During the month of September as we worship God we are are going to explore the New Testament letter of James together. I’m excited about it!

The little letter packs a punch and sparks controversy. The writer’s central summary statement that “faith without works is dead” seems to fly in the face of the early church’s pre-eminent theologian, St Paul, who maintains we are “saved by grace through faith apart from works” (Romans 3). This tension cause Martin Luther to call the letter of James “an epistle of straw”, because he felt it negated grace needing to stand alone.

But the letter is not a theological treatise as much as it is an ethical exhortation, about how we whose lives are now formed by the grace of God ought to be living. James gives us a vision of what the Christian life should look like in real time, in the real world. The letter challenges us to be persons of integrity, whose lives are consistent in all we say, believe, and do. From the first verse to the last, James calls us to behavior consistent with our convictions and inspires us to live our faith.

We really don’t know who the author is; James was a very common Jewish and Christian name — still is! Tradition attributes the letter to James the brother of Jesus and leader of the early Church in Jerusalem.

Here will be our texts and themes week by week:

September 1 — James 1:17-27. Doing the Good News — “But be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves….“

September 8 — James 2:1-17. No Partiality! — “Mercy triumphs over judgement”.

September 15 — James 3:1-12. Careful Words. “How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire. And the tongue is a fire!“

September 22 — James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a. Gentleness and peace. “Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom.”

September 29 — James 5:13-20. Prayer. “Are any among you suffering? They should pray.”

Come to worship God with a hunger to grow! Looking forward to being with you.

Peter Hawkinson

“Then the LORD God formed man from the dust of the ground, and brethed into his nostrils the breath of life; and the man became a living being.” (Genesis 2:7)

We take our breath for granted, the miracle that each one is, moment by moment. Last week I realized this in a new way, as our family vacation found us high up in the Rocky mountains. One day we made it up to the top of Pikes Peak, which sits at 14,115 feet. The rest of the week we lived in a cabin at 11,000 feet, looking up at 2 other “fourteeners” as the natives call them. There are 58 peaks over fourteen thousand feet in Colorado.

I learned some things about breathing, about oxygen, and about altitude sickness. Did you know that at 14 thousand feet you only breathe 57 percent of the oxygen you do here in the midwest at sea level? And at 11 thousand feet, only 70 percent? And did you know that this can cause you to become sick as your body struggles for the necessary breath it needs to stay vital and alive?

Let me back up a bit. The day we were leaving home for the airport I slipped on the stairs and bent my right foot backwards in all kinds of directions. By the time we made it to Colorado the bruising and swelling had taken hold, and that didn’t change throughout the week. I was wondering if the altitude situation had something to say about that. And once we arrived, without getting into all the gory details, my gastro-intestinal system went for a wild three day ride! Woah!

Thank God for google. I learned there that my body was so focused on the absolute necessity of that breath of mine, and that it would keep going, that it stopped worrying about other important functions. My body spoke. It said, “I’m gonna worry about that swollen, ligament stretched foot later, and for now your sour stomach and digestive system will just have to take a break, because right now every bit of energy needs to be focused on keeping your heart beating and your brain keeping your breathing going on. I feel threatened. Let’s focus completely on the most important thing.” And that’s indeed what my body did. And it worked, though I wasn’t very happy about it! After a while, a few days, it started to get back to multi-tasking a bit, but it wasn’t really until we got home that I could feel my body saying, “Ahh! all is well again.”

This whole journey makes me reflect on how fearfully and wonderfully we are made. Clearly its exhilarating to venture up into the heights, but we are not created to live there! I know, I know, many do, and that’s another wonder, that eventually our bodies can adapt to a new normal. Just think what a miracle it is that we feel so well so much of the time!

Mostly, though, I’m thinking about breath, and breathing, and the fragile moment-by-moment process it is from our human beginning until its end. And God has given us this breath of life! What a gift. “Let everything that has breath praise the LORD.” (Psalm 150:6)

It was wonderul there, and it’s so good to be back home! Now I must go and ice my swollen foot.

Peter Hawkinson

Today’s blog post is written by Pastor Jen.

Last week Friday evening, I was watching the Olympics opening ceremony.

And I was on a text thread with my sister and a friend and colleague of hers, reacting to the different parts of the artistic program as they happened.

My sister, who had watched the program live, as it was broadcast here in the states that afternoon, was telling us about different parts of it and anticipating our reactions.

When we got to one part, featuring a cast of characters in bright costumes arrayed behind a long table, she texted and said: Jen, at this part, I wondered…last supper??

“Yes!” I said, taking in the image.

And we talked a bit about how the central figure looked like a woman, and also appeared to be spinning records – a DJ?

Someone else quoted Ariana Grande lyrics as a joke, and we all moved on.

But the internet did not move on.

Days later, my Facebook thread was exploding with reactions from fellow pastors and theologians who all had something to say about this scene from the ceremonies.

And I had to dig a bit to realize that their reactions were to other reactions, from people loudly decrying the moment as an insult to Christianity, disrespectful, and abhorrent.

As the days went by, the furor only kept mounting, with more people weighing in, either escalating their rhetoric, or in a few cases, pausing to ask good questions:

Why are people so fixated on this?

Why aren’t they showing the same level of anger about the shooting death of Sonya Massey, an elderly black woman killed by police in Springfield, Illinois? Why are they more concerned about this “insult to Christianity” than that – the senseless loss of life of one of God’s children?

Why does this matter so much more?

The designer of the artistic program finally weighed in, assuring people that the scene was meant to depict the bacchanalia, a feast honoring Bacchus, the god of wine (also known as Dionysus) – not Jesus and his disciples.

Art historians examined images of the moment, counted the participants, and concluded that for a variety of reasons it was probably not meant to illustrate the Last Supper – but more likely served as an homage to a 17^th century painting by Jan van Biljert called “The Feast of the Gods” (see this NYT article).

But people were shouting too loud to listen by that point, and this morning a friend shared with me news that the Olympic Committee had issued an official apology about the whole thing.  

At which point I threw up my hands and sighed.

Not because I don’t like people getting angry. I love when Jesus flips tables in the temple courts, and I recognize the need for righteous anger that makes things better.

But I can’t stand when Christians center themselves so much as to demand respect instead of earn it.

When they get angry about what I would consider the wrong things.

I keep returning to those moments in scripture when Jesus tells his disciples, “if they persecuted me, they will persecute you” and trying to imagine his reaction to this: Christ-followers making a huge scene about a perceived slight.

I keep asking: are we so insecure that we can’t take even the suggestion of a joke? It seems clear enough to me that this wasn’t the intent of that moment in the opening ceremony, but I keep returning to this idea: so what if it was?

Shouldn’t we be able to listen for the criticism implicit in a moment like that, and learn what has been so damaging about our witness that people are driven to make jokes at our expense and throw barbs our way?

Or are we so concerned with preserving our respectability and reputation that we have to yell this loudly at what we think is an insult – even when it’s not?

I don’t know about you, but to me, this doesn’t seem to embody Jesus’ way.

As a friend and colleague said to me over lunch today, I think Jesus would have been more likely to sit down at that table than to yell at the people already there.

One article I read about this firestorm of reactions called it “a ridiculous moral panic.”

And I honestly have to agree. It seems both clear to me that we weren’t the butt of a joke, and that even if we were, that’s more a cause for reflection and conversation than indignation and outrage.

But I keep coming back to a point that others have made, and more eloquently than I will here:

Pay attention to what people are mad about.

Watch where they put their energy into making things “right.”

Is it the suffering of vulnerable people?

Is it the protection of marginalized communities?

Or is it their reputation? Their own rights? Their privileges and opportunities?

I don’t know that there’s one lesson to be learned from all this; I suspect there are many.

But I encourage you to think about this, whether in regards to the Olympics, or the next time you feel affronted: why am I angry? What am I trying to protect?

Maybe you’ll learn something. Maybe you’ll still have to yell a little bit, but then again maybe not.

Maybe you’ll create the space for a more Christ-like response.

Maybe you’ll realize, as I keep doing, that Jesus doesn’t need us to defend him, but to follow him.

Most of all, that is my hope.

Yours,

Pastor Jen

“For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of the light — for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true.” (Ephesians 5:8-9, NRSV)

“You groped your way through that murk once, but no longer. You’re out in the open now. The bright light of Christ makes your way plain. So no more stumbling around. Get on with it! The good, the right, the true — these are the actions appropriate for the daylight hours.” (The Message)

The Spathiphyllum Wallisii, commonly known as the Peace Lilly that sits in a pit at the right end of my desk here tells a story. As quickly as it’s soil dries up, as desperately as it thirsts for water, even more I’ve been watching it for 10 years now, ferociously bending toward the light. The window to the west calls, and I am constantly rotating the plant so that the dark side can catch the light and catch up. It’s amazing. And this image of darkness and light blooms everywhere in scripture, which is not surprising given our natural world and its cycles.

Over the years the light has become a most important metaphor for me. I’m guessing you’re getting tired of hearing how much I love the summertime, more for the light than anything else. Rising to it, the birds well into their day already, and it’s slow relinquishing at the end of day. It’s creation’s tug-of-war, and in this season in our northern hemisphere light wins, and everything comes to life (including all those weeds!) And I do too.

I so deeply resonate with this sense of life’s tug-of-war between the good and the bad, the right and the wrong, the truth and the lies, “the good, the right, and the true” as St. Paul writes. I know well too that the bad, the wrong, and the lies that the darkness invites me into sometimes find the darkness having it’s way too. This is our human condition.

And this why our new life in Christ is a daily — no, hourly — no, breath by breath journey away from the darkness and into the light. Coming back to my Peace Lilly, I bend toward the light as the Holy Spirit keeps turning me, and watering me with what I need to grow, to stay alive. We deeply believe that Jesus, “the true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world”, and that “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1).

How deeply I want to live for what is good and right and true! How are you engaged with the tug-of-war between the darkness and the light?

Dear God, bend me toward the light, as I reach out for new life!

Love from Here

Peter Hawkinson

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Philippians 4:4

It was my favorite show growing up in the 70’s — Ralph Malph made me laugh — but that’s not what I’m thinking about here. Today and these days I’m finding the Church, and I mean our Church, a happy place. I first had that feeling a few months ago when I watched a couple of Church kids dancing with a couple of our senior members while pastor Lynnea and the the band was playing “A-la-la-la, la la la leluia…” The Sunday following I heard from a couple of you who had found reconciliation to be a real thing after praying for each other during communion. Finally, during my morning and evening prayers I began to find my spirit rejoicing in a season of unity among us after some tough years and challenges.

At some point I mentioned this sense of congregational happiness to the executive board report, and there were smiles about it, and that was that (or so I thought). And I’ll admit that I have wondered if this sense of a happy season is just a figment of my hopeful imagination. But you have told me no! A couple of you, in different community gatherings at different times, have said to me recently, “The church seems to be a happy place right now.” I am so gratified to feel and experience these rather sunny days with you.

I wonder why, what are the contributors?

Well, we have a settled energy about the welcome of all people, and some new friends are finding in our community an invitation to belong. As a result, we have a number of new families and friends, bringing new life to our community. Also, I have not seen in many summers the level of participation in our worship and other numerous gatherings as this year. It’s wonderful! Together, these realities indicate a renewed desire in us to express our love for God and for each other. May it continue as summer moves into fall.

I know, I know that so many challenges are in front of us, both locally and nationally in terms of the life of the Church. But in these days, its important to stop, and reflect, and realize just how blessed we are to belong to Winnetka Covenant Church. Find your own way to give thanks. These are happy days!

Peter Hawkinson

Today’s blog post is written by Pastor Jen.

The other day, I was staring at one of my bookcases – the one that I use to store prayer books and worship planning resources – when I noticed all my devotional books for different seasons. I have ones for Advent and ones for Lent, ones for Easter and Christmas, but then it struck me: it’s ordinary time.

We are, at this point in the church year, deep into the longest season that we sometimes refer to as “after Pentecost,” but which is also known as Ordinary Time.

The time between big seasons of preparation and celebration, Ordinary Time can make up as many as 34 weeks of the 52 in our liturgical year.

And while it can get a little boring to keep seeing those numbers…”5th Sunday after Pentecost”…”21st Sunday after Pentecost”…show up week after week, I am coming to love Ordinary Time.

A few weeks ago, I flew out to Cleveland to see dear friends that I went through seminary with. For Christmas this year, they had used their airline miles to buy me tickets to fly out and see them, and the timing was perfect. One of my friends there is a bivocational (well, really she’s a trivocational) pastor and was just about to start a month off, part vacation, part sabbatical. I was arriving exhausted too, off a month of some difficult news in my family, lots of things going on at church, and trying to get all my ducks in a row for my own sabbatical.

So what did we do during my mini-vacation?

A lot of ordinary things.

I was hard-pressed to share stories of exciting travel adventures when I got home, because the truth is this:

We played video games.

We took a walk around her neighborhood.

We watched her cats try to play with each other, and we figured out what to make for dinner.

We played a board game with her husband and another seminary friend of ours, and I went to her church for a Saturday night service.

I slept in, and ate fresh bagels, and we walked around the city’s arboretum.

And it was perfect.

We did lots of ordinary things, but together, and my empty cup was slowly but steadily filled again.

This is the gift of ordinary time.

Don’t get me wrong; I love our festival seasons of the church year, just like I love a vacation where I go somewhere exciting and glamorous, where I have adventures to share upon coming home.

But sometimes ordinary is exactly what my soul needs: simple things, a slower pace, rest. The kind of time that allows me to notice the show that fireflies are putting on in my neighbor’s yard, or to savor a slice of perfectly ripe peach. Time to breathe and to be present and to notice that God is still very much active in the routine things of life.

Summer can be the opposite of ordinary time, for a lot of us. It can be juggling camp schedules and family vacations and beach days and road trips. It can be full days and late nights and a happy chaos of sandy feet and sunburned shoulders.

But hopefully it can also be a time where we stop and savor the ordinary. Where we recognize the gift of it, and the grace of it, and the holiness in it.

The next time we cross paths, I hope you’ll tell me about your ordinary time. I’d love to hear about it.

yours,

Pastor Jen

“Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.” (Mt 5:44)

“But strive first for the kingdom of God….” (Matthew 6:33)

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23)

“If we do an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, we will be a blind and toothless nation.” (Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.)

An op-ed in the tribune this morning by Richard Boykin entitled “Lack of Civility is making American politicians ineffective” is good. I agree with it only in part, but that’s the point of an editorial piece. It gets me thinking, and my thoughts are (as usual) about how the faith — in particular my/our Christian faith and community and what is supposedly OUR home domain, the Kingdom of God — play a part.

I know that many of us within the church bristle a little or a lot about “Church and politics” thoughts and conversations. I hear regularly from you (and sometimes even in my own head) that “Politics don’t belong in the pulpit.” The trouble with this thinking is that there’s no way to it if one is trying to follow Jesus at the same time.

Here my daughter Hannah was so helpful one day when we were talking about it and she said, “Hey dad, did you know that “Politics” literally means “The Things of the City”? Thinking about the word and issue in this way, who more than the Church is deeply concerned about the things of the city? For a faith community called to, focused on and working for a just and right world, Politics is a central word.

The issue, I think, is that we need to think about the word and process of politics as first flowing from our understanding of the Kingdom of God, to be formed and shaped there, and to continually seek this Kingdom first — and this has never been more difficult than now, right now, in our 24 hr a day breaking news cycle and the sound bites on our social media, which are always leading us toward the far edges of common life and civility and away from the real issues, the politics, the things of the city. Unless we are as people of faith disciplined enough to begin and end each new day with the love of Christ and his coming Kingdom and those fruits of the Spirit supposed to come to life in us who bear Holy Spirit, our words and actions become toxic, self-centered focused on getting and keeping power, and angry.

The Tribune piece cites a recent example of the end of a recent Chicago city council meeting, when two aldermen’s disagreement about a proposed housing development found them almost at blows out in the hallway after the meeting. “I’m gonna knock your ass out” one said, and the other, “If you slap me, I’m going to hit you with a bat.”

I don’t know if these individuals have living faith at work in their lives. Maybe not. But my guess is that each of the aldermen are people of some faith, but that somehow their faith formation has lost it’s needed voice in their current conversation. Reading the seminal and holy words above, how might the conversation in the hallway been different? Though the issue at hand remains the same, as does their deep differences about it, maybe if their moment was rooted in the fruits of the Spirit, say, they would have found a table at the cafe across the street, and had at it, but also through practicing kindness, and patience, and self-control. And civility would have a chance maybe even for them to find some solution, some negotiation, some common way forward. Maybe they could have stood up together at the next meeting and called the factions they represent together. “What about this idea?” Naive is the word you might have coming into your mind about now.

I say not according to the Kingdom of God, and for those whose hearts are focused on the love of Christ. I say that if we can enter into our more public and civil life focused on the Kingdom of God, then our hard conversations about justice for the poor and advocacy for the vulnerable and policy decisions about use of resources can indeed be had in a civil and ultimately fruit-bearing way. But we have to get the order of things right — Kingdom of God first, front, and center, our home. Again and again. This is our life of discipleship — worship, and prayer, bible study and reflection — these things form our center, and from these things we go out into our life in the world.

The hard truth from which we as the church must seek repentance is that much of our civic life — our words and actions as Christians, and as the Church — has taken up the angry and septic spirit reflected by the aldermen in the hallway. And much of the time, we do so, we say, with God’s permission, and as an act of God’s will. This is our great sin these days, these days which could find the Church actually modeling a way forward for the world around us that includes love, respect, patience, and all the rest of God’s good things as we face the hard questions of what’s best for our world. I may be wrong, but my perception from those outside of our Christian tradition is that the Church has become must more of “an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth” church than a “love your enemy” church.

We must work to change that. As we decry our civil servants who are not modeling good and effective leadership, beginning with the lack of respect and decorum, we must also look in the mirror at ourselves, and how much better we as the church engaged in political process are doing. In a world always bent on revenge and retaliation, we must show a better way.

We MUST be engaged in politics, but we MUST do so as those deeply driven by compassion and love, who follow the Prince of Peace, who are always bent on possibilities of reconciliation and a more right and just world, who are never free to stop loving our neighbors and praying for our enemies, and who never pursue violence as an answer to anything, but are committed to love’s transforming power. This is the central political platform of the Kingdom of God. Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-control.

Can we put these things first, and seek to live from their center?

Praying With You

Peter Hawkinson

Today’s blog post is written by Pastor Jen.

I will be honest with you: sometimes ministry looks a little bit like throwing things at the wall and seeing what sticks.

We are in a season, coming out of the pandemic, where this feels especially true. We’re re-evaluating many of our typical ways of gathering, we are trying new things and reconfiguring the old. Sometimes, this means a lot of trial and error before you find something that works (especially in the summer).

And sometimes you strike a chord.

That’s what it felt like last month when a group of us gathered in the Youth Room for popcorn, candy, and a movie screening: like we were tapping into a real desire for learning and conversation about important things going on in our world.

I am so grateful to all of you who showed up, who reflected on difficult subject matter, and who kept thinking about it and even sharing it with others. That’s exactly how we start to create change, and I am proud and excited to continue this series tomorrow night.

Our next movie, “Aftershock,” brings to the fore an important conversation that is being had in healthcare all over our country: the issue of black maternal and child health. It begins with the stories of two women, Shamony Gibson and Amber Rose Isaac, who died within six months of each other between the fall of 2019 and the spring of 2020 in the New York metropolitan area, both due to complications from childbirth.

Preventable and treatable complications.

Take a look again, if you would, at those dates: 2019 and 2020.

Well into the twenty-first century, in the limits of a major US city, these women died. And their stories are just two of the many that make up some shattering numbers, leading the CDC to report this year that black women are still three times more likely than white women to die from a pregnancy-related cause (see the full article here).

But what is so compelling about this movie is that it doesn’t just tell these tragic stories and leave the viewer in a place of sorrow and anguish.

It moves, powerfully and steadily, towards hope.

The film follows the advocacy work of the surviving black fathers and partners of these women as they care for their children and try to ensure that more mothers don’t meet the same fate.

It introduces viewers to healthcare professionals who care deeply about the black maternal health crisis, and are working to improve outcomes.

And it shows a beautiful, healthy birth experience of a black mother in the most dangerous county in the United States for black women to give birth.

Make no mistake, this movie has its sad moments. But it holds the realities of grief and loss together with the promise of healing and hope. (Something, I believe, that we are all trying to do these days.)

It is honest, and poignant, and beautiful.

I hope you’ll come and watch it, tomorrow night in the Youth Room at 7 PM.

(And rest assured, I’m replenishing our stash of Junior Mints.)

yours,

Pastor Jen

“Stories are verbal acts of hospitality.”

This six word sentence that the late Eugene Peterson wrote has become a favorite of mine. It says so much, so clearly, so briefly. If it be true, a whole new world comes to life in our stories. Like a beautiful meal in a warm (or cool) home, stories invite, feed, and create fellowship. As an evening together with loved ones stays alive in our memory as a holy moment, so do our own stories, especially those that seem to find time standing still. The stories of your life invite me deeper into my own, and of the Divine in them. I think about them as holy moment stories. Here’s one I’m remembering this morning, and that still haunts me in a lovely way though it happened thirty-seven years ago.

I am standing on the northwest corner of Michigan and Adams, straight across the street from the left lion sticking it’s neck out at the Art Institute. It’s a cold, blustery late November afternoon, and flurries are in the air. I am twenty-three years along in life, and wrestling with relationships — another heartbreak — and possible vocational futures — social work or seminary? Why exactly I’m downtown I can’t remember. My guess is that I’m just walking the streets to engage the questions.

What happens next is a mystery I’ve yet been able to explain. I have this distinct day-dream, a kind of vision of an elderly woman. Her scarf is gold, as is the beret she wears. Her frizzy, long silver hair abounds, and she is smiling. That’s it, and I come back to life a bit shaken, and make my way into the Wallgreens to warm up and wonder what that was. After a few minutes, back out with a bag of licorice nubs, and that woman in my dream, she comes around the corner smiling at me. She pauses, briefly, as if she has seen me in a dream too, seems to speak without a word, then moves past me and disappears into the sea of people. I wonder if I should go get her, but I’m stunned, left standing in place. Getting back to Wabash and onto the train I see her again and again. What comes to me roundabout Belmont is that image in scripture that says “some have entertained angels without knowing it.” (Hebrews 13:2)

To this very day her smiling face and those flashes of gold remain alive and crystal clear in my mind. Every time I’m downtown I look for her, and when I come to corners I get goosebumps still. What happened there that day? Will it ever happen again? Who was she after all?

I wish I could say that day changed my life somehow, or that I got a holy message. That’s not the truth. Yet when I come back to that moment I find deep comfort in it somehow, someway. And somehow I still feel she’s roaming around down there. I wonder if ever I’ll see her again before I die.

I wonder how this holy moment story of mine ignites reflection in you. has something like this ever happened to you? Stories are verbal acts of hospitality.

And I wonder what the holy moment stories of your life are? Can you locate them, and will you share them? You must share them.

Love From Here

Peter Hawkinson

“Call to me and I will answer you, and will tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.” (Jeremiah 33:3)

“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.” (Matthew 7:7)

“For now we see in a mirror dimly.” (1 Corinthians 13:12)

“Doubts are the ants-in-the pants of faith. They keep it awake and moving.” (Frederick Buechner)

It’s July 2, and I’m writing to share excitement about the fall, and ask for your help.

Our first adult education forum on Sunday mornings 9:30 from September 15 – October 20 will be entitled “Questions We’re Asking”. Each week we will gather around a different question and have dialogue. These will be questions that come from you, and can be theological questions or questions of church and culture that come out of your wondering or struggle.

So here’s the ask: What is the one question you’d like us to have an open conversation about — biblically, theologically, personally, practically? If you could take a few minutes to reflect on this and submit a question to me at petehawk@winnetkacovenant.org, I can use some summertime hours to form basic tools to get our conversations going.

Thanks for your questions! Please take a moment to send one now!

Peter Hawkinson