On the Threshold

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve been working my way through a wonderful little book called Sacred Earth, Sacred Soul lent to me by one of our church members (thanks Sam!).

It explores the wisdom of Celtic Christianity through the lens of nine different men and women throughout the ages, making applications to our present day with its particular needs and questions.

I’m only a couple of chapters in, so I’m sure there are many more insights to come, but this morning I was struck by the chapter on Saint Brigid of Kildare.

Not very much is known about her biographically – as the author points out, much more is known hagiographically, as the first biographies about Brigid were written a full century after she lived and died. In a sense, he says, “the question before us is not so much who she was, but rather who she has become in the Celtic heart and imagination over the centuries.”

And who she has become is someone who is capable of uniting apparent opposites, or as the author says, “occupying the liminal space between worlds.”

Legend has it that Brigid was born in-between the nighttime and the sunrise, at twilight; and in-between the inside and the outside of her home, on the threshold.

And in her life she continued to stand in these liminal spaces: uniting the pre-Christian Irish world with that of Christianity; the divine and the human realms; the earth and humanity; what is and what is coming into being.

Reading these reflections on the life of Brigid, I was reminded of something I often try to forget: that we are constantly in transition. We are constantly approaching, standing at, or crossing over thresholds, navigating changes in our lives. We can try to avoid them, or rush through them to minimize the pain and discomfort, or we can do as Brigid invites us to, and stand at the threshold and look for God there.

We can also fall prey to the idea of opposites: in as opposed to out, pre-Christian as opposed to Christian, masculine as opposed to feminine. Or we can live as Brigid did, and find ways to unite them, to have them speak with and interact with each other, allow them to inform and support the other, and deepen our understanding of each.

I’m mindful of this now, as Election Day approaches tomorrow. We are a country of divisions, of opposites, of either-or. We are blue OR red. Pro-life OR pro-choice. Liberal OR conservative. And I don’t think it’s serving us very well.

What would Brigid say to all this? What would she do?

I imagine she might do a lot of listening. That she might look for the commonalities in these so-called opposites. That she would refuse to believe we are so different as we think. And that she might try to stand at the threshold and connect to both sides.

I don’t think it’s a bad place to start, after all. And, like Brigid, as we’re standing at the threshold, we might even notice God there too.

-Pastor Jen

The Joy of saying “Yes!”

…For during a severe ordeal of affliction, their abundant joy and their extreme poverty have overflowed in a wealth of generosity on their part.” (2 Cor 8)

The old first Church in Jerusalem is in need. The number of widows to care for is increasing. For a number of reasons, the Church needs help. The Macedonian Christians, who are themselves suffering economic loss because of their faith, are giving freely and with joy! Asking for how they can give and serve. Here the fund-raisers are not begging the would-be givers; here the givers are begging for more opportunities to give. Their challenges somehow increased the generous nature of their giving, and they joy in it too.

Here we are, friends, about to finish up one year and begin another together in life and ministry. Year ninety-five finds us facing our own afflictions and challenges. Post-Covid research indicates a forty percent reduction in church participation and giving across our national landscape.

In many ways, this is a fight or flight kind of moment for us. It’s a moment, a season when we might re-commit ourselves to Christ and to one another in a season of loss, Macedonian style. But we might also join in and flow with the habit of some who are leaving the Church because it’s too inclusive, or because it’s not inclusive enough, or because trust in institutions has been eroded, or fill in the blank. We might choose flight instead of fight, because that’s where the energy seems to be these days, like the little kids who follow the soccer ball wherever it goes.

I get it. I understand the struggle. I’m engaged in it myself.

My encouragement would be practical in nature. When the nominating committee calls, and asks you to serve the church, consider the joy of saying yes. Consider the need of the battered and bruised church to be renewed, re-invigorated, and how you might contribute to that. This is the joy of saying yes.

And my encouragement would be to read the Stewardship letter soon coming your way, and find that pledge card, and make a financial promise to our God and to this community for the year to come, and mail it in, or better yet, come to worship on November 20 and place it on God’s altar, along with hopes and prayers for the year to come. his is the joy of saying yes.

“What explains it was that they had first given themselves unreservedly to God and to us” Paul says.

I am deep in prayer these days for the work of the Spirit among us.

Love From Here

Peter Hawkinson

The Joy of saying “Yes!”

…For during a severe ordeal of affliction, their abundant joy and their extreme poverty have overflowed in a wealth of generosity on their part.” (2 Cor 8)

The old first Church in Jerusalem is in need. The number of widows to care for is increasing. For a number of reasons, the Church needs help. The Macedonian Christians, who are themselves suffering economic loss because of their faith, are giving freely and with joy! Asking for how they can give and serve. Here the fund-raisers are not begging the would-be givers; here the givers are begging for more opportunities to give. Their challenges somehow increased the generous nature of their giving, and they joy in it too.

Here we are, friends, about to finish up one year and begin another together in life and ministry. Year ninety-five finds us facing our own afflictions and challenges. Post-Covid research indicates a forty percent reduction in church participation and giving across our national landscape.

In many ways, this is a fight or flight kind of moment for us. It’s a moment, a season when we might re-commit ourselves to Christ and to one another in a season of loss, Macedonian style. But we might also join in and flow with the habit of some who are leaving the Church because it’s too inclusive, or because it’s not inclusive enough, or because trust in institutions has been eroded, or fill in the blank. We might choose flight instead of fight, because that’s where the energy seems to be these days, like the little kids who follow the soccer ball wherever it goes.

I get it. I understand the struggle. I’m engaged in it myself.

My encouragement would be practical in nature. When the nominating committee calls, and asks you to serve the church, consider the joy of saying yes. Consider the need of the battered and bruised church to be renewed, re-invigorated, and how you might contribute to that. This is the joy of saying yes.

And my encouragement would be to read the Stewardship letter soon coming your way, and find that pledge card, and make a financial promise to our God and to this community for the year to come, and mail it in, or better yet, come to worship on November 20 and place it on God’s altar, along with hopes and prayers for the year to come. his is the joy of saying yes.

“What explains it was that they had first given themselves unreservedly to God and to us” Paul says.

I am deep in prayer these days for the work of the Spirit among us.

Love From Here

Peter Hawkinson