This past Sunday, Advent began, the season of waiting, of anticipation of the celebration of the birth of our Lord. Four weeks of singing, praying, reading (we give thanks for “Those Who Dream,” the devotional brought to us by SanctifiedArt.org), and remembering the oh so Holy Night, oh so long ago when our Savior was born.
This past Sunday, we entered into Advent in a way we never have before – on Zoom and YouTube and Facebook. We listened to poetry, lit the first candle in our Advent wreaths, and pondered the Word of God. We laughed. We cried. We lamented what has happened in the past and wondered about what will happen in the future. All online.
Online community life is still so strange, and somehow all too familiar.
So close – and yet so far away.
On the one hand, it is a good and a beautiful thing that friends of Caldwell who live far away can join us and participate with us in worship in this online format. There are two people who joined Caldwell during this time of Covid distancing – and they have never even been inside our gorgeous sanctuary. They have come to know the warmth and love of this community in this virtual format. I so wish they could see us in all our glory – clapping our hands, making noise, marching down the aisle, the ten minutes of the passing of the peace, sending our children off to their special time together, and standing up to join to soloist in the middle of the song. That time will come again.
On the other hand, it is a hard and a horrible thing that we cannot lock arms and hands together in the sanctuary at this time of great loss, accumulative loss, in our congregation. Mourning the recent passing of Richard Harrison, another of our beloved companions in this family of faith, while at such a distance is heartbreaking. It’s sad that we won’t be together on Christmas Eve, lighting candles and singing Silent Night together, watching Ellen and Olivia dance down the aisle, smiling and cheering our littles ones on during the Christmas pageant.
The pain of so much loss and so much separation is almost unbearable these days. It is all too much.
And when we think we can’t stand another minute of this agony, right then, God shows up. In those brief encounters when Advent bags were picked up at the church and dropped off by Caldwell elves all over the city. In photos of children lighting and staring at Advent candles. In good news of healing and recovery from surgery and illness. In cards, notes, emails, and texts that are flying around and among and between us – reminding us that we are being thought of and prayed for. In glimpses of generosity when food is purchased and delivered to Caldwell members on the day before Thanksgiving. In stories, commentary, art, and poetry found in the devotional we are engaging with this Advent.
God shows up and reminds us that She is so close, and not so far away after all.
God shows up and shows off with that enormous full moon a couple of weeks ago.
God shows up and invites us to keep showing up.
To keep logging in to worship services and other online gatherings.
To keep checking in with one another, even when your heart is breaking and your tears are flowing. Perhaps especially then.
To keep reading and listening and watching – because there is so much yet to see and experience and be discovered this Advent. And this day. And every day.
I don’t know about you, but I suspect that I will need every one of these days of Advent to prepare my heart this year, to get ready to sing songs of joy and welcome for the Christ child. My heart is weary and worn. My eyes are puffy and red. As we wait, as we weep, as we pray, and as we prepare, friends, let us not forget the ways that we can be close, even though we are so far away.
Come to the ACE Sunday School class on Sunday mornings at 9:30 am and then continue with us in worship at 11 am. This coming Sunday, we will celebrate communion, so bring bread and cup, along with your Advent wreath.
Join us for Preacher’s Porch on Tuesdays at 7 pm – BUT NOT TONIGHT. IT’S CANCELLED TONIGHT. If you want to read and ponder the Scripture ahead of time, take a look at the passages I will preach from next Sunday – Psalm 85:1-2 and 8-13 and Mark 1:1-8.
Gather with us for Vespers on Thursday evenings at 8 pm.
We will have our Blue Christmas Service on Thursday, December 17th at 7 pm. Details to follow.
If you were not able to watch the service for Richard Harrison last Saturday, here is a link to watch it. Here is a link to the written version of John’s eulogy. And here is a link to the conversation Richard had with students at his high school alma mater in upstate New York. In 1974, Richard was the first Black student to graduate from the school.
There are many ways to stay connected, Caldwell. In some ways, it feels like we are so far away from one another, but in others, we are as close as the push of a button, the click of a few keystrokes, and the breath of a prayer.
Grace and peace be with all of you, Gail