Walking the Labyrinth: Guide My Steps, O God

Today I walked a labyrinth. It's a spiritual practice I have tried before but now the Adult Forum at my church is reading Barbara Brown Taylor's An Altar in the World: A Geography of Faith. In one of the chapters we discussed this morning, Taylor describes the spiritual discipline of "walking on the earth," of being connected with the ground that holds us up. We had also discussed how easy it is to fall into "cow paths," worn ruts that are direct but also unimaginative.

The most famous labyrinth is probably the one in Chartres Cathedral. Our church is having a competition for local artists to design a temporary labyrinth that can be set up on the lawn for Lent. It reminded me of the Franklin Community Garden and walking prayer maze that Dear Husband and I had discovered on one of our many daily quarantine walks way back last spring. I decided to check it out.

As you can see, the setting isn't much, especially this early in the year. But the half-circle, quasi-mushroom-shaped path was clear. I prayed before I started that the stress of house-hunting would be lifted. And then I walked. Not too fast, not slowly, just steadily onward, looking at the ground. 

I could see that other people had piled small stones on top of the brick painted "LOVE" at the center of the maze. Probably they had picked up a rock on their way in and left it--and the burden it represented--before spiraling out of the center.

I was not carrying a burden today so much as practicing the discipline of walking in the prescribed path. I could have easily stepped over the low brick markers, of course, but I chose not to. I found myself praying, "Direct my steps, O God."

On my way out, however, I couldn't help but notice that some of the bricks had fallen slightly out of line. I nudged them back into alignment with my foot. Then I picked up a chunk of brick to one side and carried it with me to a spot that no longer had a stone. This meant I deviated a somewhat from the path, but no one was waiting to take their turn or to pass me, so it seemed undisruptive, maybe even helpful to those who might come after me.

A charitable reading of this would be to say that it was like I was co-creating with God and the labyrinth builders. The bricks were out of place, and I was able to re-place them. A critical reading would suggest that I can't help meddling, that I assume my ideas are the correct ones, and that I can't leave well enough alone.

I can't tell you which is the correct answer, and maybe there isn't one. But I spent a short half hour in the thin sunshine, and I plan to walk the labyrinths at Chatham University and at Third Presbyterian Church later this Lent.

What spiritual disciplines are you practicing?

Palm Sunday under Quarantine

This Palm Sunday Dear Husband and I celebrated Palm Sunday with Third Presbyterian Church via Zoom. Despite the occasional technical difficulties (we got kicked off twice!), it was really nice to see our church family. You can see our Communion set up here: tea in appropriately Pittsburgh-themed black and yellow mugs, and Lenten pretzels on a ceramic sand dollar paten from my parents. The Miracles of Jesus in Galilee place mats are from DH's parents' trip to the Holy Land. It was a beautiful service with plenty of time for meditation. I hope we can have singing next week; at the very least, I suppose DH and I could sing together at the piano here.

I have spent the last two weeks basically home, and I expect the same for another week before taking my turn at the hospital for a week. Being off clinical rotations has let me cook more than usual. So far I have made scones from a mix, an old favorite, Bean and Potato Casserole with roasted Brussels Sprouts, and a new recipe, Creamy Tuna Pasta. DH complained that the sprouts with olive oil, salt, and rosemary were too bland, so I spiced up the leftovers with red pepper flakes and was pleasantly surprised by how much I liked them that way. This week he will bake a pie out of mixed frozen fruit, and I want to make chocolate chip cookies.

On the left, I am pleased with how well my spider plants are doing. There is another little group on the mantel in the front room, and the "giants" are now out on the front porch. On the right, snuggling up together on the couch to stream a movie on my laptop. We have been holding a disaster-themed film series every Friday evening. So far we have watched Contagion (2011), War Games (1983), and Cast Away (2000). Also Dial M for Murder (1954), split up over two other nights, if you want to count that. DH gets to choose next week; he is thrilled(!) to finally get to show me The Shining (1980).

That's So Pittsburgh: Mystics in Motion

One night at Mystics in Motion (the Wednesday night service formerly known as Worship Jam), we made sock puppets. The idea was that while we might show one face to each other, God knows our innermost selves. So we decorated socks and then turned them inside out and decorated them again. And because this is a group of creatives, we went around the circle to name and describe our characters before and after their transformations. (That's my sock with its two different personalities above.)

Because I waited too long to write this post, I can't remember any of the details, but that's probably just as well, as many of them reflected their creators' personalities and interior journeys. I will say that I was struck by the fact that no one's sock puppet had the same shape as anyone else's: one was tall, another short, one with a long nose, another short, and so on. That diversity and the safe space to open up to one another--to do crafts, and sing/dance, and have the faith of children--is one of the reasons we enjoy this group so much.

In an effort to be conscientious, the socks were undecorated and donated after we finished with them.

Art Potpourri at Princeton University

While visiting my cousins in New Jersey, we spent a very enjoyable hour at the Princeton University Art Museum ogling the variety of their collection. For grownups visiting alone, it could easily take 2 hours or more, but we had two eleven-year-old girls in tow, and their attention spans were just not that long--especially with the prospect of ice cream on the schedule. I was really impressed by the quality and diversity of pieces on display, which the chatty docent who met us at the door told us represented only 10% of their holdings.

On the left is a gorgeous old stained-glass window in the Arts & Crafts style of William Morris, and on the right a contemporary mobile sculpture that undulates sinuously on a timer. Below is "After Vespers," a charming portrait by Lord Leighton Frederic (1871). My poor little cell phone doesn't do the rich oil colors justice. Below that is a delightful sculpture by Jacques Lipchitz of an acrobat on a circus horse (1914). It reminded me of the Ringling Circus Museum that Dear Husband and I saw in Sarasota earlier this year. (Click to see yours truly doing "acrobatics" on horseback!)

The ancient Chinese grave guardian on the left was one of a group of figures that captivated my interest. I had never seen anything like these composite clay statues with horns, scales, fur, claws, wings, and snouts. Next to it is a photo of one of several ancient Greek mosaics with a stunning variety of colors and inventive geometric and nature-inspired shapes. Below is one of several pieces of Native American artwork included in a temporary exhibit on nature in American art. This is wampum made out of quahog clam-shell beads recognizing that the museum is located on lands that used to belong to the Lenape. The symbols are a broken peace pipe, a turtle, a tomahawk, and a cross.

This provocative piece is part painting, part sculpture. Created by Valerie Hegarty, "Fallen Bierstadt" (2007) reimagines Bridal Veil Falls in Yosemite Park as a classic, pristine landscape destroyed by fire and human intrusion. I would love to see so many natural wonders like Yosemite  or Yellowstone, but I worry that I will be one more human trampling on nature, and getting there via fossil-fueled airplane and car, thereby contributing to global warming and nature's destruction. 

Above are images from the Princeton Art Museum's medieval religious collection. Some of the art was hung in a standard, relatively minimalist gallery, while the rest occupied a room with gorgeous stained-glass windows and carved stone columns and "sheep gates" from a cathedral (right). On the left, Andrea Rico de Candia painted "Virgin of the Passion" on the island of Crete in the second half of the 15th century. It combines traditional Byzantine motifs like Mary's facial features and her "showing the way" by pointing to the Christ child with newer ideas like both Greek and Latin inscriptions and what the placard described as a frightened Jesus, losing a sandal as he hurriedly turns to look over his shoulder.

Said ice cream turned out to be delicious at The Bent Spoon, a neat little shop that has dairy-free options. Palmer Square was decorated for Small-Business Saturday, and these three ladies were singing Christmas carols in Victorian outfits. God bless them for their exertions in the cold. After stimulating the local economy, we went home for Rutgers football, take-out from an Asian fusion restaurant, and a rousing game of Forbidden Island. (If you've never played cooperative team games like Forbidden Island or Flash Point, I really recommend them!) Sunday morning we worshipped at a sleepy rural clapboard church before heading off for the next thing (my aunt and uncle's house).

Retreat! Retreat!

The weekend Dear Husband and I were supposed to travel to Charlotte, NC, for my grandfather's memorial service, until Hurricane Florence invited herself to the party. The service was postponed, and we found ourselves suddenly available to join our United Methodist friends on retreat at Raccoon Creek State Park. This expanse of greenery houses a number of different kinds of campsites hard on the border with Ohio. It was incongruous to listen to the low-flying planes taking off from the airport just a few miles away. DH and I missed the early evening worship, which involved stones inscribed with things people wanted to let go of (below), but we arrived just in time for the campfire, complete with singing, s'mores, and silly round-robin stories about intrepid soap merchants capsizing their Conestoga wagons in the Mississippi River and distrustful heiresses offing each other in space capsules floating on the Atlantic Ocean.

We all stayed up much too late, and some of us--namely moi--did not sleep so well, as someone had tried to fix the sag in the mattress by placing a 2x4 down the middle. Besides being hard, it tilted the mattress, and I constantly felt like I was falling off my half. DH slept okay. We both missed the early morning yoga outside, but there was still first and second breakfast before morning worship and book study. The weather could not have been nicer.

After a late lunch we decided to hike to the Frankfort Mineral Springs (short history; long history). It was reported to be 1 mile each way, but the trail maintenance for the first half was almost nonexistent. At the point we had to clamber through fallen tree trunks, with chest-high flowers and brush beyond them, I and some of the other actually turned back to the cabin to change our shorts into long pants and sandals into closed-toed shoes. While the first half of the trail was low-lying along waterways, the second half that went over a hill was comparatively much easier. At one point we had to cross a narrow wooden bridge, and there were spontaneous cries of "You! Shall! Not! Pass!" and "What is the air-speed velocity off an unladen swallow?" Clearly, these are our people. After a long hour-plus of bushwhacking, we arrived at a grotto with a small waterfall on one side and the spring emerging from the face of the rock on the other. It was hot enough that we all dunked our heads and drank from the fresh water before hiking back to camp. On the way, we stopped to make a tableau among the ruins of the spa that used to profit from the springs (below).

We returned in time for a delicious dinner outdoors before some people packed up and the rest of us had quiet evenings before bedding down early. Breakfast was a delicious smorgasbord, even though we never did figure out what happened to the blueberries. While DH and I are still looking forward to celebrating my grandfather's life with our family, it was a blessing to say "yes" to this unexpected opportunity to commune with our friends in nature.

That's So Pittsburgh: Voices Raised Together

Isaiah 11:6 "...and a little child shall lead them."

Saturday, tens of thousands of us gathered in downtown Pittsburgh to rally for better gun control. It paralleled the March for Our Lives happening at the same time in Washington, D.C. We marched through the streets carrying signs and shouting slogans. Local high school students led us to Market Square, where there were speeches from politicians, teenagers, and family members of persons killed by guns. The organizers had expected 3,000 people, but news outlets estimated 30,000 activists, teachers, and families showed up to encourage each other and to make a statement with their bodies and their voices.

Here are some of the signs Dear Husband and I saw and the slogans we heard: Arms are for hugging. Tell me what democracy looks like; this is what democracy looks like. No more silence, end gun violence. Am I next? Vote them out! I thought you were pro-life. Dodge ball not dodge bullets. Thoughts and prayers are not enough. Guns are not school supplies. We stand with Parkland. Make our schools safe again. Make Assault Guns Abolished. "There is no trust more sacred than the one the world holds with children." ~Kofi Annan

"All Glory Laud and Honor"

All glory, laud, and honor

to you, Redeemer, King,

to whom the lips of children

made sweet hosannas ring.

You are the King of Israel

and David's royal Son,

now in the Lord's name coming,

the King and Blessed One.

Sunday was Palm/Passion Sunday, when we remembered Jesus' triumphal entrance into Jerusalem at the end of his ministry and beginning of Holy Week. Although ours did not, many churches stage processions of palms (led) by the children of the Sunday School​. They are supposed to demonstrate the faith like a child. We held palms and sang "All Glory, Laud, and Honor," whose chorus impressed me today in a way I hadn't noticed before: "to whom the lips of children made sweet hosannas ring." I couldn't help but compare the clogged streets yesterday with the throngs who are said to have greeted the Messiah. We waved paper and cardboard signs, they had palm fronds and cloaks. We shouted, "No more silence"; they cried, "Hosanna!" and "Blessed is the One who comes in the name of the Lord!" Both were seeking to change society: the one for less violence in homes and schools, the other for a violent rebellion against the Roman empire. We now know that the Son of God and the Son of Man--against all expectations--suffered at the hands of the oppressor and rose again to new life. It was an entirely different revolution than what had been anticipated. Maybe when we pray today for an end to mass shootings, the answer will be different than what we had expected, too:

The sign reads: "What if these kids are the answer to your thoughts & prayers? Are you listening??"
(We did not see this sign at our march, but it has been making the rounds on the interwebs.
This image from the Democratic Underground.)

That's So Pittsburgh: the Maxo Vanka murals

After Christmas, friend JHR invited me to a docent-led tour of the Maxo Vanka murals at St. Nicholas Church in Millvale. The first of two Croatian Catholic Churches in Pittsburgh suffered a fire in 1927. After being rebuilt, the walls were painted white. Then a new priest knew someone who knew a Croatian artist who had fled pre-WWII Europe to New York City with his American wife and daughter. Vanka (1889-1963) came to Millvale for 8 weeks in 1937 to paint murals on the walls just in time for the 10-year re-dedication of the church. He came back in 1943 for a few more months to paint more. In 1951 he returned to paint symbols on the choir loft.

Behind the altar, Vanka painted a Croatian-inflected Byzantine Madonna and Child with Croatian immigrants at their feet. Around the walls, he contrasted images of Croatian mothers mourning sons killed during World War I with immigrant mothers mourning sons who died in industrial accidents. He also depicted the Evangelists with a silver-leaf background that used to be behind Mary and Jesus, before a re-paint in the 1970s. I'm not such a fan of the silver, but apparently the mural preservation society hopes to restore the original look. Over the last several years, seven conservation artists (all women) have painstakingly cleaned and brightened many of the murals. They have also rigged up a fancy LED lighting system.

Some of the images Vanka created in 1937 and especially in 1941 are pretty avant garde, but the weirder ones he put towards the back of the sanctuary or on the ceiling.

Above the large creche you can see the fairly conventional crucifixion scene. (Lighting was hard.)

Here you can see the paintings being highlighted around the stained-glass windows. That's Injustice there on the right, wearing a gas mask and one blood-red glove, bearing a bloody sword and uneven scales. Below on the right is the angel of Justice, wearing white and holding up even scales. I rather liked her.

Above on the left is the Pieta, with Mary holding Jesus' body off the cross. You can see that the church was still decorated beautifully for Christmas with white lights and red and white poinsettias.

Here's one more for you, a sickly green Jesus being crucified on a twentieth-century battlefield. It's the kind of thing that was getting artists purged over in Europe, but here Vanka was safe to make his critique of war and class warfare. My photography is obviously amateur; it's much better to see the murals in person.


Editor's Note: You might also like my posts about an eating tour of the Strip District or St. Paul Cathedral's summer organ series.

Getting Ready for Advent 2017

I admit that spiritually I have been feeling somewhat unmoored ever since Dear Husband and I landed in Pittsburgh. The primary culprit was searching/waiting for a church home for an entire year. During those months of DH's under-employment (and my over-employment, in a sense), I missed seeing a regular church family every week, as I had had weekend shifts about 50% of the time, and the other 50% we were visiting at some church or other. We became friendly with a couple of congregations, and we made friends outside church, but it has been a relief to finally have a Sunday morning center. Even if I can't be there in person (still over-employed), somebody is thinking of me.

The secondary culprit is that I have been lax in my spiritual discipline, reading and praying almost never. This is wholly my fault: "I'm too busy." But Facebook gets a lot of airtime on my phone. I especially miss Tuesdays evenings with our Bible study, both the camaraderie of peers and the "homework" that gave me something to ponder in between worship services. "You can do anything for a short period of time" is my Christian family's Buddhist-like mantra, so I made a New Church Year's resolution to do an Advent devotion this year.

Good friend A.S. found me some likely culprits. For the whimsical at heart, there's the little plastic Wandering Wisemen (and their camel Hezekiah!), whose antics remind me of DH's creche stylings. For the artistic, I can recommend Jan Richardson's The Advent Door. Father Richard Rohr offers daily meditations through the Center for Action and Contemplation that seem to aim toward inner peace, but I was hoping for something less mystical and more...progressive. I signed up for the Office of Social Justice's thrice-weekly devotion on "Immanuel, incarnate," since that is one of my favorite themes in Scripture. But I was really hoping for something I read and pray on in the mornings before work, perhaps by the light of the Advent calendar candle my grandmother had sent us. I finally settled on Making Advent Great Again from Homebrewed Christianity, even though it starts a week before Advent, runs Monday-Friday, and comes at 3pm instead of in the morning. DH and I can do them together over dinner, instead of watching a comedy show. (It's great to laugh with your best friend, but I suspect it will be even better to talk with him...) I even gave a little more than the requested donation, because I value the time and talents of the authors HBC has put together.

This Advent I will listen to the voices that cry, "How long, Oh Lord?"



Editor's Note: Although the counter on the website ran out November 27, I received no email, so I surmise that someone discovered too late that Advent didn't start the Sunday after Thanksgiving after all, and I am going to have to wait another week to start my devotion.

That's So Pittsburgh: Churches Doing Good

Dear Husband and I have visited many, many churches in Pittsburgh and finally landed at Third Presbyterian Church (Fifth & Negley). One ministry with which Third Pres is very active is the international charity Days for Girls, which produces reusable cloth sanitary kits for disadvantaged schoolgirls. (I admit I have some reservations about the whole idea: why not provide them with more durable menstrual cups, without all the expenditure of money, labor, and time that goes into making the kits?)  As it is, Days for Girls has two arms: volunteers in wealthy communities and micro enterprises in a handful of developing areas.


What happens here is that people donate cloth scraps and hotel soaps, time to cut/sew/assemble the kits, and money for postage. The free kits (and some basic hygiene education) are intended to help their recipients continue to attend school, avoid pregnancy, and eventually learn/work their way out of poverty. With a light clinical schedule for the last month, I have been stopping by for a couple hours to cut and sew. The Viking sewing machines are *a little* less cantankerous than my mother's old Singer, and if the noise is not too great and my neighbor hasn't got headphones in, we chat about the Pride parade, or superhero movies, or the difference between Presbyterians and Methodists (besides "debts" versus "trespasses," not much, in practice). It has been a relaxing and rewarding break in the middle of my week, and I'm sorry that it will soon be sacrificed to the grind of rotations.

Aberdeen: Death and Mourning

The Maritime Museum in Aberdeen, Scotland, is hosting a series of five exhibitions while the Art Museum is temporarily closed. The current one is called "Kiss of Death: Death and Mourning in the Victorian Era." It is anchored by the fanciful bonnet by Jo Gordon (left), the feathers of which simultaneously hide the wearer's face in her grief and project it outward into the public sphere. It cunningly captures the materialistic and highly ritualistic [ideal of] Victorian mourning. The whole concept is named, of course, for Queen Victoria's prolonged mourning for her husband of 21 years, Prince Albert, who was inconsiderate enough to die of typhoid fever (or was it Crohn's Disease?) less than two weeks before Christmas 1861.

(This is an excellent article on the historical importance of Albert's death.)

Of course the mourners had to wear black--shiny black for "full" or "deep" mourning, dull black later on, and shades of purple and even white in "half" mourning. One whole case contained black jewelry at various price points, from jet (actually hardened coal) and onyx through black glass, enamel, and bog wood on down to vulcanite (a hardened rubber). There were two other contemporary art pieces in the exhibition; one of them was a time-lapse video of a performance artist wearing a black crepe dress and weeping while a hidden hose soaked her with water. This made the dye run from the fabric onto the white floor. By the end of the mournful tune playing over the images, the top of the dress was gray and the puddle an inky black at her feet. If a woman cried (or sweated) while wearing crepe, this symbol of public mourning would mark her skin, so she was reminded of it in private as well.


The other contemporary art piece is the one to the right--a curved mirror with pink, tan, and black blobs representing the ectoplasm that might haunt a seance. It reminded me of the review I did of Heather Wolffram's 2009 book, The Stepchildren of Science: Psychical Research and Parapsychology in Germany, c. 1870-1939 for the Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences. They also had examples of "ghost photography" on display, as well as funeral announcements.




How fitting that while we were in this exhibition, the museum called for a minute of silence to remember the 22 victims of the bombing in Manchester.


Death was all around us in Aberdeen. There's a big bronze sarcophagus commemorating a bishop connected with the University standing on its grounds. We wandered among the tombstones in one old church yard on our way back from the beach on Thursday. Dear Husband walked through another on Friday after attending a choir concert at St. Machar's. Many of them are made of granite, as that stone was mined for building in nearby quarries and gives Aberdeen its nickname of "The Granite City." I snapped the picture to the left while on our way to catch the bus to the airport Sunday morning: we couldn't figure out if that was a granite mushroom that had sprouted among the other memorials or some kind of decorative finial that had fallen off. I'll close with a more somber example: the story told by the headstone below right.

Under the Christian insignia "IHS" (IHSOUS, Greek for "Jesus" in Latin letters), it is dedicated

"To the Memory of Elizabeth Deborah, Wife of John Paton of Grandholm, and youngest Daughter of Thomas Burnett Advocate: died 24th Feb.y 1860, aged 37 years. And of their Child, Elizabeth Bertha, died 11th June 1861, aged 16 months. Also the above John Paton, of Grandholm, who died August the 27th 1879, aged 61 years. His Widow Katherine Margaret died 26th Feb.y 1919, aged 87 years."

The font for the wife and daughter are of the same size, so they must have been done at the same time. Perhaps Elizabeth Deborah was buried with a simple stone, and then when Elizabeth Bertha died too, John decided to purchase a larger one. Because his father in law is mentioned, Thomas B. A. must have contributed some money. Little E. B. was just 16 months old when she died in June, perhaps of polio, measles, scarlet fever, typhoid, or even small pox. Her mother E. D. must have died in childbirth, although at 37 it was unlikely her first. Maybe she caught "puerperal fever" from the midwife's dirty hands, or maybe at an "advanced maternal age" she developed high blood pressure and eclampsia. Smaller type records the dead of John at the relatively young age of 61. Fourteen years his junior, his second wife outlived him by forty years. She must have raised the older children well, as I imagine one of them took care to add her name and dates to this record of their family. Gone, but not forgotten.

United in Love around the World

By chance, this is the second year in a row in which I have given the Children's Message on Pentecost Sunday. Last year I used wooden blocks to talk about Pentecost being a reversal of Babel. This year the pastors were preaching on the global United Methodist Church, with an emphasis on the UMC in Africa. So I decided to do a little geography lesson with a globe and a special focus on UMs in one African country, because I think it's important to expose kids to the idea that there are people who are like and unlike them around the world.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

All of [the disciples] were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them. Now there were staying in Jerusalem God-fearing Jews from every nation under heaven. When they heard this sound, a crowd came together in bewilderment, because each one heard their own language being spoken. Utterly amazed, they asked: “Aren’t all these who are speaking Galileans? Then how is it that each of us hears them in our native language? Parthians, Medes and Elamites; residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya near Cyrene; visitors from Rome (both Jews and converts to Judaism); Cretans and Arabs—we hear them declaring the wonders of God in our own tongues!” ~ Acts 2:4-12 (NIV)

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Good morning! Welcome to Pentecost Sunday at Faith United Methodist Church. Pentecost is sometimes called “the birthday of the Christian church,” and United Methodists are one kind of Christian. If I wanted to find United Methodists, where in the world would I look? Can you help me find places on this globe where United Methodists live? [Start with the United States, then see what they come up with. Also Phillipines, South Korea, India, Poland, France, Honduras, Angola, Rwanda, Mozambique, South Africa, Kenya, Malawi, Zambia, Tanzania.] What do you think it’s like to be a United Methodist in Mozambique? [Go to church for Sunday School and worship, they read the Bible to learn about Jesus, etc.] Did you know that in Mozambique, the people there typically speak a Bantu language and Portuguese? So their Bibles aren’t in English like ours are; their Bibles are in their Bantu language or in Portuguese.

In the Scripture lesson for today from the Book of Acts, we read about the Holy Spirit descending on Jesus’ disciples after his death and resurrection. The Holy Spirit helped the disciples spread the Good News about Jesus Christ in many different languages, so that people from all around the Mediterranean world could hear and understand. Today there are 196 countries in the world, and United Methodists are spreading the love of God in 135 of them. That is Good News indeed!

Shall we pray? Amazing God, send your Holy Spirit to unite your church in love around the world. Amen!

Disability Awareness: Accessibility and Inclusion

While I was in Minneapolis for the history of medicine conference, Wesley Church recognized me and four other individuals for their social justice work. I have participated in this annual celebration before (when the theme was Palestine) and was very sorry to miss the worship service, luncheon, and poetry slam. Here are excerpts from the church newsletter.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

May 1st marked Peace with Justice Sunday at Wesley UMC. United Methodists around the world celebrate this special Sunday, but it holds extra significance for the Wesley community. On this day, we pay special honor to the late Jean Cramer-Heuerman, a senior pastor at Wesley who was known as a passionate advocate for peace and justice. Jean believed social justice is profoundly biblical. She pushed us to challenge unjust systems that harm, exploit, and fail those who are most vulnerable. She reminded us that social justice ministry happens “out there” more than it happens “in here.” She contended that social justice ministry forms disciples who respond with action – disciples who don’t just think theologically but act theologically, following in the footsteps of Christ.

The Jean Cramer-Heuerman Peace with Justice Award was established in 1999 to honor Pastor Jean’s legacy, to recognize those in our Wesley community who incorporate social justice in their practice of faith, and to encourage others to do likewise. The awardees’ names appear on a plaque that hangs in the Watseka Lounge. Roses are given in connection with the award, symbolic of the rose bush planted in Pastor Jean’s honor next to the Peace Pole outside Wesley’s Lamb Courtyard. The variety of rose there is named “Peace.” [See photo above; the message is in eight languages.]

This year’s Peace with Justice theme was “Disability Awareness: Accessibility and Inclusion.”

...

Kristen Ehrenberger has spent the past 12 years at the University of Illinois working towards her MD/PhD. Throughout her time here, she has been an active member in the Wesley Graduate Student book study as well as serving at Faith United Methodist Church in developing their children’s church curriculum.

A constant advocate for racial, gender, and socio-economic justice and equality, Kristen uses social media and participation in community activities to raise awareness of systemic issues of justice that have led to a fragmented community. She has also worked with the graduate student union to ensure graduate student well-being and rights.

Kristen will be leaving this summer to begin her residency at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center, where she will being doing a four-year combined adult-pediatrics residency program. She intends to enter the “complex care” branch of medicine, in which doctors seek to diagnose and treat patients with multiple life-long healthcare needs. Kristen is a force for social justice not just in her free time, but in her career and vocation.

Easter 2016: And all the people said, "Amen, let's eat!"

Easter 2016 combined many traditions from the last few years: I "danced" in the light of Christ wearing my custom-made rainbow stole to start two of the services at church; Dear Husband and I ate Easter breakfast in the church kitchen of dyed eggs, milk, and fresh cinnamon rolls; and there was potluck--two this year! One each for lunch and dinner. Wanting to be sensitive to people's various dietary needs, I decided to bring a vegan and gluten-free broccoli salad adapted from my MIL's recipe. You can of course use regular mayo and even add crumbled bacon if you like.

Vegan and Gluten-Free Broccoli Salad

2 heads broccoli, 1/2 red onion, a bunch of red grapes, 1/2 cup raisins--all chopped and mixed. Dressing is 1 cup vegan mayo, 2 tablespoons white vinegar, 1/2 tablespoon prepared mustard (I used "spicy brown mustard"), and a little sugar or sweetener to taste (I used Truvia). Mix, chill 2 hours, enjoy! Recommended: John Oliver's Last Week Tonight on YouTube during all the prep.

At our second potluck, M. introduced us all to Resurrection Rolls. This is a great Youth Group snack/teaching point. Here's the recipe, complete with irreverent interpretation.

Ingredients: 1 package of crescent rolls, torn into chunks; 8 regular-sized marshmallows; 1/4 cup melted butter; white sugar; cinnamon.

Directions: The marshmallow is Jesus. Anoint his body with burial spices (the melted butter, sugar, and cinnamon standing in for myrrh and frankincense). Flatten out a chunk of dough and entomb him completely, taking care to seal any cracks. Consign Jesus to Hell at 375F for 10 minutes (or follow package directions). Et voila! When they come out of the oven, each roll should form a hollow--empty--tomb. Best Love Feast ever.

We ended the night with three rounds of a cooperative "board" game called Forbidden Island. The scenario is a group of treasure hunters contributing unique skills to acquire four objects before the island sinks. I loved the team-work of maximizing turns and negotiating steps to out-pace the rising tide.

Look at all these happy Easter people! P. is wearing the lei because it was her first-ever Easter egg hunt. It's the same set of plastic eggs with inspirational quotations and corny jokes, now filled with some of my surfeit of chocolate.

Children's Sermon: the Jesus Fish

This morning's children's sermon was an illustration of the importance of being flexible while trying to stay on message. The following is a transcript of what (should have) happened.

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Good morning! How are you today? I'm so glad to see you. Today, I have a riddle for you. Are you ready? What...is the sound of one hand clapping? [I get some garbled answers, finally someone says, "silence!"] Listen! [I flap the hand that isn't holding the microphone.] One hand can't clap by itself! But two hands can clap together, because "Two are better than one." (Ecclesiastes 4:9a) [I get two of the girls to hive-five/clap my hand.]

Okay, I have another riddle. I'm going to draw you a picture. [I draw one, long, curved line on a piece of paper.] What is it? ["A hill!" "A smile/frown!"] Hmmm, maybe it's not done. Pastor Sheryl, could you complete the picture for me, please? [This is where the train derails, as she has a brain freeze and can't remember that I had asked her at the start of the service to help me draw a "Jesus fish." So she draws two eyes and a nose. "A face!" says one child. "Teamwork!" declares another. Teamwork it will be, as half a dozen children take turns adding teeth, a tongue, and a head to the face. I compliment them on their cooperation but attempt to steer the conversation back on track.]

Well, that's one way of completing the picture, but this is what I had in mind. [I scrawl two intersecting curved lines on the other side of the paper.] What does it look like? ["A fish!"] Yes, a fish, the "Jesus fish."

Have you ever seen a fish like this before? Maybe on the back of someone's car? Why do you suppose the fish is a symbol for Christians? ["Fishers of people," the feeding of the 5000/fishes and loaves, big catch of fish on the other side of the boat.]

A long time ago, when Christians were trying to find each other but couldn't say it out loud because they were being persecuted, one of them might draw a line like this--maybe in the dirt--and if the other one finished the drawing of the fish, then they knew they had found another Christian.

In one of my favorite verses in the Bible, Jesus says, "For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them." (Matthew 18:20) Let me say that again, "For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them." That means that whenever we get together for Christian fellowship, Jesus is with us, through the power of the Holy Spirit.

How can you be in Christian fellowship this week? [Say grace before dinner, pray together, donate to the poor, go to Wednesday Night Live, attend Sunday School and church.] Those are all great ways to be together in Christian fellowship with the Holy Spirit.

Will you pray with me? Awesome God, / Help us / to love each other, / in Jesus' name. / Amen!

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Sheryl and I laughed about it later. No harm done, and I'm hardly going to complain about a "mistake" that gets the children more involved in the lesson. In case you were wondering, the "Jesus fish" is a play on a Greek acrostic: Iesous Christos Theou Yios Soter (Jesus Christ, God's Son, Savior) = ichthys = fish.

N.B. ~ Other children's messages have been about mountaintop experiences and United Methodists around the world.