Unplanned

If you know me, you know that I am a planner and organized to a fault. I actually keep four calendars, one wall calendar each for home and work and two honest-to-goodness paper calendar/planners, one for personal use and one for work. It used to be my habit to get up each morning and check my planner because every day was different. Was there a baseball game? Was it away or at home? Would we have time to eat at home, or would pick something up? Maybe you can tell that I’m not one of those people who flits happily through life without a care. Type A and with some OCD tendencies, I was always prepared, always put-together. But I was also always on the road, driving to the next activity, hoping I could fit it all in. I was stressed. Every time one of my kids’ baseball practices or games was rained out, I would feel a little guilty at the relief of having one less thing to do.

If you had told me three months ago that life as I knew it would change in such a way that I would have to erase everything in my calendar (thank goodness I wrote most of it in pencil!), I would have said you were crazy. At first, I thought that certainly things would be back to normal by Easter because Easter isn’t something you write in pencil. It’s Easter! Yes, Easter still happened, but it was surreal. No crowd of children around the floral cross? No Hallelujah chorus in the chancel?

James 4:13-15 says, “Now listen, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.’ Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow… Instead, you ought to say, ‘If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.’” I feel like this verse is a neon arrow pointing at my head. Planning isn’t a bad thing, but it’s not everything, and I now realize how little control I have over my own life.

Of course, life has always been this way. As James reminds us, anything can happen at any time, and COVID-19 has put that in perspective for me like nothing else could. I have no choice but to work and school my children from home, and I mourn all we’re missing, yet I cherish those things I didn’t even realize I was missing before—talking to my kids about any- and everything on our nightly walks, meeting and befriending our neighbors, observing all the amazing wildlife around our home, and weekly family. While I wish it hadn’t taken a global pandemic to make these changes in my life, I know it would be a terrible shame to ignore these unplanned gifts.

I pray every day that I’m not the only one who feels the need to change, to slow down this frantic pace I’ve been living. While I never for a moment believe that this is God’s judgment on us—that we need to change or face the consequences—I do believe that we’re none of us perfect and that the opportunity to reflect and appreciate and make a change should not be wasted.

Written by Sarah Cotchaleovitch

More than One Way to be Together

Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved. -Acts 2:46-47

     I suppose you could call this a devotional about devotionals. We started posting these pieces written by staff and members of RPC on March 18, thinking that we would have to buoy folks’ spirits for a couple of weeks. Here we are, a two months later, and the end remains hazy. One deadline is sure, however. My time of service will conclude on May 17. I have appreciated all the kind words and deeds shared with me over the last month since I announced of my ending date. In response to you all, I say, You’re welcome!!

    Back to these devotionals. I believe this one counts as #12 from me. I really enjoy writing these short works. Most importantly, however, I want you to know how often I have been moved to tears of joy and gratitude by the devotionals YOU, the members of Riverside Church, have written and shared with us all. You are navigating these same choppy waters of adversity with open hearts and minds, providing your captain’s-chair perspective on things with skill and wisdom. I want to be sure you hear the loud THANK YOU that I and many others shout out for the grace and beauty and poignancy you’ve added to our days!

    Which is why I thought of the passage early in the Acts of the Apostles, which could also be entitled, the Acts of the Church. Jesus’ first followers were living through torturous, tumultuous days in their lives. You know their stories of persecution and deprivation. They had to figure out news ways of being community in order to survive. And they did! Not social distancing; rather, quite the opposite: Gathering together and finding strength in numbers. I trust you can see the connection to our present situation. While not gathering together, we ARE finding a multitude of new ways to be community in tumultuous times. Your simple yet profound devotional words that appear in our inboxes each morning draw us together and remind us that we are not alone in our separation. I contend that we have learned so much of what it means to be community in this time BECAUSE we are not able physically to be together. You devotional writers have provided some of the spiritual glue that has done the necessary job.

    On my way out of town, I want to encourage you to keep sharing your life stories. When we rely on professional “religious” folk to carry the bulk of that load, we miss out on so much of our shared wisdom. So keep writing! I have been deeply and profoundly moved by your efforts.

Prayer: God of unity, help us to continue sharing our stories, and by doing so, uniting us into the fellowship of love and compassion that is the Church of Jesus Christ. Amen!

Blessings, Pastor Zomermaand

Those who trust in the Lord are like Mount Zion, which cannot be moved, but abides forever.  As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people, from this time on and  forevermore.  Psalm 125: 1-2.

As a student of literature, I learned long ago to translate poets’ visual images into concrete memories from my own experience. I haven’t seen A.E. Housman’s lovely cherry trees “hung with bloom along the bough,” but I have seen my share of blooming fruit trees and envision those instead. Nor have I stopped by the Vermont woods Robert Frost describes on a “snowy evening” to watch them “fill up with snow.” I have, however, hiked in the snow, and heard the sounds of the wind in the trees (“the sweep of easy wind”). 

Psalm 125 describes the mountains which surround Jerusalem creating a visual image of God encircling his people. Having not been to Jerusalem, I can’t envision the mountains surrounding that city. I can, however, translate that image to places I do know. 

One of my favorite of all places is Cades Cove, an area in the Great Smoky Mountain National Park near the little town of Townsend. A cove, by definition, is a valley or gap between woods or hills. Cades Cove is just that, a broad, arable valley which stretches for 4,000 acres ringed by mountains. Once home to a handful of farmers, there remain historic community churches and quaint houses and barns along the 11-mile loop road.  Livestock still grazes in the vast meadows, and a few crops are still grown by farmers who now reside just outside the park boundaries. 

It is a quiet, protected place. It is easy here to understand the psalmist’s metaphor. 

Currently, we are by necessity surrounded by walls: walls of masonry, or concrete, of lumber. We feel safe, but, alas, fenced in. But almost daily I mentally take myself to Cades Cove. I set up my lawn chair in one of the lush pastures and enjoy the expanse of space and the comforting protection of the splendid mountains. I remember that as the mountains surround Cades Cove, so God surrounds me and all his people today and for all time.

 I like to think we all have such a place. Where is yours?

Written by Sharon Cleland

Many years ago I taught Spin classes at the YMCA on Riverside Avenue.  I became fast friends with a Naval Helicopter pilot, Kevin & his wife Beth, a Calculus teacher at Episcopal High School. After coming to the Wednesday morning 6am Spin classes for a while, Beth asked for modifications for the workout because she was newly pregnant. (I was also newly pregnant with my daughter Julia, but wasn’t yet sharing the news, as we had issues with infertility).  One morning, Kevin & Beth told me they were being transferred to London. Life got busier for me as I was having my own babies, so unfortunately I lost touch with Kevin & Beth.

In 2006, I was a part time working mom of 3 pre-schoolers ages 3 & under. I worked every Saturday & Sunday night from 7 pm-7 am at St. Vincent’s. I  joined a group called MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) because they met on Monday mornings, and I saw it as free nursery care for my 3 babies. One Monday morning, as I was half-sleeping, half trying to engage with other moms at the meeting, I halfway noticed a mom sitting nearby with a special needs child. The child was in a modified stroller & her sounds were guttural. I didn’t want to draw attention or stare at the child. 

We love to tell the story now, because that mom with the special needs child said I stood up & immediately she made the connection that I was the Spinning instructor that “tortured” her on Wednesday mornings. The mom with the special needs child was my friend Beth! Kevin had accepted a position at NAS Jax after fulfilling his commitment in London. Their daughter Clara had been born in England on February 5, 2004. Clara is my birthday buddy & is 10 days older than my daughter Julia. Clara had a seizure during childbirth, which left her uncommunicative & solely reliable on Beth, Kevin, their families & numerous caregivers to attend to all of her needs. 

Very sadly, Clara passed away this past Sunday, May 3 at home surrounded by her very loving & active family – Kevin, Beth, Ian, Leo & Tessa. I wanted to weave a devotion about my relationship with the Rasch family because I love how God connected us.

With the passing of Clara, I have leaned on my relationship with God & have also leaned on people in this community. With a quick phone call to Emily, I was able to borrow candles that we use at RPC during our Christmas worship service to use at a vigil where we honored Clara’s 16 years with us on earth. Michael met me in the parking lot with the box of candles. It was so good to see him & have a quick conversation with him to check in on his family, while he asked about ours. As I was driving home from church with the candles, I received a call from Elizabeth who instinctively just knew that I needed to hear from a friend. I got to tell Elizabeth about Clara & the light she brought into our lives. Elizabeth & I had the chance to reminisce about her dad Bob & the very sweet connection that Bob & Sam shared. I also had the chance to reflect on Clara’s Hospice Peds palliative care experience with Betty, her caring & faithful advocate & how Percy took over my Spin classes at the YMCA when I was ready to stop the wheels from turning.

Even though we’re not currently connected physically, I’m taking comfort in the connections, friendships, & relationships that God makes possible when we don’t even realize it. 

Written by Kristin Swiercek

Listen for the Hope in Others

Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an accounting for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and reverence. -I Peter 3:15-16

The verses above serve as my go-to text when preaching/teaching about evangelism. Evangelism for me tells stories about grace, mercy…hope! About how my life has been transformed because of God’s love for me. So why am I thinking about it today? Because God utilizes so many people to evangelize me by giving an accounting for the hope that resides in them. To cause me to look inside myself to find hope in dark times.

As the song I sang with the children on Easter states, Daily news is so bad it seems the good news seldom gets heard; get it straight from the Easter people, God’s in charge, spread the word! When I listen, good news bombards me daily. Christian or not, I perceive Christ-like motivations in the actions of people all around me. Let me share three recent examples:

• Experienced, hardened, and esteemed journalists, David Brooks (conservative) and E.J. Dionne (progressive) have been tag-teaming on the radio for decades. First one, then the other comments on an issue, usually from quite opposing viewpoints. I savor their wisdom, often exclaiming (usually to no one), “Brooks and Dionne for Presidents!” They regularly air their deep policy differences on matters. NEVER ONCE have I witnessed one belittling or demeaning the other. In normal times, they broadcast from a studio together. Not now. A few weeks ago, the radio host asked them in their separate locations if they had anything personal to say to the other. Profound expressions of mutual love and appreciation flowed easily from their battle-toughened lips. I was moved to tears.
• A radio story (Sorry, I’m a radio guy.) highlighted a couple waiting on the birth of their first child. C-19 necessitated a c-section delivery. The mother was found to be C-19 positive; the father and newborn not. So new mom was isolated at home; and dad became DAD!!! Not the plan that they imagined. The love and determination and ingenuity of the couple rushed like a flooding river from my radio. So did the tears from my eyes.
• I was listening to the radio (surprise!) this morning and heard of two long-term, from-childhood friends, one white and one black, who became best buds when such alliances were challenging, even dangerous. They both ended up in healthcare occupations, now serving C-19 patients in different places. We were privileged to eavesdrop on their e-chat. They shared dangers, worries, and satisfactions. Neither was surprised that they both had dedicated their lives to help others. Their thirty-plus years of love and support for each other came through my Sony loud and clear. Guess what happened to me? Yep, more tears.

Life ain’t so great right now. All the for-real feel-good stories don’t change that. I am really appreciating the stories of hope elbowing their way into my awareness. I hope you take the time to hear and see them, too!

Prayer: God of hope, cause us to stop navel-gazing long enough to be inspired by the stories of hope and love erupting from lives of those around us; for Jesus’s sake. Amen.

Blessings, Pastor Zomermaand

Counting Our Days

So teach us to count our days that we may gain a wise heart. -Psalm 90:12

Thus saith Moses. I read a Psalm a day in my morning devotional liturgy. A while back, I read Psalm 90. It is the only chapter in that book attributed to Moses, one of the greatest figures in our faith. Tradition has him looking wistfully from the top of Mount Pisgah…over the land to which he has led God’s people, on which he would not set his feet. I imagine he counted pretty much every single one of his days, from hearing God speak from the burning bush, to facing down Pharaoh, to bouncing around the desert like a pinball…to his Pisgah perch. Each and every single one of them provided challenges and satisfactions. And now, Moses was wrapping up his tally of them. Psalm 90 serves as an open prayer to God, meant to honor the Holy One and to add an exclamation point to the teachings Moses piled on God’s people, especially in the long, heavy, often dour book of Deuteronomy.

The morning I read Psalm 90, we received notice that Federal social distancing guidelines would be extended until the end of April. We’d been counting the days already. More time to do the math: sixteen, twenty-seven, thirty-eight… I would like to suggest that Moses’ instructions to the Hebrews fit our present time to a T—that is, perfectly! However, the goal is not to keep track of the number, but rather the value of the days. We may kind of feel like the Hebrews, wandering aimlessly through a foreign-like experience. Moses challenges us not simply to cross the days off the calendar, but to pay special, close, intentional attention to them in order to squeeze the substance from them and to gain wisdom by so doing.

Maybe it’s my solitary perch in this office chair that allows me to be more reflective than others; so I see how much of this wisdom-gaining is already occurring. So many of you are asking really valuable questions and processing the days, seeking to gain a wiser heart. We are longing for a lot of the stuff that we’ve lost…and some things, we don’t miss at all. Life has changed, and will continue to change, for a good long time. We probably won’t be wandering for forty years; but forty days have already passed, with the end not yet in sight. As I suggested in another of these posts, Easter will be a lot more Lenten-like than we prefer. These days and times WILL end. We each hold the key for determining how much wiser we will be for enduring them. Just imagine how prepared the ground of our being will be!

Prayer: Holy God, teach us to value these days, even though we may not love them. Guide us to use this time, like Moses, to gain a heart that is wiser in the things that really matter to you. We pray this in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Happy Counting!

Pastor Zomermaand

Consider, one of the positive benefits coming from Safe at Home is that for my age group, retirees, etc.,  the  pace of life has slowed. Suddenly the quality of serenity has started to appear in our household. This has raised the question, is an untended benefit of the Holy Spirit that we should be re-examining our lives and seeking new things to  do. When going to the grocery store is the highlight of one’s week, I think surely we can do better than that.

So what am I doing? I read one of Fred Buechner’s sermons at breakfast time on our porch while looking at nature. We have gone through our library, discarded the books of no further interest for the library sale, taken an inventory of our vintage LP’s, reviewed our lives by going through and culling the slides of our past lives, worked on our family tree, done some yard work to ease the load on our faithful yard guy, doing an immense amount  of reading (things I have not read and things I have read but forgotten). Plus learning more about my wife’s religious beliefs. (Stupid me, I always thought she believed exactly what I believe.  We have been together for only 64 years)

So I am pushing myself to make very good use of this time and recognize that this is the Holy Spirit’s gift to those of us who have not been infected.  Praise God!

Written by Carl Zacheis

This morning modern technology gave me the gift of two devotionals that resonated in my soul. One was Dean Kate Moorehead from St. John’s Cathedral in Jacksonville. The other was from Rev. Shannon Kershner, Pastor of Fourth Presbyterian Church in Chicago.  Both captured the truth of our lives – we were not created to be alone. These times are clearly showing us that I believe.

Dean Moorehead reminded us of our beginnings, beginnings in the wisdom of God’s desire for companionship. She pointed to the Resurrected Christ’s appearances to the disciples as a group. Her focus was that we reflect God most clearly when we are gathered, when we are together in love.

Rev. Kershner asked the question, “What if one of the decisions we made as a result of the coronavirus pandemic was to purposefully rebuild the “we” culture?”

Her meditation began with words from the hymn, “In Christ There is No East or West”.  In Christ now meet both east and west; in him meet south and north…All Christly souls are one in him throughout the whole wide earth.”

Joy comes when we gather together for worship, service/mission, study and fellowship in Christ Love. Challenge comes when we remember those once active among us who for a variety of reasons are now sidelined. As we find ourselves in isolation with family or alone, let us remember the “we” in our DNA as Pastor Kershner reminds us. As we hopefully move out of isolation when it is safe, let us use our call to be energized, creative and imaginative to change our strong Western culture drive to be “I” to become a culture of “we.”

Let us pray together: Eternal God, God of grace and love, in this time of global isolation, illness and death help us to reconnect with the “we-ness” of our lives as you created us. Open our hearts and minds to the many ways we come together in your love. Help us to see the paths you are always creating for us to support each other, to embrace our dependence on creation’s health and wholeness, and to find joy on the journey. Amen.

Written by Rev Carol DiGiusto

What I Miss

A friend asked me why I am sad to be separated from Riverside and what I miss so much.

It is so complicated. and so simple.

I miss the physical building. I miss the way the light comes through the stained glass windows. I miss the organ pipes in the chancel. I miss my pew (we are like colonial Episcopalians) with the hymnbook that my mother gave in memory of my dad. I miss the loose button on the cushion that accosts my bottom when I sit on it wrong. I missed the purple of Lent – now the white of Easter. I miss all the beautiful wood that Michael faithfully polishes every week. I miss the candles and the communion table with the silver the church ladies polish every week. I miss the airiness and openness of the sanctuary.

I desperately miss the community there – the choirs – those who have professional quality voices and those who cant always hit the notes and who need the railing to get into the chancel –  the balcony people who wave and blow kisses when we pass the peace – the children’s time on the steps where they hit their siblings and give outrageous answers some of the time, the wiggly kids who get to leave after the children’s time and the wigglier ones who have to sit through the whole service- the people I have know since I was 6 years old and the new friends I made in Martha’s illness – the ones who ask after my mother every single Sunday and the ones who can’t pronounce her name – the people I have been sitting in the middle of for years and years – the staff who faithfully make worship happen every week –  the people who sidle up to me afterwards and ask how is the PNC doing and do we have a candidate yet –  the generations of families who still sit together week after week, yes in the same place all these years.

I miss the music – the fabulous organ, the beautiful choir, Sam and Janie and their magical group, the bell choir, the familiar hymns – which I seem to know because I guess I have been singing them all these years they are almost all familiar –  and the congregation giving it their all when we struggle with new tunes. I miss the quiet during prayers and the noisy confusion before and after the service. 

I miss my friends. Many of my closest friends are Riversiders. We have so much history together. We raised our children together. We taught Sunday School and other classes together. We cook in the basement together, meals to be delivered to the sick and otherwise infirm. We hold each others hands when times are tough, and drink together in good and bad times. Our theology isn’t always the same and our politics aren’t always the same but we love each other and miss the same people and aren’t ashamed to cry when we need it and when most people wouldn’t understand.

I miss that it is part of my history, who I am. I sat there with my father and Martha and Betty and any number of other who have gone on. I have memories and  stories about so many things that happened there involving lots of people I love. I miss that it is taking away my present and future not to be there –  every Sunday I am gone I do not get to sit with Will and Teddy and Katie and Engy. I do not get to hug all my little intergenerational friends who mean a lot to me. I am missing part of their growing up and that makes me sad. 

I miss the preaching-  the fact that it is okay to be a doubter and a questioner and that we have always been about that at Riverside. That the sermons (some, not all) and the theology have shaped my world view and made me realize the importance of faithfulness and servanthood because I have been so loved and cared for. We are having streaming worship every week now, but it is not so good. I get too distracted by the heathens in my household, and the NYT puzzle lying there still unsolved and the sudden need for another cup of coffee. It is so unsatisfactory. I certainly believe that the fault is all mine and that God is reaching out to me, offering alternative beauty and meaning. But I am sadly not as adaptive as I once was, so there is a hole in my heart where Riverside could be. and will be.

Maybe this is a mixed blessing because I will never take Riverside for granted again. They dogged me relentlessly during college and law school and the first years I was back in town. I threw away all the Messengers without reading them for 10+ years. More like 13. But there they were, ready with open arms when I needed to come back – the prodigal daughter. So it is home. The most long-standing home in my life. And there doesn’t seem to be an adequate substitute for it in this life.

Written by Mary Coxe