The Light Shines in the Darkness

Today’s blog is written by Pastor Jen.

Over a month ago, as the violence in Israel and Palestine was escalating, our Executive Board made a decision. A simple one, really: to reach out to our neighbors with connections to both places, and to tell them of our sympathies and our friendship, to condemn the violence, and to extend our hopes for peace.

The texts of both these letters are below.

First, to local mosques:

Dear friends,

We want you to know that our hearts break along with yours for the innocent lives lost in Gaza as a result of the ongoing war between Israel and Hamas. Please know that we are holding the Palestinian people and the worldwide Islamic community and your members in our prayers. We are mindful that your community likely feels less safe these days in light of anti-Islamic rhetoric and threats directed towards Muslim individuals and communities since the war began. We want you to know that we are your neighbors, and we stand with you against those threats. We lament the trauma that your community is experiencing and pray for a swift, just and long-term peaceful solution to the ongoing conflict. We are keeping you all in our hearts and minds, and will continue to work for healing, peace and justice.

Grace and peace.

And then to local synagogues:

Dear friends,

We want you to know that our hearts break along with yours for the lives lost as a result of the horrific terrorist attack in Israel on October 7, 2023. Please know that we are holding the nation of Israel, the worldwide Jewish community and your congregants in our prayers. We are mindful that your community likely feels less safe these days in light of the increased anti-Semitic and violent threats against Jewish individuals and communities. We want you to know that we are your neighbors, that we love you and support the Jewish people, your communities and Israel’s right to exist. We lament the trauma that your community is experiencing. We are praying for all of you and for a swift, just and long-term peaceful solution to the ongoing conflict. We are keeping you all in our hearts and minds, and will continue to work for healing, peace and justice.

Grace and peace.

These letters were signed by our church chair and the pastors, and sent out in mid-November.

I don’t know if we expected any response, but I do know that I’ve been surprised by what we have received. Multiple local synagogues have written back to us and shared what these simple letters have meant to them. Some of these communities have shared the text of the letter with their entire membership, and thus we’ve heard back from both clergy people and individual members.

Here is a small selection of what I’ve personally received:

I wanted to reach out to thank you for your thoughtful note to Am Yisrael Conservative Synagogue. It means so much to have your community’s support during this time.

…

Rabbi Flinkenstein shared your letter with the congregation. I cannot tell you how meaningful it is. Recent events have unlocked generations of trauma and isolation we thought were behind us.

…

With tears in my eyes and gratitude in my heart I read a letter of support to your neighboring Jewish community, that you and your church’s leaders co-signed.

…

We are long time members of the Am Yisrael Congregation and we just read your beautiful letter. Our family wants to thank you, your co-Pastors and your congregants for your support during this awful time […] We disdain the current Israeli government and its policies but we strongly support Israel’s right to exist as a sovereign nation. Palestinians are not our enemies. They have suffered too.

…

These days, we feel alone and vulnerable here, in OUR country, which we love so much. This is why your letter means so much to us. Thank you again for such a lovely, generous message. It means a lot now more than ever.

…

I’m mindful as I write to you that these are letters and responses only from the local Jewish community, as we have not (yet, I hope) received response from local mosques. And still, I want to share these words with you because they feel particularly important in this Advent season: a time when we proclaim that the light shines in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it.

There is so much darkness these days, and not just in the form of military conflicts. You don’t need me to tell you this. It can be hard to know how to respond; what to do, or what to say.

But these little letters, and the big response they elicited reminded me of a simple truth that is all too easily forgotten: there is no place too small to start.

The situation in the Middle East is complicated, and the last thing that I will attempt to do, as a white Christian American woman, is to analyze it or preach about it. But there’s still a place, in between advocating for ceasefire or protesting the humanitarian crisis on either side or whatever other response you have, for kindness. For remembering that all of this starts with enemy-making, and it can only end when we refuse to do that anymore.

Maybe it’s not the darkness of that particular conflict that you feel these days. Maybe it is the ongoing war in Ukraine, or the plight of hungry refugees in your neighborhood, or the crisis in our local animal shelters. But whatever it is that weighs on your heart, let us all remember this: any light – however small – that you start and tend and share, can push back the darkness.

And the final, ultimate word of Christmas: the darkness shall not overcome it.

Merry Christmas, friends.

-Pastor Jen

The Light Shines in the Darkness

Today’s blog is written by Pastor Jen.

Over a month ago, as the violence in Israel and Palestine was escalating, our Executive Board made a decision. A simple one, really: to reach out to our neighbors with connections to both places, and to tell them of our sympathies and our friendship, to condemn the violence, and to extend our hopes for peace.

The texts of both these letters are below.

First, to local mosques:

Dear friends,

We want you to know that our hearts break along with yours for the innocent lives lost in Gaza as a result of the ongoing war between Israel and Hamas. Please know that we are holding the Palestinian people and the worldwide Islamic community and your members in our prayers. We are mindful that your community likely feels less safe these days in light of anti-Islamic rhetoric and threats directed towards Muslim individuals and communities since the war began. We want you to know that we are your neighbors, and we stand with you against those threats. We lament the trauma that your community is experiencing and pray for a swift, just and long-term peaceful solution to the ongoing conflict. We are keeping you all in our hearts and minds, and will continue to work for healing, peace and justice.

Grace and peace.

And then to local synagogues:

Dear friends,

We want you to know that our hearts break along with yours for the lives lost as a result of the horrific terrorist attack in Israel on October 7, 2023. Please know that we are holding the nation of Israel, the worldwide Jewish community and your congregants in our prayers. We are mindful that your community likely feels less safe these days in light of the increased anti-Semitic and violent threats against Jewish individuals and communities. We want you to know that we are your neighbors, that we love you and support the Jewish people, your communities and Israel’s right to exist. We lament the trauma that your community is experiencing. We are praying for all of you and for a swift, just and long-term peaceful solution to the ongoing conflict. We are keeping you all in our hearts and minds, and will continue to work for healing, peace and justice.

Grace and peace.

These letters were signed by our church chair and the pastors, and sent out in mid-November.

I don’t know if we expected any response, but I do know that I’ve been surprised by what we have received. Multiple local synagogues have written back to us and shared what these simple letters have meant to them. Some of these communities have shared the text of the letter with their entire membership, and thus we’ve heard back from both clergy people and individual members.

Here is a small selection of what I’ve personally received:

I wanted to reach out to thank you for your thoughtful note to Am Yisrael Conservative Synagogue. It means so much to have your community’s support during this time.

…

Rabbi Flinkenstein shared your letter with the congregation. I cannot tell you how meaningful it is. Recent events have unlocked generations of trauma and isolation we thought were behind us.

…

With tears in my eyes and gratitude in my heart I read a letter of support to your neighboring Jewish community, that you and your church’s leaders co-signed.

…

We are long time members of the Am Yisrael Congregation and we just read your beautiful letter. Our family wants to thank you, your co-Pastors and your congregants for your support during this awful time […] We disdain the current Israeli government and its policies but we strongly support Israel’s right to exist as a sovereign nation. Palestinians are not our enemies. They have suffered too.

…

These days, we feel alone and vulnerable here, in OUR country, which we love so much. This is why your letter means so much to us. Thank you again for such a lovely, generous message. It means a lot now more than ever.

…

I’m mindful as I write to you that these are letters and responses only from the local Jewish community, as we have not (yet, I hope) received response from local mosques. And still, I want to share these words with you because they feel particularly important in this Advent season: a time when we proclaim that the light shines in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it.

There is so much darkness these days, and not just in the form of military conflicts. You don’t need me to tell you this. It can be hard to know how to respond; what to do, or what to say.

But these little letters, and the big response they elicited reminded me of a simple truth that is all too easily forgotten: there is no place too small to start.

The situation in the Middle East is complicated, and the last thing that I will attempt to do, as a white Christian American woman, is to analyze it or preach about it. But there’s still a place, in between advocating for ceasefire or protesting the humanitarian crisis on either side or whatever other response you have, for kindness. For remembering that all of this starts with enemy-making, and it can only end when we refuse to do that anymore.

Maybe it’s not the darkness of that particular conflict that you feel these days. Maybe it is the ongoing war in Ukraine, or the plight of hungry refugees in your neighborhood, or the crisis in our local animal shelters. But whatever it is that weighs on your heart, let us all remember this: any light – however small – that you start and tend and share, can push back the darkness.

And the final, ultimate word of Christmas: the darkness shall not overcome it.

Merry Christmas, friends.

-Pastor Jen

Week 3: Lifting Up The Lowly

(our guest blogger through advent is Rev. Hannah Hawkinson, child of the Church pastor of St. Timothy Lutheran Church in Skokie, Illinois. Her writing appears in the November/December issue of Gather magazine, published by the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.)

Read Luke 1:51-53; 1 Samuel 2:1-10

There are few things I love more than “David and Goliath” stories. The little guy takes on the bully; the longshot athlete finally gets their moment of glory; a young shepherd defeats the mightiest warrior with nothing but a slingshot and some stones. Stories like these are just so satisfying. Almost like fairy tales, they offer an escape from the seemingly immovable power structures of the world.

I also love these stories because it’s so easy to imagine myself as the “David,” the little guy, the long shot. We’re all the heroes in our own stories, right? When we read “David and Goliath” stories, we don’t have to imagine ourselves in a more complex way. We are simply the hero, and that is that.

But Mary’s song invites us to consider that we have some “Goliath” in us too. Her words call us to embrace the reality that God’s reign of justice and peace will make us uncomfortable. Because God’s topsy-turvy gospel doesn’t leave any of us unchanged. “God has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly!” Mary sings. “God has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty!” These David and Goliath stories are the very core of God’s topsy-turvy gospel across all generations–including in the life of Mary’s ancestor Hannah.

Like Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel and countless women before and after her, Hannah is deeply grieved by her inability to bear children. Even though her husband is kind and loving, she feels the social pressures and shame of her barrenness. She cries out to God in prayer: “O LORD of hosts, if only you will look on the misery of your servant and remember me!” (1 Samuel 1:11)

Sure enough, God does remember Hannah and she bears a son, Samuel. Hannah, like Mary, lifts her voice in praise and thanksgiving for God’s mighty acts of justice and peace: “The bows of the mighty are broken, but the feeble gird on strength. Those who were full have hired themselves out for bread, but those who were hungry are fat with spoil.” God, Hannah declares, “raises up the poor from the dust [and] lifts the needy from the ash heap, to make them sit with princes and inherit a seat of honor” (1 Samuel 2:4-5a, 8a).

God’s topsy-turvy gospel doesn’t leave any of us unchanged. The mighty will be brought down. The hungry, thirsty, feeble and lowly will be lifted up. But if we’re being totally honest, this radical, topsy-turvy, “David and Goliath” work of God makes many of us a bit uncomfortable, doesn’t it? We realize that we might not always be the “David.” We just might be among those rich and powerful who will be brought down.

In the face of this reality, we can certainly choose to cling to our comfort with closed fists. We can dig in our heels and refuse to join in the song of Hannah and Mary, Shiphrah and Puah, Sarah and Rebekah, Rachel and Hagar. But God calls us to a new way…a different way…a more joyful, life-giving way.

We can embrace our discomfort. We can choose to courageously give up our power and open our hands– even when it’s scary to do so. Making ourselves also vulnerable, we can join in the song. We can rejoice in the good news of God’s topsy-turvy kingdom, even when we’re not sure how we’ll get there. We can choose to join in God’s topsy-turvy work of justice and peace, even when we don’t have all the answers.

Reflection Questions

When in your life have you been “David” fighting Goliath? How has God lifted you up in moments of distress and need?

When in your life have you been “Goliath,” or part of Goliath-like systems of power? How might you begin to own this reality and step into the discomfort that comes with that?

In what ways does God’s topsy-turvy work of justice and peace make you uncomfortable? (It’s alright to admit it: turning the world right-side-up won’t leave any of us unchanged, and change is difficult!) Are there systems God’s topsy-turvy work might disrupt, or wounds it might uncover? What might it be like for you to embrace your discomfort and learn and grow, as we all participate in God’s topsy-turvy work in the world?

Hannah Hawkinson