I recently picked up a copy of Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg’s book, “On Repentance and Repair: Making Amends in an Unapologetic World,” and I cannot recommend it highly enough. Like most books nowadays it begins with a trigger warning, but given the subject matter, it’s clear from the outset that the whole book is a trigger.

She cautions her readers to take care of themselves accordingly, and I would extend the same invitation to you right now. Not because I’m going to get into any gory details about the horrible things people do to each other. I won’t.

But because when it comes to the work of repentance and repair - whether we are talking about the intimate ways we hurt one another or the institutional ways we hurt one another - we are all effected and we are all implicated.

We all have something to apologize for and we could all use an apology. We have all suffered harm, we all have a responsibility to make amends for the harm we have caused, and neither end of that process is comfortable for anyone. So in the interest of full disclosure, you need to know that today’s sermon might make you uncomfortable.

Today's worship featured a dialogue sermon between Pastor Sarah Buteux of First Churches and Pastor Anna Woofenden of St. Johns.

Sarah

The church of my youth is gone. Not just closed, but demolished. Former congregants have been posting videos over the last few weeks of excavators literally tearing down the walls of Grace Conservative Baptist Church in Nanuet, N.Y.. 

Scrolling through the pictures is heartbreaking. I was never a fan of the postmodern architecture, but what our church lacked in aesthetics it well then made up for in enthusiasm. From what I can tell, the education wing, with classrooms that once accommodated up to 300 children, was the first to go. In later pictures, I can still see the giant map that graced the inner wall of the sanctuary. That map used to twinkle with dozens of lights that represented the missionaries we were supporting all over the world. 

Through the jagged edges of broken stained glass, I can see what’s left of the balcony where I used to sit with my mother and my sisters, sucking on Werther’s Originals to keep our stomachs from growling when the sermon went long. 

If I close my eyes I can still remember the ...

In the summer of 1965, there was a call put out by Civil Rights leaders, leaders like Martin Luther King Jr., to any and all who wished to join the work/the movement that was taking place in the deep South. Most that would answer this call were college students and clergy from other parts of the United States. In one particular case, the issue of protest and presence was sought to help with voter suppression taking place in the state of Alabama. In 1965 a planned march was coming together, a march that would see those seeking justice and equality to move in unison/to move as one from Selma, Alabama 50 miles east to the capital of Montgomery. One such person who answered that call was a young man named Jonathan Daniels.
Daniels had grown up in ...

If you had a friend who went to a retreat, a revival, maybe even to a house of worship, and then came back and told you that the speaker had said:

“I am the living bread come down from heaven…
Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life…
whoever eats me will live because of me.

would you let your friend go back to that place?

Would you go with them?

Would you stay for coffee hour?

No! Because gross, right? And yet it was Jesus himself who said:

unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood,
you have no life in you…
for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink.
Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them.

Friends, I’ve been taking communion for the better part of my life. I’ve broken the bread and said, “This is my body.”

I’ve poured out the cup and said, “This is my blood.”
But hearing Jesus talk like this in John chapter 6, hearing him hammer home over and over again the idea that we need to eat his flesh and drink his blood is a bit much, even for me.

Jesus sounds like a cross between a cult leader and...

I ran a 5K a few weeks ago, almost by accident. I’m more of a walker then a runner, but my daughter, Genevieve, loves to run and she is always looking for a race. So when we drove through Lisbon up in Maine and she saw signs for the annual Moxie Festival that kicks off with a 5K, she knew she had to be there. And, since she’s only 14, I knew I’d have to drive.

I haven’t raced in any serious way since the Hot Chocolate Run, but I figured that if I was going to get up early and drive her there, I might as well register and at least get a free t-shirt for 30 bucks - right? - so I did.

Well, we left our cabin in the woods at 6:15… in the a. m…. giving us plenty of time to make it over to Lisbon. But when we got within about a mile of the festival we were diverted by a detour and then another detour, such that we arrived at the race with very little time to spare. “Don’t worry,” I said to Genevieve, who was already bouncing up and down in anticipation and anxiety, “these things never start on time and we’re still on time.”

But by the time we parked, got our bibs, and walked across the street to where the runners were massing, I could hear the National Anthem being sung.

I sent GV up ahead to where the serious runners were and heard the master of ceremonies take the mic.. I figured he’d at least thank the sponsors and I’d have a minute to get my head in the game, but all he said was, “Well, it’s 7:29. so runners: on your mark, get set…” and before I even had a chance to regret my life choices, I found myself running and realized that gosh darn it, I had a good three miles to go before this ordeal would be over.

I came in 256th overall, and 8th in my age group, which wasn’t too bad. But Genevieve came in 48th and placed second in her age group, which meant she got a prize and we’d need to stick around for the awards ceremony.

And now, my friends, we come to the point of my story. This being Lisbon, first prize in every age group came with a case of Moxie.

When bad things happen to other people, most of us have a tendency to look ever so slightly away, the better to hold our own more closely.

When I pass a car accident, I always say a prayer for the family affected even as I ask safe passage for my own. Anybody else do that?

When I hear about another mass shooting, even as I pray for everyone involved, there is a part of me that cannot help but give thanks that it didn’t happen in my community or my church or my kid’s school. At least not this time around.

When I hear the stories of families waiting for the return of hostages in Israel or the stories of mothers holding the lifeless bodies of their children in Gaza, I shudder with empathy, knowing that I would go absolutely mad with fear and grief if anything like that ever happened to either of my children.

In the face of any of the horrible things that happen, I’ve often reached out to hug my own children and whisper: “You know how much I love you, right?”

“Yeah Mom, we know,” they say, as they roll their eyes and pull away. But I persist in telling them anyway, as if my love can protect them.

I think that’s just human nature. What we love we do our best to care for. What we care for, we do our best to protect.

Deep down we know ...

Today I made an historic announcement that you can read below or you can click on the link above and watch our service. It begins about 11 minutes into the live stream.

As most of you know, back in 2007 the ceiling in this sanctuary gave out and the resulting repairs and restoration cost the church over $2 million dollars. Under the leadership of the Rev. Peter Ives and with the support of many others but notably Peg Whitham who was moderator through that time, this congregation was able to raise a million dollars and took out a million dollar mortgage to cover the rest.

Through careful stewardship, sacrifice, planned giving, and refinancing, we have somehow managed to pay off just over half of the mortgage while keeping our ministry strong. But, if you were at our budget meeting two weeks ago, you also know that this coming December we will need to refinance. We will lose the favorable interest rate we have now and, given the current market conditions, we anticipate that our rate could more than double.

Well, I am awed and humbled and still in a state of disbelief, but friends, it is my joy to share with you the news that there are generous souls within this congregation who have the means and the desire to fully pay off the roughly $470,000 left on the mortgage this October.

Although they wish to remain anonymous, I hope and pray they will feel the full extent of our love and gratitude this morning as you rise and give the glory to God.

Friends this gift is a gift of extraordinary generosity and deep faithfulness. It is a gift of historic proportion and significance. This gift is a tremendous affirmation of the work we are doing here and the work we have yet to do. It is a sign that the God who began a good work in us over 350 years ago has not given up on us but is working through us even still.

This gift gets us out from under a debt that has weighed on us all and opens up possibilities for the future we have only begun to dream of. I think it is also a sign of God with us, a sign of God at work through us and around us, a sign of God’s faithfulness to you and your faithfulness to God.

And, as I think of Jesus’ words, “to whom much is given, much will be expected,” I hope and pray and trust that we will find the grace to be worthy of this gift and that together we will use it well.

Today we will read the story of Jesus calming the storm on the Sea of Galilee. Today we will meditate on the wonder of a God who remains with us through the challenges of this life. And so let me say this: First Churches, it has not been easy but we have weathered a most challenging season together and though I know we will weather many more, today I pray that as this news sinks in, as our hearts open to receive it and our spirits open to the will of the Spirit who will use it for good, that God would bind us together in faith and in hope, but most of all in love… May you feel the presence of God within and around you … a God who loves you, a God who is with you, a God who will never let you go. (Today's sermon follows if you click "read more.")

Today we were blessed with fabulous music and a sermon by guest preacher, Rev. Chris Mereschuk. Click the link to the right to watch our service. Here is the sermon:

If you take a look at the history of human civilizations, there seems to be a

tendency for societies to grow into more complex, bureaucratic, centralized,

and powerful systems of government, coupled with a demand for strong

leaders. Every person through history and geography is born into a tribe,

culture, or nation that has some form of an established system of government,

with varying degrees of hierarchy, liberty, representation, and civic

responsibility

—

each functioning with some mix of effectiveness,

ineffectiveness, and corruption. In many cases, when that ratio gets too far

out of whack and the people become unhappy with how they are being led,

the people demand a new leader or even an entirely new form of leadership

or government. For it seems that leaders are prone to corruption, and the

people are prone to rebellion.

The people who would become the ancient Israelites followed much of this

same pattern. They began as ...

Many years ago, I did a wedding for Liberty and Louis, a lovely young couple in their mid twenties. Like most brides, Libby was deeply in love with her fiancé and extremely excited about her wedding. But unlike most brides, Libby was also living with terminal cancer.

A few years after their celebration, I officiated at her funeral. And then, the year after that, I gathered with many of the same people once again for the wedding of the young woman who had been Liberty’s maid of honor. Lou, God bless him, was there as the best man.

It was a bittersweet day, to be sure. Libby’s absence was felt deeply by us all. And so, as I looked at the young couple standing before me, I took the time to acknowledge their loss and the fact that they already knew something of what it meant to love one another in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, in good times and in bad.

“Life can be terribly hard,” I said, “You know that more than most. So in the context of your marriage, don’t make it any harder on each other than it has to be. Be good to each other. Be patient with each other. Be kind and gentle and quick to forgive. Be strong for each other, but even more than that,” I said, “do what you can to strengthen each other.

Be the other’s greatest supporter. Be your partner’s truest friend.  Be the one thing in each other’s life that works, the one person the other knows they can count on no matter what. Because life isn’t easy, but it’s a heck of a lot easier if you’re on good terms with the person standing by your side.”

Although it was that specific couple that inspired those words, I now try to share some version of this with all of the couples I join in marriage, because it rings true for me. I once heard another pastor say: “When your marriage is strong, you move out into the world in strength. When your marriage is weak, you move out into the world in weakness” (the late Timothy Keller).

It’s such a simple, obvious thing to say, but it’s also all too true. If your marriage is strong, you can handle just about any challenge the world can throw at you, but if your marriage is in trouble, then it doesn’t matter how great life outside your home is; you’re still going to be a mess.

I think the same can be said ...

Do you ever wonder what Jesus would make of all this? Do you ever wonder what Jesus would think about our big, beautiful organ and gorgeous stained glass windows? What he would make of this minister with her fancy degree and generous pay check, let alone the sheer amount of money it takes to simply keep this whole building heated and in good repair?

I do. I think about it all the time. I have often looked not just at the Tiffany window, the Steinway piano, and the Skinner organ, but at the Konica Minolta copier, the Comcast router, the Otis bill for our elevator, indeed at this whole operation and my role within it, and heard that age old question reverberate through my soul: “could not this have been sold at a high price and the money given to the poor?”

Anyone else ever feel, I don’t know, a sense of misgiving about it all? As if we are maybe missing the point? In a world where people are unhoused and hungry, is maintaining and supporting a beautiful old church like this one really the best use of our resources or should we sell it all and give the money away to a more worthy cause?
But then I remember that it wasn’t Jesus who asked that question; was it? No. Who was it?....

Click the link to join our Pride Worship Service!

Today’s worship features beautiful music from our combined choirs and the incredible preaching of the Rev. Darrell Goodwin who writes:

I am proud to serve as the First Black and Openly Queer Executive Conference Minister of the Southern New England Conference, United Church of Christ. There were so many voices who told me if I shared my truth, I would have to stop preaching and that my ministry would never prosper. Thanks be to God that those narratives were LIES! The Holy Spirit did indeed have the victory. If you are a part of the LGBTQIIA community and are looking for a brave space to be your authentic self and journey in your faith, there is a church near you that’s ready to walk beside and have PRIDE in you. Check out: www.findhopenow.org

Thanks to the Westhampton Congregational Church, Edwards Church, St. Johns Episcopal Church, and the Haydenville Congregational church for joining us at First Churches for our second annual Pride Worship service. It was Fierce, Fabulous, and Faithfilled.

A few months ago I got an email from a pastor in Florida inquiring about visiting our church with a tour group. Thanks to Jonathan Edwards, we get a lot of visitors here at First Churches and let’s just say they tend to be on the more conservative end of the theological spectrum.

They show up throughout the week and we always open the church to them so they can come in and pray and bask in the presence of one of their theological heroes.

But this pastor wanted to know if they could come and worship with us on Sunday, and I’ll admit, that made me a little nervous. Did I mention the church was from Florida? Yeah, that right there was enough to set my Spidey senses a tingling. So I looked up their church on-line, read their statement of belief, and then clicked on the link for the “Revival Wells New England Tour.”

Turns out they were getting ready to embark on a 5 day “prayer assignment” with an historian/evangelist whose mission, according to his website, is "Raising up a new generation to aggressively invade the nations with the spirit of revival and reformation!” (Roberts Liardon Ministries).

“Aggressively invade the nations…” Yeah. Sounds like somebody needs to take a class or two on decolonizing Christianity.

Well, that made me really nervous. And I admit I only grew increasingly wary as I perused the itinerary.

Their plan, according to the website, was to come north to “visit, worship, and pray at the historical locations of the First and Second Great Awakenings as well as visit two Ivy League Universities: Harvard and Dartmouth.

“It’s time to take back our Ivy League universities, which were all founded for God!,” it said.

And then I learned that after visits to Park Street Church in Boston and Northfield MA, that they would, “visit Jonathan Edwards’ church in Northampton, where Edwards oversaw some of the first revivals in 1733-35 and preached his famous “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God” that helped launch the First Great Awakening.”

Goodness, I wondered, are you coming to take back my church too?

Needless to say, I emailed the pastor right away and said, “call me.”
And here’s where things get interesting.

She did.

Yeah. She.

Wasn’t expecting that, were you? Me neither. ...