Song of Hope

By Carolyn Pinet

Here I am

putting pen to paper

to dream up a Valentine Caper,

the kind that, despite snow and cold,

has all of us spirited and bold enough

to dream of a coming spring when

birds, beasts and every living thing

will join us in the eternal dance:

we'll invent new steps and prance

in joyful union together

and today, no matter what the clime,

we'll celebrate wind and weather and a time

when all of us play our needed parts

to cheer our longing and our hopeful hearts.

Happy Valentine's Day, 2025!

Ponderings: 1st Corinthians 13:12

I went out to take care of a little chore today. My daughter managed to clear most of the driveway before she headed off to interact with small humans (aka: the 5 and under set). When I learned I was not driving to a meeting out-of-town, I texted her so she wouldn’t be worried about it. She texted back that she wondered if I could tackle a small section of the drive she couldn’t attend to with her car parked in the drive. So, there I was, wielding a shovel.

Now, I can do this, although my back doesn’t think much of the exercise these days. I really need to work on my core! But that wasn’t what prompted me to write this. As I came in after not more than 15 minutes work, my glasses fogged up, as they will do when going from the cold to the warm. And a phrase immediately came to mind:

For now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face

This is a part of a passage which I became quite familiar with in my college years. It’s from the King James version of the Bible and the entire part goes:

For now we see through a glass, darkly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then shall I know even as also I am known.

1 Corinthians 13:12

While the more modern interpretations of this passage talk about dim reflections, etc., I’ve always appreciated this particular version of this text. And it’s apt when taking off steamed over glasses and realizing that, because my eyes had long since adjusted to the glasses this morning, everything is a bit obscured and fuzzy. Anyone with glasses likely knows what I mean.

I often think of these moments, when stray verses pop into my head, as moments when a “higher power” is trying to talk to me. To remind me that sometimes, we get immersed in an issue, be it a political discussion, a book we’re reading where not everyone is comfortable with the message, or some other debate, and we “can’t see the forest for the trees” as the saying goes. In other words, we get too wrapped up in things and find it difficult, if not impossible, to see the issue from the other side.

But, as the glasses cleared, warmed up, and I could put them back on my nose and see properly (yeah, no running into things!), I realized that sometimes this is what happens when we are in the middle of a controversy or debate or discussion. Or, when we are justifiably frustrated with something that’s happening in another part of the country and we feel helpless. Sometimes, like with our glasses being dark or cloudy, we need to step back, let things clear, and then come back to it with fresh eyes or a fresh perspective.

Things do have a solution. But that solution is sometimes not easy, and certainly not something which can happen with a snap of the fingers or a wiggle of the nose. (Bewitched! Anyone?) It does require that we at least attempt to see things from the other perspective. (or, in some instances, multiple perspectives.) It requires that we try to take ourselves out of the equation and ask what is right for the whole, not just the one.

May we all have these moments when a “higher power” brings perspective, and sometimes even clear vision, into our lives. May it help to lead us to an answer that suits all. Jesus did it, and sacrificed much to give us his message. Let’s not let his sacrifice have been in vain. Let us take strength and courage from his example and move forward with clearer vision.

Have a Blessed Day.

Incarnation

By Bruce Smith

The Christmas season has passed and, for whatever reason, I found the enforced cheer of the season more grating than usual. I’ll pass on the saccharine description of a sweet baby sleeping on hay. From my farmboy experience, hay is a lousy, scratchy, and prickly mattress. Poor kid!! And Santa. Too much of him!

During the season, however, I found myself awed by thoughts about the wondrous mystery of the Incarnation that it celebrates. At the foundation of all those songs and traditions is an act that defies rationality but, at the same time, offers the basis of amazing grace. God Himself came into our world as that baby. That is truly something to sing about!! It’s summed up in the words of my Christmas favorite, “Mary Did You Know” - “That sleeping child you’re holding, is the Great I AM.”

Christmas is the story of God, the Creator of the incomprehensible vastness of the universe, the multiplicity of the microscopic world, the amazing biochemistry that sustains life on this special planet, the giver of the spark of life that led to you, me, and the billions of our compatriots taking an outlandish step. It’s the story of that God choosing to take on the full humanity to reach you and me. Can we really fathom what that means? No wonder the angels sang!!

But what a way to enter the world. With omnipotent power, He did this not as one of the Julio-Claudian ruling family in Rome but as a baby born under dubious circumstances in a despised backwater of a great empire to an unwed mother who was not welcome in any decent hostelry. There is little more humiliating than being born in a cow pen!

And then there’s those who were informed of this peculiar birth. It was not the religious leaders of a devout nation. It was not those rich, in control or respected. No, it was fellows stuck out on a cold night with a bunch of sheep. In the pecking order of first century Palestine, these were close to the bottom of the barrel. These are the ones who receive the stunning announcement God’s coming into the world. And, bless their hearts, they pen their sheep and make their way to this humble birth where, we’d expect, an exhausted Mary is trying to keep the newborn warm while a nervous Joseph hovers nearby puzzling about the whole thing.

Later, of course, there is another chapter when some mysterious scholars, astronomers, and/or leaders from far away are informed and pay homage to this poorly born babe. Oddly, again, it is not the religious leaders, those in power, or even those of the Jewish religion that are informed. Instead, it is outsiders from another people with different traditions and, possibly, a different religion who come bearing precious gifts whose selections seem to foreshadow the baby’s later life.

What happens when, via second-hand information, those in power are finally informed? They consult with the religious leaders make an inhuman decision and send the military in to murder innocent children. So, this newborn and his parents then become refugees, uprooted from their family, their community and Joseph’s work to somehow survive in Egypt. This is hardly the script one might imagine for the incarnation of our Creator God into this world.

Despite this remarkably inauspicious beginning we find ourselves the beneficiaries of that birth. Through mysteries that we can never fully understand this baby becomes a man, teaches, suffers, dies, and rises again to provide us with a template for fully living. That mystery continues as the Holy Spirit with which He blessed us can infuse and guide our lives.

While I don’t know as these thoughts fit into any new Christmas carol, these are what came to me this past Christmas as I shied away from Jingle Bells, Santa’s Coming to Town and the other cheery songs. Here, in this strange and wondrous Incarnation was something offering us a road to greater happiness than any of those.

Notice of Changes in Blog Posting

Due to the busy schedules of our writers and lack of readership, we will be going to a more intermittent schedule for this blog page. If we have something to put on here, we will post it. If we do not have anything, we will just have past posts available. Sorry for this inconveniece if you were enjoying our blogs weekly.

Take care and God Bless!

Brianna Hope

Office Manager

Coping Mechanism

By Carolyn Pinet

I've left the tree up

so I can go on enjoying

the London taxi, the double-decker bus,

and "Joy" set in gold on red plush -

that's what my mother always said

to raise dashed spirits amid winter doldrums.

This January seems never-ending

with bitter cold

and same-old same old.

We are stuck in a deep rut

of trumped and dumped -

can we ever climb out

to start over

with new hope,

ready to cope

with dreary February,

blustery March,

an April overture to spring

gone futile and flat

as if nothing could emerge

new and in bud?

But look, despite everything,

when darling May sings to us all,

hope springs eternal

with each bird's nesting call.

Ponderings: January Memories

By Susan Wordal

January is the 1st month of each year. It’s a time for reflection and contemplation. A time for memories. And in our family, it’s a time to celebrate.

Just over 3 decades ago, I was working for the City of Bozeman and getting settled in a new (to us) house. And I was feeling huge and my blood pressure was HIGH and I was on “bed rest” going into the New Year. Apparently, when your BP is that high, one should NOT go to work and prosecute people who commit misdemeanor violations like Failing to Stop for Stop Signs, Criminal Trespass to Property, or Violation of Orders of Protection. Something about that kind of work is just not conducive to calm. Go figure.

I had no idea what awaited, but the day came when they said: Induction. OK. We picked a day and got up and ready to go to the hospital. On the way, the car “died” so I had to wait for the spouse to run back for the other vehicle. Meanwhile, in California, there was this earthshaking experience. Yep. The Northridge earthquake had struck that morning. Guess what we watched on the tv? Ok, I guess that wasn’t a difficult question. And the really funny thing, I was actually in labor before they started the induction process. Guess the “kid” really knew what needed to happen.

And then this beautiful child was in our arms. Blonde, with blue eyes and a nose just like her Aunt’s. And her hair … when we would put a hat on her head and then take it off, it looked like someone had styled in into a mohawk. I got to the point where I would tell people, “Yes, she does it herself.” Because, really, I had not much to do with it.

We began to know pretty quickly that she was going to be a handful. Of course, with two stubborn parents, what else could we have expected? She’s double-stubborn. She watched us from her “bouncer” chair and slept through the night at about 4 weeks old. Might have had something to do with the spouse telling the tummy every night that it was “night time” and he would wake us in the morning, but it worked! We were drummed out of the parent club for that one!

We noticed that there were certain things she would say which sounded a little backwards. For example, instead of saying “Grandma” she would say “Bagham” so my Mom immediately jumped on that and has been “Bagham” ever since. No “Grandma” for that lady, thank you very much. And when she was about 2.5 yrs old or so, she looked at me at the dinner table one night and said, “Well actually Mother.” Now, given this, I knew we were in for a ride!

At almost 5, she learned we were going to Israel on a trip with my parents and would be gone over her birthday. She was not happy. I mean, how could we leave her over her birthday?!? But she continued to ask for a baby brother when she asked for a present. She had lots of girl cousins and knew she didn’t want a sister. Good thing we had gone to the “source”. I mean, we were taken to the stable (the manger, according to the tour guide, was a raised stone edifice with an indentation in it for feeding animals and if I remember correctly, was not outside). We also went to the Mount of Olives, the Dead Sea, Gethsemane, the Mount of the Beatitudes, and touched the Wailing Wall or Western Wall, and brought back water from the River Jordan Baptismal site (Bethsaida) (had to have special water for a baptism, right?). Sure enough, she got her present about 9 months later – Parker.

For the high school years, the birthday generally fell during finals week! Totally awful. Who wants to celebrate a birthday by taking tests and studying for those tests?!? So, Parker bought his big sister a crown to wear on her special day. She has worn it thereafter to commemorate her day, even when other things were distracting from that special day.

Of late, the tradition is to join with a group of friends for dinner at her favorite restaurant. COVID kind of put a kink in that for a couple of years, but now we’re back to celebrating as before. We miss the “Birthday Buddy.” (She was born the same day as Betty White, so when she turned 19, Betty turned 91. Kind of an interesting factoid.) But she continually finds others who share the day, even if not in the same place. Now her brother is home to celebrate with her and we are looking forward to dinner out!

The memories are worth it. So, if you see the Birthday Girl, wish her well. She’s a gift from God, at least for me and mine.

Song for the Epiphany

By Carolyn Pinet

Outside the coffee-house
ravens, crows and magpies
survey me and call from the rafters -
what are they cheering on?
It's cold and I should go inside
but something detains me
on this early January day
between New Year and Epiphany -
is it that those things with feathers
know something I don't? - or
perhaps they celebrate an event
I have yet to imagine.

But, after all, what could this New Year
bring us apart from more of the same old...?
Still, here I am communing with birds
and the sudden thought that
Emily D just might be right:
maybe hope does come and perch in the soul
because the little thing with feathers
is never deterred at all:
look, Jesus is newborn and,
why, here come the gifted Magi!

Celestial

By Carolyn Pinet, Christmas 2024

Our planet is beginning

to swirl

as the night sky reveals

a startling kaleidascope:

December has speeded up

and look at us, secretly

wrapping and hiding gifts,

hiding and wrapping,

pretending that

all is as usual when

above us the firmament

is illuminated

with astral motion,

an incomparable,

stunning and starlit beauty,

a simple story

of shepherds, a stable,

and the birth of a love-child.

Ponderings: “Stille Nacht”

By Susan Wordal

It’s the Christmas season. Decorations are going up around town and in our homes. Some are subtle and consist of quiet memories. Some get downright flamboyant in an effort to be noticed. Movies have illuminated the joyous and sometimes competitive spirit of decorating for Christmas.

But the music of Christmas is what draws me every year. Growing up, Dad had to leave around 10 pm for choir rehearsal before the final service of the night, which began at 11 pm and ended with singing in the old Central Christian Church which 1st Congregational Church shared at that time. And what, might you ask, was the final song? Usually it was “Silent Night,” complete with candles being lit in the pews as people sang and the lights were turned down/off. And there were tables in the front loaded with candles. When I was old enough to go, but not old enough yet to sing in the choir, my job was to watch the candles and make sure they were blown out before they caused any problems. The hush that fell over the sanctuary as people sang this old hymn and then quietly blew out their candles and exited for home was something I cherished. I miss that midnight service.

But the song has its traditions also. Written in the aftermath of the Napoleonic Wars and performed for the first time in 1818 with a guitar because the organ in the church was feared to have been damaged by flooding, it has become a beloved hymn. Its history seems to have taken on various versions depending on who is telling the story. Recently, I stumbled across an old rendition on a tv show, featuring two actors known for their parts in Hogan’s Heros. Werner Klemperer and John Banner sang this song in the old words. It was enough to give you chills. In 1995, an original manuscript was discovered which revealed that a young Catholic Priest, Father Joseph Mohr, wrote the words and Franz Xaver Gruber, a schoolmaster and organist, wrote the original melody for Nikolauskirche, the parish church of Obendorf in Austria. While Gruber had been credited with the tune, people had forgotten about Mohr until the manuscript was found. And even Gruber was not always credited with the music, but had his work attributed to various more well-known composers. As you might imagine, the words and even the melody have seen some “tweaking” over the years. But for the most part, it is relatively close to the original version. It’s been translated into some 300 languages.

This song has been credited with being sung during both WWI and WWII by soldiers on the battlefields. It’s sung on tv and in movies. And its one of the pieces to be played, with choir, at the Bells of the Bridger’s Concert at Pilgrim this season.

May your Christmas season be decorated as you prefer. Graced with family or that favorite movie (and yes, “Die Hard” is a Christmas movie!), and full of your favorite holiday foods and beverages. And may our wish for mankind this holiday season remain that timeless prayer from the song:

Sleep in heavenly peace.

Little Shell Grandfather Prayer

By Bruce Smith

Since moving to Montana and joining the Standing Rock protests, I’ve found inspiration and meaning in aspects of the Native American world view. Recently, Jeanne and I attended a presentation by Montana’s poet laureate, Chris La Tray, a member of the newly recognized Little Shell tribe. I’ve just finished reading his book Becoming Little Shell and wanted to share a prayer that he records there.

In this prayer I found the use of “Grandfather” for God intriguing; not unlike “Abba” as we find in the Bible. Having recently lost my mother, the last sentence referring to the ancestors was particularly poignant.

So here it is, as spoken by a Little Shell elder at the celebration of the tribe’s Federal recognition. A prayer that I hope you find appropriate for us any day.

“So I want to say thank you, Grandfather, for allowing us to walk in this beautiful day beside you. Grandfather, I pray for all my relations, the two-legged and four-legged, the swimmers and the crawlers and the flyers. I want to give a special prayer to my mother Earth here, and ask her for her forgiveness, for the scars we put upon her every day. But I ask, and I thank her, for the life she gives us every day. Grandfather, watch over us as we celebrate this good time, this blessing our life here today. Keep us healthy and happy and safe and in a good way. Look us up and down and have pity on us today, Grandfather. Let us get by in life with what we need. I ask you, Grandfather, and you, Mother Earth, to bless our old ones, and our young ones, with every step that they take upon you. Grandfather, let the young ones be young, run around and have fun, and be children. Let the old ones live to be old and teach us. Grandfather, we thank you for all that you give us. Thank you for all that you take from us. Thank you for the blessings that you give us every day. We love you, Grandfather, and we miss all our relations that are up there in the heavens with you. Thank you for this day.”

Created to Be Light

by Donna Schaper | published on Dec 3, 2024

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light. – John 1:6-7a (NRSV) 

Let there be light. 

Lighten up. Refuse to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Invite the Breath—the ruach, the energy or force or thread, the One beyond human understanding—to draw near to you. 

Let there be lightness of being. 

Tell someone a good joke. Smile at a stranger. Extend more compassion than judgment. Remember that your story is not the only story. Just as John’s witness isn’t the only story. 

Let there be glowing light. 

Light a candle at dinner. Bring your glow into every room you enter. Keep your holiday lights turned on through the night. Nurture the spiritual strength to reflect the holy glimmer of the Jesus child. 

We are created to be light not heavy. We are created to be enlightened not perplexed. We are here to proclaim the great glory of God that makes the northern lights look dim. 

Let’s get on with it.   

Prayer
Sometimes, O God, we know we take up and snuff out more light than we give. Help us to testify to, and to live with, light. Amen.

About the Author
Donna Schaper is Interim Minister at the United Congregational Church of Little Compton. Her latest book is Remove the Pews. This reflection was originally posted on the United Church of Christ’s website as a Daily Devotional from the StillSpeaking Writers’ Group: https://www.ucc.org/daily-devotional/ and accessed on December 6, 2024. Used with permission.

Lessons on Noticing the Little Things

By Carolyn Pinet

Long-eared owls

gather food for their chicks

somewhere in Derbyshire:

with flame-colored eyes

and rotating necks, they

pinpoint and catch vole after vole while

scanning and probing the light protons.

Fall is here and I'm walking early

with Lucy the Beagle.

I watch her examine

one blade of grass after another

and wonder what I could be missing.

The water in the stream bubbles

and the sky's an impermeable blue.

If I were to spend a month on the ground

on my hands and knees,

would I find more than a candy wrapper,

a feather, an old coin? -

would I randomly come across

the Meaning of Life?

They say it's the search that counts.

I just passed the scat of a black bear which

was probably wandering lost in the

churchyard.

Here in Montana

things stare me in the face

until I finally see them.

I may not have the owls' acuity

of hearing and sight,

but I keep on looking,

I'm looking and loving.

Approaching Thanksgiving

October - November 2024

Ponderings: “Make a Joyful Noise” and The Crowded Table

By Susan Wordal

I have a sorority sister who has gotten in the habit of posting on Facebook each day during November and marking the passage of “the month of thankfulness.” Some days the thoughts are short and pithy. Other days, they are full of interesting thoughts or contemplations. But this year, the “month of thankfulness” has been difficult to contemplate, let alone enjoy. There is a decided edge to things, or a decided loss of energy, depending on your perspective. And I’ve been wrestling with the need to give comfort as well as seek comfort, the need to bolster those who are down, along with the need to seek a new direction or perspective. 

As our Stewardship campaign for Pilgrim winds its way along, I’m finding that the symbol of “The Crowded Table” is helping me to sort out some things. It serves to remind me that we share with many people from all walks of life. We weren’t all raised in Bozeman, or even Montana. We weren’t all raised in 2-parent, working-class families. We weren’t all raised as Congregationalists or even in the United Church of Christ. And yet, we bring to this space and this community joy and compassion, love and praise, strength and resilience in the things we do, together and separately. 

Working for a governmental entity can be a daunting task. People don’t always like what the government is doing. Some find it intrusive or dictatorial. Some find it burdensome. Some would rather anyone else were running things. It doesn’t matter what level of government you work for, it’s true at every age and stage. And yet, despite the dislike and the complaining and the frustration and whatever else people are feeling that falls in the sphere of negativity that surrounds government, occasionally, some good shines through it. It reminds me why I first went to work for a governmental entity and why I seem drawn to continue to do the work I do. 

In the next weeks and months and years, we, the people of Pilgrim Congregational UCC, will join our resources, our talents, and our lives in community. We will support the marginalized and disadvantaged. If not directly, then through our actions and our efforts in mission with others. We will work to remove the blinders from the eyes of those who cannot see that the labels some attempt to place on others have no relevance when you realize we are all Children of God. We will work to spread a message of love and hope even to those who would argue against us. We will join with others at a single table (or multiple tables in one room) to share a meal, celebrate a life, remember a strong human connection, and pass along a message of support and encouragement to go out in the world and do good things. 

In the next weeks and months and years, We, The People will actually do the same sorts of things. We will find ways to heal the rifts of division which are more ideological and thus zealous rather than they are pragmatic and realistic. We will find areas of common ground, even if we have to scrabble backwards to even hope to move forward. We will engage, but not with weapons. We will engage with words. Words based in love and understanding. We will allow the meanness and the narcissism to roll off our backs while we watch instead for opportunities to bring kindness and welcome into the lives of others. We will NOT respond with the same level of vitriol as might be given, but will meet envy and scorn with love, and fear and disbelief with faith and hope. And hate will be met with love and kindness beyond measure. We will take breaks from the engagement to recharge and renew and replenish, looking to our friends and family to fill in our gaps. We will be vigilant in the face of dictatorial aggression and we will stand together and turn over the rocks and reveal the truth. Because the truth will set us free. Free to love and to worship and to serve as we choose and as God asked of us. 

So, welcome to the Crowded Table. You are in good company. Your welcome at the Table does not have any other price than what you are willing to give. Do you have a particular talent? It might be of benefit to a program or an event here. Do you have a particular skill? We might just need that skill, or know someone who would benefit from it. Do you have some spare change you want to donate to the cause? We can surely find a use for that, too. We will find moments to clasp a hand, share a laugh, and sing a song. Some of the songs will be old and familiar, and others will be new and filled with something we need right now. They will raise the spirits and bring comfort, or they will empower and energize us with new light.  

So, gather ‘round the Table and join in. As the song and the saying goes: “We Shall Overcome.” Let’s join together in one voice and make a new kind of “Joyful Noise”!

Pilgrim Is A Crowded Table, But There Is Still Room For Me

By Mary Flynn

“Wherever you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here.” You may have heard that mantra so many times that it no longer feels meaningful to you, but it is very meaningful to me.

I moved to Bozeman from New York City, where I practiced as a trial lawyer in finance for 30+ years, and where I raised my children. My compensation was based on the clients I could bring in and the hours I could bill, so I was always hustling, working 70 hour weeks. In my world, stress and exhaustion were status symbols. My goal was just to make it through the day.

Our family took an annual ski vacation in Big Sky for many years. When the last of our kids moved out 8 years ago, my husband and I bought a house in Bozeman, intending to retire here "someday". In January 2020 while we were here skiing, however, the pandemic shut down our office in New York City, and my husband and I began working remotely from Bozeman. When it became time to go back to the office in New York, my husband and I decided to stay in Bozeman, work remotely and just fly back to New York when we had to.

When my oldest child was a senior in high school in New York in 2012, she developed a serious substance-abuse problem. Over the next 10 years we tried everything to help her: counseling, medication, five rehab stints, and two stints in a mental hospital. At times she improved, but by 2019 she had a crippling fentanyl addiction and was living on the streets in southern California. I was flying to California to see her, search for her, plead with her, try to rescue her, get her a meal and a bed, or visit her in jail. But I could not fix her. Then, on July 11, 2022, her partner of 3 years was shot and killed in a 7-Eleven parking lot in southern California. In her grief, my daughter agreed to go to treatment (again), but I did not get my hopes up. This time, however, it worked. The difference this time was that my daughter truly surrendered to a higher power. She found God, spirituality and peace. It has been over two years, and she is sober, happy, successful, introspective, giving and grateful. The change has been remarkable.

Last year after seeing the change in her after only one year, I said to myself, "I'll have what she's having." So I started looking for a church in Bozeman. I was raised Irish Catholic, but church to me as a kid was just memorizing meaningless responses. A dealbreaker for me in finding a church in Bozeman was that it had to be open and affirming. One of my kids is non-binary, and I would never go to a church in which they are not welcome. I went to a few services at different churches, but when I saw the two banners outside Pilgrim Church, I knew it was going to be different. And then Pastor Laura started the service with that welcome message: "No matter who you are and where you are on life's journey, you are welcome here." I felt like she was talking directly to me. And then she asked everyone to pause and take a deep breath. I don't think I had done that in 30 years. Just one deep breath in this welcoming place, and I felt something unusual. It was peace. So I stayed for the whole service, and then I came back week after week. There was nothing to memorize. Every week there was a meaningful message. Even though I was unfamiliar with Protestantism and Bible stories, and not sure what I “believed”, I was still welcome at Pilgrim. One week, Pastor Laura referred to the church as a spiritual gas station -- where you could fill your tank and go on your way. And that is exactly how I felt. It's how I still feel every week, and it's how I now understand my daughter’s experience.

I decided that I had made enough rich white men richer in my life, and I retired from practicing law at the end of last year. I felt like I was missing the “service to others” part of the secret to peace and joy. I began volunteering around Bozeman, and I joined the social justice team at Pilgrim. This wonderful group of resolute and effective women dedicate their time and talents to those in our world who are vulnerable or struggling. Most of them have known each other for a long time, but they made room for me at their crowded table and welcomed me to the team. I am truly grateful for being a part of Pilgrim. My tank is full.

Full Table

By Bruce Smith

You may have seen the scene above in the church narthex. It is a batik, an intricate painting method that uses wax, dying and boiling to produce the desired design. Jeanne and I spotted this near the rafters of a “tourist trap” in Kenya at the end of one of our trips. We were struck both by the dramatic color and the quite different depiction of the Last Supper. We were intrigued that its disciples seemed to resemble the real disciples more than our Sunday School versions. We also liked the greater sense that it was a real meal in which folks had been eating and talking. Studying it, however, we can have no doubt that chitchat has stopped and all are paying careful attention to Jesus.

At this First Communion, or Last Supper as it’s generally known, Jesus opened the table to his most beloved companions who included a questioning doubter, a couple societal rejects, the man who was about to betray him and Peter who would deny him within hours. It was quite a crew and one of the reasons the realism and even scruffiness of the disciples in the batik attracted me. Not only were they imperfect but there was quite a diversity from fishermen to a hated tax collector. Jesus’ acceptance and willingness to pour out love to such a motley group provides a model for churches today as people come to our table, not only for communion but in all aspects of church life. Jesus’ ministry at the communion table and throughout the gospel stories is to show love, healing, and salvation to anyone, not those with whom he might feel most comfortable.

I’m pretty comfortable that Pilgrim works to provide that openness and acceptance. Since my first time walking through the doors, I’ve been impressed with the friendliness and concern for each other that typifies, for me, this congregation. Sometimes I wish we were more successful in reaching further into our community. While we can always strive to be better, I feel that our table, in the broadest sense, is open and that we only work and hope that it becomes fuller.

But there is another aspect that I’ll mention in this stewardship season. To commemorate that First Communion/Last Supper someone took care of quite a few logistics. The Upper Room was furnished, cleaned and the roof didn’t leak. Someone baked the bread and purchased the wine not to mention the courses which, if it was a proper Passover meal, were quite extensive. And didn’t someone look after carrying water in and lighting the candles? Afterwards, someone also had to pick up and do the dishes.

In a similar way, as our church offers it’s own table of spiritual nourishment, companionship, social justice and even Sunday snacks, there is a need to take care of the background logistics, staff and building. And that’s where our contributions of time, money and expertise come in. As we move through this stewardship season, please take time to consider how you might help equip our “table” to serve all those that want to come to it.

A Praying Season

By Carolyn Pinet

Shorter, darker days

blend into each other,

spill fall

where everything dies,

openly lovely.

A red-gold canopy cascades down

and we, who trample it,

also transform, become

other than we thought,

strange, indisguise,

trailing to the cemetary with offerings,

our lanterns lit.

The “trick or treat” is done,

it’s serious now.

We slip envelopes into the box,

penances begging for mercy, atonement,

pleading for the masquerading monsters

to vanish into thin air.

On my door lover skeletons clack

In the high wind,

their pumpkin heads wither.

We light our candles,

strain to remember needed words

wafting on the current with the tide

where stars illuminate a sailing

pilgrimage under a silver coined moon.

When we reach the ocean,

will it rise with the dolphins to greet us?

Will the saints burst into song?

November burns bright in the bonfire on Parliament Square

and Guy goes up in smoke.

We burn, hope to rise from the ashes,

blow over the bridge and into the same tidal river,

the one that wrinkles and flows

into the waxing, wavering ocean.

Ah, may time hold us rapt and singing

in a restorative, shining sea!

There Is Always Room For One More

By Sarah Hollier

My sweet, nerdy sixth-grader came home one day and reported an incident in the lunch-room. I braced myself for the worst, but by the end of his tale, my heart was overflowing with relief, pride and love.

Daniel and his best friend, Ian, were sitting at a table with several other boys when a boy from their small math group came up with his lunch tray, looking for a seat. Before he could even say anything, an assertive, more popular boy said, “This table is already full.”

My son matter-of-factly related the scene: “Well, I looked at Ian and Ian looked at me, and we both moved our chairs a little bit and then grabbed another chair from a nearby table and I said, “There's always room for one more.” And they made room for the initially rejected boy.

I asked if the boy who said the table was full had said anything after that. “Nope, we just all started eating again and the three of us talked about math.”

Pilgrim UCC is a place where there is always room for one more, and that is one of the aspects that I most value about this community. It doesn't matter what you look like, how much money you make, or give, to Pilgrim. It doesn't matter if you have no church background or have been going to church for years. It doesn't matter if you don't know if you even believe in God or not. Everyone, EVERYONE is welcome here. Jesus did not discriminate against anyone, and neither do we, and that is the kind of community I want to be a part of and am willing to support.

Please join me in supporting Pilgrim's work in becoming a Crowded Table by pledging your gift for the coming year. Together, we can build a community where not only are we all welcome, but we all thrive.

I Want a House With a Crowded Table

By Chris Fastnow

Hey! It’s Pledge Season! Woo Hoo!

Our theme for the Fall 2024 pledge campaign is A Crowded Table, a vivid illustration of Pilgrim’s new vision statement, implying both the justice we champion and our inclusive welcome. Pilgrim inclusively, abundantly welcomes, feeds, and warms our church community, our valley, Montana, and our global family at our Crowded Table.

This year, I have seen Pilgrim’s Crowded Tables:

• covered with children’s activities in the sanctuary,

• ringed by youth and adults asking each other questions and listening intently to the answers in the Boyd Room,

• filled with potluck dishes shared among congregants practicing tricky holiday conversations,

• papered with sticky notes documenting honest and loving disagreements about strategic planning,

• loaded with fancy teas (and pastries!) at the local tea house to celebrate an important milestone,

• draped in a rainbow flag with stickers and information about Pilgrim’s wide welcome during Pride weekend,

• and reverently holding the elements as we celebrated Christ’s inclusive invitation to communion together post-pandemic.

What does Pilgrim’s Crowded Table look like for you? Is it a table at Fork and Spoon, in another country where friends have traveled to provide medical support, at a hospice bedside, in a kitchen celebrating or grieving with a trusted friend, hosting a potluck for Groovin’ Spirits, covered with quilt fabric and a humming sewing machine, lifting up toys and board books in the nursery, under the trees at Red Cliff, Mimanagish, or a Women of Pilgrim garden party, or in the back of the sanctuary holding sound and recording equipment for online and hearing-assisted worship?

To paraphrase the Highwomen’s wonderful song (click here for the Groovin Spirits’ version), I want a church with a Crowded Table. Crowded Tables may be in turn warm, noisy, festive, solemn, satisfying, cozy, and uncomfortable. We might have to scooch over to make room or pass on a second dessert for our neighbor to have theirs. We might need someone else just to hold the fork for us one week but prepare a lavish feast the next. What an apt metaphor for a thriving church!

Pledge season is a great time to celebrate and support this important work. Will you join me by making your pledge? Click the Donate button on the church website to set up automatic payments, and send in a pledge card (you can email me: stewardship@uccbozeman.org if you don’t get one this week… or misplace it along the way).

It’s Pledge Season! Let’s celebrate!

Culture of Call

By Rev. Laura Folkwein

October is “Pastor Appreciation Month,” according to…I’m not sure who, but I’m willing to go with it! I am writing about the occasion, not to nudge you into giving me anything extra as the pastor here at Pilgrim UCC, Bozeman, (although offers of dark chocolate will never be refused) but to spend a moment thinking about all the pastors who have influenced me.

My dad, Rev. Ed Folkwein, comes to mind first. Though not my earliest pastor, he was both pastor and parent to me for the longest amount of time. Though my dad is gone from this life, I feel his assuring spirit and encouragement with me often in my own ministry. I miss his ridiculous sense of humor, his deep compassion for anyone in trouble or hurting, and his love of the mountain west. He spent decades of his ministry in rural Montana. His ministry showed me that it is not the biggest church or the most prestigious ministry role that matters, but one’s care for all God’s people and creation wherever you land.

Other clergy who have influenced my life are Rev. Bill Kliber, who married my parents long before I arrived, but whose influence in ministry reached me early in life; Rev. Susan Twidwell, a United Methodist clergywoman showed me that someone like me (an awkward and shy teenager) might be a pastor too; my own campus minister at the University of Puget Sound, Rev. Jim Davis, and the chaplain now in his position who I deeply respect, Rev. Dave Wright. More UMC clergywomen, Revs. Janet Horman and Kathryn Johnson, both employers and mentors who gently shoved me out the door to seminary. I am also deeply appreciative of my current clergy colleagues in our Montana-Northern Wyoming UCC Conference. They are wise, persistent, kind, and often very funny people. One must keep a sense of humor in this “odd and wondrous calling” - the words of another UCC pastor and author.

In late September, representatives of 16 or our 23 Montana-Northern Wyoming Conference churches gathered in Billings for our Conference Annual Meeting. The theme was “Many Gifts, One Spirit: Creating a culture of call.” All the pastors mentioned above sensed a call to serve God by serving God’s people through ordained ministry. This October, I wonder who the pastors are who influenced your faith journey? Maybe you will send them a note, or say a prayer, of thanks. I know they would love that. Even more importantly, call is not only for clergy. What is YOUR call to serve this complicated and beautiful world in the way only you can, with your unique gifts? I wouldn’t be doing my part in the “culture of call,” if I didn’t also encourage you to reach out if you are sensing a call to ministry. Our conference just approved 84-year-old Barbara Gulick for ordination to a call of spiritual direction. If you sense God’s tug on your life towards ministry, let’s talk. You might be someone’s appreciated pastor someday too!

Hyalite Hike

By Bruce Smith

Recently Jeanne and I hiked to Hyalite Lake.  Along the way I experienced some special moments that I thought might be worth sharing.  So here goes.

The incomparable Montana blue showing through the evergreen branches on top of a canyon ridge.

The perfect symmetry of an intricately fabricated spider’s web shimmering in the morning light.  Who knew that multiple colors reflected off those strands in a tiny kaleidoscope?

Speaking of those strands, what hiker has not run into these strands of web. Apparently arachnids enjoy spinning these threads across paths.  But how many have witnessed the proprietor busily making her way up that stand?  Watching her we wondered why she’d spun it there and where she was going.  So many unanswered questions when we take time to really see nature.

The perfect moving V on the face of a placid alpine lake as a duck paddles its way across.

A special moment as a squirrel, with cone in mouth, stopped to study me as we stared in mutual regard along a branch. Did we share some bit of cross-species communication as our eyes met?  Maybe.

And the other squirrel who ignored us as it dismembered, petal by petal, another cone.  Normally, with our staring so close, they would skitter but this guy just sat and ate voraciously.  Finishing and tossing the stem aside, he squeaked the normal warning, turned tail, and properly skittered away.

Morning light filtering its way among the trees as the sun rose over the canyon walls.

The incomparable song of a mountain stream accompanying us along our way.

The story of eons appearing on the nearby mountainside.  Written in the texture of changing rocks.

The joy of sharing the experience when Susan Byorth and Patti Gehman came over to our luncheon spot on the lake.

Standing at stream level on rubble with water flowing underneath and around just below a waterfall.  When does one get to feel like part of the stream itself without getting wet?

Light playing on the rippling, pooling, and tumbling water making its way down the winding way of its streambed.

The taste of a few very ripe, remaining thimbleberries.

The surprising blaze of a dozen yellow flowers standing proud against the fading greens of September.

The variety of waterfalls, each with its own character and flowing beauty.

 Intervals of woodsy smells.  Are the trees communicating through special scents?  Some think so.

Being dwarfed by the mountains on either side.  Did the Psalmist feel like this when he asked, “What is man that you are mindful of him?” 

Such a day reminds us of Genesis 1:28: “God saw all that had made, and it was very good.”