the liturgical year when Jesus is no longer with us. As Traci Blackmon said, “Jesus has left the building.” The loneliness of Holy Saturday is palpable. After having journeyed through the active six weeks of Lent; the Sunday morning worship services conscientiously curated with colorful thought-provoking themes, to contemplative Tuesday and Thursday morning Peaceful Pause and Prayer, to full-sensory Lent in the Labyrinth prayer walks, and awareness raising Bible Studies, Holy Saturday leaves a hollow and holy stillness. “He is not here.”

The Triduum holds sacred significance for me personally and has greatly enriched my ministerial role. I was confirmed on Maundy Thursday in 1978. I remember the red carpet and dark wood of Church of our Saviour, the smell of frankincense, and the anointing oil of the Bishop as he made the mark of the cross on my forehead and laid hands on my head. I recall years of kneeling on the various shades of church carpets (usually either dark red or light blue), adding drops of lavender oil to the warm water (always make sure the water is warm), checking the stacks of clean towels. I can hear the music of Taize hymns and see the tears of congregation members as they overcome their insecurities to bare one or two feet, sharing in this sacred and intimate ritual with their ministers.

I recall years of Good Friday Stations of the Cross and Way of the Cross services. I remember ecumenical services where several Pastors and Priests shared the readings at each station, the quiet self-guided stations, the small group noon day services with a few devoted worshippers, the huge Youth Group stations productions with dozens of youth acting out the fourteen stations and running behind the scenes. I remember the hallways and closets filled with the rich smells of the Easter Sunday flowers hidden and ready for arrangement in a day. I remember years of banning television in our home on Good Friday. And, I recall the lost Good Friday – the service I had planned at seminary my senior year that was cancelled due to covid in March 2020 – a walking Stations of the Cross through the quad of the Divinity School.

And Holy Saturday. Holy Saturday is the theological place where Chaplains abide. The sacred space between what was and what is yet to be. This is the realm of the Chaplain’s ministry of accompaniment. Author Shelly Rambo writes in Spirit and Trauma; A Theology of Remaining that new life arises from death. The Holy Saturday moment of remaining, of being present in the space between death of Good Friday and the new life of Easter reminds us of our need to be there for each other. Chaplains are particularly and sacredly skilled in remaining in this sacred place with others and building the spiritual bridges others need to traverse the emptiness of Saturday times.

As Christians we do ourselves a disservice when we jump too quickly to resurrection. Though we love the Good News of New Life, we do need the walk of darkness to see the light sometimes. It is not to say that we must suffer to be Holy. It is to say that the deeper we walk in the biblical remembrances of Holy Week the more we understand and appreciate Jesus’ words, “It is finished.” And the more we understand Jesus work the more we can rejoice with Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women who told all the apostles, “He is Risen”.

by Racquel Ray, Assoc. Minister (Acting)

As I approached the labyrinth in the churchyard my mind was racing with the list of things I still had to do. The weather certainly was not cooperating, a misty dreary day had turned into an icy, snowy night. Visibility was low, my glasses were foggy and covered with cold droplets as I gathered my basket filled with battery operated candles, incense, and a sage smudge. Bundled against the cold and damp night, I wore my heaviest parka; glad I was finally able to afford such a luxury. I gave thanks for my warm coat, waterproof boots, and insulated gloves recalling so many similar nights without such provisions against the weather; how many days I waited at the bus stop or walked to meet my children from school while bitter cold dampness soaked my layers of inadequate clothes.

I removed a glove to ‘light’ the candles and with my remote could change them to any color. I chose a rainbow of color and set the candles around the turning points of the labyrinth. It was dark but the snow had coated the grass walkways with an icy fur that crunched underfoot. The brick edges of the walkways were clear having been warmed earlier in the day with rain. They perfectly outlined the white snow-covered paths. ‘Paths’ I though as I crunched and stooped. I circled the maze with incense, my lighter starting to struggle against the elements. Crunch. Stoop. Paths. I made my way to the center. Why I felt the need to follow the path rather than just hop to the center I don’t know. I lit the sage smudge and waved it frantically to keep it burning despite soaking snowfall. The cloud of smoke filled the circle. Crunch. Stoop.

Paths. As I waited for visitors to join the circle of prayer, I walked it for myself. How long have I been on this path?! Since 1996. Remember that quote from Isaiah? “Whether you turn to the left or to the right, your ears will hear a voice behind you saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it.’” Oh, yes, I remember. And I waited for years for a human teacher to point me in the right direction; left or right. Crunch. And I listened and waited for a path. Crunch. And I walked in it. Crunch.

As my hair began to freeze to my coat, I felt throbbing pain in my hand. It’s cold. I still had my glove off from lighting candles and incense. But now my wet, numb hand wouldn’t slide back into my wet glove. Remember. The prayers and process. The struggles. Crunch. I shoved my hand into the glove as well as I could. The process. Lord, the process. The yes and no. The open doors and closed doors. The discerning, listening, waiting. Remember. Remember that quote from Psalms echoed in Hebrews, “God has sworn and will not relent. You are a priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek”? “Melchizedek?” you asked the wisest professor. “Having no heritage; no lineage; no mother and father” he said. God will not relent. Crunch. Listen.

My hands were numb. My feet were on their way to numb. The snow had pasted my hair to my coat, my hat to my hair. My glasses were starting to freeze where droplets had stuck. Crunch. Listen. Remember. Remember that quote from Isaiah and Luke, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me for he has anointed me to preach the good news.” Crunch. “To proclaim liberty to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free.” Crunch. The preaching; friends, colleagues, collaborations. Remember the first time preaching. The power of the preaching classmates. Gratitude. Growth. Good news. Liberation.

For this moment, the snowflakes on the tip of my nose, cheeks frozen, hands throbbing, toes numb. All of that preparation. The path. Crunch. Left. Right. School. Scholarship. Study. Oh, my God. So many pages, so many papers. So many hoops to jump through. Crunch. To stay on the path. Whether you turn to the left or to the right the voice behind you is the voice within.

Within. God, you’ve been here the whole time. Crunch. Sob. Frozen tears. Headlights flashed across the church yard as our first guest to the circle of prayer pulled up. “Is that sage I smell?” Yes. Come into the circle. Crunch. Listen. Left. Right. Sob.

This is why. This is why the trajectory from so long ago led me to this moment. To co-create a circle for others. To walk. To listen. To breathe. To sob. Crunch. Remember the quote from Acts, “I will pour out my Spirit on all flesh; your sons and your daughters shall prophesy.” The path. Crunch. Listen. Left. Right…the voice is within.

Amen.