From Pastor’s Eric’s Study - March 2025

From Pastor Eric’s Study – March 2025

“The body of Christ, given for you.” I’ve said those words thousands of times as I’ve served communion to a community with whom I share the journey and, with whom I share God's love. This morning, I read an article by Lutheran Pastor Diane Roth reflecting on what she called the “for-you-ness” of the sacrament. She shared how the experience of offering this gift impacted her life and ministry, and it resonated so deeply with my own experiences over the years.

We are incredibly blessed to share this journey of faith with one another, seeking to encourage one another to draw ever closer to our relationship with God. Even as we know the hunger in our own souls to hear the assurance of God's love offered freely for us again and again, most of us still struggle to mirror that same freely given love for others. Soon we will once again begin our Lenten journey, a spiritual pilgrimage in time that encourages us to reorient our lives away from our stubborn ways and back to God's ways of freely given grace. Our temptation is always to hear the Good News as being particularly for us. We tend to listen less passionately for how our receiving that grace should shatter all of the barriers that we have created within ourselves. If we let God's love work fully within us, it would melt all the limits that we construct… and that would be frightening new territory.

I have heard lots of people through the years talk about cultivating a spirit of curiosity as the antidote to certainties, to division, and to despair. When we’re curious, we open ourselves to learning new things. Seeing God at work in new ways, we allow the possibility of setting ourselves free to receive the gift of God's love and then pass it on to others.

When we receive that “for-you-ness,” it is only half of the spiritual gift. The other half comes when we share it with the next person, and the next person, and then the next person. As Diane Roth concluded: “Jesus didn’t come to make us feel good. He came to set us free, whether it feels good or not.” The love of God made known to us in Jesus challenges us to take seriously the work of sharing that grace even when it hurts or is terribly hard. We are called to bear grace that works to dismantle racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and all forms of oppression. God's grace offered in its for-you-ness demands that we see God and love God in our immigrant and transgender siblings, in the democrat and the republican, in the Christian and the Muslim and the Hindu and the Jew… that we see the love of God in all.

Our Lenten journey reminds us that we are dust, just star-dust blessed by God with life and God's love. We are blessed, and so are every “they” that we can imagine. On this Lenten journey may we journey ever deeper into God's challenge to love and affirm as powerfully as God. Amen.

From Pastor Eric’s Study – February 2025

February makes me think of St. Valentine and his feast day that commemorates love and the faithfulness of a Saint who is hard to pin down. The stories speak of an imprisoned priest healing the blindness of his jailer’s daughter, causing the jailer and his household to convert to Christianity. There are stories of Valentine marrying people behind the government’s back in order to keep them out of military service. He becomes a saint associated with love who ultimately refuses to denounce his faith, ultimately leading to his being martyred on February 14th.

Love and faithfulness are at the heart of our story, but when we encounter it with Jesus, it is more the stuff that will end up getting you martyred than getting a valentine’s card from a friend. Jesus challenges his followers to love their neighbors and even challenges us to love our enemies. Isn’t it interesting that the challenge isn’t to like them, or to love only our friends? The challenge is to offer a love that sees in others the belovedness of God. I recently listened to a TED Talk that talked about how powerful empathy can be to help people understand that we share more in common than all that we assume may separate us. There is this reminder that when we love like Jesus, we find that others always carry within them that sacred spark of God's love.

Sometimes it’s incredibly challenging to honor that spark or to love it into a light bright enough to shine through the barriers we may create. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. often preached about the task of loving. In an oft shared sermon he preached:

…I’m so happy [Jesus] didn’t say, “Like your enemies,” because it’s kind of difficult to like some people. Like is sentimental; like is an affectionate sort of thing. And you can’t like anybody who’s bombing your home and threatening your children. It’s hard to like a senator who’s spending all of his time in Washington standing against all of the legislation that will make for better relationships and that will make for brotherhood. It’s difficult to like them. But Jesus says, “Love them,” and love is greater than like. Love is understanding, redemptive, creative goodwill for all men. And so Jesus was expressing something very creative when he said, “Love your enemies. Bless them that curse you. Pray for them that despitefully use you.”

It's easy to speak of love. It’s much more challenging to live it as Jesus did. The rewards of choosing love change our hearts and have the power to change the world. Oh, you might be criticized for living that vision, most of God's faithful have been… you might get rather frustrated that it seems like nothing is changing… and yet, empathy, loving our neighbors and even our enemies harnesses the very power of God. 

From Vikar Jakob’s Study - January 2025

Advent is the time of patient waiting. That patience can be harder to come by in some times more than others. For me, once again, I wait for my visa to come through, as I did two years ealier, this time for the extension of said visa, to be precise. My life as a vikar and pastor to Peace Church has always been both precarious and abundant, and as you read through my reflections, I would assume you will find echoes of your own story or current situation in my words.

My stay here has been precarious and abundant emotionally. Being away from those closest to me, those we call so casually “loved ones” has been a challenge, but at the same time not greatly. I’ve become used to start over someplace else, I’ve done so in Jerusalem, in Rome, in my last parish, out on the Polish border. One of my favorite saints is St. Christopher, the patron of sojourners. My road has been as mch lonely as it has been filled with incredible experiences and encounters. There is always a blessing in staying, and there is always a blessing in moving on. Sometimes relationships – just like dreams – break along the way, sometimes they can heal, other times they get lost in the sands of time, or are deferred to a distant future and distant shores. Sometimes only God will judge and reconcile between those that were unable to find understanding of each other – respect for each other. But an abundance I have found as well: openness to story, to vulnerability, to joy. All this in the faces I see at church, all of us together an ever-changing kaleidoscope.

My stay here has been precarious and abundant socially and culturally. The political context that surrounds us and the Biblical demand, the prophetic word that is so dear to me, rarely align, which is why the prophetic word exists. It does not describe a present, nor does it describe only what is beyond. It holds us accountable. We will not find meaning, unless we find a way to commit to living out that prophetic word in all the ways that it calls out our shortcomings. It strengthens us in seeing and naming the injustice we see in others, it just as well embraces us enough to see our own failures. We cannot decide for others, but we can make amends for our part and pray that others do the same in the chambers of their heart. The rest lies with God. Again, it is hard to trust, and hard to wait, and yet the superiority of God’s narrative over the affairs of mortals on our little planet is something to find comfort in. It’s not all about us. Thank God.

My stay here has been precarious and abundant financially and legally. There is something to be said about taxes, and only when you struggle with those, you get to find out that Jesus actually talks a whole lot about them. All our struggles draw us closer to trust and to hope, they strip us bare of our certainties, our convenience, our cheap comforts and all the other things that life can take away so easily, leaving us startled and afraid, left with that – excuse me – stupid question: “why me?” Why the heck not? Life gets to all of us eventually, there’s your only justice. We will all be afraid. “I am not afraid!” exclaims the young Skywalker defiantly, but Yoda, with foreboding wisdom in his voice, answers, “You will be! You will be.” And yet, what do we westerners know of survival? There’s still enough for most of us to have a hot chocolate and turn up the heating. We are spoiled. In gamer terms, we are playing life on easy difficulty. Isn’t it strange that those who struggle the least with survival struggle the most with meaning? Again, when all our illusions peel away, we realize that on the other side of that lonesome bridge is only God to help us over, but fear not. He shall. That is all the good news.

My stay here has been precarious and abundant professionally. In a weird spot between fully trained and still learning, thoroughly examined by the Germans (God help us), and yet a beginner in UCC lands, I got to see my shortcomings and my strengths throughout every part of ministry. I give thanks for a congregation willing to bear with me, and I hope you are assured that I keep working on all those parts where I missed the mark so far.

By the time you read this, Advent and Christmas may be over, and a new year started. It is a time of year where I feel mulmig, one of those quirky German words I find hard to translate. My trusty dictionary gives me “queasy” or “crumbly” but that’s hardly capturing it. You feel mulmig in your stomach, you feel it when you peer down from great heights, your belly and your body telling you to not lean over too far. As we go into this new year, we might heed that warning to not look too far with our fears and questions, lest we fall. We will get there step by step, the strong arms of our God ready to support us, to lift us up, when we falter. May His peace always surround you, may it be a light in dark places when all other lights go out.

And may God bless you, always.

Pastor Jakob

December 2024

The other day I was thinking about Christmas and how hard it is to look past all of the trappings and wonderful cultural traditions in order to once again claim the gift that the gospels proclaim. As I was thinking about the challenge, I remembered an optical illusion that a member of the congregation had given me years ago that is now readily available online. It looks like a Rorschach ink blotch that you stare at the four dots in the center for 30 seconds and then either look away at a blank wall or close your eyes and tip your head back and suddenly you have the face of Jesus floating before you. I have seen the image in so many different forms, passed around over the years… and still it is neat to have our brains see something beyond the obvious.

The artist in me loves the way that we naturally reframe the way that we see the world. This is a central tenet of our faith – that God would have us see and live in the world with eyes open to a different way of being. The Christmas stories begin that reframing, but it continues right through to Easter. All of Jesus’ ministry is about approaching the world in a different way. Interestingly, much of the church and society seem to have settled for a faith that conforms to our vision of how we want the world to appear instead of trying to discern God's ways. And I suppose that makes sense. The ways of the world, power, riches, success, would all be quite uncomfortable with the foundational message of Jesus.

And so, I invite us to stare again at the Christmas story and see God's ways emerge. The story is one that is in direct opposition to the status quo. In the Christmas stories from Matthew and Luke we hear stories that are direct critiques of those who are in power within the Roman Empire. It was not until I was at Divinity School and following that I finally heard the stories not as warm cozy narratives about little-baby-Jesus and began to hear them as God's powerful inbreaking rebuttal against a world that had chosen values completely contrary to God's. It is no accident that Jesus is born in the midst of the oppression of the Roman Empire where the ruler perceived himself to be a god-king himself, above the law, and to be regarded by all as being the savior. All of the titles that we hear offered for Jesus were titles used for Caesar, and we forget that. Savior of the World, Lord of Lords, King of Kings, Prince of Peace, these were all titles used for the self-proclaimed and system anointed god-king, Caesar. This title for emperor would later be echoed in other languages as Tzar, Kaiser, those who would rule over vast territories.

When we hear the Christmas story, we hear God's reframing of what power looks like. We see God trying to teach us to see the world through God's eyes. And it looks radically different than anything that we might imagine. All of those titles are now offered for a little baby born to a teenage, unwed mother, in a backwater town that lives in the oppressive shadow of that powerful empire. We hear a young woman sing a Magnificat that speaks of turning the way that we see the world upside down. And then the whole rest of the story unfolds in similar fashion. Jesus’ ministry is continually to those whom society sees as the wrong people. Those who are powerful and rich are invited to share in the journey, but only if they are willing to let go of what they have always known, to embrace love and generosity instead of power and certainties, and that seems almost impossible. Jesus’ story is constantly one of suffering for challenging the world to see and live differently. It is not popular to advocate for the downtrodden or to criticize those who love power. That conflict will continue all the way to the cross when the ways of power will declare that they’ve won and made an example of this foolishness. And then the heart of our faith will proclaim the resurrection that again asserts that love and peace triumph.

This should be an uncomfortable story for us. We have become the empire- starting with Constantine, Christianity was usurped by the very powers of the world that it sought to critique. Our story should make us uncomfortable, as we watch the ways that our world chooses to assign value. As we vote, as we budget our resources, as we pursue careers or retirements, or policies that impact God's world and God's people… we should constantly feel rather uncomfortable. When we look past the illusion and see Jesus staring back at us, we are supposed to hear that call to see and act like Jesus.

The question that nags at me is whether Christianity survived for all these centuries because it became co-opted by the power of the Empire to serve itself. The call that pulls at my soul is the affirmation that this radically different way of living in the world and in relationship with God sparked something in those earliest believers. They chose to leave their comfortable existence to live in the world differently. I believe that they chose to live in a world where every face reflected the light and love of God, where every glimmer of creation, from ugly bug to majestic mountaintop, invited a new vision of the wonder of God. 

As the lights twinkle, as the songs are sung, and the story told, will we try again to open our hearts to seeing and living like Jesus? That is not the stuff of party tricks or illusions, but of choosing to live a life that really is life. Gloria in excelsis deo! Glory to GOD in the highest, and peace among all,